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WIP, in which Adam is unexpectedly hot and Shiro can't deal with it.
The trouble started when they went to see about getting Adam some uniforms.
This should have also been a pretty painless process. Go to the counter, ask for a Black Paladin uniform with commander rank on the shoulders, and the supply clerk would send all that to a machine in the back along with the measurements they had on file and in a few minutes, that machine in the back would spit out a uniform.
Ah, yes… those measurements on file...
Later, Shiro would accept the blame(?) for this. He’d thought about it when he was buying T-shirts and jeans for Adam, after all, how it slipped his mind once they got to uniform issue was anyone’s guess, he could only chalk it up to still being a little tired and frazzled from the events of the past few days.
But Shiro stood there at the counter making pleasant small talk with the clerk while Adam was trying the uniform on, keeping an ear out just in case Adam needed some help with a button or a zipper or something and at some point he heard, from the general direction of the fitting room:
“Um... sorry, excuse me but… it doesn’t fit?”
Shiro looked up.
And looked.
And kept looking.
“I’m not sure they’ve got the right measurements on file for me,” Adam said.
“Um,” Shiro said. He forgot how to talk. He forgot how to blink. He forgot how to breathe.
Oh, that’s right, he thought but couldn’t say because how talk!? Those measurements on file. They were for a different version of Adam, of course. One who wasn’t out of shape by any stretch of the imagination, but one who was narrower in the chest and shoulders and skinnier in the arm(s). One who would have been able to zip and button that jacket up instead of standing there with it stretched tight across his shoulders and mostly open, and of course he’d taken his T-shirt off to try it on...
Adam looked back at him. “What?”
“Um,” Shiro said again. He knew he was turning red, he could feel his face approaching the temperature of the surface of the sun and he knew that someday when everything had settled down Adam was going to roast the absolute shit out of him over this and he was going to deserve it.
He cleared his throat. “Yeah. On this side you, um… you weren’t that, uh… y’know...” Ripped, he tried to say but couldn’t, so he swallowed and gestured vaguely at his own shoulders instead.
Adam looked down at his barely-zipped, too-snug jacket. Was he smirking? “So… I need measured again, is what you’re trying to say.”
Shiro just nodded. And somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if maybe they could keep that jacket. For… reasons.
The trouble started when they went to see about getting Adam some uniforms.
This should have also been a pretty painless process. Go to the counter, ask for a Black Paladin uniform with commander rank on the shoulders, and the supply clerk would send all that to a machine in the back along with the measurements they had on file and in a few minutes, that machine in the back would spit out a uniform.
Ah, yes… those measurements on file...
Later, Shiro would accept the blame(?) for this. He’d thought about it when he was buying T-shirts and jeans for Adam, after all, how it slipped his mind once they got to uniform issue was anyone’s guess, he could only chalk it up to still being a little tired and frazzled from the events of the past few days.
But Shiro stood there at the counter making pleasant small talk with the clerk while Adam was trying the uniform on, keeping an ear out just in case Adam needed some help with a button or a zipper or something and at some point he heard, from the general direction of the fitting room:
“Um... sorry, excuse me but… it doesn’t fit?”
Shiro looked up.
And looked.
And kept looking.
“I’m not sure they’ve got the right measurements on file for me,” Adam said.
“Um,” Shiro said. He forgot how to talk. He forgot how to blink. He forgot how to breathe.
Oh, that’s right, he thought but couldn’t say because how talk!? Those measurements on file. They were for a different version of Adam, of course. One who wasn’t out of shape by any stretch of the imagination, but one who was narrower in the chest and shoulders and skinnier in the arm(s). One who would have been able to zip and button that jacket up instead of standing there with it stretched tight across his shoulders and mostly open, and of course he’d taken his T-shirt off to try it on...
Adam looked back at him. “What?”
“Um,” Shiro said again. He knew he was turning red, he could feel his face approaching the temperature of the surface of the sun and he knew that someday when everything had settled down Adam was going to roast the absolute shit out of him over this and he was going to deserve it.
He cleared his throat. “Yeah. On this side you, um… you weren’t that, uh… y’know...” Ripped, he tried to say but couldn’t, so he swallowed and gestured vaguely at his own shoulders instead.
Adam looked down at his barely-zipped, too-snug jacket. Was he smirking? “So… I need measured again, is what you’re trying to say.”
Shiro just nodded. And somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if maybe they could keep that jacket. For… reasons.
