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“You’re still dribbling.”
Kise pointedly sniffled in response. Daiki wondered, briefly, how bad of an idea it would be to laugh when he received the wateriest glare he’d ever had the privilege to witness. A pretty fucking terrible one, he decided, and forced his lips downwards into what was probably a pretty unconvincing grimace.
“And you’re still an idiot, Aominecchi,” Kise grumbled. He jabbed the ornament he held in his hand at their tree - this strange wooden dog on a sled they’d painted together the previous year, Daiki recognized, from one of those stupid DIY kits Kise had a thing for for whatever reason (because it’s so romantic, Aominecchi! Yeah well, fuck you and your weirdly active lifestyle, Kise) - but it fell through the branches with a sad little clatter. Kise sniffled again.
“I wasn’t the one who started a literal fight in the middle of a packed mall over ornaments,” Daiki pointed out dryly. He scooted over though, draping an arm over Kise’s shoulders to show that he meant it without any bite. “I still say the blue ones were nicer.”
Daiki had to suppress an internal cheer when Kise leaned in (not a whole lot, mind you; this was Kise speak for I’m still mad at you, you jerk, but Kise was Kise and he was never one to turn down cuddles, fight over Christmas ornaments or not). He opted for a sage nod instead when the other man retorted, “You only wanted those ones because they matched your hair --”
“It was a nice fucking colour, what do you want from me.”
“-- while I wanted the best for our tree. Our tree, Aominecchi.” Kise gestured at the painfully obviously bare tree wistfully.
What Kise defined to be ‘best for their tree’ was definitely debatable, but Daiki at least had the sense to not bring that up again (his inner-Satsuki was one that was infinitely helpful, he was not ashamed to admit). “Look at all these Build-Your-Own-Elves-And-Shit kits that we got instead. That’s got to be better than your glittery pinecones.” The kits burned a gaping hole in his wallet, but hell, that was definitely preferable to spending money on ornaments that looked like some kindergarten kid’s abhorrent failure of a nature project.
Kise jutted out his bottom lip petulantly. “You mean Build-a-Santa.”
“Build-a-Santa,” Daiki echoed agreeably.
“I liked that store,” Kise whined. He buried his face in his hands - there they were, the Kise MelodramaticsTM - and moaned, his next words muffled as they filtered through his fingers. “The staff. They’ll never look at me the same way again.”
“Fuck them,” Daiki offered. He shifted to wrap both arms loosely around the other’s waist - he didn’t pull away, that’s a good sign; praise Satsuki’s numerous relationship lessons that he got dragged into (see: Spartan training sessions from hell) - and nosed gently at Kise’s hair. “That one girl was looking at you weird anyways.”
He felt Kise stiffen briefly, and for a heart-stopping moment he thought he’d messed up what progress he’d gotten thus far. At least, until Kise let out an indelicate snort. “Was that why you were staring holes at that one chick the entire time?”
Excellent, good signs all around. Daiki took that as a green light to move on to nuzzling at the delicate skin of Kise’s neck. “I was attempting to tell her to ‘fuck off’ telepathically,” Daiki muttered against the beat of his pulse, and was gratified to feel the thrum of Kise’s chuckle.
“You probably scared her,” he chided, but he relaxed - finally, for the love of everything good in this god forsaken world - into Daiki’s arms. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You love me.” Kise’s throat thrummed again.
For a few moments, they sat in a rather peaceful silence. He’d patched up the situation rather swimmingly, if he could say so himself. Daiki allowed himself an internal pat on the back. Take that, Satsuki. How’s that for romantically literate?
He unhooked an arm to trace nonsensical little patterns on Kise’s thigh. Kise seemed to like the small, cheesy touches here and there, the romantic that he was. Some four years of living together meant he had a pretty decent grasp on what made the other weak, and well, he wasn’t above using it to his advantage.
Kise broke the silence first. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, Aominecchi,” he intoned, with what was clearly an amused note.
Daiki grinned against Kise’s neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Aominecchiiiiii.”
“Fine,” Daiki conceded, “Maybe I am doing something. Is it working, at least?”
Kise made a small noncommittal noise. Daiki took that as a ‘yes’. “We’re never going to catch up to Akashicchi and Kurokocchi’s tree at this rate. We still have so many decorations to put up.” He let out another sad whine, and he craned his neck to look up at the looming barrenness of their own tree. “So many.”
“Still think you set your sights too high, Kise,” Daiki grumbled. He had now moved on to Kise’s hands, his own coarser fingers toying with Kise’s slender ones. “It’s Akashi.”
Daiki didn’t need to look to know that Kise was pouting again. “A man can dream.”
“Please have more realistic dreams that don’t involve competing with a literal billionaire.”
Kise whined again. “They’re plenty realistic! We just have to decorate, like we’ve been meaning to for the last, what, day or so?” He cocked his head towards the sad pile of baubles that had collected at the foot of their tree. Daiki was pretty sure he’d left them there to rot a good three days previous, but he wasn’t about to correct Kise.
Daiki buried his face firmly against Kise’s neck. “Can we not. I’m pretty comfortable as is.”
“But Aominecchiiii!”
It wasn’t like Kise could see, but Daiki raised a brow skeptically. Hopefully he could feel the movement on his skin. “I don’t see you moving.”
“All your fault.” Daiki felt Kise press lightly at his fingertips, a soft fluttering touch before he laced his fingers with Daiki’s. “Stupid Aominecchi, distracting me from the greater good.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
(They didn’t get much decorating done in the end, but - well - Daiki couldn’t say he was too upset, with their quiet evening in.)