Work Text:
The two of you sat in the living room in comfortable silence. Hobie was slouched with a small bag full of sewing supplies at his side, while you leaned on his shoulder.
You tugged at the pieces of cloth wrapped around Hobie's arm. The torn tubes of fabric added a layer of edge to his outfit.
"Where d'you even get these?"
Hobie was currently in the middle of inaugurating a new patch on an old leather jacket. He paused momentarily to remove the pins hanging out of the side of his mouth.
"Made 'em," he answered. A smile spread across his painted black lips as he watched you mess with his sleeve, on the verge of creating new holes in it.
"Took some old tights, cut off the toes and whatnot, and now I've got a pair of arm warmers." He held up his arms for emphasis before sticking the pins back in his mouth and continuing to sew.
You looked down at your plain t-shirt, a boring navy blue. You wore washed-out denim jeans with a few self-made rips in them, but they didn't hold a candle to the intricate patchwork sewn into Hobie's.
Suddenly, you thought of the tights you kept forgetting to throw away after they'd ripped at the knee.
"Be right back," you said as you rose from the squeaky couch. Hobie hums in acknowledgment, fully immersed in his task.
You rummaged through your drawers until you grabbed a soft piece of fabric, and pull out the offending pair of tights. Holding them in place beneath your soft chin, you find the hole and start to tug at it, making the hole bigger and creating a smaller tear beneath it in the process.
"You need scissors for that, fam."
You jumped and looked up to see Hobie's lanky frame leaning against the wall. Grinning, he held up a pair of bulky scissors for cutting fabric.
"Oh those are great, give 'em here," you said, making a beeline for the door.
When you try to take them, Hobie lifts them high above his head, out of reach. He chuckles as he watches your stout figure stretch until you're on the tips of your toes before your free arm falls back down to your side in defeat.
"What's the magic wo-ord?" he asks in a sing-song-y tone.
"You're so annoying," you laugh. "Please."
"You love me."
Hobie drops the pair of scissors into your open palm and does a quick salute before turning to leave.