[Mushroom Boom] Kuro + Mercy

"Unless we want patrons to continue to track mud and detritus through the church, I suggest we get ourselves outside and start cleaning up. The path up to the chapel is entirely overwhelmed with mushrooms. Who would have guessed that ignoring my suggestion to pave the walkway would, indeed, be detrimental to the church." A familiar voice grumbles. Kuro's arms are crossed, his brow is furrowed heavy over his eyes, and he stares out of the front doors of the church toward the yard and road in front of the chapel. Sure enough, the grass and dirt is littered with a sudden burst of tiny blue mushrooms. A stupider bun might actually believe the grass itself had turned blue.

"Oh yes, Father" says Mercy as they step up behind him, peering around his arm to observe with him. "The plan that would cost two seasons worth of revenue from our pockets? For paving that we do not nor have we ever needed?"

Kuro's temple twitches. He glares down at the top of their habit-covered head from the corner of his eye. "Perhaps if someone wasn't so interested in skimming of the top, such a purchase wouldn't be unreasonab-"

They drop their hand beside Kuro's leg, reach out, and _pinch_ his pants and his thigh between two manicured nails. Kuro hisses, jumps, and uncrosses his arms to smack their side with his golden-laced crop. He doesn't complete the swing, as Mercy intercepts his attempt with a wicker basket, catching the impact with a dry crunching sound. They're smiling behind it, eyes closed and mouth bright and calm. "It's as you said, Father Kuro. We ought to get ourselves outside. I'm sure the food bank wouldn't say no to several bushels of fresh mushrooms - which they wouldn't have if we choked the dirt with concrete and pavement, would they?"

Kuro flattens his mouth into a line, emphasizing the lines of age to either side of his lips, and snatches the basket out of their hand. They lift their other up, showing that they intend to accompany him for the chore ahead. Kuro likes working. Kuro doesn't, however, like working side by side with Mercy. One of these statements is a lie.

The workaholic takes a step forward and out into the rain without bothering to turn for a coat or an umbrella.

Mercy waits for Kuro to reach the bottom of the steps to the ground before they call out. "Father..." they coo toward him, innocent and powdery. Kuro turns over his shoulder, presenting them with his full look of disappointment - and glasses which are already speckled and splashed with raindrops. Mercy tries their best not to laugh at them, digging their teeth into the sides of their tongue to keep the instinct at bay as they lift up two black ponchos: uniform raingear the church keeps for purposes like this. "Haven't you forgotten something?"

"I'm hoping that by drenching myself to the bone, I'll catch a cold that sticks enough to keep me from work," he huffs.

"You'd go insane being cooped up in your burrow. I would be half tempted to call you in just to force you out. Imagine how efficiently you'd work if you were fuel by a sick rage. You'd leave half of the non-sinners limping and dripping on their way ho-" Mercy isn't even halfway done with their full statement before Kuro is back up the stairs, pushing one hand over their mouth to quiet them down about the kinds of work he would be doing, and snatching the poncho away from them with the other. Their eyes glitter just above the outside edge of his thumb, and he feels their lips curl up against him palm. The softness and warmth of them make him feel more ill with butterflies than any cold ever could.

He sets his basket down, wraps the poncho around his shoulders, and clasps it closed all the way down. With the poncho on, his chest is completely covered to below the waist. A bit more conservative than he would tend toward... but he can't deny the look of the full outfit has an intimidating quality to it. He should remember the church keeps these in their closet. When he is ready to trudge back out into the rain, Mercy clears their throat. They're holding up their own poncho expectantly.

"You're very well grown, Clergy Mercy. You can dress yourself."

"Of course I can, Father Kuro," they return, and elaborate nothing more. They don't move.

Kuro waits two beats, palms itching, teeth gritting together, and foot tapping against the ground. He would like to be stronger than the offer in front of him, a carat on a string dangled in front of his eyes that begs him to open his mouth and take a bite. He doesn't want to dress Mercy, because Mercy knows he does want to. He doesn't want to give in to their teasing, prodding under his skin in silent ways that drive him up and OVER the nearest tree. ... And yet, after a minute of silent frustration, he breaks anyway. The little Kuro-colored ribbon wrapped around Mercy's little finger tightens. He takes the cape from Mercy's delicate hand, opens it up, and stands in front of them to pull the cloth around their back and clasp it at their front. Kuro starts with the clasps at the top and works down until the ruffles of their dress and the white stockings covering their knees are almost in front of his nose, just under where the cape ends on their petite frame. When he comes back up, Mercy stops him one final time by grabbing him by the front of his cape, pulling down forcefully, and pushing up on their toe tips to make sure Kuro's lips land on theirs when his body jerks down to their level.

Kuro's eyes widen, his cheeks flush pink, and his tail stands straight out from his back. Mercy releases him.

"H-- hhK! AHEM. AHACKHACKCOUGH--" Some rain has blown into his throat. That's all. A little bit of choking or... spring allergies. They're bad enough allergies that his face continues to turn a brighter, brilliant shade of ruby. He picks his basket up and takes  a step backward, away from Mercy. "You.... hg-- You go. To the other side of the grass. I don't want to waste my time - c o u g h - picking one section when we can - h a c k - share the load with two. Am I understood?"

"Of course, Father Kuro..." Mercy hums. Their cheeks haven't changed color noticably, but the nature of the smile on their lips has. It's mischevious. Mercy is always the loafki that got the cream. They walk past him, being the first to successfully exit the building, and make sure their tail drags across his side and down his legs as they move past.

They proceed to not, in fact, move to the other side of the grass as they begin cleaning the lawn.