Work Text:
Will prefers sneakers, or rubber shoes, or whatever it's called. It’s comfortable, he’s able to move around and run and jump, and just flexible to move at.
“So, for this photoshoot, you have to wear this,” Robin says, handing him the paper bag. Will peers into it, nods, and she continues, “They told me you’d wear that for the entire photoshoot. It’ll be a bit uncomfortable, but it’s unfortunately necessary. I’ll arrange a foot massage after.”
He watches her leave, hair bouncing on her shoulders, then he brings out the pair of boots and stares at it. It looks good, maroon red and leather. He slides out of his slippers before he slips into the boots. There’s not really a difference between his usual rubber shoes and this one, and it’s cool to the sole. The room’s heavily air-conditioned, the cold seeping into his hoodie.
He stands and takes a lap around, testing its feeling on his feet. It’s nice, comfortable, and again, not so different from his rubber shoes. Just long and awkward, wrapped below his knees. He’s tapping his left foot when the door opens, and Mike enters.
Will blinks. Mike? He didn’t know he’s gonna be here.
“Hey Will,” Mike greets, hands in his jeans pockets.
Will stops tapping. “Hey. They didn’t tell me you’re gonna be here.”
“They wanted it to be a surprise,” Mike walks up to him, and looks him over. “Boots?”
“Yeah,” Is it really weird? It’s weird. It’s a bit high too, almost reaching the knee. Will wonders what he’s gonna wear to pair this off with. He’s not that proficient in fashion, but things like this seem difficult to match with something.
“Looks good,” Mike says, occupying the seat Will recently vacated. He’s smiling, and Will’ gaze falls on the boots.
He doesn’t believe Mike one bit. Mike is, well, he wears his sweater everywhere he goes. Not exactly the best person to have fashion talks about, but Will smiles back anyway, extending out a foot, “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Will shrugs. “Maybe they’ll have you wear one, too. Since I guess you’re shooting with me.”
“Not really,” Mike laughs, shaking his head. He opens the paper bag on his lap, and gestures to Will. Will obeys, their shoes an inch apart, and he leans into the bag. When Mike speaks, it’s loud. “It’s an Oxford, they told me.”
Will tilts his head up. He backs away slightly when their noses nearly touch. “That is a school, no? I remember there’s a school also called that.”
Mike squints, remembering, before he shrugs. “I just know Oxford is what these shoes are called.”
“Okay,” Will says, pulling away. He steps back, and walks in a circle. Mike watches him, putting the paper bag by his feet. “Mine tightens as I walk.”
“Maybe you tied it really tight?”
“I don’t know, I’ve never really worn boots before.”
“Come here,” Mike dusts off his lap, which is strange, but Will comes over anyway. He’s standing in front of him, hands limp on his sides. Mike squints at the below-the-knee boots, before he reaches for the laces, chair scraping on the floor as he leans down.
He begins to loosen the laces. Hooks a finger on a knot, tugs on it, then does it repeatedly until it no longer suffocates Will’ leg. Mike does it on the other boot, skillful, like his manoeuvres on the steering wheel.
“There.” Mike exhales. He pulls back and looks up at Will. “Better? Nancy made me try them on before. It’s horrible.”
Will tests it. It’s actually better. He smiles, “Thank you, Mike.”
“Welcome,” Mike says, twisting a lace between his fingers before it slips.