"Karl, how's it goin', bra?" "Lawrence?" Karl cracked an eye open, glancing at the alarm clock. "The fuck, mate...it's...um...seven. A.M." "I know, I know, but I wanted to catch you before you made other plans." "Sleep. Only plan." "Right on. Listen, picking you up at 10, alright?" "Hmm?" "'Lando thinks we could use an outside opinion on some things." "'Lando, is it?" Karl managed a sleepy smirk while burrowing into his pillow. "Take it...othernightwas...um...success?" "You could definitely say that." Karl could practically see Lawrence's grin. "So, later, okay?" "Wait, where're...?" Karl struggled for coherence, but sleep. Calling to him. "...you taking me?" "Shopping." "Definitely scared," Karl mumbled, but the lure of more sleep was far too promising. He had a lovely relationship with his bed, and tried to make it happy as often as possible. "10 o'clock," Lawrence repeated, and hung up the phone. Karl was fast asleep seconds later. * * * "I can't believe I let you drag me into this," Dom grumbled, flipping through the shirts on the sales rack. "Misery loves company," Karl replied. "And fuck, I think that's the worst one yet." Dom glanced up. "Oh, my poor eyes." "Are you craving pineapple-upside down cake now?" "No, but I think I'm getting a tan from the glow." Orlando stopped in front of them and turned around slowly. "Well?" "It's...um..." "Bright," Karl finished, pasting a big smile on his face. "Yes, that. Bright." "You don't like it." Karl had to give Orlando props. The man knew how to take dejected to a whole new level. "It's not that we don't like it..." "You just don't like it," Lawrence replied, walking up in what Karl could swear was a crossword puzzle on his chest. Only this was, like, a crossword puzzle by Escher. Or maybe Picasso in one of his loony periods. "Where did you find that?" Dom breathed in something like horrific reverence. "Lawrence!" Orlando turned and pressed his lips to Lawrence's, purring happily. "Hey." Lawrence smiled, fingering the material of Orlando's shirt. "Looks nice." "Karl." Dom tugged on Karl's sleeve. "They're encouraging each other," he said in a very loud stage whisper. "I know," Karl muttered back, talking out of the side of his mouth. "I definitely think you should get it," Lawrence said, ignoring both Karl and Dom. "After you try it on," Orlando said, trailing a hand along Lawrence's chest. "What's he on about? No way that shirt'll fit Lawrence." "I have no idea," Karl told Dom, shrugging. "But I'm afraid to ask." * * * "Well?" Karl tried not to wince -- didn't quite succeed, if the look on Lawrence's face was any indication -- and looked to Dom for help. "It's, um..." Dom spread his hands out and gazed up at Lawrence with an incredibly fake smile. "It's very green." "Shocking green," Karl added. "Green, like, um..." "A nuclear waste site." "What was that?" Karl shuddered when his gaze collided with the shirt again. That color was definitely not one found in nature. "Look, mate, it's not that I can't appreciate your, um..." "Unique style." "What Dom said. It's just that, well, frankly, you look like a scene from a cheesy sci-fi film about experimentation gone awry." "Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment." "Well, I love it," Orlando declared, taking the moment to run his hands over Lawrence's chest. "You would," Dom replied. Orlando simply stuck his tongue out. "No thanks," Dom said, winking at Orlando. "Hate to give the big guy any more of a reason to want to kill me." "Nah, he's a big pussy, um, cat," Karl hastened to add, catching Lawrence's glower. "Like a panther. Only tame. "Karl, you're only making it worse," Dom muttered. "Actually, that shirt's what's making it worse. Please, Lawrence, think of the children." "My kids'll love it, what're you talking about?" "Fine, then, think of my eyesight." "Come on then, love, we'll just make sure that you only wear it when Karl's not around," Orlando stated, glaring at Karl when he led Lawrence back to the dressing room. "You know, you're not exactly helping matters," Dom said, leaning against the dressing room wall. "That color wasn't helping matters." "Alright, I'll give you that one. But it wasn't as bad as that peacock thing Orlando was -- and did you just hear that?" Karl nodded, looking past Dom to the dressing room door. "Yeah, kinda sounded like --" Dom and Karl looked at each other, horrified. "They're not," Dom breathed, just as another muffled moan came from behind the door. "Um, I think they are." Karl grimaced and started to back slowly away. "Least Orlando is, from the sounds of things...um, I think I'll just...um. Wait up there. Somewhere." "Good idea," Dom said, falling into step beside Karl. Both of them pretended very hard not to notice that Orlando's face was flushed and Lawrence was smirking when they finally exited the dressing room and paid for the shirt. "Least no one'll be able to tell there's a stain on it," Dom whispered, walking with Karl and keeping a close eye on Lawrence and Orlando as they strolled ahead, hand in hand, cooing over some window display. Karl elbowed Dom in the ribs. "I didn't need that image in my head." "Ow!" "Deserved it." "Did not!" "You forced me to think about sex and Lawrence at the same time, you deserve what you get." "Got it." "You two slowpokes coming or not?" Orlando called. Karl noted, with a sinking heart, that they were outside yet another clothing store. "Yeah, yeah," he said, stepping past Orlando. "But, fuck, can you both wait until you get home for the fashion show or peep show or whatever we're calling it these days?" Orlando gave Karl a blinding smile. "This is nothing. Wait'll we go shoe shopping." "Y'know, I think I'm going to call in dead that day." "Do it, Sblom, and I'll call you right in the middle of giving Lawrence a --" "On second thought, shoe shopping sounds grand." Orlando grinned, patting Dom on the cheek as he walked towards the back of the store. Karl waited until Orlando and Lawrence were occupied looking at another rack of shirts -- Karl'd had no idea people made patterns that chaotic -- before speaking. "Next time we're forced to do this, I'm bringing sunglasses." "Fuck that," Dom replied, then groaned. Lawrence was dragging a very willing Orlando into another dressing room, bright fabric strewn over one arm. "Next time, I'm bringing earplugs."
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