Chapter Text
Laundry day. The day Jon despised despite only owning a few clothes, which included, but was not limited to: the same 5 pairs of jeans and 5 Valhalla Soundbox Tour T-shirts in various shades of white, gray and black, a few pairs of boxers and socks and his favorite hoodie. Besides the point of having most of his paycheck go to food and rent, he didn’t really see a need to have a more diverse arrangement of clothing.
Still, he hated leaving his apartment and walking down the street to the local Laundromat with his load of clothes, sticking around for an hour doing laundry, and then trudging home. It made him miss the days when he didn't have to leave the house to do laundry. Or when it didn’t cost him so many quarters.
Upon entering the mostly empty Laundromat on this warm Sunday in June, he immediately set his bag of laundry down in front of his choice of a washer and went to the detergent machine to shove quarters into his choice of soap.
The door opened, triggering the annoying bing bong of some alarm in the back. Jon couldn’t figure out what purpose it served, except to alert any of the employees maybe? Nobody ever really came out of the back room except to restock the soap machine or empty the washers and dryers of quarters. Jon always wondered how bank transactions went for people who ran Laundromats. Did they walk in with a garbage bag full of quarters and announce that they were here to deposit? He had no idea. At least imagining that kept him occupied for a bit.
He had his headphones on, music blasting his sweet, sweet music and making it clear that he wasn’t looking to talk. He wanted to do his laundry and leave so he could enjoy the rest of his day off.
He began sorting his clothes into piles of light and dark, throwing his gray clothes into either depending on the shade of gray, and his red and black work shirt in with his darks. He began with his dark load first, carefully putting in the soap and measuring the quarters and setting things in motion. He huffed out a sigh, and heaved himself onto the dryer directly behind him, pulling a Game Boy out of his pocket and turning it on to keep himself occupied while he waited.
Jon saw something out of the corner of his eye and glanced at it, almost dropping his hand held game in shock. Some kid in the weirdest clothing ensemble was dragging around what looked like a body bag. Said bag was stuffed and bunchy in a way that only suggested that it was filled with clothes, or so he hoped.
To his relief, it was. The kid dragged the bag over to a washer near Jon and unzipped it, pulling clothes out and immediately shoving them in with no thought to sorting. Jon stared at him, brows furrowed in confusion. This weirdo was wearing both a vest and a skirt over ripped blue jeans and he couldn’t tell which gender they were. What was even weirder was the seemingly permanent smile this kid was wearing. What was with that?
Jon must have stared for so long that the oblivious weirdo managed to eventually notice, and turned to meet his muted blue eyes with the greenest eyes he’d ever seen and an even bigger smile than before. He tried to avert his eyes but it was too late, because the kid was already saying hello and introducing themself. Jon sighed and removed one headphone from his ear. “What?” he said with some annoyance.
“I said, hey there, my name’s Sock, what’s yours?” the kid repeated patiently, smile not faltering for even a second.
“Jonathan. Aren’t you going to sort those first?” he asked, jerking his head to that half filled hodge podge of color in Sock’s washer. “What are you? And what kind of name is Sock?”
Sock glanced at the washer and shrugged. He frowned slightly, “What do you mean?”
“Are you a boy or a girl?”
Sock shrugged again. "Nope!" they said brightly. Jon frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I am what I am, Jonathan.” Sock went back to shoving clothes into the washer while Jon stared in confused silence after that vague answer. Once Sock got the washer running, he hoisted himself onto the dryer next to Jonathan, and smiled at him again.
“I think we got off to kind of a bad start there for a second. I really don’t really feel like I have a gender, but I go by he/him pronouns if that makes it easier,” he said.
Jon rubbed his face. “Okay, thanks?” Why was this weirdo still talking to him? He thought his body language made it very clear that he didn’t want to chat, but the kid didn’t seem to get the message.
“Whatcha playing?” Sock asked, looking down at the game Jon had forgotten was in his hand.
“Crash Bandicoot,” Jon answered, resuming his game play.
“Seriously? That game is kinda old, don’t you think?”
“I don’t give a fuck, dude, it’s a classic,” Jon said a bit defensively.
Sock laughed, “You’re too serious, Jonathan, I was just teasing you.” He swung his legs, looking around the Laundromat.
Jon grunted. “You didn’t answer my questions earlier.”
“Are they really that big of a deal to you?” Sock asked, pursing his lips. “Well okay, an old childhood friend of mine had trouble saying my old first name when we were little, and it just kinda became a nickname for me. I didn’t really like my old first name anyways...”
That caught Jon's attention. “What was it?”
Sock shook his head. “It doesn't matter anymore because I have a better one. Besides, socks are cool. What was your other question?”
“A better one? Which is?" Jonathan pressed.
The ginger snickered. "That's a secret," he said mischievously.
“Okay...”
There was finally silence and Jon let out a quiet breath of relief. He continued listening to his music and playing his game until the washer ceased its final rinse cycle. He set his game down and hopped off the dryer to empty the washer and fill the dryer he’d been sitting on. He added his second and last load, almost forgetting that it had been a while since he’d last washed his hoodie, and took that off and shoved it into the load of lights and started the wash.
He sat back down onto the dryer that now hummed and vibrated under him, shirtless and sweaty. He had hardly noticed hot it was until the slight breeze of the barely working AC hit the sweat covered body which had been previously hidden by his jacket. Gross. Jon resumed his game, completely unaware of Sock, who had watched him, red faced and eyes wide.
Sock may not have cared whether or not his laundry was sorted, but he most definitely cared that his washer neighbor was now half naked, in public, and didn’t seem to be bothered by that. But it bothered Sock, and it was far too hot for him to be as flustered as he was. Thank goodness Jon was oblivious to his current state because he didn’t think he’d be able to hold himself together otherwise.
He covered his face and forced himself to look away. Eventually he got too antsy to stay still and got up to walk around, occasionally stealing glances at Jonathan’s pale back. Did the guy ever leave his house? Or was he one of those people who never got tan? Either way, Sock felt like swooning. But whether that was the heat or other circumstances was anybody’s guess.
Eventually his load was done and he had to walk back, trying very hard not to look at Jon, who was still immersed in his game. He went through some of the same motions, putting his one load into the dryer. By now, Jon was sitting on his last load as it dried underneath him, pausing his game just to stretch. He’d fold his laundry when he got home.
Sock couldn’t help himself from watching Jon stretch, which unfortunately made his face flare up again. He was so pathetic. It was just some guy he’d just met doing laundry on a day hot enough to warrant the removal of a shirt, nothing else. So why was he so bothered? Well, it wasn’t like he was particularly comfortable with hanging out shirtless in public, so maybe that was it. He was just embarrassed.
All too quickly, Jon’s laundry was done and he was shoving his clothes into the bag he’d brought them in, and putting his jacket back on and leaving soon after, not even saying so much as a goodbye. Oh well, thought Sock, maybe he had things to do.
He rubbed his still burning face with two hands. He made up his mind that he wanted to see Jonathan again, and maybe next time he wouldn’t be such a flustered mess.