#vingloves

"About what," Vintage asked flatly, shadows deepening the red fade in his eyes as he looked down at where Gloves sat.

"Uh... Dunno," Gloves said, fumbling to keep himself from putting his foot directly in his mouth. His uninjured hand found his injured arm's wrist, and he squeezed the straps of the gloves he wore. "Didn't think you had one of those."

Vintage scoffed. "You would be surprised at the amount of times Double has injured himself during practice. Not too dissimilar to yourself just now, actually. I suppose all dualies users have that in common."

Gloves laughed sheepishly, glancing out in the direction of the lobby of the tower. There was a practice range on the other end of it, but only one inkfish could use it at a time, so there were windows for others to watch. When he'd seen Vintage standing there, watching him, he'd been so shocked that... well. Yeah.

Unconsciously, he picked at the straps of his gloves, anything to distract himself from the pain in his arm and the weird way his hearts were thumping in his chest. The dark green ink he'd painted the lobby range with was probably dried up by now.

Vintage rolled his eyes and sat down next to him with the first aid kit. Like how he did everything, he wasted no time cleaning up the wound Gloves had managed to accidentally gouge into his arm. He held Gloves' wrist in one hand to keep the limb secure, and lifted a wipe to clean up the dark green smeared down his skin.

"Stop moving, idiot."

Despite the command, Gloves couldn't help but squirm, especially when Vintage fixed him with a cold, flat stare.

"Sorry that it hurts," he complained in defense of himself, but held himself still as Vintage lifted the wipe again. He tried to think about anything else, and found his thoughts focused on the warmth of Vintage's hand around his wrist.

The other inkling looked so focused. It wasn't a look he was unfamiliar with by any means; he knew Vintage never did anything halfway. But with the intensity of his gaze contrasting the gentleness of his touch, Gloves felt his hearts beat a little faster, and a warmth rise in his cheeks.

"There," Vintage said, finishing off the bandages that were wrapped around his arm. With the job done, he began to pack up the first aid kit. "Don't slip next time."

"In my defense, you surprised me," Gloves protested as Vintage returned to his locker across the room. "And also, you weren't supposed to see that in the first place."

"See what?" Vintage looked over his shoulder, and Gloves stared at the way the corner of his mouth ever so slightly quirked up. "See you fail to catch yourself out of a dodge roll?"

"Well, you startled me so bad that that wouldn't have happened!"

Vintage rolled his eyes and turned around, crossing the room again to stand in front of Gloves.

"If you are going to get startled by someone watching you," he said, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning down to look Gloves in the eye, "how are you going to handle it when you make it big like me?"

Gloves didn't have an answer, his tongue stuck in his throat and his eyes wide. He could feel the heat in his cheeks worsen with how close Vintage was. He could almost swear Vintage's red gaze flickered down.

"... I'll be watching you practice from now on," Vintage said, standing up straight and shoving his hands in the pockets of his nylon jacket. Without giving Gloves a chance to respond, the bright blue and red inkling left the locker room.

Vintage rolled his eyes. "You know, if you're giving up now, you won't be able to go up against me and you'll lose the bet by proxy."

Gloves stared at him. He felt the corner of his mouth quirk up.

"Are you a quitter, Gloves?"

"No," Gloves answered, petulant and quick, "but dualies are a lot lighter than this! We've been at it for a while, can't we at least switch weapons? I think I know how the ballpoint works by now anyways."

Vintage raised a brow in consideration, looking Gloves over. Sheldon didn't let two people in the backroom ranges together unless they had matching ink, so Gloves had switched to Vintage's color. It was to prevent accidental splatting, but Vintage couldn't help but appreciate the sight. It was oddly endearing to see his newly titled boyfriend in his own light blue.

"Alright," Vintage answered, turning towards the door. Gloves wouldn't see it, so he let himself smile, a teasing, malicious edge to it. "But only if you can manage to carry such a heavy thing all the way back out of the range."

"Fine!"

The sound of Gloves hefting the weapon off the ground almost made him laugh. He stormed past Vintage with the loaned ballpoint, reaching the door leading out of the range before Vintage did. Gloves flicked the safety on, and then fixed Vintage with a determined look.

"My turn and my dualies, so we're switching to my color," Gloves declared, before turning and shouldering his way through the door and out of the range. Rolling his eyes, and yet unable to completely stuff down his amused smile, Vintage followed him.

A quick talk and weapon trade with Sheldon, as well as a color switch, and they were standing back in the range. Gloves was twirling the dualies in his hands absentmindedly, easily, but Vintage couldn't help but feel out of place with the double weapons.

"Your green looks horrible on me," he said, watching as Gloves' gaze turned to rove over him.

"It's nothing like your light blue," Gloves agreed, a rare occasion that Vintage filed away for use later, "but I think you look cute."

The unexpected compliment brought a blush of heat to his face, and Vintage couldn't hide it fast enough. A look he knew all too well overcame Gloves' face, of teasing and knowing glee.

"Shut up," Vintage muttered, but Gloves only laughed. "Would you teach me how to use these things already?"

"Alright, alright," Gloves said with a little smile, "just watch the master and you'll be dodge rolling like a pro in no time."