"Damn it, Draven!" Darius snarled.
When you go to the gym and reach into your gym bag you expect to pull out your gym shorts. Instead he was holding a pair of magenta booty shorts with the word "JUICY" written in big, block, silver-sequined letters across the ass. A scowl carving its way onto his face, he dug through the bag. Unfortunately, he was out of luck. While only the shorts had been replaced, there also wasn't anything he could use instead.
He cursed quietly to himself, then sighed in resignation. Going home to get real shorts would take too long. He was already here; he wasn't going to waste the trip. He put on the booty shorts.
Out on the floor of the gym he heard a few instances of hastily smothered laughter, but otherwise people took one look at his face and knew better than to comment. By the time he was working with the free weights he had almost forgotten about them. Almost.
He was in the middle of lowering his dumbbells from a deltoid raise when he heard a thump followed by a thud.
"Lux!" Ezreal cried out.
Darius finished his rep before turning to look. Down in the sunken section, below the area the free weights occupied, it looked like Lux had walked into one of the poles he assumed were part of the gym's structural support. She sat on the floor in front of it, one hand holding her face where it had collided with the pole. Ezreal was crouched down next to her, gently touching her shoulder and asking if she was okay.
She ignored her friend, however, and looked up at Darius. Her one visible eye was wide and stunned.
"I'm so sorry," she said. "It was just so sparkly, and… eye-level."
Ezreal looked up too, his face puzzled. His eyes suddenly moved past Darius to the wall-mirror at his rear. Ezreal's jaw dropped.
"Holy shit!" he exclaimed.
Darius breathed out an inaudible sigh.
"What do you think you're doing?" he asked, since Ezreal had whipped out his phone and was moving to take a picture. Darius pointed his most unamused expression at Ezreal, but it merely bounced off the kid's overly-healthy ego.
"I just need a copy of this for, uh, posterity," Ezreal said, snapping a picture of the reflection in the mirror.
"Don't you mean posterior-ity?" Lux asked.
"Exactly how hard did you hit your head?" Darius raised an eyebrow.
"Nah," Ezreal said. "She's always like this." He didn't even look up from his phone as he swiped back to check how the picture came out.
Darius turned back to Lux. She hadn't moved: still sitting on the floor, looking stunned and clutching her face.
"You should probably put some ice on that before it starts to swell."
Ezreal looked up from his phone, his wandering attention suddenly recaptured.
"Ohhh, man," he said. He offered her a hand and pulled her up, once again solicitous. "Yeah, I bet if we ask at the smoothie shop they'll get you some, no problem."
"Gimmie," she said, grabbing at his phone.
He tilted it so she could see the screen. If Darius didn't know what they were looking at, their matching blonde heads bent together in conference would be adorable. He glowered at their oblivious backs as they walked off in search of ice.
"Want a copy?" Ezreal asked.
"Yes, please," Lux said.
Darius braced himself because he knew what was coming.
"...for posterior-ity!"
A gusty sigh escaped him as he shook his head.
"Damn it, Draven," he muttered one last time before returning to his routine.