Domesticity: An unfortunate choice of words
Author: chinesebakery
Summary: Mimi is coerced into wearing on of Stanley's flannel shirts.
Characters: Mimi, Stanley
Rating: PG
Spoilers: 1x06, 9.02
Disclaimer: Not my toys.
A/N: Thanks to becoolbec thebeckert for their help.

Having grown up in Washington, Mimi Clark was used to rough winters, sudden temperature drops and the occasional snow storm. She owned a remarkable collection of designer coats, scarves, and even a few fancy bobble hats, all of which had remained in her closet when she had flown to Kansas.

However, she was utterly unused to surviving on a farm after a nuclear attack during the coldest, most humid October the state had seen in decades.

"Ah-choo!" Mimi sneezed for the umpteenth time that morning, before blowing her nose, cursing under her breath.

"Bless you," Stanley replied again absently as he rose to his feet to clear the table, missing Mimi's annoyed glare. His hand brushed against her arm as he grabbed her plate, and he noticed her jumper was moist.

"Why is your sweater wet?" he frowned as he grabbed her sleeve.

"It's been hanging outside for two freaking days. The air is so humid it won't dry."

"Well, wear something else, then."

"How did I not think of that? Oh, wait– I don't have another one! I didn't exactly plan to stay in Jericho that long," she clarified, rolling her eyes.

"Take this off, you're going to catch a cold. I'll find something for you to wear."

"I don't think this is a very good idea," she called after him, but Stanley either didn't hear, or just ignored her.

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Ten minutes later, Stanley had emptied half of his closet on his bed and Mimi was paling visibly.

"Okay, this will have to do. I know that's not what you're used to, but–"

"Oh no. No no no no no. I'm not wearing that," she exclaimed, horrified, shaking her head energetically as she took in the layers of fading flannel.

"Your choice, Uncle Sam. You can look very stylish as you die from an untreated pneumonia, or borrow some sensible clothes. You decide."

"And look like an angry teen from 1995? I don't think so!" she growled and crossed her arms across her chest in a stubborn, childish gesture. She was perfectly aware that her reaction was both vain and ridiculous, but couldn't help herself.

"Oh, that hurt," he replied dramatically, a hand on his chest, while his smirk clearly stated otherwise.

"Look, I'm sure Bonnie has something I could…"

"Sorry, but Bonnie said you couldn't take anything of hers until you had them legally confiscated."

Mimi swore loudly and grabbed the first thing she could reach.

"Fine!" she barked resentfully as she stomped out of the room.

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"Okay," Mimi announced as she walked down the stairs to join Stanley in the kitchen, wearing one of his yellow flannel shirts and her own jeans. "I'll give you three minutes to mock me all you want. After that, I don't want to hear about it ever again. So, think fast."

He turned away from the sink to face her, ready to drown her in sarcasm, but before he could say a word, his stomach twitched in an odd, unexpected way.

The shirt was twice too big and obviously, didn't suit her at all. The shirttails reached almost half-way down her thighs while the collar fell awkwardly on her upper chest, giving a hint of her white bra-strap. The rolled-up sleeves made her look like a costumed child, and that color looked terrible on her gorgeous olive skin.

She had never looked so attractive.

Stanley blinked and quickly averted his eyes before he betrayed himself.

"Well," he tried, forcing his eyes to meet hers again, "that's a good look for you. I'll see if I can find a pair of plastic boots to complete the outfit. Maybe a little hat, too."

Unimpressed, Mimi snickered and went to lean against the kitchen's counter to let him examine her. She was sporting that daring and defiant look he was beginning to know well. The look whose inopportune corollary was to arouse an urge to push her against the nearest wall, grab her by the neck and–

"Two minutes and thirty seconds," she informed him impatiently. Stanley took a step back.

"Mmh," he scratched his head somewhat desperately, "you know, I'm not sure yellow really is your color."

"Is that the best you can do?"

"I've got no time for this," Stanley mumbled, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. He tried to walk away but Mimi was cornering him in the kitchen.

"What, I give you a perfect occasion to ridicule me and you have better things to do?"

"Surprisingly, I do. But if you want, I'll ask Bonnie to get to you when she comes home."

"Oh no, I'm not giving her a free ride," Mimi exclaimed before she could twice.

Stanley gulped quite audibly and mumbled something she couldn't quite make out about attending to the livestock. He pushed her gently and proceeded to exit the house as quickly as he could before she could notice his reddening cheeks, which she did.

Left alone in the kitchen, Mimi stared in horror at the closing front door, a hand covering her mouth.

"Well," Mimi muttered to herself as she felt her face flush, too, "that's what one would call an unfortunate choice of words."

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