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“I literally cannot stand the rain,” Ten whines, shoving himself further into Johnny under the umbrella.
Johnny laughed and Ten hit him and his stupid thick lined coat, Ten himself shivering and suffering in the thin flannel he had worn for fashion .
What a fool 30-minute-ago him was.
“It’s not that bad,” Johnny says, sticking a hand out from under the (giant-ass, Ten was sure it was from his dad’s golf kit) umbrella they had stolen from the garage when they had decided to go out.
“Just because you’re the human equivalent of a furnace doesn't mean all of us are.”
Johnny laughs at him again and Ten’s pout worsens, the Thai man shoving Johnny to the side.
A downside of this decision was that Johnny, the taller of the two, was actually the one holding the umbrella, and so by Ten shoving him, he had also unknowingly shoved the umbrella away from him as well.
Ten yelped as the rain hit him, getting him decently wet in the few seconds that he was outside of the umbrella, but still almost immediately latching himself back onto Johnny’s arm.
Speaking of Johnny, the American was absolutely losing his shit.
“You,” a pause for laughter, “you look,” and another, “you look like a fucking,” and another , “ like a drowned cat Ten this is so funny. ”
Ten shot him a glare, semi-wet hair plastered to his forehead, and Johnny only laughed harder, having to physically stop moving to crouch over and hold his stomach, the umbrella somehow staying miraculously afloat the whole time, still covering them both.
Ten crossed his arms and huffs as Johnny calms down and they start walking again, bouts of giggles still hitting Johnny along the way, along with Ten once he realized Johnny was still laughing at him.
“God, I love the rain,” Johnny said, and Ten turned to him, frowning up through his bangs.
“Literally how?”
“I don’t know,” Johnny says simply, “I can’t explain it, I’ve just always loved rain. Ever since I was a kid.”
“But it gets you all…wet! How could you like that?”
“Well…I guess when I was a kid and it rained me and my parents would go outside and play in the rain, go in puddles and all that, and after that we would drink hot chocolate and watch a movie together, so I guess rain’s just associated with good memories for me.”
Ten hummed, wrestling his arm into interlocking with Johnny’s and thinking back to his childhood and monsoon season, the heavy downpours that him and his siblings would hide from together, heads under blankets and whispered secrets flitting between ears.
“Yeah,” Ten said as they turned into the coffee shop they had been heading to, “maybe I have some good rain memories as well.”
Johnny reached down and gripped Ten’s hand and Ten smiled as they walked up to the counter, eyes wandering to look up at Johnny as he was ordering their coffees. Maybe he had some past good rain memories, but it wasn’t too late to create some new ones either.
(Ten would regret this thought the next day when he was sick in bed with a high fever from running around in the rain with Johnny for a while after they had gotten coffee, but for now he was just content spending time with him.)