Work Text:
White got out of his car, shutting the door in a huff. He was low on groceries, having been distracted with that blasted pest dressed in black all week. White even had an unfortunate run in with them earlier in the day. He b-lines for the entrance of the grocery store, getting his list out as he mindlessly grabs a shopping cart.
White cruised over to the produce, scanning for the items needed. Potatoes, corn, chocolate. And heck, why not some pasta, tomato sauce, and Parmesan. He felt like cooking on his day off tomorrow. A rarity nowadays, and definitely needed for his, no doubt, injured skull.
White crossed off the items from his list, seeing that coffee, milk, and cream were written next. As he walked around an aisle, White cringed at the sound of his cart crashing into another. White’s ears rang, still sensitive from a prior punch from Black.
“Oh I’m sorry. Please forgi-“
“White?”
White had to take a moment to register the familiar voice, looking at the person's face. Even when he was off the clock, he was forced to see the man he despised most.
“Black.” White hissed with venom, staring daggers at the man, still dressed in black and seemingly still in his work clothes. Minus the coat and hat that is.
Black rolled their eyes with a deep huff. Leaning over their shopping cart, lazily. White scanned them over more intently, spotting the cheap easy to cook meals. Black grabbed the handle of his cart and jams it against White’s. White yelped in pain as his skin was smashed into, hopping as he rubbed his leg. Black simply started to walk off innocently, whistling a tune. Smug Bastard.
White gripped the handle of his cart and thought for a split second of running his cart over them. But he inhaled and sighed, his exhaustion wearing on him and forcing him to remember his reason here. He continued on his path and… ah, Black was going the same way he needed to as well.
White headed to the Dairy section, ignoring how tantalizingly close Black was within a choking distance. He reached for his favorite milk brand, only to see another hand reaching for the same one. White turned his head in shock, seeing Black's surprised face.
“When did you start drinking this?!”
“When did you start drinking this?!”
They both stared at the other, hushed stillness. For a moment, they mirrored the other, retracting their hands away slowly at the same time. Black broke the trance as they quickly yanked the milk and turned to put it in their cart.
White stewed in the silence, watching Black’s back facing him. White clicked his tongue, reaching for two of the milk and setting them in his cart. Pulling his pen out, he flips it between his fingers in thought. Then he pressed the empty tip to Black’s back. His rival tensed up, not expecting any physical contact.
“Getting sloppy with your back turned. ~" White snickered playfully, fully relaxed in his stance as they turned their head slightly.
“Come on. I’m tired. I’d prefer not to fight.” Black huffed out, turning his head back to his cart. Seeming to mentally check off a list.
“Not going to ask to put my gun away?” White inquired, puzzled to see the other man ease after that statement.
“Out in public? I don’t believe you’re that stupid. And besides, you're in your plain clothes. You don’t have a gun on you.” Black replied, White was able to hear the huge smirk on their face.
White was about to quip back, but Black answered for him.
“Yes, I’m aware you have your dagger. Leather sheath strap on your left chest?”
White was stunned. Shit. Black knew him too well. He pulled his arm back, clicking his pen and crossing milk off his list.
“Yeah, yeah. You got me red headed.” White grumbled, turning on his heel and snagging a bottle of cream as well. As he placed it in his cart, he noticed that Black had left. With an agitated sigh, he continued on his list to get his favorite coffee brand. Folgers coffee, a simple pleasure.
White walked a while, turning down the aisle and stopping. Black was there, looking over the shelves. White took a moment to admire how determined Black seemed to be looking at the coffee brands, scanning like a hawk. How humorous.
White rolled over and saw that his favorite brand didn’t seem to be on the shelves. Oh well, he didn’t mind the others, not as good but what could he do. Just as he was about to grab whatever brand was closest, he spotted the Folgers coffee… In Black’s hand.
White went still, watching their hand rotate the metal tin. In the silence, White finally raised his gaze and saw that Black was staring back at them.
“What’s your problem?” Black asked, voice tinted with slight worry but more in disbelief. White felt his jaw clench, the tone felt insulting. In a flash White yanked the item out of Black’s hands, the Black spy’s face turning irate. They lunged towards White, trying to grab the coffee tin back.
“You asshole!” Black exclaimed, clawing at White’s clothes in an attempt to get closer. White held them back with one arm, the other arm holding the Folgers coffee far away.
“Like you’re one to talk! I was having such a dandy time before you showed up again.” White quipped back, irritation lacing his voice. Yet, he couldn’t hide his smug smile as his rival struggled to reach. Black finally backed away, waving the flag of defeat. Only to then swing their leg back, and kick right into White’s shin.
White let out an undignified scream, hopping on one leg as he held his once again injured shin. Black quickly lunged forward, reaching for the item before White’s foot landed square into Black’s stomach.
The man heaved as they held their gut, groaning in pain as they lifted their head.
“You suck.”
“You started it with that kick to my shins.”
“You stole my coffee?!”
“You didn’t buy it. Therefore you don’t own it.” The two continue to bicker, causing the other customers around to scoot away worriedly. Finally, an employee walked over, fiddling their hands nervously as they interrupted the two spies’ quarrel.
“U-um, Excuse me sirs? Can I help resolve this conflict?” The young lady’s voice was small, about to burst into tears.
The two spies stop their fight, deadly sights zeroing on the nervous worker. The lady’s frightened squeak brought White to reality as he cleared his throat.
“Apologies Madam. Me and my…” White turned his head to glance at Black, the man glaring back at him. “My acquaintance and I were just discussing how he was going to graciously let me have the last Folgers coffee.”
He could hear Black let out a strangled groan, almost snickering out loud at his victory.
“There’s more in the back.” The lady spoke softly, holding her hand as though in a prayer for peace. “I-I can go get it right now. I’ll be right back.” She quickly turned on her heels, shoes clacking as she rushed to the back of the store.
Black and White stood there, a realization dawning on them both. White felt his face go warm. The fact that he fought his rival over measly coffee, did not go over his head. White sighed and tossed the coffee tin to black. They barely manage to catch it, hands fumbling before finally getting a firm grasp.
They craned their head to White, staring with suspicion.
“Just go. I’m already sick of your face.” White grumbled, ears perking up as he listened to Black roll his cart away.
White waited a while for the employee, apologizing to her deeply once they came back. He received his last item on his grocery list, now he could leave and not have to run into his rival again.
White headed straight to check out, rounding a corner and crashing into another cart again.
“Oh good god!” White exclaimed worriedly, a split second wave of stress washing over him at his lack of awareness. His eyes saw the blur of that color, quickly realizing who the figure in black was. His stress vanished just as quickly as it arrived.
“Oh good god.” White repeated in a deflated tone. Black was eating a hotdog bought from the food court, simply giving White the middle finger. What an idiot.
White steadied his breathing, trying not to outwardly curse at God. White backed up.
“Go ahead.” He grumbled, teeth clenched tightly in his jaw. Black cock an eyebrow, surprised by White’s rare kindness. White stared ahead, zoning out as he waited for his turn in line.
White could at least be happy that he would be able to get home without dying. That is if the ringing in his ear would disappear by tomorrow. White watched, from outside his line of sight, black in front of him waiting. Black hummed a tune, entrancing White to focus onto the melody. It felt familiar, like something from the band Edison lighthouse. White landed his gaze onto the back of Black’s head, hardly paying attention to his surroundings.
That tapping of Black's fingers helped White pinpoint what lyric his rival was humming.
“Oh, but love grows where my rosemary goes…”
White was alerted as he saw Black move forwards. They were finally checking out, no longer humming. Despite the silence of Black’s soft hum, the song had now wormed its way into his brain.
“I'm a lucky fella And I just got to tell her that I love her endlessly because love grows…”
White could feel his heart clench, pondering why on earth Black would like such a mushy song like this.
“Sir?” White was startled as the cashier called him, bringing him to focus on getting his grocery and leaving. As his items were being checked up, White turned his head, seeing Black leaving the store.
"Where my rosemary goes And nobody knows like me.”