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Endeavor stared at the offending garment Best Jeanist had shoved at him. It was a dark blue with visible interweaving fibers and a golden stitch running along a fold. He could almost feel the rough fabric just from looking at it.
Denim. It was denim.
More specifically? A pair of jeans, from the looks of it.
He raised his eyes slowly to Best Jeanist’s one visible eye. How he managed to fight villains with his hair obscuring any possible depth perception was one of life’s greatest mysteries for Endeavor.
“Well,” Best Jeanist prompted. “Do you like them?”
“It’s denim.”
“Yes, yes it is.”
“...a pair of jeans.”
“Astute as always.”
Some of the flame along Endeavor’s shoulders sputtered as he resisted the urge to massage away his oncoming headache.
“And why are you showing me this?” Endeavor ground out.
“It’s a gift,” the lower lid of Jeanists’ eye curled up in a smile. “For you.”
Endeavor grabbed the jeans and kept them held out at arms length, unsure what to do with them. Once Best Jeanist was sure Endeavor had a proper hold on them, he lowered his own arm.
“I made them myself, you know.”
“Thank you, I think?”
“It took me hours selecting the right fiber blend,” Best Jeanist continued, eye gazing somewhere up at the sky as he reminisced. “A classic indigo dye was a must. But what about the weft? The ratio of cotton and elastic?”
Best Jeanist glanced momentarily down Endeavor’s frame. Endeavor felt himself blush a bit despite himself.
“Yes, some elastic was a must,” Best Jeanist declared. “The perfect pair of jeans for you must have some stretch, some give, to accommodate everything that is-” he gestured at Endeavor’s legs. “-you.”
Endeavor turned his attention completely to the denim clutched in his hands. He couldn’t look at Best Jeanist at the moment, not after such bold phrasing. He had never given much thought to his legs, the shape or the muscle. As long as what he wore fit, he didn’t care.
“Eventually, I realized that the solution was staring me in the face,” Best Jeanist kept going. “Literally. I was staring at myself in the mirror wonder, ‘Jeanie, you know you’re better than this. Making the perfect pair of jeans is nothing.’ And that’s when I saw what I was wearing! Can you guess what it was?”
Endeavor frowned, mood momentarily soured. What was this idiot getting at now? Everyone always knew what he was wearing. It was right there in his hero name, for All Might’s sake.
He risked a glance back at the other hero and saw Best Jeanist staring back, waiting for an answer.
“...denim,” Endeavor reluctantly supplied.
“Denim - that’s right! I knew you were a smart one! Why should I waste time trying to find the perfect fiber to work with when I had it with me all along?”
Endeavor knit his brow and looked back down at the jeans in his hand.
“You mean you were wearing this earlier?”
“In a sense,” Best Jeanist replied. “But I’m sure it’ll look much better on you.”
“Did you...,” Endeavor trailed off for a second, not sure how to ask. He tried to hold the fabric out farther away from him. “Did you wash these before you gave them to me?”
“Once I found the right fiber, it all came together so easily,” Best Jeanist cheerfully said. “You know, being the Fiber Hero and all.”
“But did you wash it?”
“All it took was a few flicks of the wrist, some deft finger work, and it was ready to go before you knew it! The perfect pair of jeans for the one-and-only Endeavor!”
Endeavor opened his mouth again to ask again, but Best Jeanist rushed on before he could say anything.
“Endeavor, you have no idea how much a good pair of jeans can change a man,” he gestured towards the jeans. “You’ll understand once you try them on yourself. There’s a reason why denim is my favorite fabric.”
Endeavor finally shook the jeans open to size them up visually. It looked roughly the same size as the pants he usually wore. But then again, it wasn’t like he paid much attention to things like that, not in his line of work. There wasn’t any way to know for sure other than to try the damn thing out, but he wasn’t about to do that standing on the aftermath of a battlefield in plain sight of anyone who cared to look.
“And what will you do if they don’t fit me?”
“Oh, they’ll fit. Trust me, I’m a professional.”
Endeavor wasn’t convinced. “How can you be sure you got my size right?”
“I pulled a few strings.” Best Jeanist emphasized his words by using his quirk to tug on the fibers of Endeavor’s hero suit, causing him to jump a little.
The blush came back with a vengeance, and with it, a tender warmth growing tentatively in his heart. When was the last time someone had paid such attention to him? He couldn’t remember the last time he had been given a gift with such obvious thought put into it.
Yes, it was an objectively weird gift for a coworker, but still. He held Best Jeanist’s eye and tried to let his gaze convey his sincerity.
“Thank you.”
Something in Best Jeanist’s posture softened at the words. He leaned into Endeavor’s space a bit and, in a quieter voice, he replied, “You’re welcome.”
Endeavor’s breath caught in his throat at the sudden intimacy. An electric tension filled the air. If he was Best Jeanist, Endeavor might even say that the atmosphere had become snug, like a pair of too tight jeans. Best Jeanist seemed to be waiting for something, for Endeavor to do something. He shifted from one foot to the other, uncertain, unable to tear his eyes away.
From the periphery, Endeavor saw Best Jeanist’s hand creeping up towards the belt covering his nose. He couldn’t help the gasp that escaped from his mouth at the sight.
The hand paused, but only for a moment as it changed course to tuck a stray strand of hair behind one of Endeavor’s ears. Best Jeanist’s eyelid drooped in what seemed to be a part of a wry smile.
“Some other time then,” was all Best Jeanist said as he stepped back.
Endeavor was stuck in time and place as he attempted to process the past few seconds. He felt like he had just missed something important.
Best Jeanist walked away, tossing a wave as he left.
“Make sure to tell me what you think of the jeans!”