Flashpoint Drabble: Italian Suit, Italian Soul (Spike, PG)
Title: Italian Suit, Italian Soul
Word Count: 200.
Characters: Spike.
Rating: PG.
Warnings: None.
Spoilers: None.
Summary: Spike looks at the mirror and he finds himself.
Written for: flashpoint_sru, prompt #17 Outfit.
Beta: The wonderful lillyg!
Disclaimer: I don't own Flashpoint or anything related to it.
Italian Suit, Italian Soul
His family always used to say that a suit was the best way for a man to introduce himself in an important reunion. A nephew’s birthday was a great occasion for Spike to take that advice into consideration, but for some reason, the classic Italian suit didn’t seem to fit him well.
He’d tried four models. So far, none of them was the one he was looking for. One was too tight, another one had sleeves that Spike didn’t like. He wasn’t keen on the color of the next one. The last one made him feel just strange.
Looking at himself in the mirror, he couldn’t understand why his features didn’t seem to fit formal clothing the right way, but he was sure of one thing - he wasn’t going to find any answers here, at the tailor.
But it finally hit him. He didn’t need any good suits or fancy clothes. He changed to a nice pair of jeans and a white, traditional shirt that left a bit of skin slip out and the rest to the imagination.
The freshest Italian presentation card was a great smile and a perfect touch of passionate wit.
And Spike had it all.
The End.
Word Count: 200.
Characters: Spike.
Rating: PG.
Warnings: None.
Spoilers: None.
Summary: Spike looks at the mirror and he finds himself.
Written for: flashpoint_sru, prompt #17 Outfit.
Beta: The wonderful lillyg!
Disclaimer: I don't own Flashpoint or anything related to it.
Italian Suit, Italian Soul
His family always used to say that a suit was the best way for a man to introduce himself in an important reunion. A nephew’s birthday was a great occasion for Spike to take that advice into consideration, but for some reason, the classic Italian suit didn’t seem to fit him well.
He’d tried four models. So far, none of them was the one he was looking for. One was too tight, another one had sleeves that Spike didn’t like. He wasn’t keen on the color of the next one. The last one made him feel just strange.
Looking at himself in the mirror, he couldn’t understand why his features didn’t seem to fit formal clothing the right way, but he was sure of one thing - he wasn’t going to find any answers here, at the tailor.
But it finally hit him. He didn’t need any good suits or fancy clothes. He changed to a nice pair of jeans and a white, traditional shirt that left a bit of skin slip out and the rest to the imagination.
The freshest Italian presentation card was a great smile and a perfect touch of passionate wit.
And Spike had it all.
The End.