February Fortnight of Fic #3
Title: Going to the V-E-T
Fandom: Kiss kiss Bang Bang
Pairing: Harry/Perry (preslash?)
Rating: R (with apologies to the Midwest)
Word Count: 552
Summary: Not Harry's idea of shopping
A/N: This time one of cruelest_month's who suggested "Perry/Harry, shopping" except on both those counts, only kinda-sorta. Also not a Harr first person POV. So sorry about all of that. Hope you like it anyway! Oh, and the title will make perfect sense and will be quite clever once you actual raed the story.
"When you said we were going shopping, I didn't have this in mind!" Harry complained.
Perry glanced up from the magazine he was idly flipping through and said nothing.
"What were you expecting?" Harry asked in an affected, lispy voice that was suppose to be an imitation of Perry. "Oh, I don't know, Per," he responded to himself, "maybe like a mall where you could go off looking at clothes and girly bath products, and I could hang around the video games. You know, real shopping."
"Why would I take you someplace filled with hundreds of little stores with hundreds of little items you can easily pocket?"
Harry was aghast. "I've reformed!"
"I caught you just last week trying to lift five candy bars from the grocery store. It's a sickness, and I'm going to get you counseling."
"You do that, I'll sign you up for gay counseling."
"What?"
"You know, those places that try and cure you of your gayness."
"You're comparing my homosexuality with your kleptomania?"
"I have an uncontrollable urge to steal, you have an uncontrollable urge to suck cock."
"Can you sew his mouth shut?"
Perry directed his question to a small Asian man who had been spending the last hour fussing around Harry, measuring him, finding the right colors, marking sleeves with chalk, pinning alterations sites, and all with some difficulty since Harry kept fidgeting.
Harry was rightfully upset, though. He never would call going to a tailor's as "shopping" nor would he have ever considered going to a tailors at all. Frankly, he was tricked. Tricked like a dog being told he was going for a car ride, only to end up at the vets with a scalpel to his balls.
He said as much to Perry.
"Stop your whining, I'm paying for it all."
"I don't care, I didn't ask for it!"
"You're working for me, you're representing me, so you need to dress like a fucking professional."
"In other words, like you."
"Not at all. I'm a Spring, you're a Winter, for one."
"You know, you're spending all this money on clothes I'll inevitably ruin. Ketchup on the lapel, mud on my knees, tearing."
"I can a have a clear conscience knowing at least I tried." He went back to slowly flicking through the pages of his magazine.
"Stop trying to change me!"
"I think of it as 'improving'."
"Fuck you!"
"No thanks, dear, I'm tired."
Harry sighed. "When I'm outta here, I'm going to Walmart and buying myself a pair of cheap-ass shoes made from some blind girl in a Chinese sweat shop. No offense," he said quickly to the tailor.
"None taken, I am Japanese."
"Oh...you sure?"
"Taking," Perry said.
"What?"
"You said 'buying' a pair of shoes. I thought you'd have on uncontrollable impulse to just take them."
"I can control my impulses, unlike some people I know."
"I'll have you know I'm controlling my impulse right now."
"Really?" Harry brightened, hoping for the confession he'd been anticipating of how Perry's been secretly desiring him all this time.
"Yeah, if I wasn't I'd be on my knees right now in front of Mr. Takahashi."
Harry frowned and glared at his supposed friend. "I hate you."
"I hate you, too," Perry said, not looking up from the article about Lindsay Lohan's latest debacle.
Fandom: Kiss kiss Bang Bang
Pairing: Harry/Perry (preslash?)
Rating: R (with apologies to the Midwest)
Word Count: 552
Summary: Not Harry's idea of shopping
A/N: This time one of cruelest_month's who suggested "Perry/Harry, shopping" except on both those counts, only kinda-sorta. Also not a Harr first person POV. So sorry about all of that. Hope you like it anyway! Oh, and the title will make perfect sense and will be quite clever once you actual raed the story.
"When you said we were going shopping, I didn't have this in mind!" Harry complained.
Perry glanced up from the magazine he was idly flipping through and said nothing.
"What were you expecting?" Harry asked in an affected, lispy voice that was suppose to be an imitation of Perry. "Oh, I don't know, Per," he responded to himself, "maybe like a mall where you could go off looking at clothes and girly bath products, and I could hang around the video games. You know, real shopping."
"Why would I take you someplace filled with hundreds of little stores with hundreds of little items you can easily pocket?"
Harry was aghast. "I've reformed!"
"I caught you just last week trying to lift five candy bars from the grocery store. It's a sickness, and I'm going to get you counseling."
"You do that, I'll sign you up for gay counseling."
"What?"
"You know, those places that try and cure you of your gayness."
"You're comparing my homosexuality with your kleptomania?"
"I have an uncontrollable urge to steal, you have an uncontrollable urge to suck cock."
"Can you sew his mouth shut?"
Perry directed his question to a small Asian man who had been spending the last hour fussing around Harry, measuring him, finding the right colors, marking sleeves with chalk, pinning alterations sites, and all with some difficulty since Harry kept fidgeting.
Harry was rightfully upset, though. He never would call going to a tailor's as "shopping" nor would he have ever considered going to a tailors at all. Frankly, he was tricked. Tricked like a dog being told he was going for a car ride, only to end up at the vets with a scalpel to his balls.
He said as much to Perry.
"Stop your whining, I'm paying for it all."
"I don't care, I didn't ask for it!"
"You're working for me, you're representing me, so you need to dress like a fucking professional."
"In other words, like you."
"Not at all. I'm a Spring, you're a Winter, for one."
"You know, you're spending all this money on clothes I'll inevitably ruin. Ketchup on the lapel, mud on my knees, tearing."
"I can a have a clear conscience knowing at least I tried." He went back to slowly flicking through the pages of his magazine.
"Stop trying to change me!"
"I think of it as 'improving'."
"Fuck you!"
"No thanks, dear, I'm tired."
Harry sighed. "When I'm outta here, I'm going to Walmart and buying myself a pair of cheap-ass shoes made from some blind girl in a Chinese sweat shop. No offense," he said quickly to the tailor.
"None taken, I am Japanese."
"Oh...you sure?"
"Taking," Perry said.
"What?"
"You said 'buying' a pair of shoes. I thought you'd have on uncontrollable impulse to just take them."
"I can control my impulses, unlike some people I know."
"I'll have you know I'm controlling my impulse right now."
"Really?" Harry brightened, hoping for the confession he'd been anticipating of how Perry's been secretly desiring him all this time.
"Yeah, if I wasn't I'd be on my knees right now in front of Mr. Takahashi."
Harry frowned and glared at his supposed friend. "I hate you."
"I hate you, too," Perry said, not looking up from the article about Lindsay Lohan's latest debacle.