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“Is that my shirt?” Pansy is standing in their bedroom, holding up one of Millie’s sleep shirts and staring as if it had personally offended her. The closet doors are wide open, half of her clothes haphazardly thrown onto the bed. Millie almost regrets asking, she should have silently backed out and prayed Pansy didn’t notice her. But now it’s too late, Pansy knows she is here, even if she hasn’t bothered to look at her yet, still contemplating the shirt.
“Yes it is, or rather, it was.” With that she messily folds it together and flings it over her shoulder, almost missing the piled up clothes. It’s rather obvious what she is doing, sorting out every single piece of Millie’s clothing that doesn’t meet her approval (which translates to almost everything) and getting rid of it. And honestly that’s fine with her; she doesn’t really care about clothes anyway.
Millie never understood how they can be this important to Pansy, more than just look decent important but always seeking to look absolutely stunning. And she does, every single day. Though Millie might be biased here, she thinks Pansy looked breathtaking even in the old threadbare sweatshirt that she wore only once and because her own clothes were soaked and she hadn’t yet moved any of her stuff into Millie’s flat. It happened years ago, but Millie still fondly remembers it and Pansy quotes it whenever she feels the need to remind her just why she can’t judge how she looks. Though Pansy always appreciates compliments.
“What do you mean, it was?” Just because Millie is alright with this doesn’t mean she won’t take this excellent opportunity to tease Pansy. If she doesn’t protest at least a little now, she can never bring this up later again to call in a favour or win an argument.
“I mean that those-”, Pansy gestures at the clothes piled on the bed, “- are all horrible and I refuse to tolerate them any longer.”
“Are you saying you are throwing them away? My clothes, without asking me first?” Pansy doesn’t look conflicted at all, just gives her a bright smile and rejects another shirt. But Millie made the point clear, she can ask for almost anything she wants now.
“Exactly, would you mind grabbing me a bag or something to collect them?” Millie ignores her; they can deal with that later.
“So the plan is that I just walk around naked from now on?” This finally gets Pansy’s attention, making her smirk and pull out of where she was half buried in the closet, walking towards her.
“You know I wouldn’t object to that.” Pansy is standing very close now, biting her lip in that way she does when she wants to look seductive (works every time) and gazes up at her. It’s a challenge to not lean down and kiss her, especially since they both so clearly want it, but Millie is curious how far she can get her. Maybe she can coerce a promise to make it up out of her.
“Pansy.” She pouts at that, obviously having expected Millie wouldn’t protest any further.
“Alright fine, ruin all my fun, why don’t you. I actually thought we could finally go shopping and buy you something decent. You know, how you have been promising me for months now?” Right, Millie forgot about that. Pansy has been nagging her to change her wardrobe for ages now; apparently she decided that she has had enough and took matters in her own hand. Fair enough, though that probably means Millie won’t get a promise out of her. But she can fulfil her own, which is just as important.
Not right now though, for now Pansy looks far too kissable to spend the day trying on clothes and stealing as many kisses as public decency allows.