Yasss! Super uber ultra quick update! This is a smaller oneshot, since I wrote it in an hour or two. I was watching Superfruit and in the episode Mitch is wearing glasses and pushes them up a lot; thus, the idea for this story was born! A quick summary: Mitch hates his glasses, and Scott thinks he looks great in them. So what is the blonde going to do to change his boyfriend's mind?

Read away!


"Those glasses make you look super fucking cute."

Mitch felt his insecurities grow as he glanced at his boyfriend, sending him a shy smile. His black glasses began to slide down the bridge of his nose again and he used his pointer finger to push them back into place. Honestly, if he hadn't run out of contacts, he would not be wearing these thick-ass lenses right now.

Wrinkling his nose, Mitch scrutinized his reflection in the bathroom mirror for the fourth time. He and Scott were currently in the restroom of one of their favorite clothing stores. The brunette had to see while he was walking about in public (not only that, but he had to look damn good); since his nerdy glasses were the only item available, he had to use them. His blonde counterpart had insisted he pulled off the plain black style fabulously, and because Mitch really wanted some new clothes, he grudgingly decided to wear them.

The countertenor sighed. It was only for an afternoon, right?

Scott smiled and took the brunette's hand, effectively dragging his focus away from his glasses for a moment. "Stop ogling yourself, Mitchie. You look great."

"So you say." Mitch flicked a piece of hair out of his line of sight, finally ripping his gaze from the mirror. "Well, whatever. I want some new clothes. Let's get out of here."

Pretending not to notice when Scott eyeballed his tiny frame appreciatively, Mitch led the way from the bathroom to the insides of the store. Different clothes surrounded him every way he turned, some simple and some strange. The was one article that caught his eye; a long-sleeved shirt that was a weird geometric mixture of black and red and white shapes. Squinting, Mitch stood up on his toes to grab at the shirt. His traitor glasses began falling down his face so he had to pause and push them back up again. The brunette barely notice Scott standing behind him as he struggled.

"Need help?" The blonde offered, feeling a little guilty as he allowed his short boyfriend to jump up and swat to make up for his height.

Mitch lunged upwards, his fingers grabbing the very bottom of the top. "No, I got it." He grumbled. He cursed not too quietly when his glasses fell off of his face and clattered to the hardwood floor. Not only was it extremely irritating, but now the countertenor's vision was all blurred.

Wordlessly Scott picked up the black frames and easily plucked the shirt from the higher rack. When Mitch stared at him, the baritone wrapped an arm around his waist, kissing him for a moment before handing his favorite brunette the glasses.

"You looked like you needed help." Was his response to Mitch's stone-cold glare.

The countertenor softened at the innocent expression on Scott's face. Smiling against his will, he stood on his tippy-toes and gave him a peck on the cheek as a reward. "Thank you. Wanna see me in this shirt?"

"Yes." Scott answered without missing a beat: not only because he knew that Mitch loved dressing up, but because he loved looking at all the outfits that his boyfriend went through with enthusiasm. Somehow, Mitch had a certain way of pulling off any piece of clothing. It was just something about him.

Or maybe it was the fact that Scott grabbed at any chance to gawk at the attractive brunette. Or something like that, anyway.

A few minutes later, Mitch was standing in front of another reflective glass. He raised an eyebrow and watched as the small man in the mirror copied him. Peeling off his shirt and setting his glasses aside, he picked up the shirt he had toiled so hard to reach and slipped it on. It felt silky and smooth, plus the sleeves were just the right length. The countertenor did a twirl, grinning as his mind pictured his boyfriend's expression once he showed him (and also as his mind pictured how many situations his boyfriend would be taking the shirt off in). Mitch opened the door and walked into the room that Scott was waiting in, leaving his other shirt and his hideous glasses behind.

The blonde was casually lounging on a leather chair, one hand pressed to the side of his head to hold it up as his blue eyes skimmed through tweet after tweet. He heard Mitch's light footsteps and glanced up from the screen of his phone.

"You look amazing!" He said, meaning every word. The fabric flowed and whirled and bent the mind because of its weirdness. Scott found himself staring and blushed once Mitch cleared his throat. When his gaze reached the brunette's dark brown eyes, he realized something was missing. "Where are your glasses?"

Mitch was confused. "I took them off. Aren't they ugly? Oh, and we need to pick up contacts for me while we're out, babe-"

"Mitchie, you are going to back in that changing room and putting your fucking glasses on right the hell now. Can you see anything?"

The countertenor's expression became angry. "Of course I can."

"Really?" Scott could tell when Mitch was lying better than the baritone could sing. He held up three fingers. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Are you shitting me, Scott?"

"Tell me, Mitch. It should be easy."

Mitch narrowed his eyes, leaning forward slightly and tilting his head to the side. "You're holding up...um..." He looked harder, but it was no use. It all looked like one fuzzy blob of pale skin to Mitch. He had no idea, so he guessed. "Four."

"Wrong." The blonde made a thumbs-down sign that he knew the brunette couldn't see. "Go get your glasses."

The countertenor held back the urge to run over there and pummel the crap out of his boyfriend, instead pivoting on his heel to make his way back to the changing room. While there, he peeked at his reflection, grabbed his other shirt, and plucked his glasses from the seat he had put them on. Sighing, Mitch slipped them onto his face and watched as his sight became crystal clear. He blinked for a moment, allowing his brain to adjust and taking several steps carefully.

An idea was blooming in Scott's mind; within an instance he had whipped out his phone and opened the camera app, discreetly aiming it at the doorway Mitch would reappear in any second. Sure enough, the brunette's figure came forth, looking bookish in his black glasses.

Before his boyfriend could react, the blonde snapped a few pictures. Mitch realized what was going on and ran across the space separating them to lunge at the phone. Usually he wouldn't mind if the blonde took pictures of him; he would most often strike a pose and smile. But Mitch would not accept any photos of him with these damn glasses.

"Give me the phone!" He exclaimed, struggling against Scott's iron grip as he landed in the baritone's lap. They wriggled and squirmed, battling for the device quite loudly. "Give me the phone, Scott!"

"I didn't do anything!"

"You're lying! Delete those pictures or I'll-" Mitch's threat was interrupted by his boyfriend's crazy laughter. The blonde couldn't help it; Mitch was so small and cute in those glasses, and the fact that he was wearing a murderous expression made the whole ordeal even funnier.

"Mitch, stop." Scott said, holding the phone out of the tiny brunette's reach. Mitch fumed and crossed his arms over his chest. "Would you chill it with the glasses? You look great in them. Yeah they're big and yeah you need a thick lens, but they're adorable and I love them on you and you pull them off spectacularly, okay?"

Shyly, Mitch looked at Scott through his eyelashes. The blonde let himself get lost in the brown spiraling orbs, reveling in their unique darkness and how pretty they were. He wasn't jealous, but he was very happy that Mitch was the one chosen to receive such a color. The smaller man's glasses only intensified the potency of his gaze.

Unexpectedly, the countertenor leaned in and planted a firm kiss on the lips in front of him, bringing up a hand to weave his fingers through Scott's hair. The baritone relaxed into the familiar feeling of Mitch's warm mouth that always seemed to taste like peppermint, wrapping an arm around his thin body and securing his other around the brunette's waist.

Just when Scott thought he was going to rip Mitch's new shirt off of him, the brunette pulled away to gasp for air. Scott's eyes skipped down the length of his boyfriend's pale, exposed shoulder to see a bite mark he couldn't recall leaving. His memory always seemed to evade him when he made out with Mitch. Not that he minded.

"I still want contacts..." Mitch murmured, his voice right next to Scott's ear and sending shivers throughout the blonde's body. He curled against the taller man's side, nuzzling the baritone's neck lazily. Scott, who was having a difficult time concentrating (especially when Mitch was still sitting on his lap), found himself nodding along. Whatever Mitch was saying, he agreed.

Suddenly, the brunette pulled away and climbed off of his boyfriend with a smirk. "Great. So I can stop wearing the glasses now."

Scott nodded again but caught himself before he could complete the action, realization dawning on him. His head was clearing now that Mitch was farther from him. "Oh my god. You manipulative little bit-"

"Shh. No words." The brunette held a finger to Scott's parted lips, grinning when the blonde kissed it. "Only contacts. Yeah? You'll take me to get them now?"

Sighing in defeat, Scott got out of the chair and stretched. "Sure, Mitchie. Whatever you want."

Mitch laughed and playfully shoved the blonde's arm. "Good. Maybe you'll be rewarded for your effort." He snorted, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. Again. "You're lucky you're friends with a nice queen."

"Mmmhmm." Scott hummed, giving Mitch a sideways glance. He was still wearing the geometric shirt. "And you want that shirt?"

"Yes, queen."

Hand in hand, the pair of singers made their way to the cash register. Scott couldn't help it and said, "That outfit plus the glasses looks great on you, but I think I would look better on you."

Mitch giggled at the pick up line. "That you would, babe, that you would. Just wait until we get home."