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Foo Fighters is an interesting person. For starters; they're not categorised as a person. They're plankton, formed together inside some host's body? Weather doesn't really understand it himself, but to him, Foo's just as person-y as any one of them. They enjoy baseball, Jolyne and Hermes’ company, and most importantly: water.
Water, to Foo, is their life source, something of great value to them. Ingesting chlorine in the pool water? Doesn’t matter, it's still water. Rainwater is something they've never tried. Everytime Jolyne brings up Weather's abilities, Foo gets excited. He can summon a cloud, and feed Foo some rainwater! Weather politely declined, which, if Foo's being honest, was expected.
—
It's raining outside, the constant dripping and pattering, the way the droplets break up, people with umbrellas to catch the rain, it’s oddly beautiful and as Weather steps off the porch, he sees Foo. He stares at them, as they lie down in a puddle and open their mouth to catch the raindrops.
“...What are you doing?” He asks, hoping he’s got a blank face. Truthfully, if he were addicted to water, he would do that too. When Foo doesn’t answer, he sits down next to them. He doesn’t mind having wet clothes. Foo, once decidedly finished, leans upwards dramatically and looks at him, like a deer caught in headlights.
“Water.” They respond blankly. Before they start grinning, “Water!” Foo repeats, with more enthusiasm; practically jumping around like a child in a supermarket, except less screaming for candy, and more enthusiastic giggling about water. Weather makes a noise in acknowledgement.
Weather makes a small snicker, but it goes unnoticed.
“Weather, Weather!” Foo says, unexpectedly serious, leaning down to his lowered height. “Do you think the rain's romantic?” Weather looks to the side, listening to the slight squelch as they sit down, and the feeling of the water splashing more onto him. They look at him expectantly, and he ponders for a little while.
“...Sometimes the rain can be romantic. Other times it's an omen for misery.” Foo nods, understanding. They lean forward and look at his lips. Something about this little detail makes him blink, as Foo backs off, making little noises.
“Jolyne said it was raining when she told Hermes she was in love...so it must be romantic! Then, that would mean...Weather!” They grab his cheeks, Weather stares once more, and he’s highly aware of Foo's intense expression. Weather, as sweet as this is, feels like this is cliche.
“I think...I don't wanna associate rain with misery! Rain can be about...lovers! Rainyday season lovers.” Foo nods again, before quickly pecking his lips, hardly a kiss. Weather cranes his head a little, waiting for more of an explanation. This feels like confessing your love in a playground, yet that nostalgia makes him blush a little. This is Foo's first ever confession.
“And...Weather's like a rainyday season! You feel annoyed at first, but then it feels alien to have it go...and...” Foo leans forward once more, “I don't want you to go.” Weather stares more first, before holding one of their hands.
“I'm not going to go.” He says, watching as their face lights up. “...Thank you for that.” Without another word, Weather stands up, still holding Foo's hand, and leads them back into the house.
They're really going to need to get dry.