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Three shirts now have gone missing from Narancia’s wardrobe, along with one… No, two jackets. They were missing, but he knew exactly where they were; somewhere in Trish’s house, probably. Once he had let her take home a t-shirt he had lent her, and let it stay with her when he forgot to ask for it back. Since then, she had taken a shirt (and twice, a jacket) back with her for every time she visited, like a running joke or something. He kinda saw it that way at least, and truthfully, he didn’t mind-- as long as he didn’t run out of clothes, of course.
Trish wasn’t the first to borrow something of his to wear either, but whenever Mista or Fugo did it, Narancia made sure to make a big fuss about returning his stuff, which may or may not have ended in a fight once (or thrice). He had forgotten about getting his shirt back from her the first time, but for the next four, he didn’t have an excuse. Maybe that’s why it almost felt like an inside joke; something they’d exchange a smirk or a stifled giggle with each other about, leaving everyone else wondering what was so funny.
Thinking about that made him smile when he realized he couldn’t find his second orange jacket because Trish might be wearing it around the house. If there was ever a good reason for his things to go missing, this was definitely it.
----
The five of them were out today; Fugo, Mista, Giorno, Trish, and himself. It was kind of rare for them to all have a day off to just hang out nowadays, and Narancia was excited. The day had been great so far; getting lunch, browsing stores, and just goofing around with his friends. There was one thing that had been bothering him, however. Well, not so much bother as much as it was something he just couldn’t figure out. It was something about Trish’s outfit. It was a casual look and well put-together, as always, and it looked great on her. No, it wasn’t about how it looked, there was nothing wrong there. It was... something he just couldn’t put his finger on.
They had stopped by some gift shop meant for tourists. Fugo went in for the air conditioning, with Giorno and Mista following to try and find tacky shirts. Usually, Narancia would’ve joined him right away-- and he was about to, but he had to figure this out. He stood off to the side with Trish and went into thinking mode while she watched the other three browse overpriced merchandise. He didn’t bother trying to be subtle about it, because she knew what she was doing, or had done-- whatever it was. She knew it and she was being smug about it, in a way where she was (half-heartedly) trying not to look smug while the gears in his head grinded away. Then it clicked.
“That’s my shirt!” He said a little too loudly, clapping his fist down onto his palm. Giorno and another customer both glanced over at the sudden noise, but otherwise ignored it.
Trish broke into the smile she’d been holding back. “You finally noticed?”
It definitely came from his closet, but she had coordinated it into her outfit so well, he would’ve believed she bought it herself for this look.
“I almost didn’t recognize it! You make it look better than I ever did.”
Trish laughed and Narancia could’ve sworn her cheeks turned a shade pinker.
“Thanks. You want it back any time soon?”
‘There’s no way I can take it back when you look that cute in it’ , he stopped himself from saying. That might sound weird.
“Nah, you can keep it,” He said instead, “It’s officially yours now.”
“I don’t want it to be officially mine,” Trish frowned a little.
“What’s that mean?”
“If it’s just mine, it takes the fun out of wearing it.”
It was Narancia’s turn to feel embarrassed, though he didn’t think he should be. Was this embarrassing?
“Okay then, wear my shirt as much as you want. I don’t mind.”
“That’s better.” She grinned.
“Hey, you two, check this out! We should totally buy this, right?” Their attention turned to Mista, who was beckoning them over to where Fugo and Giorno stood snickering over some hat. God forbid he be left out of a joke, Narancia quickly walked over with Trish following close behind.
--
Narancia opened his eyes to a ceiling that wasn’t his. He was laying on a couch that wasn’t his either. He stretched out his arms, legs, and back from his sleeping position, remembering ‘Oh yeah, this is Trish’s house’ as he dusted sleep from his brain.
This happened sometimes, staying over at Trish’s. He didn’t always have a good reason to, but he didn’t think he needed to, and she never made him feel unwelcome.
“Good morning.”
Narancia craned his head backward to look at Trish--Or he tried to. He gave up on the uncomfortable angle and sat up instead. She was still in pajamas, her hair only a little dishevelled from sleep.
“Morning,” He yawned
Trish huffed a small laugh, the corners of her mouth turned up slightly.
“What is it?”
“Nothing,” She shook her head, “Did you sleep okay?”
Narancia stood up and stretched again, “Yep! I’m fine.”
“If you say so,” Trish looked a bit skeptical, “I mean… You don’t have to sleep on the couch every time, you know.”
“I’ve slept in worse places,” He shrugged,
“Fair point.”
Trish sighed and brought a hand up to wipe the grogginess from her eye.
“I’m gonna make coffee,” She stated.
Narancia nodded. A few seconds passed, and Trish turned in the direction of the kitchen.
“I’ll be right back,” He said suddenly, “Bathroom.”
Trish made a noise of acknowledgement from the kitchen, just audible over the sound of the coffee maker.
Narancia walked down the hall seemingly on the path to the bathroom, turned around to make sure he wasn’t in her line of sight, and took a detour to Trish’s room instead. It was a little messy, to his surprise. Just a few clothes, bags, and suitcases not put away properly. He wasted no time in opening the dresser drawers one after another, and then turning to do the same to the closet. He was careful not to make a huge mess out of her stuff, but she still might get mad at him for rifling through it in the first place. He could live with that, though; he was on a mission.
After a minute or two, he found what he was looking for. He held up a band t-shirt of a group she must like, but he didn’t recognize. He’d never seen her wear it, it was in good condition but probably a few years old, and likely wouldn’t be missed too badly. It would look satisfyingly out of place among his own clothes, with the pastel colors and band he’d never listened to. Perfect. Narancia smiled to himself at the success of the half-a-plan he came up with only a few minutes ago, but now there was another the decision to make; Should he change into the shirt right now, act like nothing was up, and go home wearing it? Or should he sneak it out and surprise her by wearing it the next time they saw each other?
“...What are you doing?” Trish’s voice cut into his train of thought. Looks like he’ll be wearing it home.
“Revenge!” He answered, without missing a beat, “If you get to take some of my shirts, I’ll be taking one of yours.”
He held up the shirt as proof. Trish tried to give him a judging look, but the smile she didn’t fight against betrayed her. She rolled her eyes and began to make her way back to the kitchen.
“Alright,” She said from the hall, “Could you make breakfast?”
Narancia grabbed the shirt and hurriedly followed her out.
“You ask that but you know I can only make eggs.”
“Yeah, and you’re good at it. Please?” She turned around and gave him a grin that knew he’d do it anyway. She was right.
They went back to the kitchen, Trish sat down at the table where she left her cup of coffee, and Narancia came in behind her holding the shirt. Before getting started on cooking, he discarded his own shirt and replaced it with the borrowed one, setting his on the back of the chair. Trish watched and sipped her mug silently, but didn’t look surprised. It immediately occurred to him that he didn’t need to do that, he could’ve just… taken it with him when he left. ‘Whatever' , he told himself, ‘just roll with it’ .
“If we keep leaving each other’s house with each other’s clothes, it might start looking like we’re in a relationship.” She spoke up.
Narancia looked up from the fridge with the egg carton in hand. “Huh?”
“You know about that, right? The thing about partners sharing clothes.”
“No, yeah, yeah, I get it,” He said a little quickly, “But do you think people will-- I mean, do think it looks like that?”
Trish shrugged and took another sip. Narancia continued with making food, grabbing two plates, olive oil for the pan, and two forks. He turned on the stove top, watching as the oil sizzled before cracking the first pair of eggs into it. He was getting to know her kitchen pretty well at this point, and he really wasn’t all that great at making eggs, but she always asked for them. A thin level of tension quietly veiled the room.
“Do you care?” Narancia asked as he slid the fried eggs onto a plate. They were slightly burnt on the edges.
“About what?”
“What it looks like. You and me, I mean.”
He cracked another pair of eggs for himself into the hot pan. He watched the egg white fry into solidity.
“...No.”
He slid the eggs onto the second plate. She did answer his question, but whatever layer of tension there was didn’t quite dissipate. Probably because he wasn’t asking the right question, so she couldn’t give the right answer. Instead of asking something else, he handed her breakfast.
“Here’s the burnt eggs you ordered,” He said, finding himself smiling somewhat nervously.
“Thank you,” She smiled back, completely not nervous.
He took a seat across from her, hastily slicing into his own eggs, which were a little more burnt. Yeah, they really weren’t very good.
“If you want to get, like, real breakfast after this, I’d be down for that.” He said as he chewed.
“I don’t know, I think I’m starting to like the taste of crispy eggs seasoned with salt,” She said after finishing her bite, “But… I wouldn’t be opposed to brunch.”
Narancia laughed and took another bite. Trish smiled over the edge of her cup and sipped.
“You look cute in that shirt, by the way.”
He raised his eyebrows in surprise before he could catch himself and quickly swallowed.
“Last week!” Narancia exclaimed, “Last week, when we were all hanging out, you looked really, really cute and I should’ve said that!”
Trish snorted behind her hand, and then collapsed into a full, natural laugh.
“You’re so bad at this!” She said between giggles.
“Bad at what?” He smiled back, acting like he didn’t know what she was talking about.
Trish shook her head and finished her eggs. She got up from the table and put her dishes near the sink, turning back to Narancia as he worked to scarf down the rest of his.
“I’ll drop you off at your place, and then let’s meet up in an hour or two for brunch, okay?”
Narancia nodded, unable to answer properly with his mouth full.
“Careful not to choke.”
He threw a thumbs up.
Trish left to grab her keys and a pair of shoes. Narancia gulped down his food and took a drink from the cup of coffee she abandoned.
“Should I wear the shirt?” He called back to her.
“Go ahead,” she responded, “I’ll wear one of yours.”
Narancia cracked a grin and got up to put the rest of the dishes by the sink. He could call it a sort of running joke between them, but just maybe, at the same time, there could be something else. If there was, he’d have to think about it later.