3: Underwear

417 61 18
                                    

Prompt: Underwear
Warnings/TWs: nope
Tags: Fluff, Domestic, Innuendos  

--

Mitch skids on his socks to their silverware drawer, catching himself against the counter. He pulls the drawer out, picking their nice forks and spoons and knives with a grimace, because as much as he'd rather use the ones that fit comfortably in his hand, these are newer and fancier.

"How many serving spoons?" Mitch calls and he's not even sure if Scott can hear him over the Beyoncé they have blasting from the living room.

Scott appears from the laundry room, arms full of the fabric Mitch assumes are the placemats. "Um. Two spoons, two forks, and one of the salad tongs? Cause we have the mashed potatoes and the corn and green beans and beets and steak and that meatless roast thing and obviously salad."

"Okay, I just wasn't sure if we'd share a spoon across corn and beans and beets."

Scott shrugs, dumping his armful of placemats on one of the dining room chairs. "Less washing up to do, and your parents don't mind, right?"

"Don't think so. We did it all the time when I was little." Mitch says absentmindedly as he digs their serving utensils out from the bottom of their organizers.

It's the work of two minutes to finish setting the table, and Mitch steps back to admire their handiwork. The table looks good, the food's sitting ready in the kitchen, and his parents texted that they were ten minutes out.

Familiar arms loop over Mitch's shoulders, and he leans back into Scott's hug, tilting his head to press a kiss to Scott's bicep. Scott hums in content satisfaction, dropping the lightest of kisses onto Mitch's ear. It's their wordless way of reminding each other that they love each other.

Their little moment of sweetness is broken by Mitch's phone buzzing. Mitch wriggles in Scott's hold when Scott refuses to let him go.

"Mitchyyyyyy, let me cuddle youuuuu," Scott whines.

"Later, baby, my parents just texted," Mitch says, slapping futilely (and gently) at Scott's arm. When that doesn't work, he reaches up to ruffle Scott's hair, which earns him a high-pitched yelp, his freedom, and a retaliatory hair-fluff from Scott.

Mitch's phone declares that his parents have arrived, so he skips towards the front door.

"Wait, Mitchy, put pants on," Scott calls after him, and Mitch stops in his tracks. He's still in just a t-shirt and his briefs, and he considers for a moment before he shrugs. "Nothing they haven't seen before, right?"

Mitch opens the door. There's a momentary silence as Mike apparently takes in his getup and Scott behind him, and Mitch is about to say something when Mike starts laughing.

"Did we interrupt something, boys? Want a moment?"

Mitch glances at Scott, confused, when he registers what it must look like. Both their hair is mussed, completely out of character for both of them, he's in just underwear, and fuck, they were trying the beets earlier so their lips are stained red.

"It's not what it looks like," Mitch says automatically, and Mike just laughs harder. Nel's watching him in fond amusement.

Mitch glances back to see Scott turning red as he, too, realizes what's happening.

Well.

Dinner should be interesting.

-fin.

30 Days of DrabblesWhere stories live. Discover now