Gotou leaned his shoulder against the door frame, watching the gentle rain of a mid-October evening. He could hear Masayoshi fussing, the rustle of papers jammed between rental DVDs louder than he realized, and smiled to himself.
(more) The movie had let out an hour ago. When the rain started, Masayoshi had tugged him into a cafe, and they'd sat and had coffee and ... it was /nice/, even if Masayoshi had to pick apart the movie's rather thin plot and complain, extensively, about how this was going to impact The Show Going Forward.
(It was entertaining to needle Masayoshi into a nerdish rage, if only because he was so passionate about it he didn't notice that Gotou was being obtuse on purpose until Gotou was nearly done with his coffee.)
"They were right here," Masayoshi complained, and let out a small huff, folding his arms indignantly after securing the flap of his bag.
"There's a fifth dimensional imp out there who delights in disappearing your gloves," Gotou said, pushing off the door frame. "I ought to own stock in a glove company, with how many pairs I buy you."
Masayoshi wrinkled his nose when he frowned at Gotou, and for a moment Gotou was struck, because that was /cute/. Masayoshi's rebuke died on his lips, and they stared at each other for a moment, caught out unexpectedly. Masayoshi's ears went pink and his expression softened, and Gotou looked away and cleared his throat.
"Anyway," Gotou said firmly. "It's not even that cold out, you don't need your gloves tonight." He didn't startle when Masayoshi put his hand tentatively on Gotou's arm, and didn't jerk away, either, when Masayoshi slid that hand down into Gotou's own.
"No," Masayoshi said, as Gotou linked his fingers with Masayoshi's. "I guess I don't."(less)