And the tattoos on your arms match the smile of my heart

Nobody seemed to care that Hashirama had moved to the US almost six years ago. Not that being back in the city where he had been raised was that big of a deal, but the fact that everybody thought that everything was the same as before for Hashirama or, even worse, that he was the same as before, was starting to grate on his nerves.

That was why he was sitting in the shadows in a bar's big outdoor area scrolling through his Instagram, pressing his thumb against the screen more vehemently than necessary; not that that was something strange but at least he could feel some kind of tranquility since that was how he spent his lunch breaks back at Home.

That Home was at that precise moment on the other end of the world, well Hashirama was trying not to think about that.

At the very least the lunch break was the same: Hashirama glued to his phone and his legs resting on top of the thighs of the person by his side.

Perhaps, Home wasn't really on the other ends of the world after all.

Reached this conclusion, Hashirama felt part of the stress piled up on his shoulders leave his form; he stretched out an hand to reach for the cup of coffee on the table, a coffee that sucked because in this part of the world there was little to no hope to find some good coffee like the one they had at Home, without even looking up from his phone and muttered absentmindedly "I need a back rub."

The only answer he got was a light squeeze of his right knee, the one that hurt since he was a kid, and an affirmative hum from the person by his side. Usually, Hashirama was better at handling his bad mood but there were other fourteen days to be spent with his parents waiting ahead and, considering that only six had already passed since they had arrived, Hashirama was starting to get desperate. They had only a month of vacation a year and this time twenty days would be spent here; Hashirama really wasn't enjoying this break.

Hashirama let loose a sound that was part snort and part groan just to lighten some of his frustration and he could almost hear the eyes roll behind the shades coming from person by his side. "Quit this crap." Hashirama snorted suffering. "What are you? Five?" Hashirama glanced away from his phone and, above the rim of his shades, glared at his partner before asking slowly "Excuse me?"

His partner raised an eyebrow, not in the slightest touched by the amount of venom in his tone, and asked "Can we at least pretend to be tourists?" "We don't need to pretend. We are tourists." "Tourists visit places and see things. We're not doing any of that shit." Hashirama huffed once more. "Ok, egocentric drama queen. Show me this city."

Hashirama blocked his phone and placed it down on his thigh before answering "You know what? You're right." "I'm always right." "Yeah, no. Anyways. I'll show you this city but since you called me egocentric I want you to know that this egocentric princess, for I'm a princess just so you know, wants some nice coffee, not this shit, and a donut or maybe a cookie or maybe both since apparently other than be an egocentric princess I'm also an undecided prick."

His partner's laugh made him smile for the first time since they had arrived and Hashirama thought, not for the first time, that he could spend the rest of his life listening to that rare but genuine sound.

-

They both got up and started walking toward the city center; Hashirama had one hand in the back pocket of his partner's denim and the other intertwined with the hand dangling from his shoulder. Sometimes people gave them strange looks but Hashirama was completely unconcerned; they were a normal couple, two tourists walking under the arcades of the city, what were people looking at? Perhaps normal couple wasn't the best definition for the two of them but anyways that didn't explain the looks of the passerby.