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SHINICHIRO SANO. — 6:21pm
“and we need this, too?” he’s stretched against the cart, lean body pressed forward as he eyes the spice in his hand. “who uses turmeric on a regular basis?”
“people who don’t want a bland ass dinner, sano.” you yank it from him, setting it down in the cart next to the other miscellaneous items that weren’t necessarily on the list you’d drafted. “wanna try to make this curry i saw soon, need turmeric for it.”
“wow, you’ve sure got a reason for everything.” and he’s pushing the cart forward, shoving you with it a little with a snicker. “you should be a lawyer, or a chef, or— oh my, god— you could get a cooking show.”
“you’re an ass.” you’re not grinning like him, you don’t have that same vibrancy he has plastered to his face at any given opportunity, appropriate or not, but your lips quirk up when he keeps his steps slow so you can scan the aisles alongside him.
“i don’t know why you’re buyin’ all this shit you never use, though. you know i own spices, right?” his tone never breaks the line from teasing to angry, pulling the cart to a stop when something else catches your eye.
“garlic powder, salt, and pepper are not spices.” you mumble, reading the nutritional information on the item.
“they literally are.”
“not enough, and i’m not just getting spices.” you place it back, looking to him. “i’ve never lived with anyone before, i mean like asides from family. i want it to be nice, i don’t know.”
“ohh.” he lets go of his hold on the handle, arm reaching to circle around you and pull you into his side. “i get it now,” a sloppy kiss to your head and you already know he’s about to piss you off. “you’re secretly a cornball romantic!”
“get off me now.” he chuckles again, grip loosening on you but not relenting.
“are you gonna start putting a fuck ton into intricate decor, too? do we need motivational throw pillows to remind each other to ‘stay blessed’.”
“haha, you’re so funny.” your voice drips with sarcasm before your elbow jabs into his stomach, stepping away and giving him a full view of the back of your head while you do your best to pretend you’re not matching his grin now. he just has that quality, that ability to make the dumbest shit seem so sweet and funny and movie-esque, and you know it. he’s always been talented like that, really, and sometimes he’s so good you get jealous of yourself.
“thanks, i think so, too.” your eyes roll, crinkling up at the mock pride in his voice.
“maybe it’s not too late to get my apartment back.” and he gasps behind you, shopping cart (filled with your precious, hand selected groceries) left unattended when his arms encompass you again, fully.
“no need to be rash, i’m pullin’ your leg.” despite your serious tone you both know you’re kidding; but nonetheless he leaves a soft, drier, kiss against the skin encompassing your jaw. “i’ll dress up like turmeric if you really need me to. anything to bunk up with you, roomie.” and despite his joking tone, you’re both aware he would do anything you asked.