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“What the hell are you wearing?”
Shisui pauses in the kitchen, just feet away from escape in the form of the back door. He twirls around in exaggerated swagger, showing off his attire.
In contrast to the rebel-punk vibe Madara has going on, Shisui is wearing a collection of very cute, very bright pastels. He thinks they compliment his pale features and dark eyes very well, thank you very much! Even his nail polish is a pretty shade of lavender, to match the shapeless t-shirt he has on under the baby blue overalls covered in random buttons and pins he’s collected over the years — overalls that only go down to the knee. He has to show off his cute socks, after all. They were a gift from little Sasuke.
“Clothes.” He replies, once again posing. He even makes sure to tilt his head to show off the little pastel clips with cartoon faces. Also a gift from Sasuke.
Madara looks completely repulsed at the sight. “You look dumb.”
“So does your hair, but we don’t talk about that, do we? Like damn, Madara, have you ever heard of conditioner?”
“Fuck off.”
“I’m tryin’, but you had to comment on my attire.” Shisui sticks out a leg. “It was the socks, right? You want a pair? Too bad, I don’t know where Sasuke bought them.”
Madara presses his lips together, very valiantly not rolling his eyes even though he wants to. The two of them couldn’t be more different. Madara, with his unkempt hair and multiple piercings; ripped jeans and a leather jacket, his wardrobe filled with black, black, and more black, with the occasional hint of red. There’s a flash of fishnet by his neck, under the dark maroon shirt he’s got on.
Fishnet’s cute.
Too bad Madara himself isn’t very cute. He always looks like he’s smelled something terrible, and his mouth is constantly set in a scowl.
It’s such a shame. Uchiha’s are generally very pretty, so it doesn’t take much to capture everyone’s attention. Sure, Madara probably attracts a certain demographic, but the fact that he’s never heard of brush is utterly disgusting. Disrespectful.
Honestly. How are they even related?
“Where are you going.” Madara finally says, and it doesn’t even sound like a question. “You know there’s a dinner planned tonight.”
“Obviously, why do you think I’m dressed like this?”
“To bring further shame upon the family, I assume.”
Shisui laughs. “Oh, haha, rich coming from you, Joan Jett. But I’m going to meet with Itachi beforehand. I have to pick out a gift for little Naruto’s birthday party next week.”
“Why are you getting him a gift? That child is Sasuke’s friend.”
“See, man, this is why no one likes you and children run screaming when you exist in their general direction. It’s that resting bitch face and the complete lack of social empathy. It’s a wonder your little brothers even like you.”
“You’re incorrigible. Get out of my house.”
Shisui very haughtily hikes up his Rilakkuma backpack. “You pay the mortgage? No?”
“I will strangle you.”
“That’s your kink, Back in Black. Choker looks nice, by the way.”
Madara gives him a look. A very specific look. One that lets Shisui know that his cousin’s buttons are pushed. Shisui very eagerly flips off Madara with both hands, expression filled with familial love, and bolts out the back door.
The screams behind him are music to his ears. The startled expression on Itachi’s face when he throws himself through the open car window and screams at his younger cousin to ‘ DRIVE, DRIVE DAMMIT!’ is also one for the history books.
God, what he wouldn’t do to have a picture of it. Just so that he could print it out on a canvas, wrap it, and then gift it to Itachi on his birthday.
“He’s going to smother you in your sleep one day.” Itachi comments dryly.
“Oh, I’m waiting for it.”
The car is quiet. Shisui rearranges himself so he’s sitting like a somewhat proper adult. He even buckles his seatbelt like a regular ol’ law abiding citizen. It’ll take them around twenty minutes to get to the mall, so he reaches forward to fiddle with the radio.
Itachi purses his lips. “By the way….what are you wearing?”