The Hoodie
This is for rebecca_star's prompt: Didz/Stan and Hoodie. Gimme prompts here.
"The Hoodie"
Word Count: 953
If there was one article of clothing Didz completely did not understand people's fascination with, it was the hoodie. Sure, he understood the desire to be warm, but if you were that bothered by the temperature, you should invest in a couple of jumpers or even just one good coat, not some failed attempt at a modernisation of an anorak (they weren't even waterproof!) aimed at kids too young to appreciate a sensible jacket. They were hideously unattractive and really, just the stupidest, most pointless garment on the planet.
Of course, his opinion could have been somewhat coloured by Stan's fascination with the one he'd been given early on in the signing that morning. He'd been thrilled that some kid had remembered he'd once said he missed one he'd left back in the States, and he'd been shoving the thing in the face of anyone he could reach ever since. Which basically amounted to Didz right now because Gary had disappeared in search of something to drink and Carl had declared his intention of setting fire to the thing if Anthony did that one more time. Not that Didz really minded - Anthony's child-like enthusiasm for the most random things was one of the things Didz loved best about him - but before the gift, Anthony's attention had been focused on him, and he was rather resenting having to share it, especially with some crappily dyed piece of clothing which seemed intent on announcing its claim on Anthony with the way it was staining his fingertips black. His staring was noticed and Anthony beamed at him, bounding over as he enthusiastically gushed, "Didz, this is, like, the best thing anyone's ever given me. Ever. Here, feel it," he thrust the offending garment into his hands for the fourth time that afternoon.
"It's still scratchy, Stan." Didz pointed out. Anthony's face fell at his words and he felt terrible for uttering them. "Look, maybe I just... haven't ever had the chance to properly, uh, appreciate one of these." He shot Carl a glare at his snicker.
Anthony didn't notice the exchange, words spilling from his mouth as he excitedly offered, "I know! You can wear it today - but only today 'cause I want it back! - and then you'll see how great it is!" Didz reluctantly slipped it on, and it was almost worth it for the way Anthony was grinning at him.
Almost.
They left the store soon after that and they'd made their way back to Anthony's before Didz noticed anything was wrong. It had started with a general feeling of discomfort that Didz chalked up to having to wear the stupid thing instead of his coat, but it had soon progressed to this terrible itching, burning sensation at his neck and hands. He had just about convinced himself he was imagining things when Anthony looked over at him and gasped. "Shit, Didz, what - you're - " The others moved far more quickly than Didz thought possible, sensible Gary being the first to come up with the idea of pulling the hoodie off him, but it was a bit late for that, his bandmates' voices frantically calling his name the last thing he heard before he passed out.
He came to in hospital later that afternoon. The doctor informed him that he'd had a severe allergic reaction to one of the cleaning products which had been used on the hoodie, but they had given him some medicine and he would be fine with just a bit of rest. The doctor left and three familiar faces entered, Gary and Carl hanging back as Anthony rushed over and collapsed sobbing on his bed. "I'm sorry! This is all my fault! I almost killed you! I'm so sorry! I'm a horrible, horrible person who doesn't deserve you because it's all my fault you're - "
"Hey, shh," Didz soothed, shocked by the strength of Anthony's reaction. "It's not your fault. You didn't know, you couldn't have known, so it's not your fault. It's nobody's fault. And now that the hoodie's gone, I'll -"
"It isn't," Carl interrupted.
"What?" Didz asked, confused.
"We wanted to get rid of it," Gary explained, "but he wouldn't let us."
"He - Stan?" Didz turned back to him, voice heavy with disbelief.
Anthony refused to look at him as he replied, "I'm going to wash it when I get back home..."
"Wash it?" Didz demanded. "Stan, that thing almost killed me!"
"It didn't mean to!" Anthony retorted, tearing up as he pouted petulantly.
Didz opened his mouth to reply but found himself snickering at the other's reaction instead. Anthony stared at him for a moment before slowly starting to giggle, and soon the two of them were rolling on the bed laughing. Carl shook his head at them, muttering, "Crazy fuckers," before turning and leaving, Gary following.
It took them a few minutes to get themselves under control, but soon they were calmly grinning at one another. "So," Anthony ventured, "Am I forgiven?"
"There isn't anything to forgive, you idiot," Didz replied, reaching out and ruffling his hair.
Anthony ducked away, asking anxiously, "And the hoodie? Is it forgiven too?"
"Oh, for..." Didz rolled his eyes, but Anthony just stared at him until he gave in. "Fine. Yes, I forgive your stupid hoodie for its attempt on my life."
Anthony leaned forward, then quickly pulled away to ask, "And I'm allowed to keep it?"
Didz laughed. "Only if you promise to fucking wash it. I'm not ending up in here again just because you - " But his words were cut off as Anthony pounced on him, and suddenly Didz really didn't care what happened to Stan's new hoodie.
"The Hoodie"
Word Count: 953
If there was one article of clothing Didz completely did not understand people's fascination with, it was the hoodie. Sure, he understood the desire to be warm, but if you were that bothered by the temperature, you should invest in a couple of jumpers or even just one good coat, not some failed attempt at a modernisation of an anorak (they weren't even waterproof!) aimed at kids too young to appreciate a sensible jacket. They were hideously unattractive and really, just the stupidest, most pointless garment on the planet.
Of course, his opinion could have been somewhat coloured by Stan's fascination with the one he'd been given early on in the signing that morning. He'd been thrilled that some kid had remembered he'd once said he missed one he'd left back in the States, and he'd been shoving the thing in the face of anyone he could reach ever since. Which basically amounted to Didz right now because Gary had disappeared in search of something to drink and Carl had declared his intention of setting fire to the thing if Anthony did that one more time. Not that Didz really minded - Anthony's child-like enthusiasm for the most random things was one of the things Didz loved best about him - but before the gift, Anthony's attention had been focused on him, and he was rather resenting having to share it, especially with some crappily dyed piece of clothing which seemed intent on announcing its claim on Anthony with the way it was staining his fingertips black. His staring was noticed and Anthony beamed at him, bounding over as he enthusiastically gushed, "Didz, this is, like, the best thing anyone's ever given me. Ever. Here, feel it," he thrust the offending garment into his hands for the fourth time that afternoon.
"It's still scratchy, Stan." Didz pointed out. Anthony's face fell at his words and he felt terrible for uttering them. "Look, maybe I just... haven't ever had the chance to properly, uh, appreciate one of these." He shot Carl a glare at his snicker.
Anthony didn't notice the exchange, words spilling from his mouth as he excitedly offered, "I know! You can wear it today - but only today 'cause I want it back! - and then you'll see how great it is!" Didz reluctantly slipped it on, and it was almost worth it for the way Anthony was grinning at him.
Almost.
They left the store soon after that and they'd made their way back to Anthony's before Didz noticed anything was wrong. It had started with a general feeling of discomfort that Didz chalked up to having to wear the stupid thing instead of his coat, but it had soon progressed to this terrible itching, burning sensation at his neck and hands. He had just about convinced himself he was imagining things when Anthony looked over at him and gasped. "Shit, Didz, what - you're - " The others moved far more quickly than Didz thought possible, sensible Gary being the first to come up with the idea of pulling the hoodie off him, but it was a bit late for that, his bandmates' voices frantically calling his name the last thing he heard before he passed out.
He came to in hospital later that afternoon. The doctor informed him that he'd had a severe allergic reaction to one of the cleaning products which had been used on the hoodie, but they had given him some medicine and he would be fine with just a bit of rest. The doctor left and three familiar faces entered, Gary and Carl hanging back as Anthony rushed over and collapsed sobbing on his bed. "I'm sorry! This is all my fault! I almost killed you! I'm so sorry! I'm a horrible, horrible person who doesn't deserve you because it's all my fault you're - "
"Hey, shh," Didz soothed, shocked by the strength of Anthony's reaction. "It's not your fault. You didn't know, you couldn't have known, so it's not your fault. It's nobody's fault. And now that the hoodie's gone, I'll -"
"It isn't," Carl interrupted.
"What?" Didz asked, confused.
"We wanted to get rid of it," Gary explained, "but he wouldn't let us."
"He - Stan?" Didz turned back to him, voice heavy with disbelief.
Anthony refused to look at him as he replied, "I'm going to wash it when I get back home..."
"Wash it?" Didz demanded. "Stan, that thing almost killed me!"
"It didn't mean to!" Anthony retorted, tearing up as he pouted petulantly.
Didz opened his mouth to reply but found himself snickering at the other's reaction instead. Anthony stared at him for a moment before slowly starting to giggle, and soon the two of them were rolling on the bed laughing. Carl shook his head at them, muttering, "Crazy fuckers," before turning and leaving, Gary following.
It took them a few minutes to get themselves under control, but soon they were calmly grinning at one another. "So," Anthony ventured, "Am I forgiven?"
"There isn't anything to forgive, you idiot," Didz replied, reaching out and ruffling his hair.
Anthony ducked away, asking anxiously, "And the hoodie? Is it forgiven too?"
"Oh, for..." Didz rolled his eyes, but Anthony just stared at him until he gave in. "Fine. Yes, I forgive your stupid hoodie for its attempt on my life."
Anthony leaned forward, then quickly pulled away to ask, "And I'm allowed to keep it?"
Didz laughed. "Only if you promise to fucking wash it. I'm not ending up in here again just because you - " But his words were cut off as Anthony pounced on him, and suddenly Didz really didn't care what happened to Stan's new hoodie.