Wearing Each Other's Clothes
“What. Are you. Doing?” Tommy asked, frozen in the doorway to his apartment. Finding Noh-Varr in his home hardly surprised him at this point - the alien had developed a bad habit of breaking into his apartment whenever the mood struck him. What really got his attention was the fact that Noh was sporting one of his sweaters.
“Hmm? Oh, I’m attempting to cook your… ‘Macaroni and cheese’.” Noh-Varr looked up from the box with a stupidly dashing grin on his face, and Tommy palmed his face, giving a heavy sigh.
“No, dingus. What are you doing with my sweater?” He crossed his arms, but immediately threw one out to gesture at him. “I mean, why are you wearing it? You’re stretching it out!”
Noh looked a little wounded at the accusation, staring down at the fabric that was stretched across his chest. Tommy looked as well, but immediately tore his gaze away, scowling as he kicked the door shut.
“I was under the impression that it was an Earth custom to wear the clothes of the person you were romantically involved with.” He was nearly pouting by that point, drawing an aggravated sigh from the speedster.
“Please tell me you didn’t wear Kate’s clothes,” he grumbled, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He wanted to object to being told they were ‘romantically involved’, if only to preserve his own sanity, but he didn’t have the heart to when Noh was looking at him like a goddamned kicked puppy.
“No, but she would sometimes wear mine. I liked it,” he said simply, turning to his pot of boiling water. He tore off the top of the box to the mac and cheese, rolling it into a small cylinder and popping it into his mouth.
Tommy was in the kitchen in a split second, wrenching the box from his hands. “Dammit, Noh! What have i ,i>told you about eating trash in my apartment? Do what you want on your ship, but don’t eat my trash. It’s… It’s mine.
” He wanted to argue that it was unsanitary or gross or just plain weird, but he’d had the conversation with the Kree so many times he could practically recite it by heart. The only safe, neutral ground was to state that he owned it.
Noh-Varr held up his hands defensively and backed away from the kitchen. Tommy dumped the shells into the water, giving them a brisk stir to make sure they wouldn’t stick to the bottom of the pan before pulling away. he rubbed his hands together quickly and shoved his hands into his pockets, cursing his broken heater under his breath.
“Are you cold?” Noh asked, peering at him from the living area of the studio apartment. Tommy glanced in his direction, leering at him and raising a solitary brow at the reminder that Noh was wearing his sweater, which was entirely too small for him.
“A bit. Seriously, isn’t that uncomfortable?”
Noh looked down at himself, holding his arms out and then fixing Tommy with another stupid, dazzling grin. “Not at all. I prefer well-fitting clothing. It’s less restricting than clothes that are too large. The extra fabric slows you down.”
“But that looks… Too small.”
“It feels perfectly fine. Would you like me to install a heating device into your apartment?”
“Uh…no, thanks.”
“Why not?”
“Because, Noh. not only am I not allowed to do construction on my apartment, but we’re trying not to draw attention to the fact that I’m harboring an alien fugitive who was told he would be killed if he returned to the planet. Remember?”
Noh paused at that, seeming to realize the logic in Tommy’s words. “...Would you like me to take off your sweater?”
“What? Where did that come from?” Tommy stared at him oddly, confused and mildly annoyed.
“Apparently I’m getting too comfortable here. I apologize. Would you like your sweater back?”
Tommy stared at him for a long moment, incredulous. Maybe he’d been too rude since walking in -- Well, hell, it was his house! He had every right to be upset if his things were being messed with!
Noh’s hands went to them hem of the sweater to remove it, however, and Tommy found himself holding out a hand to stop him. “No, wait,” he said with a heavy sigh. “You can wear the damn sweater if you want to, okay?”
Noh immediately brightened despite the scowl that Tommy shot him in response, turning away and moving towards the bathroom. Tommy watched him go and then gave the most dramatic roll of his eyes he could muster, turning back to the mac and cheese and stirring it, pointedly ignoring the sound of Noh-Varr moving around behind him.
As soon as he set down the spoon again, thick fabric was pulled down over his head. He gave a muffled shout, realizing with a start that it was a sweater when it was yanked down into place. Noh-Varr didn’t give him the time to complain or even to pull his arms through before tugging it all the way down and wrapping his arms securely around him.
“Good,” he mumbled into Tommy’s neck. “Then you can wear mine.”
Tommy sat there in shock for a few moments, feeling a hot flush crawling up his neck and into his cheeks. Once the situation registered in his mind, he gave a loud, frustrated graon. “You have a sweater? The why--? You know what? I don’t even care. Let me go, ya big cheeseball. The mac ‘n cheese is gonna burn.”
Noh-Varr gave a deep, rumbling chuckle, then withdrew his hold on Tommy. The speedster shoved his arms through the sleeves of the sweater, which fit over his jacket with near ease, and thugged them up enough to have his hands free to cook. “Damn roach,” he grumbled as Noh moved away into the living room once more. The stupid alien had probably planned this all along. Maybe he broke the heater. No -- that was a little too paranoid, but he wouldn’t put it past him to plan out the day’s events.
Noh-Varr took control of his stereo, and Tommy gave a little sigh, his eyes in fixed on the pot. He glanced at him briefly, finding the Kree shamelessly dancing to his music, and rolled his eyes. Noh caught his gaze and winked, giving him a cheeky grin and pulling a scoff from the speedster.
“You’re such a dork,” he said, moving the pot from the stove. He poured it into a strainer and waited for the water to drain, watching Noh dance. He pulled the sweater more securely around himself, waving away the steam that rose from the noodles. “‘S actually kinda warm,” he mumbled, leaning against the counter for a brief moment to watch Noh.
He shook the remaining water from the noodles, poured them back into the pot, and stirred in the cheese. Noh came up behind him, inhaling deeply and giving a satisfied hum.
“Smells good,” he commented, leaning in over Tommy’s shoulder. The speedster rolled his eyes.
“You know, if I’d let you cook this, we’d have black crisps and half of a burned down apartment. He smirked, feeling Noh-Varr’s chuckle as much as he heard it when the alien pressed against his back, reaching to grab the spoon from Tommy and scoop out a piece.
He stopped quite abruptly, however, when he heard the sound of ripping fabric. Tommy pulled away, turning to look at him suspiciously. “...That was my sweater, wasn’t it.” There was no question in his voice, only a dry surrender to an answer he already knew.
Noh straightened slowly, giving Tommy the most calm and composed face the speedster had ever seen.
“...Of course not.”
Tommy threw up his hands, turned on his heel, and walked away. Something told him that he was going to have to get used to days like this.