Summary: Your name is Kankri Vantas and you have been at the mall now for far longer than you wanted to be.
Rating: No content warnings
Day Eight: Shopping

You've been in the mall now for three hours. It really isn't the kind of place you enjoy spending this much time, but it's always nice to see your boyfriend get excited about something when he hasn't been in a good mood. This morning when you'd noticed just how defeated he'd looked over god knows what, you suggested coming here. And now that it's past your lunchtime, you're beginning to almost regret that decision.

Only almost, because it looks like he's feeling better.

He's been in the juniors' department of this store for the better part of half an hour looking at jeans. You're not sure what's taking so long, though. Jeans are jeans, aren't they? It's not like the sizes could be that different.

You wander into the dressing room and look for him. When you see his shoes under the stall you knock on his door. "Cronus? Is everything okay?"

You hear a grunt and a clatter before he responds. "Uh, yeah babe. Yeah I'm fine."

"Do you need any help?"

He laughs. "Actually that might be great." He opens the door and pulls you inside. He's wearing a pair of incredibly tight jeans.

"How did you even get in those?"

He shrugs. "Very carefully." He rubs at his hips. "Could you help me get out of 'em, though? They're really fucking tight."

You sigh and help him work them off. "Why did you pick these if they're so tight?"

He laughs as the two of you get them down his thighs. "Well it ain't like I wanted them to be this tight. I grabbed the size I usually get but I forgot that this fucking brand's sizes run small."

You quirk your eyebrows. "I'm not sure that I understand what you mean. Jeans are jeans."

He shakes his head and leans down, resting your foreheads together. "Babe you are too cute. Chick jeans don't have sizes like men's do. I mean they're like decided with black fucking magic I think."

You roll your eyes at him. "It can't possibly be that bad. You wear, what, a thirty-two or a thirty-four?"

"Not a bad guess on the men's size, but these are a nine."

"Nine what?"

"A nine. That's it. I usually wear a nine. Sometimes I wear a seven, sometimes I wear an eleven. I've gotten thirteens before, too." He leans back and starts working them down his legs again. "Guess I gotta go a size or two up with these, though."

You help him get them all the way down and he sits, pulling them off and throwing them to the side. "But that doesn't make any sense. Why would companies do that?"

"Do you really think I fucking know? But when I get them right they make my ass look fucking stellar." He stands and grabs the next pair, pulling them on. You can't help but to stare a little as he works them up and, as loathe as you are to admit it, they do make his ass look amazing. He turns around as he zips them up. "What you think, babe? They look all right?"

You feel your face flush and glance away, only to see just how red you are in the mirror. "They look fine."

"Just fine?" He moves closer to you and puts his hands on your hips.

"Yes. They look fine." You swallow as he rubs circles at your hips

He leans down, resting his chin on your shoulder. "Well I suppose I can handle being called fine by you." He chuckles before tilting his head and pressing a soft kiss to your neck. "Think I should get these then?"

You're too flustered to form a coherent response. "Uh, y-yeah." You can barely manage to stammer anything with his lips still next to your neck and you curse past Kankri for choosing not to wear a turtleneck today.

Cronus moves, though, and he presses a kiss to your lips this time. "Then let's get the fuck out a here and get something to eat. I'm fucking starved."

You frown a little. "I highly doubt that you're starved, dear. You've already eaten today."

He shakes his head. "No I'm not starved, but you know what I mean." He presses another kiss to your lips. "Now lemme get my shit together and let's get out of here."

You roll your eyes a little. "Of course." You leave the dressing room and sit down near the entrance as you wait for him with the rest of his bags.

After he takes his things to the register and finally lets you know that he's done, you leave the mall. But not before he makes a pit stop in a restroom to change into those damnable new jeans of his.

He puts his arm over your shoulders and the two of you head back to his car to get some lunch. When you get in the car he hands you a bag and you smile when you realize that he picked up a book that you'd been looking at in the beginning of your trip. He doesn't say anything, and neither do you, but it's moments like this that make you remember why you love him so much.

Even if you don't have the words to tell him that.