A/N: Hey there guys and gals, Archimedies here. Sorry for the delay, but here is the seventh chapter of Ship shape shorts, this one a Dirk/Jane drabble. The delay was due to a sudden influx of videogames, which brings me onto a topic I've been meaning to bring up. If any of you readers own a PS4, feel free to lob a friend request at me, under the PSN of Archimedies00, and I'll be free to dicuss anything you'd like, maybe play some games. That is, if you actually wish to talk, which I doubt. But, that option is there if you wish, and I do enjy playing PAYDAY 2, Black Ops 3, and Rainbow SIx Siege. But onto important stuff, if you have a oneshot idea, drop it in the reviews and I'll be sure to get on it, next up it a Dave/Nepeta pairing, so stay tuned. Enjoy, and as always, stay Jammy.

Story 7: The Dirk wears Prada.

A quiet house in suburbia. A tree, swaying in the wind. A brightly lit room. The chattering of keys, the muttered rhymes of a lyrical genius...

And the obnoxiously loud slurping of an almost empty milkshake.

Dirk looked up from his laptop, and put a hand to his headphones. A few seconds passed. He shook his head, and went back to his mumbling.

"I'm a heretical, spiritual lyrical individual-"

Slurp.

His head snapped up. But once again, he was met with a sudden silence.

"Prodigal, just too original, cynical, to ever be stopped by the banal-"

Slurrrrrrrrrrrrp

"Jane! Can you not!" He tossed his headphones to the pilow, and looked across to where to she lay, sprawled on the floor. She looked up at him, and extracted the straw from her mouth.

"Can I not what? I'm just drinking" She gave him a cheeky grin.

"Oh really? Well, I'm just mixing the illest fires you ever did hear, and it's very hard to do that when the sound of a high powered septic system is all you can hear"

"Hey!" She frowned at him and cocked a wrist as if to throw. When Dirk gave no reaction, she furrowed her brow, and launched her bargain projectile. Only for Dirk to snatch it out the air without even looking.

"Nice try. Good technique, but a little too much spin"

"Awww!"

"Observe"

She flopped back to ground, and watched as the empty milkshake went sailing across the room, and landed perfectly atop the teetering pile of rubbish that poked far above the top of the bin. It stood for a second, swaying gently. And both Dirk and Jane cringed as it toppled to the ground with an obscene crash. She looked up at him, and he shrugged.

"Welp, I tried. Therefore, I basically succeeded" Jane pushed herself to her feet, walked over, and draped herself across his shoulders.

"That's not how that works"

"Ah, but who can say how it does and doesn't?"

"Well, me. And I say it dosen't. Sooooooo"

Dirk turned slightly to nuzzle his face against her's. "Sooooooo? I know that tone"

She gave him an imploring glance, and a pointed look to the now half empty bin.

Dirk let out an insincere sigh, and stood.

"Fine. Is this because I'm the only one dressed? Or are you just too lazy?"

He was right to suggest both of those. Though he wore his standard cargo-pants and t-shirt, Jane was still barely dressed, in a baggy jumper and a pair of shorts. As for lazy?

Jane gave a huff, before smiling. "Little bit of both?"

Dave flashed her the thumbs up, and lurched off the bed, only for Jane to pull herself up, curl up in his spot. He shook his head, grinning, as he gathered up the rubbish and jammed it back into the bag, before tieing it shut.

"Getting more and more like your damn cat..."

He laughed and walked away, shaking his head, as she blew a raspberry at his back.

He shoved open the bedroom door and staggered down the stairs. There was no-one in the house but them, as Jane's father had gone off to meet up with Roxy's mum fairley late at night, and wasn't expected back 'till evening today. Dirk gave a little smirk. They totally had something going. So totally.

He got down to the bottom floor, and searched for his boots. He'd kicked them off when he'd got in. And pretty much straight after, they'ed headed upstairs for a night of absolutely dank movies. Dank being used in the most ironic of tones.

But, he didn't really mind. He'd spent the night curled up next to Jane under the covers, watching olde-timey, black and white comedy films, smiling as Jane burst into laughter at the apparently "hilarious" antics upon screen. They'ed fallen asleep together, as the sun peeked over the horizon and birds started chirping.

His fond recollections where interrupted as he realized his boots where no-where to be found.

After a minute or two of puzzling, his eyes fell upon Jane's red high heels.

No.

No...

Yes...?

Yes.

Dirk slipped them on/rammed his feet into them, and stood up on shakey legs. Dirk may have had the balance of a god, but he was no woman. He tottered over to the front door, and pulled it open before almost faceplanting over the threshold. He began the long journy to the outside bin, heels clacking over the tarmac driveway.

Jane, on the other hand, had finally pulled herself up from the covers, after sifting through the music samples immediately available on Dirk's laptop, and stood. She pulled the blanket over herself, and bgean the walk down the stairs, wondering what was taking him so long. She hit the bottom step as the front door crept open again. And Dirk came "striding" through.

"Yeah, I've totally got this walk...Shit"

He came face to face with Jane, who was staring down at his exaggerated stance, and trying her best not to dissolve into laughter. There was a pregnant pause, as Dirk tried to figure out whether or not she was going to chew him out for taking her heels. She looked him up and down. And reached out to stroke his hair.

"You know Dirk? They really suit you. Just...Ask, next time, OK?"

With that, she turned and headed back up the stairs, leaving Dirk posed like a brain damaged model.

She got halfway up the flight before she burst out giggling.

She was telling the truth though.

He really wore them well.