˚ ༘ˀˀ ꒰‧⁺ 𝚁𝚊𝚗𝚙𝚘𝚎 𝙾𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚜 ✎ˀ

ˋˏ ༻☘️ᴄᴏꜰꜰᴇᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛꜱ☘️༺ ˎˊ

Words-1082
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"You really like taking your time huh?" The detective asked, his hand resting on his hip. He turned towards the poet, a long tan coat hanging from beneath him.

"Just, hold on." The brunette spoke, his eyes gazing at the mirror in front of him. His hand brushing hair strands out of his eyes; both gray irises shown.

"Your eyes are pretty, you should show them more." The detective spoke from behind him, leaning on the door frame; his weight being carried.

"Mh.." was the only reply the poet gave, too busy controlling the burning pink plastering onto his pale cheeks. The brush resting in his hand combed back the loose strands, noticing it had been longer than he realized.

"Are you done yet or are you going to keep brushing back your hair?" The detective asked, chuckling after his words. He walked towards the poet, his arm snaking around the tallers waist, a slight pull back.

"I would be done if you didn't keep distracting me..." the poet admitted outright, his hand retracing his bangs back onto his face, covering those shining grey eyes.

"'I would be done if you didn't keep distracting meee'." The detective repeated, his voice heightening in pitch, a chuckle leaving his mouth. "You would be done if you didn't worry how you looked, you look cute, stop worrying about your appearance." He continued, resting his head on the poets shoulder, his feet on the tips of his toes.

"Just, let me wear something that doesn't look like I'm dating a chocoholic." He chuckled softly, pushing past the detective slightly. His hand slid to the handle of the closet, pulling out a fit that contrasted nicely with the detective's.

"Is that a compliment or what." The blackette asked, tilting his head at the brunette, his lips being pulled into a sweet smile.

"It could be." The poet replied, glancing lovingly towards the detective, hearts replacing the soft shine resting in those dark and deep gray eyes.

"I'll take it as one!" He exclaimed sarcastically, his finger pointing towards the ceiling, laughing at himself, his eyes opening to watch the poet, his smile only growing wider.

"We should get going." The poet suggested, standing up from putting on a pair of boots, matching with the detective's.

"We would be already gone if you didn't care so much about what you looked like." The detective sighed, his hand finding the poet's; intertwining them, fitting together like puzzle pieces.

"Let's just go." The poet chuckled to himself, his grip on the blackette's hand feeling safe and warm.

»»——⍟——««

The sound of a soft bell echoed in the freezing cold café, the chatter of innocent kids and friendly parents, along with clutters of teenagers grouped up in small booths, cups and plates of sugar-filled sweets perched upon a nicely cleaned table.

Clicks of boots moved across the floor, two hands linked together, soft smiles plastered onto the both of their faces.

"Go find a seat, I know what you always order." The detective reassured, letting go of the poet's hand. His smile never left his face, his heart fluttering with passion.

The poet walked towards a table, sitting down at it, his hands instinctively running into his pockets. A phone got pulled out, a flash of it turning on blinded the brunette. A picture of the detective with his lovely raccoon were posing for his wallpaper, bringing his lips into a smile that shouldn't have been as wide as it was.

The blackette came back, two cups and a small, dainty bag in and around his arms. "Are you going take it or are you going to keep staring at a picture of me?" He asked, glancing at the poet with irritation, yet unable to hold in his laughter.

"You and your wondering eyes." The poet chuckled softly, his phone trailing back into its safe home. He reached out for the cup from the detectives hand, it only being pulled away.

"Give me a kiss first~" the blackette pouted, teasing the poet with his expression.

"Give me the cup."

"Give me a kiss."

"Ranpo-"

"Edgar."

The detective held his stance, looking at the poet with a preppy expression, one of his eyebrows lifted. "Give me a kiss and then maybe I'll consider giving you the coffee." He grinned.

"Give me the coffee you paid for, with my money." The poet fought back, staring at the blackette, holding in his chuckles.

"You paid for half of it, I paid for the other half, it was a team effort." He explained himself, waving around the cup like it weighed nothing, the sides of the glass clinging with the tint of the drink.

"Can I have the coffee that we paid for?" He asked, tilting his head to look at the detective, strands of hair falling away from his face, revealing shining eyes.

"Can I have a kiss?" He repeated, staring into the poets eyes, trying not to give in. He tilted his head with the brunette's, seeming like a mirror of the raccoon owner.

The brunette didn't speak up, staring up at the detective then glancing back at the cup in the blackettes hand. His movements were quick, lips attaching then detaching, his fingers curling around the top of the cup and pulling it towards himself, a smile forming onto his lips, tasting of chocolate, the taste of love, well, in Ranpo's eyes.

"There, you got your kiss and I have my coffee." The poet chuckled, taking a sip from the top of the straw, cold liquid moving up it.

"That wasn't even a kiss." The detective pouted, sitting next to the brunette, placing the bag onto the table; in front of the brunette. "It's for our child." He pointed out, sipping from the cup in his hand.

"Our child?" The poet asked, a confused expression laced onto his features. He turned to the detective, an obvious questioning glare coming from him.

"Our child, Karl? Hello is he nonexistent to you." He spoke out, trying to sip from the cup, starting to laugh; choking on the sweet chocolate-flavored coffee.

"Right, our child, a raccoon." The poet mocked, chuckling softly.

"I thought he was your family? Did you disown him?" He asked, looking offended.

"He is family."

"So he's our child-?" The detective cut him off, drawing a big conclusion.

The poet chuckled, looking down slightly, his hand pulling the blackette towards him.

"Sure, if that's how you want to put that."

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