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To try and figure out how the hell he ended up in this situation, Félix went through the three consecutive events that detoured what seemed like a usual weekday into a dress-up competition with him as the model.
The first push had been during the first break: Flora asked if it was legal that weddings forced a dress code onto the guest. Marinette had explained it was so that the theme would be consistent for the photographs and it somehow tangented into dress codes in general; how it shouldn’t be legal unless a photographer was present and that everyone who complied should be paid since they were technically modeling—“Models get money and access to the photos! The photos alone shouldn’t be our only compensation for offering our gorgeous faces to the memories’ album.”
Félix had snickered at some point, which had been a mistake, since that had been what led to the second push: Alina asking if he was always on a dress code. He truthfully replied—his second mistake—that she was sort of right; he did only have this type of clothes to choose from.
The third, and last, push down the hill occurred when they were already in the boutique. The girls started wondering out loud with barely concealed grins how Félix would look like in the different clothes across the racks and stands, how they’d choose the best one, and who would choose the best one.
So there he was, waiting in a changing stall while they roamed around the boutique to get whatever clothes assortment they saw fit for him to try out—within the textures parameters accepted by him, he refused to wear anything pricky.
How it had come to this, he had no idea—he did, it had to do with gray eyes looking expectantly at him—but now he had to stay put while someone else chose outfits for him to try out—not that different from how he had been going thus far, but at least his uncle knew exactly what kind of clothes he was willing to use!
Someone poked Félix’s shoulder through the curtain, then three paper bags were dropped on the stall’s floor with a muted thud and something he didn’t bother paying attention to being shouted from the other side.
Félix jabbed the closest bag with his foot, wondering if he could claim Wrong Texture to all of them and be done with the day. That might warrant another shopping trip though, and after today, he’d need the whole weekend to himself. Besides–
He tilted his head to the brown paper bags, fiddling with the hen of his sleeve as he bent to tug one of the paper straps.
–he was kinda curious about the contents of the bags.
~•~
“Take your merry time, Félix,” Alina called out. “It’s not like there’s people standing here, waiting for you, or something like that.”
“Maybe he got stuck,” Flora said.
“Stuck?” Alina blinked at her.
“Yeah. He never wore anything else before, maybe he doesn’t know how it works.”
“He wouldn’t get stuck with clothes,” Marinette said.
Images of Félix fumbling with a string bracelet for at least five minutes before she asked if he wanted her to show how to tie it surfaced to the forefront of her mind.
She turned to Alina. “Would he?”
Alina cupped her hands around her mouth. “Félix, grunt twice if you’re stuck!”
The stall’s curtain slid open to reveal a flushed and fuming Félix. He shook his head as he stepped out of the stall, crossing his arms over a slightly oversized dark gray sweater. The sweater Marinette had picked out for him.
The reason for her blush was different from Félix’s.
“I know we came here to get you different clothes and stuff,” Alina commented, ignoring Félix’s glare as she looked him up and down, “but actually seeing you in jeans is–” She gestured vaguely to Félix, widening her eyes to Flora and Marinette.
“So that was your choice?” Flora asked, taking a hop closer to Alina.
“No, I picked a nice purple jacket—one of those that has a lot of zippers that may or may not be pockets.”
“Oooohhh, can I see it? I got a really cute pastel blue overall, a t-shirt, a headband—if he doesn’t mind the pressure around his head–”
Marinette startled at the poke on her shoulder, snapping her head from her two friends heading to the stall to her third friend shifting on his feet next to her.
Félix tugged at the hem of the sweater, pointing to her.
“Y-yeah.” Marinette grinned sheepishly. “I was thinking what you might like and since you’re–” She scrunched her nose, gesturing at him to search for the right term.
He raised a note with the words “Sensory sensitive” written in it.
“That.” Marinette nodded to the note. “I tried to pick something soft to the touch. Do you want to get a smaller size though? I didn’t think it’d be too large.”
He stepped back, hugging the sweater protectively as he shook his head.
She giggled. “OK then. Now try out Alina’s and Flora’s picks.”
Marinette gestured to the girls holding out the jacket and overall in front of each other then turned back to Félix.
Only to face his back as he strode to the exit.
“Wait– Félix! You have to pay for that! Félix!”