Work Text:
The Limbo City mall was barely anything to write home about, if only about how horribly lousy it was. Dirty, mostly desolate, and a breeding ground for the corporately lobotomised degenerates of society. For a city so up and bustling, everything about it was impressively underwhelming. Shoved between an unfrequented pretzel stand and across from Hot Topic—which Minnie would most likely drag Dante to afterwards—was an equally as run-down music store. Upon walking in, it was a battle of senses attempting to figure out what to focus on. The dingy, patterned carpet that made a weird, vaguely sticky noise when you walked on it, which looked like it hadn’t been renovated since the 80s? Or maybe the intensely unmarkable scent that smelled of dust, plastic, and cheap metal jewellery? Everything about it screamed “douchebag”, or perhaps “man-cave”. Booming, aggressive electronic music played loud over the store’s cheap speakers. Tiny TVs in the corner alternated between music videos and parkour compilations. Various posters plastered around the walls featured the hottest new bands, gothic pin-up girls, motorcycles, action films from the 90s. In theory, a joint like this sounded like heaven—no pun intended—for a man like Dante. But he was never keen about the idea of paying for his music. He didn’t see much of a point in coming in the first place. But, Minnie wanted to go, and if she wanted something, he would oblige. He blindly observed the racks, pondering what she would like, finding himself in the S section, where Skillet was sandwiched between Skrillex and Sleeping with Sirens. Bingo.
“How about this one?” Dante asked, fishing the disc off the rack, his fingers deftly flipping the case from one hand to the other as he presented it to her.
“I already have it.” Minnie replied nonchalantly, momentarily looking up at him before setting her gaze back to the shelves.
“Right… well, what are you thinking?” Dante leaned back against a nearby display, poorly attempting to ignore the few cases that tumbled down when he’d put his back to it. He would pick them up later, probably. He kept the CD in his hands, and began fidgeting with its plastic, carelessly picking at his nails as his boots tapped in time to whatever mediocre EDM act was roaring over the speakers. Despite his absentmindedness, he was almost too smitten watching her eagerly sift through the racks, scattering from left to right, from section to section, humming to herself as she browsed. There was something strangely yet extremely charming about it to him, and it was truly all he could focus his attention to. “Got your eye… or, well, eyes on anything?”
“This one, maybe?” She’d shuffled back to D – where she held My Darkest Days in her fishnet-gloved hands.
“Ah,” he snapped himself back into the moment with a smug, cynical scoff, tossing his hand in the air in a sardonic gesture. “I’ve got that one on my computer.”
Of course he did, Minnie thought. There had been at least a terabyte of poorly pirated albums on that shitty DELL laptop he had very insistently haggled for at a side-of-the-road junk sale back in ’09. Dante liked to think he was good with computers, despite falling victim to far too many beguiling links. Turning his computer on was like opening a Pandora’s box of malware; not that he seemed to mind the scantily-clad ladies that would pop up on his screen in colourful, flashing boxes. Safety was never really his thing, anyway. And he’d be damned if he asked his brother for tech support.
“You know I don’t like it when you steal.” She faux reprimanded, her eyes narrowing slightly as she eyed him over with a stern gaze. Her painted lips curved somewhere between a smile and a frown, her nails tapping against the edges of the shelves rhythmically. She was likely never going to change his mind, but it wouldn’t stop her from picking him up on little things.
“Not stealing, Minnie,” he quipped with a signature cavalier casualness. He juggled the CD in his hands, observing the price tag with a particular smugness. A flippant smirk formed at his slightly chapped lips as he replied. “Just… sharing. Downloading. Not like it's hurting anyone.”
"You are impossible." She mumbled, a half-smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Her azure eyes rolled dramatically, and a mellow sigh left her lips. There was no real heat behind her words or actions, of course; she had long ago grown used to Dante’s casual insurrection.
“You love me, though,” Dante retorted with a bated chuckle, ruffling her soft, white hair from behind. His hand ghosted around the inside of his jacket, casually tracing the red lining with the plastic edges of the CD case. “Besides, now that you mention it… this little thing would fit reeaal nice in my pocket.”
“Dante!”
“I’m kidding,” he lied, a teasing glint in his steel blue eyes as he pinched her pale cheeks playfully. “So, you buying this or what? Can’t say I’m keen to stay in here…” He mumbled the last part almost under his breath, but he was never good enough at keeping his voice fully down for Minnie not to hear him anyway. He offhandedly took her hand in his, tracing idle patterns over her knuckles, moving up to her fingers.
“I’m not sure yet,” Minnie mumbled, running an idle hand through her bright hair. “You’ve barely given me a minute to decide.”
“Look, the offers out there, angel” he shrugged with a small exhale. “I’ll burn it on a blank for you, put some… stickers on it, or some shit. You’d never tell the difference.”
Minnie had seen his various burnt ‘mixtapes’ already, in the form of loose discs over his nightstand, splayed in between eyeliner and condoms, and occasionally—unintentionally—slipped between the pages of magazines. They’d been covered in makeshift titles and crude drawings scrawled in permanent marker, always at least a little scratched. Sometimes, he’d take the little stickers off of apples and oranges and stick them to the discs. He was definitely a decorator at heart, even if it was vaguely trashy. Still, she would be a fool to try and deny that the notion of having Dante craft and customise a CD personally for her was incredibly endearing. Minnie relinquished, putting the disc back on its shelf as a silent agreement.
“Atta girl.” Dante leaned back off the display, his face lighting up with a pompously amused expression, giving her a firm pat on the back, which quickly descended and morphed into a gentle caress that lingered just a moment longer than necessary.
“You’re the worst.” Minnie shot him a light-hearted glare of feigned anger. The pseudo malice she attempted to portray in her voice was accompanied by an unmistakable hint of amusement as she teased him playfully, the tiniest giggle barely escaping her lips.
“I know.” He jeered back, giving her a small, tender kiss on the forehead. As they exited together, the cheerful ringing of the bell attached to the door hinge jingled in their departure, echoing lightly in the air behind them.
“So… you want a pretzel?”