This was Shishido's bday fic that I posted on Tumblr. I keep forgetting to upload things here. D:
Choutarou is glaring at his plate so hard it'll probably ignite any minute now. Shishido can admit that today has been, oh… completely shitty, but that's no reason to take it out on dessert. Shishido gives his own plate a consoling glance, before shoving another bite of cake in his mouth. He chews slowly, watching Choutarou stare at purple frosting (and really, his mom needs to stop making him a birthday cake every year because he's too fucking old for this okay) and wondering how he can make it better.
Making it better isn't really Shishido's thing. It's not really either of their thing, to be completely honest, but it's definitely really not his thing. He pushes crumbs and frosting around on his plate pensively, trying to decide the best thing to say. Honestly, Choutarou is kind of blowing things out of proportion, but hey, what's new? And yeah, Shishido gets it. Choutarou has probably been stressing out about getting Shishido's birthday right for weeks, so everything going to hell today is probably a huge deal. Most likely, Choutarou is beating himself up over things that are literally not even possibly his fault.
Shishido flicks his plastic fork against the edge of his plate, watching pinpricks of frosting splatter away from the tines. He chews on his lip, fidgets in his seat, jiggles his leg up and down rapidly. Choutarou is either full on ignoring him (which seems unlikely because they didn't fight or anything) or he's completely absorbed in his own self loathing (probable, since he's apologized approximately 100 times in the past hour). Shishido shovels another mouthful of cake in his mouth, smearing purple across his lips. He reaches up and drags his hand across his mouth, trading the purple lips for a purple hand.
He scrunches his nose up at his own idiocy, then tries to scrape the frosting off on the edge of his plate. He grows increasingly more frustrated, until frosting is smeared everywhere. He's contemplating throwing his plate at the floor when he realizes Choutarou is watching him. Shishido purses his lips, trying and failing not to get embarrassed, damn it cheeks stop turning red. He hears Choutarou's tiny huff of a laugh, quickly morphed into a cleared throat. And oh, oh no, Choutarou is not getting out of it that easily.
Shishido uses the only weapon readily available to him. He nonchalantly settles his plate on the arm of the couch, using the twist of his body to hide the two fingers he dunks in the frosting. Then he turns, smiles sweetly (a warning sign Choutarou knows all too well, given the way he sets his plate down and assumes a defensive position), and lunges. Choutarou is hella fast, as he should be. (Legs that long should be criminal, Shishido's convinced). Unfortunately for him, Shishido is hella faster.
Shishido gets his left arm around Choutarou's neck before he's even managed to move, using the frosting covered fingers of his right hand as a threat. Choutarou latches on to Shishido's right arm with both hands, putting his considerable muscle into it. He's laughing though, nearly hysterical. He hiccups an occasional "no" or "don't" or "Shishido!" but there's no power behind the words. Shishido grins fiercely, tamps down his own laughter, and gets his revenge.
They end up a tangled mess, flipped over the arm of the chair. Shishido has one hand on the floor, and he's pretty convinced it's the only reason they haven't toppled completely yet. There's frosting all over the left side of Choutarou's face and it's quite possible there's some up his nose. Shishido can't be blamed for that - it wouldn't have happened if Choutarou hadn't struggled. They're both giggling, drunk on laughter, smothered in purple frosting.
Their eyes meet and hold. Choutarou doesn't say thanks and Shishido doesn't ask if he's okay. They understand enough with just the few seconds of eye contact, as they always do. Shishido grins, sharp and triumphant.
"Hey Choutarou, you've got some frosting on your face."
Choutarou beams.