dinner days
Hiruma Youichi & Anezaki Mamori
drabble
She wiped the last plate dry with a towel, feeling her eyebrow twitch with annoyance as Hiruma pummelled Sena with words alone. They had left HALF the dinner lying on their plates because of their arguments over a play that was not only risky, but stupid - stupid, stupid stupid...
"Shut the hell up, you damn shrimp!" Hiruma grabbed his gun (wherever it was normally hidden, even Mamori had yet to find out) and pointed it at the guy who - three years later - was still as short as ever. "I said it'll work and it'll damn well--"
"You-nii." Mamori didn't even bother to turn around, knowing he would scowl at her back, hands twitching on the gun, as her words came sugar soft and sweet. "I believe the game isn't until December, right?"
"What the hell does that--"
"It's January, Hiruma." She finally turned away from the sink, holding the plate out to him, voice firming. "And the dishes need to be put away. -Darling-."
Sena, of course, had wisely taken the chance to dash out of the house - about the time she had started speaking.
Hiruma scowled again. Damn women.
