#jikuuu

As you decide to make your way to the kitchen, a line of outer clothing forms behind you. The snow, stuck to the fibers, already melts in the high temperature of the room and is bound to soak your clothes should you not hang them out in front of the heater, yet this barely makes it into the list of your current worries. All you want now is a cup of hot tea, coffee, cocoa - whatever the cupboard holds at its disposal, it just needs to be scorching hot to warm you from the inside out.

You can almost discern him huffing at your proposal - either that or it can be a shadow of laughter. For all you know, he’s found the visual of you waddling through the snow as the blizzard raged on quite amusing. Mayhaps it’s been his plan all along, to drag you out outside just to revel in the sight of you struggling against the elements.  

“Yeah, tell me about it,” he answered in kind, stomping his feet a bit too thoroughly to get rid of the snow. “As we both know, I was sitting inside the whole time and mocking your misfortunes.”

Well, cold certainly hasn’t dulled his poignancy. 

With a counter-quip dancing at the tip of your tongue, you turn around to face him - only to see nothing but the snow powdering his form. An unbidden smile graces your lips at the sight of this second layer of clothing, dusting it with white frost. Even his hair and beard aren’t safe from the fluffy flakes sticking to them, maybe even more so than other parts of his body. After all, he can always take off the outer layers covered in snow just like you’ve done a moment ago, hair and beard - not so much.

Too bad he can't see you approach, a spark of endearment pooling in your eyes. His glasses fogged up the moment he stepped into the house.

“Look at you,” you half-tease half-flatter, holding up a finger to the flushed tip of his nose. “At least the weather treated us equally shitty.”

Your comment falling on deaf ears, he promptly rejects your touch by brushing off your hand. Unlike you, Zeke actually has enough decency to undress in an orderly manner and put his clothes on a hanger instead of the floor. An impressive fit, considering the partial blindness he is currently experiencing.

As he bends down to unlace his shoes, you can't help but laugh at the way he's peering over his glasses, desperate to find the knots to untie. Knowing full well how unwelcoming he is to your touch, let alone affection, you nevertheless have the audacity to reach down to ruffle his hair still powdered in snow. Most of the snowflakes you shake off shower the floor around you two, with some landing on his lenses. Still, he says nothing to repel you - perhaps he's staring daggers at you, but you wouldn’t be able to see them behind those glasses.

Maybe it’s the recent cold leaving you wanting for more spice (as if barely getting out of the blizzard hasn’t been enough), but you feel brave enough to crouch down beside him. Eyes fixed at his brows he’s been furrowing ever since you approached him. Evidently, his inability to watch you is quite unnerving to him.

“Why don’t you take them off for a second?” you suggest with a smile, already reaching your hands towards the metal frame, “I can even be so gracious as to clean them for you.”

Before you can though, he smacks your hands away. Not hard, but assertive enough to make his discontent with your ill-conceived action known to you. Doesn’t mean that it stops you from smiling at him. It’s quite a challenge to get your point across if the most expressive feature on your face is now reduced to a pair of foggy circles. 

Standing up, probably to get away from you, he crosses his arms over his chest as he scoffs at your sudden bout of cheerfulness. “Hands off my glasses. I know you too well not to expect you to leave a smudge on the lenses. And guess who would be the one to wipe it off?” The way he crinkles his nose at you fails to deter you and if anything does the opposite as you now want to tease him even more. “Just don’t touch them, they'll get cleared up in a moment.”

With that, he attempts to push past you, but you've already decided to torment him relentlessly, sensing his susceptibility to it today. Having caught a glimpse of his irritation, you now crave to witness it in full display. And here you thought that it would be the other way around today.

You stand in his way, a complacent grin plastered across your face and eyes burning bright with challenge - not that he can see it anyway. Contrary to his reassurance, the glass lenses don’t show even the slightest hint of clearing up, if anything, they’ve gotten cloudier ever since.

The annoyance in his posture is palpable as you press your palms against his chest in a feeble attempt to prevent him from going away. Lucky you - he puts up with your schtick just the right amount for you to get away with this. 

“Come on, we both know that you don’t really need them,” you rebuke in a soft tone, reaching for his glasses again.

This time he lets you, although very reluctantly. Maybe the pros of giving in to your whim outweigh the cons of being hounded with your nagging should he refuse your touch. 

“Come on,” you nudge further and he relents, bowing his head ever so slightly to grant you more access. 

The metal frame feels cold as you grab it, and with an awkward, not-so-smooth motion, you slide the glasses onto his head. Meeting his gaze isn’t something you anticipate so the sight of his blue eyes staring back at you catches you by surprise. 

Now, his eyes stand out even more against his features, rosy from the cold. It’s been quite some time now since you’ve been given an opportunity to look at them up close, let alone without the barrier of the lenses. Even the peevishness he is trying so hard to convey to you through the gaze alone is unable to obstruct the clarity of their color, as fresh as the winter sky.

Again, you send him a curt smile in hopes he responds in kind. Only he doesn’t budge at this display of sentiment. He must be very cross with you to warrant such a lack of positive reaction then, evident in the way he purses his lips and quirks his brow at you, looking forward to seeing your whim to subside sooner or later. 

“Maybe I don’t mind a stroll in a blizzard every now and then.” As you muse to yourself, your fingers delicately trace the space where a subtle blush dusts his features. “If it means seeing you like this.”

Just as you're poised to playfully tap his nose, he unexpectedly leans forward, stealing a quick peck on your lips. As often happens, especially when he isn't careful (just like a moment ago), the coarse hairs of his beard prick your chin. You recoil instinctively, fingers reaching to your face. Before you can say something, your brows knitting together in understandable confusion, he shoots you a smirk. Now it’s his turn to flick you on the nose.

“This,” he declares, while scanning your features, “is my rightful compensation for having to endure your obnoxiousness earlier.”

Even as he utters those words, not a hint of irritation darkens his tone. Sliding the glasses back on his nose, he shoots you a grin before walking past you - the lenses have already cleared up enough for you to notice a glint of complacency shining in his eyes.