Edit: Still on hiatus. Just clearing out my doc manager since these were written before the hiatus announcement.
Prompt: "Is that my shirt?" for BixCo.
Possessive
Erik walked into the living room to find Bickslow sitting on the middle of the rug with a bowl of soapy water and various dish soaps and wood polishes around him. In his hands, he held one of the newly-painted and repaired totems, and he was polishing it with what Erik couldn't help but find familiar.
And then he realised. That it was his fucking shirt. The one he wore to bed every goddamn night.
"Is that my shirt?" Erik asked as he walked into the living room. The smell of detergent and polish was almost overbearing but he ignored it.
Bickslow nodded. "Yep."
Erik reached down and snatched the soiled article of clothing out of his hands. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" It was ruined. Completely ruined. Polish stained the fabric and the print on the front was flaking off even more. "Why the fuck would you use my shirt to clean the goddamn babies?!"
"Because I needed a rag and this was pretty much it!" Bickslow wasn't going to ruin a perfectly good towel. Oh no. And his boyfriend's pyjama top was pretty much dead anyway. Bickslow didn't even know how it was still in (mostly) one piece.
"This is not a rag!" Erik hugged the shirt to his chest possessively. Well, it is now, but that's not the point.
"It has holes in it. Holes bigger than my fist. And it's fraying!"
"It adds character, okay."
Bickslow only rolled his eyes and sat back on his hands as the Poison Slayer walked away with the ruined shirt in his hands, holding it up to expect it again and cursing under his breath about just how the fuck he was going to get wood polish out of it. Now he needed to find another rag to use.