A/N: Oneshot requests are still open! For more information, please visit my tumblr at bastetcg-.-tumblr-.-com-/-fanfic
The house was quiet. For the moment, the only sounds came from the second hand of the clock, and the occasional roll of thunder from the distance. It was dark in the house, but the light that managed to push through the thickness of the stormy gray clouds molded couches and tables and rugs. The house was cozy. The floors were worn like they'd seen a bit of good company over the years. The throw pillows on the chairs were placed just so- like they were in the correct spot, but had been moved as someone had shifted in their seat. It was warm, and it was quiet.
Outside it was not. Outside was cold and wet and absolutely pouring buckets. The two friends ran, one laughing, the other cursing.
"Why the hell didn't you think to bring an umbrella, you twit?"
"How was I supposed to know it would rain, Lovino?" The other just grumbled as their feet pounded on the pavement in rhythm. "Besides, this is kind of fun don't you think?"
"Antonio, I am going to punch you so fucking hard in the stomach if you don't shut up," Lovino said under his breath. They both slowed as they reached the façade of the house, Lovino bent over, hands resting on his thighs, to fill his lungs. Antonio fumbled in his pockets for the keys. Once he'd managed to unlock and open the door, (which had taken a few tries, mind you) the two stumbled into the house in a heap. Antonio had to catch Lovino before he could trip and land face first in a pot of fake flowers that stood on one of the foyer tables.
"I'll go get some towels, okay? Just stay here and try not to drip on the floor too much," Antonio called over his shoulder as he made his way down the hall. Lovino just rolled his eyes and looked at the paintings that hung in plain wood frames. He didn't hear the re-approaching footsteps. When the towel hit him in the face, he cursed, flinched, and then tore it off to glare at Antonio. The older boy could only laugh at his friend's expression.
"Here," Antonio motioned. He took the towel from Lovino and began ruffling his hair as an act of apology.
"I can do that myself. Jesus, do you think I'm like three or something?" His protests were loud, but Antonio didn't seem to mind. Lovino didn't put up much of a fight either.
"I just think it's really funny when your hair gets all fluffy." When Antonio pulled he towel away, sure enough, Lovino's hair was all puffy and unruly. He tried to flatten it out with his hands, with only mild success. Antonio smiled while he watched his friend's cheeks go red. "You want a brush, Lovino?"
"I'll be fine."
"Okay. Whatever you say," Antonio replied. He began ruffling his own hair and started walking out to the family room where the drumming of the rain drown out the clock ticking from the opposite wall. Antonio grabbed the clicker off the couch and flipped the television set on. He heard Lovino plop himself on the couch and grunt a little. "What's the matter?"
"Clothes."
"Oh right. You can borrow some of mine if you want to throw yours in the drier." Lovino grimaced at the suggestion.
"Wear your nasty underwear? Thanks, but I'll pass."
"Whatever you say, Lovino," Antonio couldn't help but laugh out. He settled down on the couch next to his friend and flipped to some droning sit-com. Neither one was truly paying attention to the plot, or even anything at all. They were just content to sit in each other's presence for a few quiet minutes. Or hours. Antonio hadn't even felt his friend's head drop onto his shoulder. All he knew was that in that dark house, the only sounds were the drips of the dying storm, the monotonous laugh track from the TV, and the quiet breathing of his sleeping best friend. The warmth of that cozy house never came from the furniture. It wasn't about the light wood furnishings or plush red fabrics. It was about the time spent with his best friend.
Antonio pulled a soft blanket around his and Lovino's shoulders and kissed the top of his friend's messy head. Then he drifted off to sleep himself, not even bothering to turn off the television.