Chapter Text
Tamura wasn’t a fan of fancy clothes, if anything he was quite the opposite. He might have very questionable taste when it came to the subject of fashion: most of his wardrobe was made up of black, skinny jeans, black button ups and band hoodies and tees. The only spark of color that wasn’t black consisted in of animal print clothes, and most of them were in flashy colors like the neon pink zebra pants he found on a vintage clothing app. He was a thirty year old with the fashion sense of an emo-scene teenager from 2008.
Yaguchi, on the other hand went straight for light, neutral colors such as beige, grey and white. He wanted to be anonymous. The only “risky” clothing piece was a pastel blue shirt his mother gifted him for his birthday.
They often picked up on each other for this reason and the time they were packing for a mountain trip wasn’t an exception.
Tamura’s family had rented a house in a little mountain village close to an onsen to celebrate their youngest daughter engagement with her boyfriend of five years. They were supposed to stay there for mere three days but Tamura was packing clothes as if he was leaving permanently.
Yaguchi gave his fiance’s luggage a skeptical look: there were at least five different (black) pants in there: “Are you planning on shitting yourself or something? Or are you growing an extra pair of legs?”
“Yes, if everything goes as planned, I’m turning into a spider to bite you.”
He took four different hoodies from the wardrobe. On top of the pile there was a black hoodie with the word “Slayer” written in red capital letters to which, Yaguchi was quick to point out: “That’s a way to make a statement. I’ve never seen that one…because you clearly need more of those.”
“I got it at a garage sale. Five dollars and it’s my size.” answered Tamura struggling to close the luggage: “ And “Slayer” is the name of a metal band, not a statement.”
The sight of Tamura struggling with the zipper made Yaguchi snicker:” If we’re ever going on vacation for more than two weeks you’re in charge of your own plane ticket!”
At that, Tamura pointed at Yaguchi’s backpack which apparently held everything that he needed, or so he claimed: “Is that all your stuff? You’re short, not a smurf!”
“First, I’m not short, au contraire, I’m within the average range of Japanese man my age, it’s you that have the Slender Man genes. Second, I don’t need a whole lot of crap: socks, boxers, my toothbrush, two shirts and, listen here: a single pair of pants, fucking stunning, uh?!”
“And here’s why I’m carrying extra hoodies. It gets chilly at night so you better bring a jacket or something in case you or that ego of yours catch a cold.”
“Catching a cold? It’s July and we’re not visiting the Everest. You should really start working out, you’re slim as a stick, that’s why you’re always chilly.”
Tamura could not hold back and he laughed at this last statement, since it was pronounced as if Yaguchi was an Olympic champion of some sort: “Oh, you’re right mr. Beckam. I shall start following your training schedule, what is it again? Once every Thursday night for a hour and a half?”
“Hey! I don’t make comments on your band so you don’t get to touch my soccer team! May I remind you I am the fastest one there?” Yaguchi said it in a grotesque proud tone which had Tamura losing it: “I bet you are the fastest: one is a chain smoker, another one got like ninety hip replacements. Jeez, even the sloths in Zootopia could get a fucking chance!” he huffed, trying to calm himself down: “Anyways, if you’re cold, I’m not borrowing you my clothes. You can freeze to death for what I care.”
“Guess what? I won’t need them and I don’t want them. They’re already ridiculous on you, I’m gonna look like a damn kid whose parents are making him wear his older siblings’ clothes."