Caleb, Mollymauk, & Gilmore
Dec. 22nd, 2019 07:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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ax_mainAn unexpected makeover turns into an unexpected something else.
"What do you think?" Molly was asking as he appeared out of his closet. The deep red peasant skirt he was wearing swirled around his ankles as he moved, and Molly may have helped it along with a bit of a hip twist. "To be honest I'm not completely sure, but I couldn't resist buying it."
Which was what he'd said about most of the pieces currently sitting in a pile on the floor, where he'd pressed Shaun into helping him go through them all. Not that Shaun had required much convincing.
"It's gorgeous," Shaun confirmed, giving Molly a thorough once-over look over the armful of sweaters he was in the middle of sorting. "The angels can hear you swishing in heaven. What are you thinking to pair with it? Because I can see this--" He swirled one hand to indicate, more or less, everything Molly "--going Ren-Fest-chic very quickly."
Being back in his old room, happily half-buried under Molly's clothes, felt familiar and comfortable and nostalgic, even though Shaun had only been moved out for a couple of months. His enthusiasm for playing Fashion Show was at peak Gilmore, and echoed halfway down the dorm hall.
For the fifth time in the last hour, Caleb looked up from his book at the sounds of what was unmistakably Gilmore’s warm laughter and booming voice. It was coming from Mollymauk’s room. He chewed on his bottom lip, considering, then closed his book as curiosity and, more swayingly, wanting to see Molly got the better of him.
“Come on, Frumpkin.” Caleb left his room, Frumpkin at his heels, and went the short distance down the hall to Mollymauk’s room. He stood outside the door for a moment, listening to the laughter coming from the other side, and debated turning around before mentally chastising himself and, finally, knocking.
"There's nothing wrong with a bit of ren faire," Molly said with a more than slightly extravagant pout, resisting the urge to twirl again just for the hell of it. "I was thinking perhaps one of the waistcoats? Here, I'll show you."
He bounded over towards the pile and his friend underneath it, barely even twitching at the knock at the door. They were being a bit loud. "Come in," he called over absently.
Gilmore had just seen a collection of several fetching waistcoats, and he tried to helpfully move a few pairs of jeans out of the way to uncover them. "A bit of Faire," he cautioned Molly, as if one needed to keep the Renaissance fashion contained for the good of all.
When the knock on the door came, he looked up, only just then aware that possibly he'd been too boisterous chatting and laughing with Molly. Surely that wasn't Piotr, knocking on his own room's door? Shaun grinned brightly when he caught a glimpse of the visitor. "Caleb! You're just in time." Just in time for what, other than Molly half-dressed in a long red skirt, he didn't elaborate.
“Hello. I—“ Caleb’s brain came to a screeching halt as he spotted Mollymauk shirtless and twirling about in a skirt. His mouth suddenly felt very dry. Swallowing, he tore his gaze away from the sight and said again, “Hello. What? Oh. Just in time for what?” Frumpkin darted past him into the room, and immediately made himself at home on Molly’s bed, stretching out on a shirt that had been left there.
"Wardrobe makeover," Molly said, preening just a little under their combined stare. He couldn't even be upset about the cat making himself comfortable on one of his shirts, it wasn't one of the ones he was intending to keep and it was nice Frumpkin felt so comfortable.
Which was not a thought to dwell on for the moment. Instead he tugged at either side of the skirt, pulling it wide. "What do you think?”
Gilmore could not wait to hear what Caleb thought, though clearly it was a struggle for him to refrain from his own comments. Clearly, Caleb needed a round to collect himself and remember some English words. Molly could have that effect on people. Gilmore stole not-very-subtle glances at Caleb while pretending to organize Molly's waistcoats.
Caleb looked back at Mollymauk who was smiling proudly now and posing in the skirt. It was a striking look on him. The rich red brought out the color of his eyes, and complimented the violet of his skin. The style hugged and flowed in all the right places and was so much like Molly himself—Carefree and bohemian. It also complimented the shape of Molly’s backside, which Caleb was trying very hard not to think about. “It, ah, looks good. It’s very pretty.” He smiled, the shape of his mouth soft with fondness. “You look very pretty.”
"Thank you, dear," Molly said brightly, luxuriating in that for a moment. It was always a treat to earn a compliment or two out of the wizard. But it wasn't nice to tease him for too long, so he turned a little to gesture imperially towards Shaun. "The black one, I think. Should go well enough. Caleb, did you need something or were you just drawn towards the glorious fashion?”
Shaun knew his purpose, and dutifully handed over the black vest to Molly. Then he glanced down at the rest of the clothes in his arms, and sorted through them for a thoughtful moment. A fine charcoal waistcoat with shining buttons emerged, and Shaun held it up in his own eyeline between himself and Caleb, picturing it on him.
“What do you think?” He asked, maybe of Molly, maybe of Caleb himself.
Caleb’s smile slanted with amusement. “Ah, it was mostly the shouting,” he said to Mollymauk before turning his attention to Gilmore. His brow knit at the vest held-up, of all things, backwards in front of him. He wasn’t sure what Gilmore was looking for. “Um. It’s nice?”
Molly, in the midst of sliding into his waistcoat without bothering to put a shirt on first, moved to hover over Shaun's shoulder, squinting at the image he was creating. "Oh, I think that works quite nicely," he said with a grin of his own. "Caleb dear, indulge me and try that on, won't you?”
Gilmore eased himself up to his feet, turning the garment around to show Caleb, and offering it to him over his arm like a maitre'd offering a bottle of fine wine. "Indulge him," Shaun repeated, unable to keep a hint of warm suggestion out of that rich, resonant voice of his.
“Okay...” Caleb eyed the vest with uncertainty, but was already taking off his holster. “Over my shirt?” His style hadn’t improved much in the last few months, mostly because he didn’t want to go shopping, but his shirt was in better condition than his usual fair even if it was a little big. He liked the color.
"However you like," Molly agreed, red eyes glinting. As much as he might have appreciated getting Caleb out of his clothing, one had to start with baby steps. "I have a suspicion it will suit you."
Gilmore sprawled back down on the floor, sorting through a few things with a thoughtful expression. Some of the items Molly had decided against might actually suit Caleb quite well. "Waistcoats do a bit better with a fitted shirt," he mused, half to himself, "but Molly's shoulders are a little broader..." Already he was pairing up outfits in his imagination, considering how Caleb might look in them. The redhead's taste might be somewhat less flamboyant than Molly's, but surely they could find something.
Caleb still had no idea why he was going along with this, but hung his holster over the back of Molly’s computer chair all the same, and put the vest on. He buttoned it up, then self-consciously tugged on the hem of his t-shirt, trying to make it lay as flat as possible. Eventually, he nodded to himself as if admitting this was as good as it was going to get, and held out his arms. “How does it look? Be honest. My ego can take it.”
"Oh yes," Molly said, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. "That works nicely. Shaun is right, a fitted shirt would be better, but." He very carefully stepped over to take Caleb by the shoulders and guide him to the gilded, full-length mirror in the corner.
Of course Shaun was right. He was always right about clothes. He was also usually right about people. The way that Molly touched Caleb both respectfully and firmly, and the way that Caleb let him, told Shaun something very clearly. It told Shaun that for right this moment, he needed to stay shut up, and observe.
Caleb’s first thought was how the vest somehow made him look slim instead of scrawny. His second was that he liked the color, and the way the buttons shone against it. And his third was he’d wear an old, paper bag if Mollymauk was going to look at him like that. …Okay, so maybe that had been his real, first thought…
With a small furrow in his brow, Caleb absently smoothed down the front of the vest, admiring himself in the mirror, and then glanced back at Molly. “It looks nice.”
"It does," he agreed brightly. "And you're welcome to it, if you like. It certainly looks better on you than it does on me." There was a brief pause before he affected a thoughtful look, trying his best not to smile as his eyes slid over in Shaun's direction. "In fact, I suspect we can find some excellent pieces to go with it." Or, more likely, Shaun already had. He was an excellent co-conspirator in that respect.
"Of course!" Shaun turned with one of his blinding-white smiles at the ready, though it was all for Molly's benefit. He suspected he wasn't going to win over Caleb with charm -- or that Caleb was paying him much attention with Molly around. The shirts he offered up were well-made and well-fitted, and practically dour when it came to the rest of Molly's wardrobe. For Caleb, they might be a bit of a stretch: a dark blue shirt with patterned collar and cuffs, and another in dark purple with a very tiny pattern.
Obviously, Caleb was best suited for jewel tones in cool colors, with his hair and coloring.
The shirts were both so far from what Caleb usually wore. For so long now, he’d stuck to neutral colors. Anything that would be overlooked, or easily forgotten. These were bright and eye-catching—Handsome. They weren’t demanding attention, but they weren’t trying to hide either.
Caleb looked over at Molly, reaching for the shirts with obvious hesitation. “But, these are yours, Mollymauk.” Fancy clothing like this couldn’t have come cheap, either.
Molly made a sound of low approval at Shaun's selections, though obviously he'd never doubted his friend's immaculate taste. In fact, he was so taken by it that he found himself blinking in confusion over at Caleb. "Yes, but I'm clearing them out anyway." He gestured vaguely at the mess of clothing on his bed as if to explain it. "I'd be more than happy for you to make use of them if I'm not going to.”
Shaun swung each shirt hanger loosely from his fingers, holding out one and then the other in lazy exchange until Caleb made a choice. "It's just a start. Just to see what you like," he suggested, ever so terribly helpful, of course. "You can try something on for five minutes and make absolutely zero commitment to it." But he didn't for a second think that Caleb would reject this offer. Not when he saw how pleased Molly would be.
“Okay.” Caleb still looked unsure, but he took the blue shirt with the patterned cuffs from Gilmore. He draped it neatly over the back of a nearby desk chair, then unbuttoned and took off the vest, laying it over the chair back with care as well. His shirt, oversized and black, came off next, but that was dropped with little ceremony to the floor.
Bare skin prickling against the cool air, Caleb self-consciously half-turned to put his back to Mollymauk and Gilmore—mostly Mollymauk—and picked the shirt up to change into it. He smoothed his hands down its front once the last button had been buttoned, marveling at how soft it was.
Caleb really was being terribly agreeable at the moment. It made Molly curious, but he was hardly going to argue the matter. Instead, he made his way over to the bed to drop down next to Shaun, absently reaching out to run a hand over Frumpkin's back. "Oh, you are good," he murmured Shaun's way, grinning a little as Caleb settled himself. "Really, we should rent you out for makeovers.”
"We should rent me out?" Shaun asked with a laugh, slinging an arm around Molly's shoulders. "Who exactly is profiting from this venture, hmmm?" While he kept half an eye on Caleb getting himself dressed, he didn't exactly watch. It was tough enough to steal some modicum of privacy when there were just two in the room, let alone three.
"Makeover isn't a bad idea, though." Gilmore dropped his voice to a stage-whisper, easy for Caleb to hear. "You think he'd let us do his hair?”
Caleb, who had turned with his arms held out again, immediately dropped the pose, looking panicked at the suggestion. “No!” What was wrong with his hair? He liked his hair. He patted it self-consciously, then re-lifted his arms, expression grouchy now. “Well?”
Molly had been leaning easily into the curve of Shaun's arm, and let out an amused snort at Caleb's immediate and very thorough denial before he could stop himself. But any reassurances he might have been about to give trailed off as he found himself studying a very dapper wizard. "You look lovely, dear," he said, and though it was the same words he'd been saying all along, the tone was nothing but genuine.
At first, Gilmore wondered if he should apologize over the hair comment, but Molly was unperturbed, so Shaun decided not to be fussed either. He did offer Caleb a conciliatory smile, though. "Very elegant," he confirmed, honestly. "The classic look really suits you. Jewel tones, contrasting layers -- you can really pull that off. That holster will give you a sexy steampunk vibe too, if you want it.”
The warm smile Mollymauk’s compliment had brought softened, and Caleb glanced down at the shirt. “My mom always said so. About the jewel tones.” She’d always bought him shirts in dark blues and greens and reds… He hadn’t appreciated enough how hard she’d tried for him.
Caleb looked back up at Mollymauk and Gilmore, their steady gazes on him, and suddenly felt uncomfortable at being the center of so much attention. “I’ll, ah, try on the purple one now.” He held out his hand for it.
"With the waistcoat as well," Molly commanded languidly. "It really is an excellent look for you, dear. I'm sure I can dig up a few more of them, if you like, but they may not be quite so staid." Molly being Molly, and all. "We'll just have to find you some new ones, I think.”
"Perfect," Gilmore agreed, half-turning to Molly so Caleb could change clothes again without being under quite so much scrutiny. Plus, he could indulge in the Gilmore and Tealeaf Mutual Appreciation Society a little bit further. "You're a genius, of course, but I might argue the tiniest notion that Caleb's style isn't staid. It's dignified. Don't you think?”
Dignified was not a word that had ever been used to describe Caleb. Selfishly curious, he listened closely for Molly’s response as he turned his back to Molly and Gilmore and started to undress. He returned the blue shirt to its hanger and hung it over the chair back before slipping into the purple shirt. It was a bright color, brighter than he’d worn in a long time and it reminded him of Molly.
Caleb paused in reaching for the waistcoat and frowned down at the shirt, his eavesdropping forgotten as he tried to decide whether or not the shirt should be tucked in. After a second or two of waffling, he decided on should, tucked it in, and moved on to putting on the waistcoat.
"More staid than I am, is what I meant," Molly protested, bringing a hand to his chest to artfully imply just how deeply hurt his feelings had been by the accusation. "I would never call Caleb himself anything less than sophisticated." It helped that most people in the planet not currently in that room were more staid than Molly was.
"Sophisticated is the very word," agreed Gilmore wholeheartedly. Someone outside of his and Molly's friendship might find their discourse over-the-top, even faintly ridiculous, but the exaggerated ostentation was just a layer of sparkle over a true bond of friendship. They just expressed that bond constantly, instead of every now and then. "Do you agree, Caleb?”
It wasn’t a word Caleb had ever heard used to describe him, but in the shirt and vest he felt sophisticated. He liked that Mollymauk thought he was. “It’s a good word,” he said, and he turned to face his fashion experts. The vest fit better without an over-sized shirt getting in the way, and both looked good against his dark, slim jeans. It was…nice. Maybe it was time to stop putting it off, and finally go shopping. There was no reason to dress to be forgotten or overlooked anymore.
Molly's red eyes glinted as he studied him, smiling faintly to himself. He might have felt bad that his attention was immediately taken from Shaun, but somehow he suspected his friend would understand. "Perfect," he told Caleb with just a flash of fang. "A bit of structure work wonders for you, dear.”
"How do you feel?" Gilmore wanted to know, quite earnestly. He leaned forward, elbows on his folded legs, and laced his fingers under his bearded chin to observe with the careful attention this process deserved. "Fashion is meant to make you feel like the person you know you are inside. Do you feel like you?”
Caleb looked at the outfit and fiddled with one of its shiny buttons, a solemn wrinkle between his eyebrows. No, this wasn’t who he was inside. He wasn’t as nice or anywhere near as put together. But, he wanted to be. He was trying to be.
“I like how it makes me feel,” Caleb admitted and, when his gaze lifted, it only briefly rested on Gilmore before moving onto Mollymauk. It wasn’t quite the answer to what Gilmore had asked, but it was as honest as he felt comfortable being.
There was a brief moment of silence as Molly met Caleb's eyes, before his smile shifted to something almost knowing. Hard not to notice that look Caleb was wearing, but Molly thought maybe he understood. "Sometimes it's not about feeling like you, hm? The right clothing can make excellent armor, if you let it." Said the one who draped himself in as many blazing colors as he could. Camouflage could come in many shapes.
The way these two were looking at each other, Shaun was starting to think he ought to find a reason to excuse himself and let them figure out Caleb's wardrobe -- or lack thereof -- together. "Don't tell him I told you, but that's why Nolan insists on popping his collars and wears those sometimes questionable jackets," he confided to them both with raised brows. "Those Hamptons snobs treat him like he doesn't deserve his success, so he takes their navy and khaki uniforms and throws it back at them in teal and pumpkin. I can't even fault him, because flaunting expectation is what I live for."
He offered Caleb a kind, if crooked, smile. "Not quite the same thing, I know, but the concept puts you in excellent company.”
Armor. Yes. Armor was something Caleb knew well. He smiled at Mollymauk, a rare, full smile that reached right to the blue of his eyes, and, without looking away, replied to Gilmore, “Yes, it does. Very good company.”
Molly found himself studying Caleb in turn, oddly intent despite the slight smile playing around his mouth. It was hardly the first time he'd felt the desire to snog the wizard's face off, but it was the first time he'd begun to suspect he might not get a hex in the teeth for trying. "Shaun, dear," he found himself saying almost absently, "I'm sure you have a few items of your own we could try. Yes?”
There it was at last. Molly was barely paying any attention to Gilmore by that point, and Caleb barely seemed to see him at all. "I'm sure," he agreed, and slid behind Molly to wriggle off his friend's bed. "Of course, my closet is all the way over in the graduate building. It'll take some time," Shaun added, though he suspected neither of them were really listening to him.
Before he got away completely, Shaun covertly gave Molly's very cute backside an encouraging little pat. Go get your man, he would have said telepathically if he had that ability. For the moment, though, the most important thing was taking his leave gracefully -- and quickly.
“Thank you,” Caleb belatedly called after Gilmore, watching the door close behind him. He looked back to Mollymauk and his expression softened with a smile. “And thank you too. Especially you. You have always…” He gave a shy sort of shrug. “You are good to me. You are patient, and kind. But you always tell me what I need to hear, not what I want to hear. I am lucky to know you.”
"I don't know if patient is the right word," Molly said with something that almost seemed to be edging towards bemusement. Probably not kind either, but if Caleb wanted to think so, Molly was happy to let him. "It's not difficult to be good to you, dear. You put up with my ridiculousness more than is strictly called for.”
Patient was exactly the right word, and it was only the start of all the good things Caleb could say about Mollymauk Tealeaf. “It’s easy. I like your ridiculousness.” One of his shoulders lifted in a shy, half-shrug. "I like being with you.”
"Well," Molly said, uncharacteristically seeming lost for words at the moment, "good." But what words couldn't manage, other things could. He carefully stood from the edge of the bed, tail twitching behind him as he stepped up towards Caleb. "So I'm going to do something stupid now, and I'd appreciate if you didn't turn me into a toad for it.”
“Wait—” Caleb interrupted before Molly could suggest he cut his hair again, or try to put him in something with sequins. If the subject changed, if they went back to talking about clothes like this was any other day, he might lose his courage and never find it again. He didn’t want that to happen.
Caleb’s heart was racing in a way it never had before. Fear, yes, a healthy, unfiltered dose of it, but there was this kind of…exhilaration too. "Before you do… I, um—” His eyes kept dropping to his fidgeting hands as he stammered around the words he wanted to say. “Ah. Can I—Would it be alright if I kiss you?”
Molly blinked once, again, and then suddenly found himself laughing. "Considering that I was about to do that very same thing," he said in between giggles, red eyes glinting, "I certainly hope you do.”
“Oh,” Caleb said, surprised, and a slow, goofy smile stole across his face “Oh.”
There was a brief pause before Molly abruptly decided that if Caleb wasn't going to take the initiative, it would just have to be him. Which was what he'd been planning on doing in the first place, so no real difficulty there. He was still a bit cautious as he moved in, giving Caleb plenty of time to step away, until they were practically chest to chest and Molly reached up to cup his hand along the side of Caleb's jaw. It would be so easy just to go in for what he wanted, now that Caleb was smiling at him like that, but there was also no reason not to do things properly. Caleb deserved to have things done properly.
When he leaned in to press their mouths together, so gently, it was just barely a brush of contact.
Caleb’s breath caught. Mollymauk was kissing him. Mollymauk was kissing him. This was his first kiss and Mollymauk was kissing him. How could he think anything else when his senses were overloaded in the most wonderful way? Mollymauk’s lips were soft and tasted like his lip balm, and his hand was warm and gentle and seemed like it was made for the shape of his cheek.
Breathless, Caleb, leaned in, tentative at first, as he met the kiss, even his hand, which had found its way to Mollymauk’s arm, rested there in a ghost of a touch. “You taste like strawberry,” he meant to say, his brain latching onto the first thing it could find, but instead what came out was a soft sigh of, “Mollymauk.”
Molly let out a quiet laugh but couldn't quite bring himself to pull away. "Been wanting to do that for ages.”
This, Caleb was sure, was what the books meant by swooning. He felt lightheaded and like he was filled with fizzy bubbles. “Me too.” He made no motion to move either, his hand settling more sure on Molly’s arm and closing around it. “Can we, ah, can we do it again?”
"Absolutely," Molly said, bright and immediate. "In fact absolutely any time you want.”
All the time. Every second you’ll give me. Caleb thought and, heart still racing with a breathless kind of wonder, he cupped Mollymauk’s cheek and leaned in to kiss him again. There was no hesitancy this time, his mouth pressing full against Molly’s, lips parting in a wordless appeal for more. He’d never really done this before—He hoped he was doing it right.
"What do you think?" Molly was asking as he appeared out of his closet. The deep red peasant skirt he was wearing swirled around his ankles as he moved, and Molly may have helped it along with a bit of a hip twist. "To be honest I'm not completely sure, but I couldn't resist buying it."
Which was what he'd said about most of the pieces currently sitting in a pile on the floor, where he'd pressed Shaun into helping him go through them all. Not that Shaun had required much convincing.
"It's gorgeous," Shaun confirmed, giving Molly a thorough once-over look over the armful of sweaters he was in the middle of sorting. "The angels can hear you swishing in heaven. What are you thinking to pair with it? Because I can see this--" He swirled one hand to indicate, more or less, everything Molly "--going Ren-Fest-chic very quickly."
Being back in his old room, happily half-buried under Molly's clothes, felt familiar and comfortable and nostalgic, even though Shaun had only been moved out for a couple of months. His enthusiasm for playing Fashion Show was at peak Gilmore, and echoed halfway down the dorm hall.
For the fifth time in the last hour, Caleb looked up from his book at the sounds of what was unmistakably Gilmore’s warm laughter and booming voice. It was coming from Mollymauk’s room. He chewed on his bottom lip, considering, then closed his book as curiosity and, more swayingly, wanting to see Molly got the better of him.
“Come on, Frumpkin.” Caleb left his room, Frumpkin at his heels, and went the short distance down the hall to Mollymauk’s room. He stood outside the door for a moment, listening to the laughter coming from the other side, and debated turning around before mentally chastising himself and, finally, knocking.
"There's nothing wrong with a bit of ren faire," Molly said with a more than slightly extravagant pout, resisting the urge to twirl again just for the hell of it. "I was thinking perhaps one of the waistcoats? Here, I'll show you."
He bounded over towards the pile and his friend underneath it, barely even twitching at the knock at the door. They were being a bit loud. "Come in," he called over absently.
Gilmore had just seen a collection of several fetching waistcoats, and he tried to helpfully move a few pairs of jeans out of the way to uncover them. "A bit of Faire," he cautioned Molly, as if one needed to keep the Renaissance fashion contained for the good of all.
When the knock on the door came, he looked up, only just then aware that possibly he'd been too boisterous chatting and laughing with Molly. Surely that wasn't Piotr, knocking on his own room's door? Shaun grinned brightly when he caught a glimpse of the visitor. "Caleb! You're just in time." Just in time for what, other than Molly half-dressed in a long red skirt, he didn't elaborate.
“Hello. I—“ Caleb’s brain came to a screeching halt as he spotted Mollymauk shirtless and twirling about in a skirt. His mouth suddenly felt very dry. Swallowing, he tore his gaze away from the sight and said again, “Hello. What? Oh. Just in time for what?” Frumpkin darted past him into the room, and immediately made himself at home on Molly’s bed, stretching out on a shirt that had been left there.
"Wardrobe makeover," Molly said, preening just a little under their combined stare. He couldn't even be upset about the cat making himself comfortable on one of his shirts, it wasn't one of the ones he was intending to keep and it was nice Frumpkin felt so comfortable.
Which was not a thought to dwell on for the moment. Instead he tugged at either side of the skirt, pulling it wide. "What do you think?”
Gilmore could not wait to hear what Caleb thought, though clearly it was a struggle for him to refrain from his own comments. Clearly, Caleb needed a round to collect himself and remember some English words. Molly could have that effect on people. Gilmore stole not-very-subtle glances at Caleb while pretending to organize Molly's waistcoats.
Caleb looked back at Mollymauk who was smiling proudly now and posing in the skirt. It was a striking look on him. The rich red brought out the color of his eyes, and complimented the violet of his skin. The style hugged and flowed in all the right places and was so much like Molly himself—Carefree and bohemian. It also complimented the shape of Molly’s backside, which Caleb was trying very hard not to think about. “It, ah, looks good. It’s very pretty.” He smiled, the shape of his mouth soft with fondness. “You look very pretty.”
"Thank you, dear," Molly said brightly, luxuriating in that for a moment. It was always a treat to earn a compliment or two out of the wizard. But it wasn't nice to tease him for too long, so he turned a little to gesture imperially towards Shaun. "The black one, I think. Should go well enough. Caleb, did you need something or were you just drawn towards the glorious fashion?”
Shaun knew his purpose, and dutifully handed over the black vest to Molly. Then he glanced down at the rest of the clothes in his arms, and sorted through them for a thoughtful moment. A fine charcoal waistcoat with shining buttons emerged, and Shaun held it up in his own eyeline between himself and Caleb, picturing it on him.
“What do you think?” He asked, maybe of Molly, maybe of Caleb himself.
Caleb’s smile slanted with amusement. “Ah, it was mostly the shouting,” he said to Mollymauk before turning his attention to Gilmore. His brow knit at the vest held-up, of all things, backwards in front of him. He wasn’t sure what Gilmore was looking for. “Um. It’s nice?”
Molly, in the midst of sliding into his waistcoat without bothering to put a shirt on first, moved to hover over Shaun's shoulder, squinting at the image he was creating. "Oh, I think that works quite nicely," he said with a grin of his own. "Caleb dear, indulge me and try that on, won't you?”
Gilmore eased himself up to his feet, turning the garment around to show Caleb, and offering it to him over his arm like a maitre'd offering a bottle of fine wine. "Indulge him," Shaun repeated, unable to keep a hint of warm suggestion out of that rich, resonant voice of his.
“Okay...” Caleb eyed the vest with uncertainty, but was already taking off his holster. “Over my shirt?” His style hadn’t improved much in the last few months, mostly because he didn’t want to go shopping, but his shirt was in better condition than his usual fair even if it was a little big. He liked the color.
"However you like," Molly agreed, red eyes glinting. As much as he might have appreciated getting Caleb out of his clothing, one had to start with baby steps. "I have a suspicion it will suit you."
Gilmore sprawled back down on the floor, sorting through a few things with a thoughtful expression. Some of the items Molly had decided against might actually suit Caleb quite well. "Waistcoats do a bit better with a fitted shirt," he mused, half to himself, "but Molly's shoulders are a little broader..." Already he was pairing up outfits in his imagination, considering how Caleb might look in them. The redhead's taste might be somewhat less flamboyant than Molly's, but surely they could find something.
Caleb still had no idea why he was going along with this, but hung his holster over the back of Molly’s computer chair all the same, and put the vest on. He buttoned it up, then self-consciously tugged on the hem of his t-shirt, trying to make it lay as flat as possible. Eventually, he nodded to himself as if admitting this was as good as it was going to get, and held out his arms. “How does it look? Be honest. My ego can take it.”
"Oh yes," Molly said, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. "That works nicely. Shaun is right, a fitted shirt would be better, but." He very carefully stepped over to take Caleb by the shoulders and guide him to the gilded, full-length mirror in the corner.
Of course Shaun was right. He was always right about clothes. He was also usually right about people. The way that Molly touched Caleb both respectfully and firmly, and the way that Caleb let him, told Shaun something very clearly. It told Shaun that for right this moment, he needed to stay shut up, and observe.
Caleb’s first thought was how the vest somehow made him look slim instead of scrawny. His second was that he liked the color, and the way the buttons shone against it. And his third was he’d wear an old, paper bag if Mollymauk was going to look at him like that. …Okay, so maybe that had been his real, first thought…
With a small furrow in his brow, Caleb absently smoothed down the front of the vest, admiring himself in the mirror, and then glanced back at Molly. “It looks nice.”
"It does," he agreed brightly. "And you're welcome to it, if you like. It certainly looks better on you than it does on me." There was a brief pause before he affected a thoughtful look, trying his best not to smile as his eyes slid over in Shaun's direction. "In fact, I suspect we can find some excellent pieces to go with it." Or, more likely, Shaun already had. He was an excellent co-conspirator in that respect.
"Of course!" Shaun turned with one of his blinding-white smiles at the ready, though it was all for Molly's benefit. He suspected he wasn't going to win over Caleb with charm -- or that Caleb was paying him much attention with Molly around. The shirts he offered up were well-made and well-fitted, and practically dour when it came to the rest of Molly's wardrobe. For Caleb, they might be a bit of a stretch: a dark blue shirt with patterned collar and cuffs, and another in dark purple with a very tiny pattern.
Obviously, Caleb was best suited for jewel tones in cool colors, with his hair and coloring.
The shirts were both so far from what Caleb usually wore. For so long now, he’d stuck to neutral colors. Anything that would be overlooked, or easily forgotten. These were bright and eye-catching—Handsome. They weren’t demanding attention, but they weren’t trying to hide either.
Caleb looked over at Molly, reaching for the shirts with obvious hesitation. “But, these are yours, Mollymauk.” Fancy clothing like this couldn’t have come cheap, either.
Molly made a sound of low approval at Shaun's selections, though obviously he'd never doubted his friend's immaculate taste. In fact, he was so taken by it that he found himself blinking in confusion over at Caleb. "Yes, but I'm clearing them out anyway." He gestured vaguely at the mess of clothing on his bed as if to explain it. "I'd be more than happy for you to make use of them if I'm not going to.”
Shaun swung each shirt hanger loosely from his fingers, holding out one and then the other in lazy exchange until Caleb made a choice. "It's just a start. Just to see what you like," he suggested, ever so terribly helpful, of course. "You can try something on for five minutes and make absolutely zero commitment to it." But he didn't for a second think that Caleb would reject this offer. Not when he saw how pleased Molly would be.
“Okay.” Caleb still looked unsure, but he took the blue shirt with the patterned cuffs from Gilmore. He draped it neatly over the back of a nearby desk chair, then unbuttoned and took off the vest, laying it over the chair back with care as well. His shirt, oversized and black, came off next, but that was dropped with little ceremony to the floor.
Bare skin prickling against the cool air, Caleb self-consciously half-turned to put his back to Mollymauk and Gilmore—mostly Mollymauk—and picked the shirt up to change into it. He smoothed his hands down its front once the last button had been buttoned, marveling at how soft it was.
Caleb really was being terribly agreeable at the moment. It made Molly curious, but he was hardly going to argue the matter. Instead, he made his way over to the bed to drop down next to Shaun, absently reaching out to run a hand over Frumpkin's back. "Oh, you are good," he murmured Shaun's way, grinning a little as Caleb settled himself. "Really, we should rent you out for makeovers.”
"We should rent me out?" Shaun asked with a laugh, slinging an arm around Molly's shoulders. "Who exactly is profiting from this venture, hmmm?" While he kept half an eye on Caleb getting himself dressed, he didn't exactly watch. It was tough enough to steal some modicum of privacy when there were just two in the room, let alone three.
"Makeover isn't a bad idea, though." Gilmore dropped his voice to a stage-whisper, easy for Caleb to hear. "You think he'd let us do his hair?”
Caleb, who had turned with his arms held out again, immediately dropped the pose, looking panicked at the suggestion. “No!” What was wrong with his hair? He liked his hair. He patted it self-consciously, then re-lifted his arms, expression grouchy now. “Well?”
Molly had been leaning easily into the curve of Shaun's arm, and let out an amused snort at Caleb's immediate and very thorough denial before he could stop himself. But any reassurances he might have been about to give trailed off as he found himself studying a very dapper wizard. "You look lovely, dear," he said, and though it was the same words he'd been saying all along, the tone was nothing but genuine.
At first, Gilmore wondered if he should apologize over the hair comment, but Molly was unperturbed, so Shaun decided not to be fussed either. He did offer Caleb a conciliatory smile, though. "Very elegant," he confirmed, honestly. "The classic look really suits you. Jewel tones, contrasting layers -- you can really pull that off. That holster will give you a sexy steampunk vibe too, if you want it.”
The warm smile Mollymauk’s compliment had brought softened, and Caleb glanced down at the shirt. “My mom always said so. About the jewel tones.” She’d always bought him shirts in dark blues and greens and reds… He hadn’t appreciated enough how hard she’d tried for him.
Caleb looked back up at Mollymauk and Gilmore, their steady gazes on him, and suddenly felt uncomfortable at being the center of so much attention. “I’ll, ah, try on the purple one now.” He held out his hand for it.
"With the waistcoat as well," Molly commanded languidly. "It really is an excellent look for you, dear. I'm sure I can dig up a few more of them, if you like, but they may not be quite so staid." Molly being Molly, and all. "We'll just have to find you some new ones, I think.”
"Perfect," Gilmore agreed, half-turning to Molly so Caleb could change clothes again without being under quite so much scrutiny. Plus, he could indulge in the Gilmore and Tealeaf Mutual Appreciation Society a little bit further. "You're a genius, of course, but I might argue the tiniest notion that Caleb's style isn't staid. It's dignified. Don't you think?”
Dignified was not a word that had ever been used to describe Caleb. Selfishly curious, he listened closely for Molly’s response as he turned his back to Molly and Gilmore and started to undress. He returned the blue shirt to its hanger and hung it over the chair back before slipping into the purple shirt. It was a bright color, brighter than he’d worn in a long time and it reminded him of Molly.
Caleb paused in reaching for the waistcoat and frowned down at the shirt, his eavesdropping forgotten as he tried to decide whether or not the shirt should be tucked in. After a second or two of waffling, he decided on should, tucked it in, and moved on to putting on the waistcoat.
"More staid than I am, is what I meant," Molly protested, bringing a hand to his chest to artfully imply just how deeply hurt his feelings had been by the accusation. "I would never call Caleb himself anything less than sophisticated." It helped that most people in the planet not currently in that room were more staid than Molly was.
"Sophisticated is the very word," agreed Gilmore wholeheartedly. Someone outside of his and Molly's friendship might find their discourse over-the-top, even faintly ridiculous, but the exaggerated ostentation was just a layer of sparkle over a true bond of friendship. They just expressed that bond constantly, instead of every now and then. "Do you agree, Caleb?”
It wasn’t a word Caleb had ever heard used to describe him, but in the shirt and vest he felt sophisticated. He liked that Mollymauk thought he was. “It’s a good word,” he said, and he turned to face his fashion experts. The vest fit better without an over-sized shirt getting in the way, and both looked good against his dark, slim jeans. It was…nice. Maybe it was time to stop putting it off, and finally go shopping. There was no reason to dress to be forgotten or overlooked anymore.
Molly's red eyes glinted as he studied him, smiling faintly to himself. He might have felt bad that his attention was immediately taken from Shaun, but somehow he suspected his friend would understand. "Perfect," he told Caleb with just a flash of fang. "A bit of structure work wonders for you, dear.”
"How do you feel?" Gilmore wanted to know, quite earnestly. He leaned forward, elbows on his folded legs, and laced his fingers under his bearded chin to observe with the careful attention this process deserved. "Fashion is meant to make you feel like the person you know you are inside. Do you feel like you?”
Caleb looked at the outfit and fiddled with one of its shiny buttons, a solemn wrinkle between his eyebrows. No, this wasn’t who he was inside. He wasn’t as nice or anywhere near as put together. But, he wanted to be. He was trying to be.
“I like how it makes me feel,” Caleb admitted and, when his gaze lifted, it only briefly rested on Gilmore before moving onto Mollymauk. It wasn’t quite the answer to what Gilmore had asked, but it was as honest as he felt comfortable being.
There was a brief moment of silence as Molly met Caleb's eyes, before his smile shifted to something almost knowing. Hard not to notice that look Caleb was wearing, but Molly thought maybe he understood. "Sometimes it's not about feeling like you, hm? The right clothing can make excellent armor, if you let it." Said the one who draped himself in as many blazing colors as he could. Camouflage could come in many shapes.
The way these two were looking at each other, Shaun was starting to think he ought to find a reason to excuse himself and let them figure out Caleb's wardrobe -- or lack thereof -- together. "Don't tell him I told you, but that's why Nolan insists on popping his collars and wears those sometimes questionable jackets," he confided to them both with raised brows. "Those Hamptons snobs treat him like he doesn't deserve his success, so he takes their navy and khaki uniforms and throws it back at them in teal and pumpkin. I can't even fault him, because flaunting expectation is what I live for."
He offered Caleb a kind, if crooked, smile. "Not quite the same thing, I know, but the concept puts you in excellent company.”
Armor. Yes. Armor was something Caleb knew well. He smiled at Mollymauk, a rare, full smile that reached right to the blue of his eyes, and, without looking away, replied to Gilmore, “Yes, it does. Very good company.”
Molly found himself studying Caleb in turn, oddly intent despite the slight smile playing around his mouth. It was hardly the first time he'd felt the desire to snog the wizard's face off, but it was the first time he'd begun to suspect he might not get a hex in the teeth for trying. "Shaun, dear," he found himself saying almost absently, "I'm sure you have a few items of your own we could try. Yes?”
There it was at last. Molly was barely paying any attention to Gilmore by that point, and Caleb barely seemed to see him at all. "I'm sure," he agreed, and slid behind Molly to wriggle off his friend's bed. "Of course, my closet is all the way over in the graduate building. It'll take some time," Shaun added, though he suspected neither of them were really listening to him.
Before he got away completely, Shaun covertly gave Molly's very cute backside an encouraging little pat. Go get your man, he would have said telepathically if he had that ability. For the moment, though, the most important thing was taking his leave gracefully -- and quickly.
“Thank you,” Caleb belatedly called after Gilmore, watching the door close behind him. He looked back to Mollymauk and his expression softened with a smile. “And thank you too. Especially you. You have always…” He gave a shy sort of shrug. “You are good to me. You are patient, and kind. But you always tell me what I need to hear, not what I want to hear. I am lucky to know you.”
"I don't know if patient is the right word," Molly said with something that almost seemed to be edging towards bemusement. Probably not kind either, but if Caleb wanted to think so, Molly was happy to let him. "It's not difficult to be good to you, dear. You put up with my ridiculousness more than is strictly called for.”
Patient was exactly the right word, and it was only the start of all the good things Caleb could say about Mollymauk Tealeaf. “It’s easy. I like your ridiculousness.” One of his shoulders lifted in a shy, half-shrug. "I like being with you.”
"Well," Molly said, uncharacteristically seeming lost for words at the moment, "good." But what words couldn't manage, other things could. He carefully stood from the edge of the bed, tail twitching behind him as he stepped up towards Caleb. "So I'm going to do something stupid now, and I'd appreciate if you didn't turn me into a toad for it.”
“Wait—” Caleb interrupted before Molly could suggest he cut his hair again, or try to put him in something with sequins. If the subject changed, if they went back to talking about clothes like this was any other day, he might lose his courage and never find it again. He didn’t want that to happen.
Caleb’s heart was racing in a way it never had before. Fear, yes, a healthy, unfiltered dose of it, but there was this kind of…exhilaration too. "Before you do… I, um—” His eyes kept dropping to his fidgeting hands as he stammered around the words he wanted to say. “Ah. Can I—Would it be alright if I kiss you?”
Molly blinked once, again, and then suddenly found himself laughing. "Considering that I was about to do that very same thing," he said in between giggles, red eyes glinting, "I certainly hope you do.”
“Oh,” Caleb said, surprised, and a slow, goofy smile stole across his face “Oh.”
There was a brief pause before Molly abruptly decided that if Caleb wasn't going to take the initiative, it would just have to be him. Which was what he'd been planning on doing in the first place, so no real difficulty there. He was still a bit cautious as he moved in, giving Caleb plenty of time to step away, until they were practically chest to chest and Molly reached up to cup his hand along the side of Caleb's jaw. It would be so easy just to go in for what he wanted, now that Caleb was smiling at him like that, but there was also no reason not to do things properly. Caleb deserved to have things done properly.
When he leaned in to press their mouths together, so gently, it was just barely a brush of contact.
Caleb’s breath caught. Mollymauk was kissing him. Mollymauk was kissing him. This was his first kiss and Mollymauk was kissing him. How could he think anything else when his senses were overloaded in the most wonderful way? Mollymauk’s lips were soft and tasted like his lip balm, and his hand was warm and gentle and seemed like it was made for the shape of his cheek.
Breathless, Caleb, leaned in, tentative at first, as he met the kiss, even his hand, which had found its way to Mollymauk’s arm, rested there in a ghost of a touch. “You taste like strawberry,” he meant to say, his brain latching onto the first thing it could find, but instead what came out was a soft sigh of, “Mollymauk.”
Molly let out a quiet laugh but couldn't quite bring himself to pull away. "Been wanting to do that for ages.”
This, Caleb was sure, was what the books meant by swooning. He felt lightheaded and like he was filled with fizzy bubbles. “Me too.” He made no motion to move either, his hand settling more sure on Molly’s arm and closing around it. “Can we, ah, can we do it again?”
"Absolutely," Molly said, bright and immediate. "In fact absolutely any time you want.”
All the time. Every second you’ll give me. Caleb thought and, heart still racing with a breathless kind of wonder, he cupped Mollymauk’s cheek and leaned in to kiss him again. There was no hesitancy this time, his mouth pressing full against Molly’s, lips parting in a wordless appeal for more. He’d never really done this before—He hoped he was doing it right.
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Date: 2019-12-24 05:38 pm (UTC)Get it, you two!
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Date: 2019-12-25 09:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-12-28 11:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-12-31 12:55 am (UTC)