#ts mid

being a janitor for the 141 wasn’t too bad honestly. you were paid fairly, you didn’t have to work long, and it was a damn good money making shift for some extra cash.

oh and everyone was so hot.

there was this one guy in particular, always wearing his uniform. and even when he wasn’t his outfits were immaculate. perfect style. no skinny jeans n shit, just pretty sweaters, shirts that matched his vibes, jeans that fit sooo ridiculously well (and hugged his ass??), and oh goood goooddd the sweats.

how the fuck are you supposed to keep your eyes to yourself?

you don’t.

you figure no one actually pays any attention to you, especially when the only interactions with words are simply “sorry, let me pass by-“ or other awkward things that you’d rather avoid.

so you stare. assuming it’s unnoticed.

it’s not.

kyle—you overheard his actual name a couple days ago—has 100% noticed.

after he got over the initial concern and realized you weren’t stalking him or were some weird ass creep, he took some interest.

you couldn’t blame him. you were pretty. you were reserved, but always polite. headphones on, mop in hand, your graphic shirts and comfy pants. the jewelry?? gaz doesn’t think he’s actually ever seen a more shiny person. yet you’re still somehow lowkey about it??

you’ve noticed too. you’ll look up when he’s around and holyfuckheslookingdirectlyatyouohmygowhagthefuck

you tried to ignore it, only taking glances every now and then when you thought his eyes weren’t on you.

they usually were.

one day you get a bonus, meeting price in his office. it’s a holiday gift, for doing all the shitty work and not complaining. hell you even run things for him sometimes when you aren’t busy.

and well… kyle jussttt so happens to be passing by!

he stops in, offering you to come to the teams pub hangout.

you really should decline.

yeah right look at him how tf do you say no??

you agree, nodding and going home. you wear something casual and comfy, but you still manage to look great in it, according to kyle’s thoughts.

and as the night goes by you have more than a few drinks, loosening up, probably oversharing, but in turn learning more about the guy you’ve had a crush on for 5 months now.

you’re a little surprised when he asks you if you’d like to go home with him. he’s equally as drunk, and you can tell he’s nervous even with all the “liquid courage” running through his body.

you wouldn’t even dream of saying no.

so you don’t. you go home with him, stepping into his apartment, looking at all the knick knacks he has laying around. he’s worse than a crow.

it’s charming though, nothing is messy and unorganized. although you don’t have long to take more in, because his lips are on yours, and you’re pressed against the door. he lifts you up, taking you to his room. except you break away, looking at his uniform that’s hanging up by the door.

god he always looks so good in it. now it’s all you can think about. you’ve only ever seen him in it a few times, but the way the belt makes his hips look more defined as he walks, the way he holds on to the vest when his hands are bored, even the fucking hat is hanging with the rest of it.

he trails your eyes to his uniform, knowing exactly what you’re thinking about.

“so you’re into the uniform, dove?”

“…maybe.”

“want me to put it on?”