dorksidefiker replied to your post:This is an invitation
Jono, Angelo, and the totally accidental bleaching of every bit of clothing Jono owns.
It wasn’t that Angelo didn’t think Jono could be intimidating. He was a walking piece of leather and attitude, and he had the uncanny ability of expressing “fuck you” in thirty-seven different ways with just his eyes. That, and Angelo had seen some of the things Jono had done with his powers, either when they were training or actually in a fight, and he didn’t doubt for a second that Jono was up there with Emma and Monet as far as dangerous teammates went.
But it was hard to remind himself of any of that when Jono looked like someone had just stabbed his new puppy right in front of him.
“Look, it’s not…I mean, maybe we can fix this.”
Jono’s hands twitched around the blotchy shirt in his lap.
Maybe not.
It was supposed to have been a prank. Just a simple, harmless little prank, probably followed by lots of “oh, lighten up!” puns. Just a little bleach in the wash when Jono finally crawled out of his dungeon pit to do his laundry. Jubilee, of course, having never actually used bleach in her life (“Have you seen how much color I wear, Angelo? Please.”) didn’t know how much to use even under good circumstances. What had been “just enough to be annoying” very quickly turned into “oh dear God, we’re going to die.”
And then Jubilee had conveniently disappeared into town to see a movie with Paige, leaving Angelo to deal with a more or less literal fire-breathing dragon whose entire wardrobe had been replaced with that of an 80s-era hair band member with poor impulse control and a shaky hand.
“Jono?”
Angelo stepped into the laundry room, brow furrowed, and leaned his hip against the washing machine. Jono sat on the floor exactly where he had been for the past five solid minutes as he sorted through his clothes in search of anything, just one thing, that had survived. When he’d reached the mottled black and dingy white t-shirt at the bottom of the pile, his will to keep searching (along with what appeared to be his will to live) completely left him.
He still hadn’t said anything beyond that initial what the fuck happened.
“Hey, uh, I know this looks bad. But first of all, I’d like to point out that this was all Jubilee’s idea.” Angelo wasn’t the type to throw his friends under the bus, but when that friend bailed on him and left him to take the fall on his own? Different story. “Second, we can totally fix this.”
Did I ever tell you where I got this shirt?
Angelo blinked, then shook his head.
Before I came over here, Morrissey did a surprise show at a pub my band had a gig at. I tripped over my own feet just to get a glimpse of him onstage, and after the show, he stuck around to chat with the other bands playing that night. He gave me this shirt off his back.
“Really?”
No, you idiot. I bought it off the discount rack at a shop. Point is, it’s still my bloody shirt and I still didn’t want it ruined. And this!
Jono yanked a pair of jeans out of the pile in the basket and threw them at Angelo. They landed in a sad pile of bleached black denim at his feet.
What the hell am I supposed to wear now?
“They’re just splotchy, man. It’s not that ba–”
Angelo stopped short at the thirty-eighth variation of fuck you Jono leveled at him.
I am going to kill you both. I am going to strangle you with my worthless jeans, since that’s all they’re bloody well good for now, and then I’m going to hang you outside my door as a warning to everyone else.
“You wouldn’t. I’m too cute for that.”
Jono held up a dark gray sock that hadn’t escaped the bleach assault, either. His eyes narrowed accusingly, prompting Angelo to take a half step backwards.
“You’ve had those socks forever. Look, they got holes in them and everything. They need to be put out to pasture anyway.”
With alarming calmness, Jono picked up another pair of recently created acid wash jeans and stretched one leg of the pants between his hands to test the fabric’s strength. When he looked up, Angelo was almost certain he saw a curious twitch in Jono’s left eye.
Run, Angelo.
And here’s some colours because I couldn’t resist.
A Beautiful Monster 