[ the sarcasm in these two words. he for one is shocked and amazed that alfyn "my last name is literally greengrass" greengrass has never gotten dolled up.
he looks at him for a long moment, just staring at alfyn... and then sighs. ]
... It's not that hard. [ and then turns, going to look through the racks - past the shorter clothing and towards stuff that might fit someone taller. someone with a broader chest, more muscles.... hmm.... ] You want a full suit, or what?
Shocking, right? Me? Some bumpkin from Clearbrook?
[ he shoots it right back, easy as anything, because he's used to therion and knows he's just being a stinker (affectionate). but he tries not to squirm as he's stared at, rubbing at the side of his neck, until - oh! ]
Shucks, Therion, I don't know. I think I'd probably feel like a Froggen stuffed into a full suit. Don't think I could pull fancy off nearly as well as the professor can.
[ there's a beat as he looks alfyn over for a long moment - gaze sweeping over him from top of the head down to the feet, before he snorts, and turns swiftly on his heel.
there's nothing for a few minutes. silence, just the sound of clothes moving, like maybe therion's just given up trying to look, like he just cannot imagine dressing this country bumpkin.
but, eventually, a bundle of fabric comes out of the closet, bit by bit. shirt, pants. the clink-clink of suspenders, a second later, all tossed at alfyn (lightly, at least.) ]
There. Ditch your shoes, get a pair of dress shoes from over where they keep them.
[ if the shirt's a little bit too tight... don't worry about it ]
[ straightening up as he's eyeballed, messy hair to scuffed boot, alfyn sweats a little at the snort, but doesn't go anywhere. just watches therion disappear into the proper depths of the infinity closet. he rubs the back of his calf with the other foot absently, feeling out of place as ever amidst all these nice clothes.
but he catches what's tossed at him, fumbling the suspenders because the weight of the clasps is unexpected and causes them to slide through his fingers at first. ]
Oh. [ oh! he perks. ] Thanks, Therion. Gimme a minute...
[ he's used to traveling with the others so he's just. already taking his shirt off as he walks away, pulling the back over his head so that he can carry what he's been given. back muscles. ]
[ there, that's his good deed for the day. not that therion cares about doing good deeds, but also, he's willing to save alfyn from being scolded by primrose and/or wrath, because... it's embarrassing, or something. yeah. sure, that's definitely it.
he doesn't acknowledge the statement, busying himself looking at the racks in his size. however, when alfyn starts taking off his shirt
.... alright he does look, leaning back a little to get an eyeful. look. he's only human and alfyn is, admittedly, attractive. like really attractive. if he looks back, though, therion is very quick to return to the racks.
[ scratching briefly at the trail of hair down his stomach as he tries to figure out the outfit that therion's tossed at him, he doesn't actually notice that therion was looking - at least, for long. he glances over and catches him turning away... and blinks, considering.
... nah. couldn't have been.
he'll step into the changing area, getting his pants and boots off as he tries not to think too hard about it. therion definitely wasn't, like, looking looking. right? ]
Not too fancy... s'nice pick, I think. [ here he comes... the shirt is definitely just a smidge tight. well, that's fine. ]
[ man. this ridiculous place is the bane of therion's existence. alfyn misses it, but he scoffs a little under his breath for even considering thinking about alfyn - country boy medicine man doofus too-good-too-sunshine alfyn being hot in too tight clothes and shakes his head.
this is wrath's fault. he's digging through the racks, tossing out a decent looking pair of slacks in his size and holding them up to his own waist with a wrinkle of his nose when alfyn talks again, rolling his eyes. ]
You'd never be able to pull off something you'd catch the professor in. [ rude, but not untrue ] If you're gonna get someone ripping you out of it, it's not worth it, anyway.
[ he chokes on his own spit when therion adds that second part, before it turns into a high laugh. ]
I dunno about that. Might be me tearin' the shirt off before anybody else... [ mumbled a little, but alfyn steps out of the dressing area and spreads his hands at first. tada..? he can't get the top couple of buttons together, a trail of hair visible down into the cleavage that's showing now. ] But s'true. There's not really anybody that can pull off what the professor can, I don't think.
Mostly I just want to not make Prim and Wrath want to strangle me.
he gets the urge to, like, cover himself like he's a bashful maiden? but at the same time he wants to puff up like a bird. it's a very conflicting feeling that therion is currently inflicting on him.
I was just thinking you clean up pretty alright for a country hick.
[ therion be NICE. that reaction makes him smirk, shitty, and he turns from where he's standing, prowling over to walk around him once and look over his outfit. ]
Might be the first time I've ever seen you not covered in dirt.
[ is this mean? probably. does it bother alfyn? not really. he laughs, despite himself, although he feels the skittering nerves up his spine that always happen when therion circles him like prey. a thrill, instead of fear, but still nerves, and he straightens up even more.
aaaa. but also. ]
Pretty sure Prim would kick my ass if I showed up with even a speck of dirt. [ he turns his head and waist a bit to try and follow therion's circling. ] You're the one that picked the digs, though, y'know.
[ yeah, he picked it out. yeah, alfyn looks good. look he might prefer to dress in like, literal rags most of the time, but he's got a decent sense of fashion. he knows what looks good, and how to don disguises if he needs to, so.
he stops in front of him, and plucks at that unbuttoned button. he doesn't even say anything - he just raises his eyebrows and looks up at him, smug. ]
[ please wear actual shoes, therion, instead of the money bags you've stolen off of rich people.
alfyn's nerves become a tangible thing, as a little shudder breaks out from his spine and out to the rest of his body with that combination of pluck and smug look. is his mouth dry? he thinks his mouth and throat are both dry. gods, and this isn't even the first time therion's been up in his space like this - probably won't be the last either. ]
... you keep that up I'm gonna say somethin' real stupid that you're never gonna let me live down.
Worse'n usual, Therion. [ no worse than asking for therion to let him keep his underwear if he robbed him blind and naked, he guesses, but still. ] You gonna just stare at me or are you fixin' to do somethin'?
he lifts his hand, and reaches up. alfyn's making a suggestion, and therion's not dumb - is it a line they've even crossed here? who knows. ]
I'm not 'fixin' to do anything. [ that, first, dry. his hand lands on one of the top buttons of the shirt that is just barely hanging on. ] Why. You have something in mind?
[ the hair on the back of his neck stands up, nearly, with the loose, loose touch that therion's placed right at his chest. his heart skips briefly, but it's a thrill instead of fear. for a beat, he debates on which way to go - he's so intent on making sure to respect boundaries and comfort levels where he can, pushing where he needs to, so he's assessing therion's seriousness when it comes to playing with his food right now.
his eventual decision is fuck it, and he brings his own hand up to cup therion's jaw on the side opposite his covered eye. all so he can duck in and kiss him before he loses his nerve or therion decides "haha, just kidding, medicine man." ]
this startles him - therion could poof up like a cat, actually, eyes snapping wide in surprise. but after a beat, he catches back up, mouth pulling up into a little smirk, briefly as he regains his footing and his mental balance, and he doesn't shove him back. no, the hand on his face is warm, warm and calloused and familiar, and...
...no, instead, he returns the kiss, hand fisting briefly in the front of alfyn's stupid shirt, and then pulls back - red in the ears, enough you could see it through his white hair, but you couldn't tell by his face. his hand stays there, curled.
there's a beat.
and then he kisses him again? alright fuck it if that's how we're gonna play fuck it we ball. therion mutters, though - ] If you fuck up this shirt, I'm not finding you another one.
[ a small part of alfyn thinks a little thought of y'know, therion could deck me, and i wouldn't be surprised, the moment he pulls back. the grip on his shirt could either be in preparation to push him away, or to hold him there. the smirk doesn't really do much to clear things up. therion smirks sometimes regardless of mood.
but as he hesitantly peeks an eye open at him, the second one flies open after. because he sees red, a blush, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from abruptly breaking out into a stupid grin that's half delight, half victory. it'd ruin the following kiss, anyways, which he readily returns with the almost palpable essence of a tail wagging.
or pumping his fist.
murmured, against his mouth in return: ] Yeah, okay.
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no subject
[ the sarcasm in these two words. he for one is shocked and amazed that alfyn "my last name is literally greengrass" greengrass has never gotten dolled up.
he looks at him for a long moment, just staring at alfyn... and then sighs. ]
... It's not that hard. [ and then turns, going to look through the racks - past the shorter clothing and towards stuff that might fit someone taller. someone with a broader chest, more muscles.... hmm.... ] You want a full suit, or what?
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[ he shoots it right back, easy as anything, because he's used to therion and knows he's just being a stinker (affectionate). but he tries not to squirm as he's stared at, rubbing at the side of his neck, until - oh! ]
Shucks, Therion, I don't know. I think I'd probably feel like a Froggen stuffed into a full suit. Don't think I could pull fancy off nearly as well as the professor can.
[ like. an exaggeration. but still. ]
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there's nothing for a few minutes. silence, just the sound of clothes moving, like maybe therion's just given up trying to look, like he just cannot imagine dressing this country bumpkin.
but, eventually, a bundle of fabric comes out of the closet, bit by bit. shirt, pants. the clink-clink of suspenders, a second later, all tossed at alfyn (lightly, at least.) ]
There. Ditch your shoes, get a pair of dress shoes from over where they keep them.
[ if the shirt's a little bit too tight... don't worry about it ]
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but he catches what's tossed at him, fumbling the suspenders because the weight of the clasps is unexpected and causes them to slide through his fingers at first. ]
Oh. [ oh! he perks. ] Thanks, Therion. Gimme a minute...
[ he's used to traveling with the others so he's just. already taking his shirt off as he walks away, pulling the back over his head so that he can carry what he's been given. back muscles. ]
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he doesn't acknowledge the statement, busying himself looking at the racks in his size. however, when alfyn starts taking off his shirt
.... alright he does look, leaning back a little to get an eyeful. look. he's only human and alfyn is, admittedly, attractive. like really attractive. if he looks back, though, therion is very quick to return to the racks.
maybe not quick enough, though. ]
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... nah. couldn't have been.
he'll step into the changing area, getting his pants and boots off as he tries not to think too hard about it. therion definitely wasn't, like, looking looking. right? ]
Not too fancy... s'nice pick, I think. [ here he comes... the shirt is definitely just a smidge tight. well, that's fine. ]
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this is wrath's fault. he's digging through the racks, tossing out a decent looking pair of slacks in his size and holding them up to his own waist with a wrinkle of his nose when alfyn talks again, rolling his eyes. ]
You'd never be able to pull off something you'd catch the professor in. [ rude, but not untrue ] If you're gonna get someone ripping you out of it, it's not worth it, anyway.
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I dunno about that. Might be me tearin' the shirt off before anybody else... [ mumbled a little, but alfyn steps out of the dressing area and spreads his hands at first. tada..? he can't get the top couple of buttons together, a trail of hair visible down into the cleavage that's showing now. ] But s'true. There's not really anybody that can pull off what the professor can, I don't think.
Mostly I just want to not make Prim and Wrath want to strangle me.
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well. okay, he was right. he pauses where he's looking at pants to look at alfyn, top to bottom, gaze sweeping over him. hmm. attractive. ]
...Huh.
[ there's a little bit of slowly spreading amusement on his face. ]
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he gets the urge to, like, cover himself like he's a bashful maiden? but at the same time he wants to puff up like a bird. it's a very conflicting feeling that therion is currently inflicting on him.
not... necessarily new, all things considered. ]
What... why "huh"...
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[ therion be NICE. that reaction makes him smirk, shitty, and he turns from where he's standing, prowling over to walk around him once and look over his outfit. ]
Might be the first time I've ever seen you not covered in dirt.
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aaaa. but also. ]
Pretty sure Prim would kick my ass if I showed up with even a speck of dirt. [ he turns his head and waist a bit to try and follow therion's circling. ] You're the one that picked the digs, though, y'know.
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[ yeah, he picked it out. yeah, alfyn looks good. look he might prefer to dress in like, literal rags most of the time, but he's got a decent sense of fashion. he knows what looks good, and how to don disguises if he needs to, so.
he stops in front of him, and plucks at that unbuttoned button. he doesn't even say anything - he just raises his eyebrows and looks up at him, smug. ]
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alfyn's nerves become a tangible thing, as a little shudder breaks out from his spine and out to the rest of his body with that combination of pluck and smug look. is his mouth dry? he thinks his mouth and throat are both dry. gods, and this isn't even the first time therion's been up in his space like this - probably won't be the last either. ]
... you keep that up I'm gonna say somethin' real stupid that you're never gonna let me live down.
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How is that any different from anything else you normally say.
[ rude, ]
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Worse'n usual, Therion. [ no worse than asking for therion to let him keep his underwear if he robbed him blind and naked, he guesses, but still. ] You gonna just stare at me or are you fixin' to do somethin'?
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he lifts his hand, and reaches up. alfyn's making a suggestion, and therion's not dumb - is it a line they've even crossed here? who knows. ]
I'm not 'fixin' to do anything. [ that, first, dry. his hand lands on one of the top buttons of the shirt that is just barely hanging on. ] Why. You have something in mind?
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his eventual decision is fuck it, and he brings his own hand up to cup therion's jaw on the side opposite his covered eye. all so he can duck in and kiss him before he loses his nerve or therion decides "haha, just kidding, medicine man." ]
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this startles him - therion could poof up like a cat, actually, eyes snapping wide in surprise. but after a beat, he catches back up, mouth pulling up into a little smirk, briefly as he regains his footing and his mental balance, and he doesn't shove him back. no, the hand on his face is warm, warm and calloused and familiar, and...
...no, instead, he returns the kiss, hand fisting briefly in the front of alfyn's stupid shirt, and then pulls back - red in the ears, enough you could see it through his white hair, but you couldn't tell by his face. his hand stays there, curled.
there's a beat.
and then he kisses him again? alright fuck it if that's how we're gonna play fuck it we ball. therion mutters, though - ] If you fuck up this shirt, I'm not finding you another one.
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but as he hesitantly peeks an eye open at him, the second one flies open after. because he sees red, a blush, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from abruptly breaking out into a stupid grin that's half delight, half victory. it'd ruin the following kiss, anyways, which he readily returns with the almost palpable essence of a tail wagging.
or pumping his fist.
murmured, against his mouth in return: ] Yeah, okay.
[ shirt what shirt ]