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The second the advertisement pops up on his screen, Steven can’t stop looking at it, finger moving the mouse to click on it almost before his brain can register what is happening.
You see, the thing about Steven is that he likes to wear clothes that make him feel comfortable. That is why most of his clothes consist of softer materials, usually slightly baggy and loose around his frame. He may not be the most fashionable one in the system, but he knows what works for him.
Usually there would be nothing stopping him from wearing whatever he wanted. Except for one article of clothing that he has never been able to work up the nerve to actually buy and wear. Not around anyone, ever. He’s not even sure if Marc or Jake know about it, and he has partially come to terms with the fact that he may never be able to work up the courage.
But all it took was one look at the knee length A-line skirt with a Egyptian hieroglyphic pattern for him to be adding it to his cart and clicking buy before he can fully think it through. His heart is racing as he sees the confirmation message pop up on his screen, informing him that his package will be delivered in less than three days.
He sits back in his chair and lets out a puff of air. He did it. He really really did it. There's no going back now. In a couple days he will finally be the proud owner of a new skirt.
Oh gods.
Where is he going to put it? He can’t have either of the others stumbling upon it! What would they think of him? What if they thought he was weird, or didn’t want the body wearing something so feminine? His eyes are darting around the flat, somewhat frantically looking for somewhere inconspicuous enough for him to be able to hide it once it arrives.
“Oh buggers, it's a bloody mess in here.” He says, eyeing the stack of books and clutter around the flat. He’s gonna have to clean at least some part of the flat if he is going to have any hope of keeping his secret to himself.
~~~~~~~~
There's a knock on the flat’s door that jerks Marc out of the nap he had been enjoying. It isn’t often that they have time to just doze off, so Marc could feel fatigue and annoyance both flow through him as he climbs off the chair he had been laying in and walks towards the door. He could feel the others still sleeping, and silently grumbled to himself about being the one to actually wake up to deal with their surprise visitor.
Layla was away on a mission for Taweret, something about helping a soul stuck between earth and the Duat? Marc can’t really recall what exactly it was she told Steven the other day, just that she was going to be gone for a couple days. Plus, it wasn’t like any of them had any other friends or even acquaintances to visit them.
To his credit, the delivery man only looked mildly uncomfortable under Marc’s glare when he swung open the door. He just held out a package and asked Marc to sign for the box. A quick glance tells him that Steven must have bought something, so he does his best impression of Steven’s signature he can care to do while half asleep and grumbles out a half-hearted thanks before taking the box and swiftly shutting the door.
He takes it back to where he had been sitting and sinks back into the soft cushions, enjoying the warmth that had clung to the fabric while he was away. He sets the box on his lap and starts to inspect it. It isn’t very big, and has a large smile on the side, indicating it was from Amazon.
“Too light for a book.” He mutters, fishing around in his pants pocket for something to help him cut through the tap and open it. “I swear, he better not have ordered another damn paperweight. Those damn things are everywhere.” He grumbles, finally wrestling out the key to the flat with minimal struggle.
In a few swift slices, the tape is torn and Marc can wiggle his fingers between the opening and pry the flaps open to peer inside. He is greeted with a piece of cloth, and he squints at it for a moment before his eyes recognize the pattern as hieroglyphics.
“Of course.” He huffs, slightly amused at Steven’s choice of clothing pattern. “Looks like he is finally trying to update his wardrobe, but I don’t think a sweater that looks like the side of a sarcophagus is much of an improvement.” He pulls it out of the box, intending to get a better look at what he presumed to be a new sweater, but stops short when he sees the shape.
“Oh.” He mumbles, confusion clouding his brain as well as the still present exhaustion. “Oh shit, did we miss Layla’s birthday or something?” He scrambles for his phone to check the date, momentarily terrified that he somehow lost a large chunk of time, but nope. Her birthday was still a few months away, and there weren’t any other special occasions anytime soon that warranted a gift.
Marc signs, relaxing back into the chair. He looks down at the skirt on his lap and decides he’ll just ask Steven about it later. Maybe he had seen it and just wanted to get her something nice as just something to do. Whatever, he’s too tired for this shit. He gathers the fabric back up and tosses both the box and the skirt onto the coffee table in front of him before getting up and deciding to lay down on the bed to continue his nap.
Fuck knows he needs the sleep.
~~~~~~~~
When Steven blinks awake, he takes note that he is in bed now, no longer in the chair he had drifted off in earlier. A glance at the clock beside the bed tells him that he’s been asleep for almost five hours, much longer than he had intended to take. A quick check tells him that is just him awake, the others must still be sleeping, or so far in the head-space that they aren’t up front with him.
He stands up and stretches, letting out a small groan at the popping in his back. He lets out a yawn as his eyes take in the room, trying to decide what to do not that he is up. He doesn’t have work for the next two days, Donna somehow managed to give him all his off days for the week all in one go this time around, and since Layla is out he doesn’t have anyone to go and visit. Maybe he can go to the park and feed the ducks.
Just as he is about to wander into the kitchen to whip up a snack, something catches his eye on his table. His heart stops for a moment as he realizes what he is looking at. Instantly, his heart is beating faster and he races over to the table to get a better look.
Yep, that's his skirt alright. It must have arrived when he was sleeping and one of the others opened it. He reaches down and slowly takes hold of it, bringing it up to him and feeling the soft fabric between his fingers. It’s so soft, and he can run his fingers over it, the motion soothing his nerves just a bit.
“It’s even prettier in person.” He whispers, eyeing the way the fabric swishes at the bottom where he isn’t holding it. His eyes dart to the mirror they have in the bedroom area, it's a full length one they got a while back to better communicate with one another. He stares at his reflection for a bit, making sure it is just him before moving closer to it, skirt still in hand.
When he gets in front of it, he debates whether or not to try it on right away. With neither of the others awake or fronting, now would be his shot. Who knows the next time he’ll have alone time like this.
Before he can change his mind, his free hand is fumbling with his trouser button and struggling to get his hands down single-handedly, not wanting to put down his new skirt quite yet. Once he’s in his boxer shorts, he slowly steps into the skirt, pulling it up until it is snug on his waist. He closes his eyes for a moment to take in how it feels before trying to see how it looks. He can feel that it's a little loose, probably a size too big, but as long as he doesn’t suck in his stomach or anything it shouldn’t fall off. He offhandedly wonders if there are any shirts he can pair it with that he can tuck in to make his waist a bit wider to fit better.
Slowly, he cracks open an eye and gazes at the mirror. Quickly, the other one shoots open to fully take it in.
“Blimey, it’s lovely!” He exclaims, a huge smile forming on his face and a small giggle climbing its way from his throat.
The soft fabric ends just above his knees in waves, dancing at the slightest movement he makes. His eyes are transfixed at how the fabric seems to ripple as he turns this way and that, the hieroglyphs shining in the gold print. It looks perfect, and soon Steven can feel tears gathering in his eyes, his emotions running a muck.
He loves how it looks and feels, but part of him is terrified of wearing it anywhere. He wants to see how the fabric feels brushing against the back of his legs as he walks down the street, the daytime breeze ruffling the cloth as he walks. He loves how his legs look in it, and he doesn’t even mind the way his current sweater pairs with it, although he is for sure going to look through the rest of his clothes as soon as he can to see what looks the best.
He is so enraptured with how his bottom half looks that he doesn’t notice when the face in the mirror changes and stops following him. His heart rate is still elevated so he almost doesn’t feel the pressure of another person rising to the surface.
Looks good bud. Marc’s voice says, breaking Steven’s trance and sending him backpedaling from the mirror in surprise.
“Bloody hell!” He yelps, catching himself against the bottom of the bed frame as he slams into it. “Ah, buggers.” He winces, already feeling a bruise starting to form where his back made contact. His eyes flicker up to meet Marc’s and he can feel them wide with fear of what the other man is going to say. Steven’s mind is racing, trying to come up with some type of excuse to give the man, but he can’t think of anything.
You okay Steven? Marc asks, eyebrows furrowed in concern as he looks back at Steven.
“I- Uh-” Steven starts, but cuts himself off, unsure of what to say. Part of him is still waiting for Marc to get angry, or worse, disgusted. His nerves are getting the better of him, and his hands start to shake a bit, and he finds himself running his fingers over the fabric of the skirt again, the motion once again soothing him.
When the delivery man had me sign for that earlier, I thought maybe you had gotten Layla a gift or something. Had me worried I missed her birthday or something like that. Should have known it was yours tho, who else wears anything with hieroglyphics on it. Marc tries to joke, but sobers up when all it does is make Steven look more nervous. But it looks great on you Steven. I didn’t know you wanted to wear stuff like that.
“It looked pretty on the site.” Steven mutters in response, brain still trying to process what Marc’s words mean. He’s not upset?
Marc smiles at him at his response. “I’m sure it did.” Steven looks back at him nervously, still messing with the fabric as he talks.
“You’re sure you aren’t cross with me?” He asks, voice small.
Hey bud, if you want to wear a skirt, that is totally up to you. Whatever you want to do with the body when you are fronting is fine by me. Just try not to bring them on any missions we end up on, the last thing we need is to flash someone in the middle of a fight by kicking too high. Marc says the last bit with more amusement than actual warning, and it gets a small smile out of Steven.
Got that right, bonito. I did always appreciate a tight little red number for nights out at the bar. Really give the señor and señoritas a good look at what they could get acquainted with, if you know what I’m saying. Jake chimes in, and Steven jumps a little, not having felt him wake up or anything.
“Y-you guys don’t think it's weird?” Steven asks, wringing his hands as he speaks.
Fuck no, Steven. With all the shit we’ve done in our lives, this is nothing. So what if you wanna feel more confident in the body by adding a little flare. Anyone gives you any shit, I’ll summon the suit and kick their asses.
No, Marc you can’t just Moon Knight someone who disagrees with Steven’s clothing choice.
Steven sighs in relief as Jake seems to be leaning more towards a less violent resolution for once.
I’ll bust their knee caps instead, without any help from the suit.
Steven buries his face in his hands in exasperation, letting out a small chuckle despite the threat. He is starting to realize that maybe he had been worked up over nothing. Neither of them seem upset at him or lying to make him feel better.
“You too are right bonkers, you know that?” He says, and he can feel the tight worry that had taken root in his chest let up. His brain catches what Jake said earlier and he looks to Jake’s reflection in Gus’ fish tank in surprise. “You’ve worn skirts out to bars to get laid?” He asks, and he can see the smug smirk appear on Jake’s face.
I know how to rock a miniskirt, bonito. Jake replies, wiggling his eyebrows at Steven. And most people don’t really give a fuck if I’m wearing a skirt while I’m beating their ass for making any kind of shitty comment. Usually they have more pressing shit to deal with.
Hang on, if you’ve been wearing that out to clubs all this time, why haven’t we seen it around the flat? Marc questions, getting a shrug in response.
I lost it in L.A. last time we went there on mission a while back. Some dickwad took a swing at me with his knife and tore the waist band. Never really got around to getting a new one. You know, now that you mention it… Jake trails off and Steven can feel him nudge him in their head for control, and for once he doesn’t comment as he lets Jake front.
Once Jake is in control, he rolls his shoulders and admires himself in the mirror, twisting to check out his ass. Marc rolls his eyes and complies in the mirror to let Jake inspect it.
“Muy bueno.” He says, turning and striding over to the computer, booting it up and pulling up the Amazon account. “Now that we are thinking about it, I’m gonna order me a new one right now. Can’t have Steven having a monopoly on the types of skirts our body wears. As nice as this one looks, I need one that’ll fit my style if I wanna go get laid wearing one.” He says, typing in the website until he is presented with a long list of options. As he is clicking through, someone takes control of his hand and adds another flowy one to the cart, this time a pleated dark gray one that is advertised to have pockets.
I might as well jump on the bandwagon too. Besides, Layla was always complaining about how her stuff never had pockets. She’ll flip when she sees this one. Marc says, releasing the hand once the correct size had been added to the cart.
There's a small burst of warmth from Steven as he sees the others adding their own style in. He really had not known what to expect from this discovery, but he is so happy that Marc and Jake both are so on board with him.