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It was completely unlike Shouta to forget something so important, but with his head pounding non-stop that morning and already running late, he had dashed out of the house without practically anything.
It was only when a particularly sharp gust of wind hit him as he approached the school gates that Shouta realised his scarf was missing. He would've gone back home for it, but with his sinuses threatening to explode and homeroom starting in 5 minutes, there was no time. He resigned himself to facing the day without his capture weapon.
He felt exposed walking through the corridors, ignoring the puzzled looks from students still dawdling before the bell. For once, he skipped his usual scolding, his mind solely focused on reaching his room before attendance.
That was his plan, at least, until he was stopped by fingers catching his elbow, and a drawling voice cut through the hallway noise. "I ain’t used to seein’ you without the scarf.”
Despite the ache in his temples and simmering frustration, Shouta felt himself smile slightly at the familiar drawl of his partner reaching his ears. Shouta turned to face the familiar mask. "Left it at home," he rasped, his throat sounding so gravelly that it even surprised himself.
Even without seeing Snipe's face, Shouta could feel the frown from behind that mask. The man cocked his head, studying him with what Shouta imagined were narrowed eyes. "You're sick as a dog, darlin'. Why didn't ya just stay in bed- Ah, nevermind. Stupid question." His tone lightened with the gentle tease.
“You… know me too well,” Shouta admitted with a sigh, his voice rasping. He surprised a shiver, the lack of scarf making him even more aware of the chill. With the first bell about to ring, there wasn’t really time for this conversation, but he found himself lingering anyway — drawn in by Snipe’s warmth.
"That I do," Snipe drawled, arm snaking around Shouta's waist as he guided him through the corridor. "If ya ain't gonna take yourself home, at least lemme walk you to your classroom."
“Such a gentleman,” Shouta muttered, rolling his eyes slightly as he tried desperately to ignore the heat that crept across his face.
When they arrived at the classroom, Snipe paused by the door, unwinding the poncho from where it hung across his shoulders. Before Shouta could protest, the cowboy draped it around him, adjusting it with gentle fingers. “Ain’t a scarf, but it’ll keep ya warm,” he mumbled, voice dropping low enough that only Shouta could hear. “You can return it later… preferably when you’re feelin’ better.”
Shouta blinked at him, then tugged the poncho higher, nestling into its collar as the familiar scent of gunpowder and leather enveloped him. "Alright..."
"I'll swing by and getcha after classes, sweetheart. Take you back to my place and fix up some homemade soup."
The idea of someone fussing over him was unfamiliar territory for Shouta, but there was something undeniably comforting about Snipe's offer that he couldn't bring himself to refuse. He knew he should say no, though. He should insist on going back to his own apartment where he wouldn’t bother anyone else, but the words caught in his throat as another shiver ran through him.
“You don’t have to,” he settled on, without much conviction behind the words. The poncho smelled just like Snipe, felt like warmth and safety wrapped around his shoulders in the same way his scarf would, and the thought of soup was almost unbearably tempting.
“I know I don’t gotta,” Snipe replied, voice soft as he brushed a stray strand of hair from Shouta’s sticky forehead. “But I want to.”
Shouta hesitated only for a moment before nodding, allowing himself the smallest of comfort. As they stood there, Shouta suddenly remembered that he had a job to do, and his class were probably inside already wondering where the hell he was. Snipe gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, bringing him back to the present. “Get through today, darlin’,” he gave a slight tip of his hat. “I’ll take care of the rest.”
As Snipe turned away, Shouta caught his sleeve with a sigh, pulling him back just enough to brush a gentle kiss against the cheek of his mask. "Alright, go on," his words were mumbled, voice barely audible. "Before I change my mind."
A soft chuckle escaped Snipe as he walked backwards down the hallway, gloved hands lifting in playful surrender. "I hear ya, I hear ya! Catch ya after the bell, darlin’!"
Shouta lifted his hand in a small wave, watching Snipe retreat around the corner before slumping with exhaustion. With an annoyed sigh, he dragged his palm across his face and turned toward the classroom, pausing briefly before yanking the door open. What greeted him made his already throbbing head pulse harder — his students huddled suspiciously close to the entrance, their eyes wide with curiosity, quickly turned to horror.
"We weren't eavesdropping—" "Morning Aizawa Sensei—" "Wow, fancy running into you here, what are the odds—"
Shouta groaned. This was going to be a long day.