[Original: Drabble] "Fashion Self-Expression" [Zeke Jones, G]
Title: Fashion Self-Expression
Prompt: writerverse challenge #03 march mini table of doom, prompt #5 ‘bowties are cool’
Word Count: 354
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: original ( Zeke Jones ‘verse)
Summary: Jones and Howell discuss fashion. Sort of.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
Fashion Self-Expression
“It’s not about the bowties, sir,” I said. “Well, not just the bowties. Because bowties are cool. And hygienic. A lot of doctors have started wearing them because they don’t come into contact with patients and spread disease. Scientists like them because they don’t dangle in their experiments. They make them in fun patterns, too, not just plain black or stripes, so that they can-”
“Is there a point in this, Jones?” my partner growled. Someone else might have been intimidated, but I recognized it as one of his tolerant growls.
“Yes, sir, and I’m getting there.” I took a big bite of my soft pretzel with extra mustard as we walked around the park. “I guess I just like the message. Wear what you like, even if nobody else likes it. Be who you are, no matter what anyone else says. A little encouragement to fashion self-expression, you know?”
Howell shrugged. “I remember a time when there were very strict rules about who could wear what style of cravat,” he said. “I don’t keep up with fashion.”
I nudged him with my elbow. “C’mon, sir, I’ve seen you out of uniform. You can be quite dapper when you choose to be.”
“And you still dress like a college student, Jones. If you can be bothered to get dressed at all.”
I might have protested if that wasn’t so true. At least half of the times that Howell had come to my apartment on our days off, he’d found me in my pajamas.
“I can dress up nicely if I want to,” I said, even though I hadn’t worn anything fancier than blue jeans for months, except for my police dress uniform. And that had a necktie.
“Tell you what, sir,” I said. “The next full moon, I’ll come by looking nice. I’ll even comb my hair, just for you.”
Howell smirked- really, more a crinkling of his eyes than a movement of his lips. “Just don’t wear perfume. The wolf won’t like it.”
“Even if it’s bacon-scented?”
It was amazing how quickly he could scowl, and I grinned at him.
“Yes, sir.”
THE END
Current Mood:
mellow
Prompt: writerverse challenge #03 march mini table of doom, prompt #5 ‘bowties are cool’
Word Count: 354
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: original ( Zeke Jones ‘verse)
Summary: Jones and Howell discuss fashion. Sort of.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
Fashion Self-Expression
“It’s not about the bowties, sir,” I said. “Well, not just the bowties. Because bowties are cool. And hygienic. A lot of doctors have started wearing them because they don’t come into contact with patients and spread disease. Scientists like them because they don’t dangle in their experiments. They make them in fun patterns, too, not just plain black or stripes, so that they can-”
“Is there a point in this, Jones?” my partner growled. Someone else might have been intimidated, but I recognized it as one of his tolerant growls.
“Yes, sir, and I’m getting there.” I took a big bite of my soft pretzel with extra mustard as we walked around the park. “I guess I just like the message. Wear what you like, even if nobody else likes it. Be who you are, no matter what anyone else says. A little encouragement to fashion self-expression, you know?”
Howell shrugged. “I remember a time when there were very strict rules about who could wear what style of cravat,” he said. “I don’t keep up with fashion.”
I nudged him with my elbow. “C’mon, sir, I’ve seen you out of uniform. You can be quite dapper when you choose to be.”
“And you still dress like a college student, Jones. If you can be bothered to get dressed at all.”
I might have protested if that wasn’t so true. At least half of the times that Howell had come to my apartment on our days off, he’d found me in my pajamas.
“I can dress up nicely if I want to,” I said, even though I hadn’t worn anything fancier than blue jeans for months, except for my police dress uniform. And that had a necktie.
“Tell you what, sir,” I said. “The next full moon, I’ll come by looking nice. I’ll even comb my hair, just for you.”
Howell smirked- really, more a crinkling of his eyes than a movement of his lips. “Just don’t wear perfume. The wolf won’t like it.”
“Even if it’s bacon-scented?”
It was amazing how quickly he could scowl, and I grinned at him.
“Yes, sir.”
THE END
Current Mood:
mellow