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You Have a Shitty Taste in Clothes

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Lance got into his car and slammed the door with a huff. He was pissed beyond belief. The day had started out innocently enough. He just wanted some cute clothes- that’s all he wanted, was that so wrong? To go thrifting and treat himself for once even though he only had 23 dollars in his checking account? He’d gone to Plato’s Closet and found some really nice jeans that his ass looked great in. What could go wrong?

Oh he’ll tell you what could go wrong. He got home and showed his roommate, Hunk, the great find to which Hunk said, “um…. is that a shit stain?” , trying not to laugh. And then failing tremendously and laughing with such gusto Lance thought he might die, but couldn’t find himself to care when Hunk started posting pics to snapchat.

That’s right ladies and gents. A goddamn shit stain. On these gucci mom jeans.

Lance let that thought simmer as he stepped on the gas angrily to get back to Plato’s Closet. How fucking dare they ruin his thrift day. His thrift dreams. He wasn't sure if the heat on his face was from anger or embarrassment as he pulled into the parking lot. A certain amount of things were true.

Lance had bought shit-stained jeans because some dumbass approved it to be sold.

Lance has six dollars left in his account.

Lance was going to get his fucking money back.

 

He was filled with righteous anger as he stepped into the store- a man on a mission. His sneakers hit the dirty carpet with determination as he sauntered up to the counter, aiming a glare at the nearest employee. The nearest employee happened to be a kid with a dumb Mullet and a mostly red and black ensemble that was so ragged it was probably bought at that store. He was also pretty sure the boy had never touched tweezers in his life.

“Hey. You.” Lance said to the boy, whose name-tag read ‘Keith’.

“Um… yes??” Keith replied, clearly annoyed with Lance’s attitude and opting to glare back.

“You sold me shitty merchandise, give me my money back.” Lance usually wasn't one for bluntness, but he wasn't in the mood to be poetic today.

Keith raised an eyebrow, “Listen, I’m sorry if you didn’t like the clothing, but then maybe you shouldn't have bought it.” He smirked, enjoying that angry look on Lance’s face.

“No,” Lance glared, tossing the shopping bag on to the counter, “I mean you literally sold me shitty merchandise. There’s a shit stain, Genius.”

Keith only looked bothered for a short moment before what Lance said hit him and he tried to hide a smile. “Wait really? You’re joking, right?”

Lance tried to remind himself that he was still angry. Because the boy’s smile was unexpectantly cute, and he couldn’t help but feel a little self conscious all of a sudden.
“Yeah for real you can check…” He gestured toward the bag.

Keith looked at the bag, then at Lance, then back at the bag. The boy began to gingerly look inside the bag and unfold the pants, failing to hide a small snort when he saw the stain.

Lance clicked his tongue, to hide his anger of embarrassment he wasn’t sure. “It’s not really funny you know! One of your staff actually approved bad clothing to go on the floor! It’s not sanitary!”

Keith tapped his fingers on the counter with a lazy smile on his face, “Ha, yeah but you're the one that bought the- wait a second…” Keith stopped his finger tapping to look Lance over, who was feeling more and more self conscious by the minute.
Keith let a cat life smile touch his lips as he sneered at Lance, “You tried them on didn’t you?”

If Lance’s face wasn't red before it certainly was now.
“That’s not the point!” Lance spluttered, rolling back on his heels and talking with his hands, “I’m a customer and I have been wronged! I just want my 17 bucks!”

Keith didn’t make a move to get his money, but instead went back to tapping his fingers on the counter. “Damn, if you tried them on how did you not see the stain before buying them- are you blind?”

“The lighting in here is really bad and I kind of like to think a store wouldn't sell shit pants so EXCUSE me for missing that detail.” Lance crossed his arms and aimed what he hoped was a much stronger glare at his opponent- but to be honest beating eyebrows that ‘thicc’ in a glaring contest would be difficult.

Keith let his nose scrunch up and his eyes crinkle at the corners as he grinned, “Maybe you just have a shitty taste in clothes,” He said cooly

Lance gaped like a fish. “Wow mullet this is actually harassment. First you get me poop pants and now I'm being attacked.” He ran his fingers threw his hair and held a finger up with purpose, “I may not have the haircut but I’d like to speak to the manager you Kellin Quinn wannabe.”

And Keith actually looked offended at that jab. “Sleeping with Sirens hasn't been good for at least 3 years how fucking dare you.”

During their banter they had closed in on each others space, the only thing between them the counter. It looked like two little kids fighting. They also may or may not have gotten loud.

“Woah woah woah, what seems to be the issue here?” A damn good looking guy said while walking up from behind Keith. This guy was fit, and also kinda edgy looking, but the worried expression and kind eyes said more ‘I’ll take care of you’ than ‘i’ll kick your ass’

Like Ryan Gosling.

“I’m sorry like who?”
Oh. he’d said that out loud. Keith snorted again.

“Nothing’s wrong Shiro I got this…” He crossed his arms and leaned against the counter.

The worried expression didn’t leave Shiro’s face as he said in a low voice “It’s not that I don’t believe you Keith, but customer service is not your best… feature.”

Now Lance snorted at that. He earned another glare from Keith. Shiro cleared his throat and Keith sighed. “Someone put shit-stained pants on the floor and this idiot bought them. He wants his money back. Rolo was probably just high again.”

Shiro looked embarrassed now, though Lance wasn't sure if it was about the bad pants, the bad customer service, or the fact they had a stoner employee.

 

“Listen,” Lance sighed, any trace of anger gone by this point (he was never good at being angry anyway), “Can I just have my money please?”

“Yes yes of course!,” Shiro responded apologetically, “We’re so sorry about this, right Keith?”

“Why would I be sorry I didn’t do anything.”

Lance heard what sounded like one foot stomping another and suddenly Keith winced, “God Shiro fine I’m sorry damn.”

“Give him his money Keith” Shiro hissed before giving Lance another apologetic smile and walking away, still casting mama bear stares at Keith to make sure he did his job.

Keith printed a return slip and passed it to Lance to sign, “You gotta admit though… it is pretty funny.”

Lance tried to frown but he was really bad at it.

“We’ve been arguing about shit pants for like 10 minutes straight.”

Lance blinked. He thought about today. He’d gone out. He’d bought pants. He went home to find shit stains on the pants. He went to return them. And then a cute punk misfit with a fucking mullet in 2018 the year of our lord made fun of him for it. His shit pants. His shitty shitty pants.

And then Lance laughed.

He really tried not to. For stubbornness sake and all that. But it was all so dumb. So terribly terribly dumb. It sounded more like a hack at first as he tried to suppress it. And then it bubbled out of him in awful snorts and choked giggles that just made him cough more. And he was trying so hard not to laugh but then he looked up at Mullet-face and Keith was staring at him in what looked like awe and surprise. And so then Lance tried to glare again but he was still laughing so he looked ridiculous- which caused the dark haired boy behind the counter to laugh. And it became a mess.

Lance rubbed the back of his neck shyly as he handed the slip back to Keith. On any other day he’d have tried out 10 dozen pick up lines on someone that looked like that- but this wasn’t really ‘any other day’ to be fair.

Keith handed Lance back his debit card and then said “Oh wait!,” digging behind the counter for something and then writing on it.

Lance took the business card Keith had dug out in confusion.

“For any other clothes you may have.” Keith smirked with those thick thick Cara Delevingne brows.

It was a fucking business card to a laundry mat.

Lance’s face twisted into a sour expression at the joke. Really? He rolled his eyes and waved as he headed towards the door.

“Wait, does the money just go back on my card?” Lance turned to ask.

“In 3-5 business days,” Keith hesitated as his face turned as red as his shirt, “But… you can have me by tomorrow..”

Lance gaped. “Wha.. sorry what?”

“Okay bye i have some restocking to do,” Keith escaped as fast as he could to the back of the store and Lance heard a flustered voice shout, “IM GOING ON BREAK SHIRO”

Lance was still gaping and finally shut his mouth.

He looked at the dry cleaning business card and flipped it over. On the back was a phone number written in red sharpie.