Chapter Text
“We need bread, milk, some kind of pasta-” Makoto lists off their grocery list, occasionally pausing to picture the empty pantry awaiting them at home to come up with more ideas. Kuusuke listened quietly, his gaze flickering from shop to shop, glancing in every window-display as they walked by. A small shiver shook Kuusuke’s body, the chill winter months have never been kind to him, especially since he's had a bit of trouble readjusting to the Japanese climate since returning home.
“Give me your gloves.” Kuusuke interrupted his ranting shopping partner, turning his head to make eye-contact through Makoto’s dark sunglasses, which only made him stand out more among the townspeople, Kuusuke thought.
“What? No! I told you it would be cold before we left, it's not my fault you're incapable of listening to my advice.” Makoto retorted, elbowing Kuusuke softly in the ribs just enough to make him stumble. It's true, though, Kuusuke was far too stubborn to base his attire based on someone else's warnings, his own instincts would guide him, right? No.
“I suppose your voice is simply so grating that my brain filters it out naturally, darling. And besides, it's hard to take someone seriously when they're dressed like a pervert.” Makoto opened his mouth to disagree, but took a glance down at his outfit before speaking, silently agreeing with Kuusuke’s words but would rather be killed than admit it, the white mask and tinted sunglasses obscuring most of his identifying features, but that was intentional, after all.
“God, just take them, jeez.” Makoto muttered, pulling his soft gloves off with his teeth and dropping them in Kuusuke's open hands, the latter promptly putting them on, opening and closing his fist to see how they feel.
“You have very small hands, like a child's.”
“I'm going to throw you into traffic.”
A small smirk played on Kuusuke's lips, keeping an eye on Makoto's frustrated expression through his peripheral vision. It was always easy to get such reactions out of Makoto, sometimes it's the only reason Kuusuke keeps him around. Makoto will fall for any bait without even realising Kuusuke is doing it on purpose.
“Add some popsicles to your mental list, someone has been thieving from my secret snack drawer.” Kuusuke comments, shoving his newly gloved hands into the pockets of his jacket, obviously referencing Makoto, he hasn't quite learned that Kuusuke wants to keep some food to himself yet.
“It's not secret if I know about it, idiot.” The blue-haired boy, who's hair colour was currently concealed due to the beanie he was wearing, glanced over to Kuusuke, seeing the smile on his partner's face and furrowing his eyebrows.
“I think that's the pot calling the kettle black, Toru.” Makoto slapped a hand over Kuusuke's mouth, though it was more of an excuse to hit him more than anything else, Makoto shot him a warning look, Kuusuke knew better than to address him using his stage-name in public, but that's why he did it.
“You're going to attract a mob towards us, Kuu.” Makoto was about to add something else, but was interrupted by a sound of disgust leaving his mouth as he felt Kuusuke lick the hand that was covering his mouth, immediately retracting it and wiping it on his shirt. “You're disgusting.” Makoto mumbled with a small sigh.
“Thank you, now, the shopping trip?”