Style
Pairing: Style, Stan/Kyle
Words: 611, Rated: T, Genres: Romance/Humor(minor)
Oneshot
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Kyle groaned, wanting to do nothing more than throw his hands in the air saying "I quit!" as loudly as possible. But, he instead walked back into the dressing room. Stupid Stan and his stupid fashion shit… Closing the door, he glanced in the mirror, it didn't look too bad. Just normal.
"Dude, I know you don't get this crap, but seriously? Are you kidding me?" Stan asked. Kyle envisioned the other with his hands on his hips, stomping a foot on the ground.
"I don't see what's so fucking bad about it…" Kyle muttered to himself, knowing Stan probably heard him.
He did, "You always wear an orange coat and green pants!" he complained loudly.
"Then why should I change that? I think I look fine in them." He caught the clothes as Stan threw them unceremoniously over the door. He pulled them apart, looking at the fabric offered. "No. No way in Hell Stan. Not for you, not for anyone."
He heard the other growl, yes, actually growl. "Just fucking wear it." Stan demanded impatiently. "It's a great outfit!"
"See, it's words like 'outfit' that ruin your whole 'I'm straight' look. Not that you're doing it very well nowadays anyway." he added. He pulled off his jacket, then his shirt. Why did Stan even let me pick out my own clothes if he hated them this much in the first place? Why not just skip to the torture?
"Are you putting them on?" Stan asked, completely ignoring the other's last reply.
"Yes, mother," he mocked, putting the stretchy material over his head. "It's so…Revealing." he admitted, looking in the mirror as he pulled the shirt over his midriff. He took off his pants next, quickly replacing them with the ones offered. They felt so…stifling. Tight. He stared in the mirror for a second. "Yeah…No. I'm not wearing this." he stated simply.
The doorknob shook, "Dude, open the door."
"It looks bad," he responded quickly, "I'm not wearing it."
"You're just saying that, Kyle, it probably looks great."
"You're not seeing it, you wouldn't know," he complained.
"If you opened the damn door I would."
Grumbling under his breath, he opened the door. Arms crossed over his chest unconsciously. He shifted uncomfortably as Stan looked him up and down, then back again. "See?" he asked, watching a wide-eyed Stan glance to his face.
"I think you look the best I've ever seen you," Stan replied in a higher voice than usual.
Kyle shifted again, looking at the opposite wall, "I don't like it, I think it looks horrible."
"I don't believe you," Stan said, point-blank. "Why don't you want to wear it?" Stan saw right through him. He did like the shirt and pants just not on him. He glanced at his boyfriend, biting his lip.
"It feels weird…wrong. I just feel…exposed." Kyle admitted quietly, looking back to the opposite wall in embarrassment.
He felt arms wrap around him. "If you don't feel right in it, then I won't push you." Stan said, hands gripping the shirt. "But if you do this for me then I'd be sooo happy."
"Dude, don't channel Craig right now, it's creepy," Kyle replied, shifting in the arms. Eventually, he gave in, wrapping his own around Stan. "I guess I could, but you owe me!"
"Thank you!" Stan said, pecking his cheek as he pulled away. Kyle felt his hand grip his own and squeeze reassuringly. "I promise you'll love me for it when the pictures come in this year. If anything, the last yearbook picture will be different from all the rest."