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Glisten idly swirled his tea, holding the decadent cup by its rim. He watched the cinnamon-colored contents stir contentedly, a gentle hum escaping his lips as milk turned the liquid to an acorn brown. It was, perhaps, the best day of the week — no, the best day of the month. It was the best, he decided, because he’d finally gotten Rodger to agree to a tea party. For weeks, he heard the same excuses: I’m too busy, I have research to attend to, I don’t even like tea. No amount of begging would suffice with the stubborn workaholic — or so he had thought. Glisten had a way with words, rather that way of pleading and whining until you got sick of hearing it and gave in. Some called it annoying, he called it persuasion.
Today, though, Rodger was arriving soon, and he couldn’t be happier. He leaned back gracefully in his chair, rehearsing everything from his posture down to the way he held his plate. It all would be perfect. Perfect was the best thing to be.
The knock at the door halted his thoughts. His smile turned to an ecstatic grin as he returned the teacup back to its equally ornate plate, pushing himself from the small, white chair he had borrowed from Teagan’s set of tea party furniture. A knock could only mean one thing, and his heart swooned at the thought. He twirled to the door, imagination already filling in the image of his love dressed to the nines and ready to kick off another perfect night. Yes, it would be perfect, as was he.
With a gentle turn of the handle, Glisten swung open the door, greeting the detective with a hand. He averted his eyes at first, lashes fluttering, reminiscing in the surprise his boyfriend would meet him with. A surprise it was, too. It was nothing like he had imagined.
There Rodger stood, only dressed in a wrinkled, white undershirt and brown slacks, a downgrade from even his usual attire. Glisten’s eye twitched at first. He put in all that effort, and Rodger was wearing that? A huff couldn’t help but escape his glossy lips. He opened his mouth to chastise the man, to remind him for the thousandth time what tea party attire was, until he remembered a little conversation with Rodger from earlier in the week. His blazer, he complained, had been completely ruined on the previous run, torn and stained with ichor, and Glisten had to admit the damage was extensive. Worse yet, it was Rodger’s last until a new one could be sewn for him. He wasn't exactly known for being careful when faced with the prospect of knowledge. Glisten’s posture relaxed with a gentler exhale.
Nervously, Rodger produced a bouquet from behind his back. The delicate array of pink lilies, held together with a pink silken bow, almost seemed to dance among sprinkles of waxflower, rose, and bells-of-ireland. Rodger, the gentleman he is, took the help of Bassie to make the arrangement, pouring over flower meanings and colors until he found what was just right.
“I’m sorry, Glis,” Rodger began, meeting the mirror’s gaze, “I know I don’t look my best right now, but promise I tried my best.”
Right he was about the choice of flowers, too. Glisten's cheeks turned a rosier shade of pink, and he graciously scooped the mound of flowers into his thin arms. The colors seemed to blend right into him as he rubbed a lily petal between two fingers. “I understand,” he purred, pulling the other toon inside by the arm. “The flowers are beautiful, darling, thank you!”
Rodger took his seat as Glisten graciously set the arrangement aside. The table was just as decorated as Glisten himself, with a soft, white table cloth ordained in porcelain dishes and sparkling utensils. A large, flower-patterned teapot sat in the middle, accompanied by a dish of sugar, a pot of honey, and a creamer. The amount of things on the table overwhelmed him, already hammering in that he was completely out of place here. Even so, Glisten didn’t seem to mind, gazing at the detective lovingly from behind the large mount of pottery. Some of the pieces Rodger had never seen before, not even at his own child’s tea parties.
Rodger took the plated teacup in front of him, cautiously holding it as if it were ready to jump up and bite him at the slightest twitch. He stared down at the golden-brown, steeping liquid, eye scrunching as he tried to determine its flavor. It certainly wasn’t green tea (thank god), and it was a bit too light to be black tea. Mint and white tea, from what he could remember, were a bit lighter than what was in his hands. Knowing their current stock, it was likely to be some type of herbal tea. God, he hoped it wasn’t chamomile.
“What, are you going to stare at it, or are you going to drink?” Glisten teased, holding his own cup to his lips with a pinky in the air. Rodger’s shoulders slouched as he looked up, almost as if to remember he were actively experiencing the moment and not watching from afar.
“Right, please excuse me.” Rodger slowly took the teacup by its handle, holding the plate just underneath like he had seen Teagan do with her own. Ever so slightly, he held the edge to his glass. The fog on his face came immediately and the pain milliseconds later. Piping hot tea torched his throat, immediately erasing all clear thought from the detective’s typically buzzing mind. No, only one thing rattled inside his head, and it was that he had to put the cup down now. He sputtered reflexively, fumbling with the teacup and sending its contents spilling down right onto his shirt.
Glisten gasped, his chair screeching against the floor as he threw himself to the other toon’s side. Internally, he was already cursing himself for letting things go so wrong. Of course the tea was too hot, Teagan always practically burned the water so it would take longer to cool. Glisten bit his lip and knelt beside the other toon, grabbing the front of the detective’s shirt and pulling it away from the skin. He hoped the tea wasn’t hot enough to scald it.
“Goodness, are you okay?” The urgency of his words matched his gaze, searching Rodger’s eye for any hint of hurt. Though his hands were soft, his grip was firmly pressing his slender knuckles into Rodger’s chest. Rodger huffed. Though he had a tear in his eye, he was more annoyed now than anything.
“I’m alright, but my last clean shirt is ruined.” Rodger slouched in his seat, a curse only muffled by a hissing sigh. Thankfully, the plush rug caught the cup before it could shatter on the floor. Teagan would certainly have killed him if his carelessness had lost them a cup.
Glisten glimpsed down to Rodger’s stained shirt. The tea had splattered down the front, already staining the gentle white in a splotch of almond. His brows furrowed, gripping the thick fabric tighter. It was then that an idea began to brew.
Glisten’s bow perked slightly, matching the grin already spreading to his cheeks. “You know,” he hummed, already padding to his closet. Unlike Rodger’s sad excuse for a wardrobe, he had an impressive assortment of options. There was something for every occasion, and maybe even every toon. “I might have something you can wear. I’ve got a handful of oversized shirts, and I think I know one that’ll fit you very well.”
Rodger raised a brow, turning his gaze up to the mirror. “Are you sure? You are much smaller than me, I’m sure you’re aware.”
“Oh, trust me,” Glisten hummed, “It will.” He pulled a shirt from its hanger, quickly folding it in his arms. The fabric was similar, maybe a little thinner, but still thick enough to keep it opaque. “Here, I’ll even put it on you!”
Rodger stared for a moment as if to contemplate before slowly pushing himself up with a sigh. It wasn’t like there were any better options. Wordlessly, he began to unbutton his top, wriggling the damp cloth from his shoulders. He messily crumpled the shirt into a wad, discarding it in his seat while Glisten worked on slipping the new one on. As Glisten started to button him in, Rodger found it was just tight enough to be uncomfortable. The buttons tugged around his midsection and his shoulders felt stiffened by the fabric. He turned to Glisten’s vanity as he tucked it in, standing awkwardly and fully taking in the frilly mess he was wearing. The shirt left most of his chest bare, and the collar and sleeves were adorned with ruffles. It practically squeezed his arms and tummy, accentuating all the parts of him usually swallowed in a thick blazer. In plain terms, the damn thing looked outlandish on him.
From the corner of the mirror, Glisten caught his eye. The toon was enamored, watching Rodger like he were a museum statue stoically awaiting his praise. “It really suits you, you know,” Glisten finally hummed, clasping his hands together and resting them against his chin.
“Glis,” Rodger grimaced, turning his back to the vanity, “This is horrendous.”
“Come on!” The mirror gestured to him with wide arms as if to point out the bigger picture Rodger wasn’t seeing. “The ruffles are so cute!”
“It’s so tight I can’t breathe!” Rodger retorted, moving his own arms to demonstrate the fabric had just about met its limit. Glisten whined, returning to the closet.
“Okay, okay, but what about this?” He produced a fuzzy, pale pink sweater dangling limply from its hanger. It was worse than the last.
“Absolutely not, I will burn up in that thing!”
The mirror returned only a hmph, shoving the hanger back onto the rack and rifling through his options. They were quickly dwindling with each refusal.
“This?” The mirror presented another, this time a conforming cropped turtleneck with a lettuce hem. Rodger looked offended, not even bothering to express his ire at the mere suggestion he wear it.
Glisten groaned, placing his hands at the closet's edge in defeat. “If you must insist,” he chuffed, “I maybe, sort of stole one of your shirts a while back and still have it.”
“Why wouldn’t you lead with that?” Rodger cried, moving so quickly he thought he may pop one of the buttons off the trap Glisten called a top. Glisten chuckled, finally handing him something sensible to wear.
“Darling,” Glisten whined again, sliding his closet door shut, “How could I resist a bit of dress-up? I thought it looked cute on you, honestly.” Rodger groaned in return, delicately removing the ruffled shirt and replacing it with his long-lost one. Of course, he recalled, Glisten was doing this on purpose.
“You’re lucky I find your teasing endearing,” the detective grumbled, haphazardly tucking the shirt's bottom under his belt. Glisten's giggle turned to a sigh, sauntering to the toon's side and taking a hold of his arm. He leaned in for a peck to the cheek, tenderly clinking their glasses together.
“I’m sorry, darling. I was going to show you the shirt after, promise.” Glisten pulled away, leaving his face only inches from Rodger’s. As per usual, the magnifying glass couldn’t stay mad, pulling Glisten in for another quick kiss as if to show his mercy.
Rodger returned his focus to the still damp rug beneath them and furrowed his brow, now presented with a new problem. “Ah, we had better clean this up.” Glisten perked up too, almost slapping himself in the forehead as he ran to get something to soak up the liquid. At the very least, the rug seemed unstained, its pink darker than the faint shade the tea left behind. Glisten counted his blessings there — he wasn’t sure if he could deal with Tisha when she already had a bad habit of rearranging his entire room if one thing was amiss.
As Glisten soaked the cooled liquid from the rug with a spare makeup towel, Rodger plucked the cup from the floor and carefully returned it to its plate. By now, the tea had likely gone cold, marking the end of their little tea party. As surprised as he was to say it, he had fun, and not in the exhaustive way he usually did with Teagan or Toodles. His eye squinted into a smile as he leaned down to help Glisten clean. Sure, their little planned date had gone awry, but who was he to complain if he got to spend it with Glisten?
Yes, he thought, this was nice. Perhaps he could put up with tea. He wouldn’t mind doing this again sometime.
Thank you as always for reading!! :-) Here is your obligatory doodle.
