Your OTP gets to pick out each other's outfits; what is each wearing? 👀👀👀👀👀
Turned it into a prompt (go figure). Technically I answered this for Daniel/July already, but I decided to be less lazy with my answer this time, I guess. I got inspired, okay? <3
The scene was unoffending enough. The yellow glow of a dipping, evening sun shifted across the windowpane and through the glass, dimly illuminating two growing sets of clothing sitting on the bed. These piles were clearly intended to make the bulk of tomorrow’s luggage, as they traveled lightly to New Canaan for the sake of utilizing the last of the better autumn weather, and to relieve some worry delivered in a recent letter (‘we hardly hear from you, Daniel—your family misses you’).
For all the lack-of-extraordinary stacked upon the quilt, however, Daniel still felt swindled, with both His and Hers heaps of apparel provoking a semi-horrified, mostly startled “what is that?”
“What is what?” July billowed in from the living room. Her attention was absorbed in folding a shawl twice, thrice, then throwing it on top of a yellowed, flowered blouse—a menace of material that, up until a second ago, had caused Daniel’s several double-takes to multiply into a baker’s-dozening death-stare.
“This.” Moving the shawl aside, Daniel grabbed the affronting item. “How many times have I heard you complain about this shirt?”
July’s jaw, ajar in calculation, snapped shut, having found the fib she was fumbling after. As she turned her back on him, busying with something in the dresser, she offered off-handed over her shoulder, “oh, just the once, I think.”
“It’s itchy, the lace is stretched, and there isn’t enough starch in a field of potatoes to keep its shape—I am quoting you verbatim.” Tossing the shirt whence it came, Daniel folded his arms, adding, “also you don’t like the flowers.”
“Well, they’re tacky,” July complained, immediately returning to the whatever that was so important in their dresser. “Or, rather, the print is fine for a child, but I am not that.”
Sighing, Daniel walked over to her, giving the bed quite the berth and skirting the terrible, not-so-nice choice in clothing.
“Just because it was a gift from my aunt—”
“—Means absolutely, without question, that I have to bring it and wear it,” July finished, closing the drawer a little too heatedly. Wincing at the angry, clanging sound, July sighed, as well. “This isn’t like the last time I visited your family. Back then I was just—just some heathen outsider, but, hey: I minded my manners, and I helped you make your way there without your ears becoming, I don’t know, a raider’s trophy. But now…” Head falling back, July walked past Daniel, and began frustratedly rearranging her clothing. “Now I’m a heathen outsider that tricked you away from them—”
“You’re giving my family too little credit,” Daniel interjected.
“And you have no idea how much I want them to like me,” July replied. Brow raising at her own sycophantic lean, she quickly clarified “I want them to like me enough to trust me, anyways. Which means sacrificing some style, I guess.”
Nodding acceptingly, Daniel’s head kept bobbing absently as he watched July’s hands turn to his pile of clothes. Her long, delicate fingers smoothed down collars and seams, banishing any suggestion of crease or wrinkle.
“If you want things to go their smoothest, you should know…” Daniel’s head tilted as she turned to him. ”They don’t exactly appreciate my neckerchiefs.” He eyed the small, folded squares of cloth, reminded of the uncle who wore them often when Daniel was a child. It wasn’t only the nostalgia that pleased—he preferred their usefulness. His pockets were usually full enough with compass, knife, string, halved carpenter’s pencil, and compact sewing kit that a handkerchief was too bulky, but the neckerchief was perfect.
That said, it was also the item of clothing most often neglected by the wash, which didn’t go unnoticed by certain family members a tad too preoccupied with oaths of cleanliness.
Expecting July’s eyes to widen at the thought of doubly insulting the New Canaanites, instead it was as though the clouds let out the sun. “Oh, I know.” July grinned big, her mood shifting to absolutely smarmy. “They think they’re natty, dirty old things. Well, aunt Bonnie does, anyways.”
“You—?” Daniel shook his head. “Let me get this straight. It’s alright if they don’t like what I’m wearing—”
“Because then they’ll be too distracted to critique what I’m wearing,” July illuminated cheekily. Smirking, she added, “what’s the harm? They already adore you, you’re the golden child.”
Rolling an unimpressed sound around his mouth until it seemed humored, Daniel reached forward and picked up her pile of clothes.
“I’ll tell you what we’ll do.” Daniel, holding her surprisingly weighty skirts and blouses to his chest, offered his most serenely charming expression. “I’ll choose one set of clothing for you, and you can choose an outfit for me. That is what we’ll wear when we meet my family. Sound fair?”
Speechless for a split second, July decided “you’re on,” after which the well-intentioned offer turned to shambles. The suggestion had been made in good faith: Daniel would have chosen July’s preferred pieces, knowing they were appreciated for comfort as much as utility; however, noting the mischievous, occasionally maniacal, cackling from his wife, Daniel decided to indulge the good mood, knowing she’d been vexed since the announcement they were going home for a visit.
Three minutes felt like thirty rapid-fire seconds thanks to the rough-hewn chaos. With the dust settling came two ‘outfits’ lain side-by-side on the bed. Half-giggles and ho-hums set the general mood at ‘happily displeased’.
“So. We’ve both over-compensated.” July’s hands rested on her hips as she tried not to laugh. “You now want me to dress like somebody’s grandmother’s grandmother—I mean, that is three cardigans you seem to want me to layer—”
“And you just got me a lot of socks,” Daniel pointed out, puzzled at remembering having seen her grab some black slacks which had, apparently, gone walking.
“If you need suggestions where to put said socks, I will oblige,” July said generously, leaning into his side.
Happiness at seeing her less stressed led to warm feelings and a glad heart. Daniel’s arm looped around her waist as he chuckled, kissing her crown. He told her, whispering into her dark hair, “there’s only one thing you need to wear, and you’ve already got it on.” Taking her hand in his, he rolled his thumb over her wedding band, which had her soon nestling into his neck, and his arms wrapping tight around her.
“I just want things to be easy,” July said across his throat, sounding tired again. “I know they haven’t been.”
”Then we should probably pack properly because it’ll be an early start in the morning. And…” Lips twitching into a smile through her hair, Daniel added, “we should have faith that it will work out. My family will love you because I love you.”
Mingling together in a soft moment of dreamy affection, July finally pulled away with a relenting sigh. Daniel joined her efforts in straightening up what had been tossed insanely about the bed until, coming to the last set of randomly-selected socks, July held them aloft and suggested he model what he’d be wearing. The only thing he’d be wearing, now that the rest had been put away.
“I’ll put-on only this if you do,” she said, flashing the hand upon which her ring sat.
Daniel appreciated, not for the first time, how very hard it was to say no to her.
