„I was right, you know", he remarks before shoveling another forkful of chocolate cake into his mouth. The sun is glinting through the window, a golden reflection on the glass table and silver cutlery, and also a mocking contrast to his soaked clothes. He's not even sure at this point whether the water in his shoes has leaked in during their sprint here, or dripped down from his jeans.
Another drop of ice-cold water starts trickling down his neck and he turns to glower at the one responsible for his current misery.
„I told you we should just wait for the shower to pass, and you dragged us right into the worst of it! And your time perception sucks by the way, we still have half an hour till her train comes."
Yato unhurriedly takes a large bite out of his doughnut, then gives him an obnoxious grin. „Ah, but Yukine-chan, thanks to me we now have time for this lovely snack. Are you not enjoying your cake?" He shakes his head, a theatrical expression of sorrow on his face. „Such a gracious offering brought to us by Hiyori, and all you ever do is complain-"
„I could have done without the cake too, you know? And I'm the one who'll be stuck in a draughty train for two hours in wet clothes, so really if anyone should complain it's me", she interrupts him with a huff, and under her annoyed stare Yato's bravado seems to wilt a little. He quickly tries to cover it up by stuffing the rest of the doughnut into his mouth, and absentmindedly starts reaching for Yukine's cake.
Yukine hits him on the fingers with the fork and sends him another death glare.
Yato draws his knees up on the armchair and heaves a dramatic sigh.
It's probably a good thing the waitress can't see him, the way his boots leave muddy traces on the upholstery.
Not that the furniture had been that clean to begin with in the train station's only café, but still.
It had been Yato's idea to wait here of course, after they'd arrived forty minutes early and dripping wet at the train station. Admittedly, the café is slightly warmer than the windy entrance hall, but the clammy stickiness of his shirt and pants makes him shift uncomfortably in his chair anyway.
Yato, the bastard, had called dibs on the heater, so him and Hiyori are stuck with their soppy jackets draped over their backrests. He watches the water trickling down the sleeve of Hiyori's cloud grey coat, drips splashing on the floor and connecting into a glittering puddle.
A particularly nasty breeze rips through the air, and Hiyori curls in on herself with a shiver. Unexpectedly, Yato plucks his track suit jacket off the heater and hands it to her.
She takes it with hesitant hands, but then slips her arms through the sleeves and pulls it tight around her, burying her nose in the collar.
„You must be freezing horribly if you can stand that stinky jacket", Yukine tells her with a sympathetic frown.
Hiyori turns a brilliant shade of pink and starts stammering „Oh, no it's not- well you know, I have a cold anyway, I probably couldn't smell it even if he spent the night in a trashcan-"
Yukine snorts at that. „Must be a real bad cold you caught there, because he actually stole Daikoku's sake again yesterday and fell asleep in a trashcan, your trashcan to be exact because-"
His airway is suddenly caught off by an arm wrapping tightly around his neck, and Yato's voice like mercury against his ear, „Yukine-kun..."
The sleeve of the probably-once-white sweatshirt smells of old sweat and whatever it is the Ikis had in their trashcan, and the rest of the waiting time dissolves in insults and headslaps once he tells him exactly that.
He does hug Hiyori tightly though when her train arrives, and wishes her a good trip despite the stupid rain, and she smiles at him and tells him to remember his homework.
Yato hugs her like he always does, with a little too much enthusiasm and not that much regard for human lungs.
She finally pushes him away and begins to take off the track suit jacket awkwardly, but he stops her hands and fixates her with a strange expression on his face. „Keep it", he mumbles finally.
„But I-"
„I insist."
Hiyori looks like she wants to say something, but then the train whistle blows, and she hurries inside with a last wave.
„Give me your jacket, Yukine", Yato orders when they leave the train station.
„Hell no", Yukine snorts.
„You know, you're supposed to protect me."
„Yeah, from demons, and crazy gods, not from the fucking cold. And you know, you gave your jacket away."
„I was being a gentleman-"
Yukine nearly chokes from laughter at that one.
„It's only one weekend, you know", he remarks once he has his voice back under control.
„I know that" Yato sulks. „I'll just miss it, is all. I'm not used to- not having my jacket."
„Uhuh" Yukine anwers with an eyeroll.
„But I'll gladly suffer this vicious cold to ensure Hiyori's health! She is my best follower after all.." He starts going off on his usual rant about the glorious future of Yatoism, and Yukine rolls his eyes again.
He wonders how many years with Yato his eyes will be able to take.