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Miyuki snorts a laugh, amused despite himself.
“Is this really your idea of a date?”
Furuya frowns, pulling the glove back toward himself.
“Well… we don’t have to. I just thought…” he trails off, shrugging. Miyuki watches his shoulders slump, eyes downcast, crestfallen. Even if he wanted to say no, he probably couldn’t when faced with Furuya’s disappointment.
“Catch, huh?” Miyuki says thoughtfully. Furuya looks up from under his bangs, quietly hopeful.
“You don’t really play anymore so…” he says, gesturing vaguely with the glove when he can’t sum up his thoughts with words. Miyuki smiles wistfully.
“I haven’t really played at all,” he admits, letting the “since high school” go unspoken. Furuya seems to understand well enough, offering the glove to Miyuki once more. A laugh escapes from him, and he shakes his head.
“All right, give it to me,” he says, holding out his hand. Furuya’s lips quirk, boyish and excited, and he settles the glove in Miyuki’s palm.
“I’ll go easy on you,” Furuya promises, playfully serious, and Miyuki rolls his eyes.
“Don’t get cocky just because you’ve played in the majors, Monster Rookie,” Miyuki croons. Furuya exhales a laugh.
“Yes, senpai.”
Miyuki turns around, holding the glove over his mouth to hide the grin on his face. Furuya brushes his fingers down Miyuki’s back, just between his shoulder blades and Miyuki can’t help it. He spins around, looping an arm around Furuya’s neck and reaching up to kiss him.
Furuya’s eyes are half lidded and soft when Miyuki pulls back, and he loves this stupid pitcher so much he could cry.
“Okay then, let’s play ball.”