Chapter Text
“You are not wearing that.” Diamonds Droog addressed his husband, Spades Slick, and his greatest enemy, Slick’s beloved Hawaiian shirt. It was a relic from before they married, before the kids came along, and before Droog became the sole decider in what was in Slick’s closet.
Tonight was date night and here was Slick in that time-beaten rag, faded pinkish roses on either of his shoulders and hanging around his crumpled collar.
Slick flashed him a shiteating grin.
“What d’you mean? It’s got a pop of color, that’s fashion, that’s what it’s called. And anyway, you and your silks’ll look even better next to me wearing this.”
Date Night this week was all in celebration of Droog’s brand new suit, a three piece affair in a black so dark light just fell into it. The whole thing was made of silk so fine that, in deference to it, Droog was forgoing his diamond tie pin in favor of a tight Trinity knot. Best not to pierce the weave.
“I’ll look like I picked you up on the side of the road.” Droog corrected him.
He scowled, took Slick by the shoulders and stood him in the corner of their bedroom before the full length mirror. Slick’s back was to the mirror, since Droog was the only one in charge of how he looked. Droog stripped him of the Hawaiian shirt, muttering under his breath then quieting when he found Slick’s bare chest underneath.
He wore his gold chain over a dusting of black and grey chest hair and at least four decades of scars.
“No undershirt?” Droog cocked an eyebrow. “You really never learned to dress yourself, huh?”
“Why learn when I got you?” Slick stood arms akimbo and let his eye trailed down from Droog’s dark, lined face to his fine silks, to his spotless leather oxfords.
Droog scoffed, stalking away and throwing the old flowered shirt to the floor. He would shred it later and put it into the burn pile from his office. With a huff he opened the rinky dink half closet where Slick’s clothes lived, across the room from Droog’s enormous walk-in closet.
He started rifling through the closet and Slick lunged for his precious old shirt, scooping it from the floor and shoving it under the corner of the mattress for safe keeping.
He stood back up, contrapposto and calm and not breathing quickly at all as Droog turned back to him holding Slick’s newest black suit and a cotton undershirt.
“Wait,” Slick squinted at him, catching the undershirt when it was thrown at him. “You were serious about that?”
“What’s the point of me dressing you if you insist on doing it wrong?” Droog’s sniping was a touch harder than Slick had been hoping for.
“Jesus, alright, don’t get so worked up.” He shrugged things on as Droog handed them to him, feeling like a little boy being dressed for church by his scolding grandmother. When he was done his suit jacket was sitting high, hard and starched over his bony shoulders, his collar was chewing on the skin of his neck, and Droog looked pleased with himself.
“There.” He eyed a pair of identical black ties, then selected one and wound it around Slick’s neck. This close Slick snuck his hands into Droog’s back pockets, Droog ignored him and tied a simple half Windsor. He tucked the tie into Slick’s jacket, brushed off his shoulders and then watched his face while Slick felt up his butt.
“What?” Slick cocked his head.
“Would you take this seriously?” With a hard, ringed grip and some shoving Slick was spun around and made to face the mirror. He looked like a little boy on his way to church, alright. The suit was a perfect cut for him, long in the body and wide in the shoulders to make him seem broader and a little taller. Everything was a simple black but for his starched shirt, which a clean, plain white. By comparison he was invisible next to Droog’s fine, perfect black silks, but on his own he cut a decent figure.
“Great, I look like your stooge.” Slick knit his brow as Droog pushed passed him towards the mirror, checking his own lines and making sure the knot in his ice white tie had perfect 90 degree folds. “Is this making you happy, old man?”
“Very happy,” came the droning reply from somewhere far, far away.
“You have fun sprucing me up?”
“Of course.”
“You hungry?”
“Uh huh.”
“And you ain’t too tired to get laid after?”
“Sure, whatever you say, Spades.”
Slick grunted and moved to their bedroom door.
“I could leave you with that mirror and you’d never notice.”
“Sure, right.”
He grumbled and stalked down the hall, calling back to his husband.
“I’m taking the kids across.”