With earbuds firmly planted in his ears, Alfred bounced along to the electro swing music as he followed Arthur into the thrift clothing store. The first thing he saw was a literal pile of clothes on the floor and several people squatting down as they rummaged through it. Signs advertised the pile of clothes as available for two dollars per pound. Alfred wasn't an expert on clothes shopping, but even he was pretty sure that was a strange way to shop.
To his right was an assortment of costumes and accessories. Further into the store was men and women's clothing organized by era. He followed Arthur through the tightly packed racks of used men's clothing and wasn't surprised when they ended up in the 1920s section.
Their new song matched the era perfectly and made Alfred grin. It had energy and a great name. He took out his earbuds and nudged Arthur as he browsed through the racks. "Do we got the swing booty?" he asked, wagging his eyebrows at Arthur. "We doooo!"
Arthur sighed the long-suffering sigh of someone who had just discovered a form of humor even worse than puns. "Let me guess. Another meme?"
"Yep." Alfred nodded, rather pleased with himself.
"Well, if anyone asks, I don't know you." Arthur pulled out a pair of black slacks and gave them a discerning look. He glanced at the tag. "Hmm. What size do you wear?"
"First we're strangers and now you want to know my size? Make up your mind, dude!"
"Fine. If you don't want to tell me, go find some black trousers yourself," Arthur replied, pressing the slacks against Alfred's chest. He let go and turned back to the clothing rack.
Alfred had to scramble to grab the slacks before they dropped to the floor. Still clutching the slacks against his chest, he followed Arthur to the dress shirt section. "So, uh… I don't actually know my pant size," he admitted a little sheepishly.
Arthur's hands paused as he sorted through white dress shirts. He turned his head to the side and favored Alfred with an incredulous look. Arthur looked up and down Alfred's body, taking in his worn-out jeans and ratty t-shirt. "You're wearing clothes. How can you not know?"
"Um… my mom does my shopping for me."
"My god. I can't believe you're actually a university student."
"Hey, I do my own laundry!" Alfred protested. Though stung by Arthur's dismissive glance, he cheered up once a brilliant idea occurred to him. He didn't have to go through the hassle of finding the fitting room and trying on lots of different pants. A much better solution was right at hand, and it had the added bonus of getting Arthur very close to one of his best assets. "Could you check the tag on my jeans?" Alfred asked, turning his backside toward Arthur and watching the expression on Arthur's face. He still wasn't positive if Liz was right about his dance partner having the hots for him, but he was determined to find out.
Arthur's eyes widened slightly and the way his gaze focused on Alfred's butt seemed very promising. "I… suppose that would work," Arthur replied. He stepped closer. Despite the hesitance in his voice, he didn't waste his time grabbing the back of Alfred's jeans and pulling them back far enough to read the upside-down tag.
Alfred couldn't help grinning as he waited for Arthur to finish. The Englishman seemed to be fiddling with the tag a little more than necessary. "Having fun back there?" he teased.
"It's too worn to read," Arthur complained as he let go of Alfred's jeans.
"Oh." Perhaps it wasn't quite as brilliant of an idea as Alfred had first thought. He shrugged and moved on to idea number two. As Arthur examined the large collection of suspenders, Alfred dialed his mother and waited for her to pick up the phone.
"Hi, honey!" she said cheerfully.
"So, random question. What's my pant size?"
"32-32." She paused a second. "Are you… clothes shopping?"
"Yeah. I need something for the dance competition. Ar—April said my wardrobe sucks." Alfred frowned slightly. "I don't know why. I think the holes add ventilation!"
His mother laughed. "Oh, sweetie. You should probably let her pick your outfit. What's she going to wear?"
"Uh… a dress?" The mental image of Arthur in a low-cut green dress filled Alfred's thoughts and a dopey smile crossed his face. "Yeah, a cute blond in a dress."
"Who are you talking to?" Arthur asked, taking Alfred by surprise as he appeared from out of nowhere behind one of the clothing racks.
"Remember to send me a picture!" his mother insisted at the same time.
"Right, right," Alfred agreed, barely paying attention to his mother as he tried to decipher the strange look on Arthur's face. "Thanks, Mom. Bye!"
As soon as Alfred found the correct size of slacks, Arthur pressed a white shirt and suspenders into his arms and led him to the fitting rooms on the second floor. The "rooms" were made of cheap plywood frames, creating several small changing areas that each had a black curtain across the doorway for privacy.
"I thought the point of knowing my size was avoiding the fitting rooms?" Alfred asked, not thrilled about the idea of stripping to his undies in public.
"You still need to check the fit," Arthur replied curtly as he carried his own set of clothing into one of the empty changing spaces. He yanked the curtain shut.
Alfred frowned and wondered what he had done to annoy Arthur this time. When nothing came to mind, he shrugged and stepped into the other empty changing room. There was a chair on one side and a full-length mirror on the other. After making sure that the curtain was completely closed behind him, Alfred took off his shoes and slipped off his jeans. He set the jeans on the chair, then stepped into the black pants and pulled them up to his waist. They fit perfectly. Alfred paused a moment to admire the way the slacks hugged his ass. They were roomy enough for dancing, but still had a clean cut that made his legs look nice and long.
He took off his t-shirt next and added it to the pile of clothing on the chair. The white dress shirt seemed fine, but it took him a few minutes to figure out the suspenders. After he realized that the crisscross part went at the back, he managed to snap them onto the slacks and readjust the straps so they were the right length.
Alfred paused to admire himself again, hooking his thumbs behind the straps as he posed for the mirror. Some guys looked really good in suspenders, and he liked to think he was one of them. He rolled up his sleeves slightly to perfect the 1920's laborer look.
"Alfred, what's taking so long?" Arthur complained from the other side of the curtain.
"Uh… almost done. Just getting the suspenders right!" Alfred replied quickly. He checked the mirror one more time to make sure everything was in place and then stepped out of the changing room. "What do you… think?" He gawked, question nearly forgotten as soon as he caught sight of Arthur. He thought he looked good, but he was pretty sure that when they danced, everyone was going to be watching Arthur instead.
Arthur looked like an English dandy ready for a ride. He had chosen a navy sports coat that accentuated his trim waist. His beige breeches hugged his crotch and ass in a way that left little to the imagination. It took Alfred a second to realize that Arthur was wearing knee-high black socks instead of boots, but he was pretty sure no one in the audience was going to notice or care. To top it off, Arthur had covered his messy blond hair with a tweed newsboy cap.
"Yes, I think that'll do," Arthur said as he gave Alfred his own appraising look.
Once the initial shocked pleasure of seeing Arthur's outfit had worn off, Alfred was finally able to think again. He took another look at the outfit—this time to compare what they were wearing. "Let me guess… I'm a farm boy and you're an aristocrat?"
"Well, you do act sometimes like you grew up in a barn," Arthur retorted. He took a step closer and tucked Alfred's shirt into the back of his pants.
Alfred grinned. "Close! It was actually a dairy farm in Wisconsin."
"No wonder you act so cheesy."
Alfred laughed and slapped Arthur on the back. "Good one!"
They both stood together for a few more moments in awkward silence. Alfred let his gaze drop for another surreptitious glance at Arthur's cute butt. "So… how do you get into those pants?" he asked, hoping Arthur would reply with something along the lines of 'Well, you could start by buying me a drink.'
"Carefully," Arthur replied instead. "And I wish you'd stop calling them pants."
"Why? What's wrong with pants?"
"Nothing's wrong with them. But the word means knickers in the UK."
"Knickers like… don't get your knickers in a twist? Ooooh." Understanding dawned on Alfred, along with another fun idea for teasing Arthur. "You don't want to think about my underwear?" he asked playfully.
"I'm going to assume you can manage that part of the outfit on your own," Arthur retorted. He raised an eyebrow. "Or does your mother buy those as well?"
"Uh…" Alfred flushed and hurriedly looked around for a distraction. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted something red and sparkly. They were in the women's section now, surrounded by a huge assortment of dresses. Remembering his conversation with his mother, he grabbed a slinky red dress that was covered in sequins and had long slits up both sides of the dress from the rack. "Wow, this would look great on you."
Arthur didn't even blink. "Probably, but it doesn't fit the 1920s theme."
"Try it on anyway, please, please, please!" Alfred shamelessly begged. The idea of Arthur in a dress had been in his head no more than ten minutes, but now it demanded his full attention. He wanted it the way mountain goats craved minerals on steep cliff faces.
"Fine," Arthur agreed surprisingly easily. He took the sequined dress and returned to his dressing area, the black curtain swishing behind him with impressive panache.
Alfred bounced from foot to foot as he waited impatiently. He supposed that Arthur had always been relatively good looking, but he'd been too much of a jerk at first for Alfred to see it. Now, with Arthur slowly warming up to him, Alfred was starting to see a lot that he had missed behind the mask of a smug, pretentious asshole. And now he wanted to see even more. Waiting another minute was pure torture. Finally the curtain slowly swayed open to reveal… Arthur wearing his normal clothes.
"What?" Alfred pouted. "You said you'd try it on!"
"I did try it on." Arthur smirked as he returned the red dress to its spot on the rack. "I even took a picture." He held up a finger before Alfred could get too excited. "I'll send it to you if we win."
"You're bribing me with a picture of you in a dress?" Alfred demanded loudly enough to turn a few heads from women browsing through the section.
"Bribe is such a nasty word. I prefer to think of it as an incentive," Arthur replied cheerfully. "You came up with the idea yourself for the Lindy Flip. Now change back so we can go find you some shoes."
Still grumbling to himself, Alfred sighed and returned to the changing area with his jeans and t-shirt. They didn't look as fashionable as his suspender outfit, but they made up for lack of style with oodles of comfort. Once he was finished changing, he followed Arthur back downstairs to the shoe section. They had a surprisingly large selection of dance shoes and—because they were used—much better prices than Alfred had seen at other stores.
The women's shoes came in a variety of colors, with various heel heights and different types of straps. The men's shoes came in every color you wanted—provided the color you wanted was black or white. About the most interesting thing about them was the occasional white wingtip.
"Do you know your shoe size or should I just call your mother directly?" Arthur asked.
Alfred grinned. "Of course I know my shoe size. It's big!"
"Big is not a shoe size."
"Oops. Guess I was thinking of something else."
"Alfred, you have been acting strangely all day." Arthur narrowed his eyes. "Did Liz put you up to this? Because whatever she told you, it's not true."
"Really?" Alfred felt a rush of disappointment. "Oh."
"Yes, now try on the damn shoes."
After a few minutes, Alfred found a pair that fit and met Arthur's exacting demands. He stared at the black wingtips as they stood in the checkout line because it was easier than looking over at Arthur and trying to decipher his irritated expression. What, exactly, did Arthur think that Liz had asked him to do?
Earlier good mood completely forgotten, Alfred left the store with a dress shirt, trousers, suspenders, dance shoes, and more questions about Arthur than answers.