COULD WE PLEASE GET A NUMBER NINE WITH MULLETTE?
YOU SURE CAN! This is my first time writing just mullette (I’ve done some lafburrcules) but the ship feels chill and flows kind of naturally to me.
Also, to everyone: prompts are closed as of now! I’ve gotten 7 all total, which is great! But I want to go back to my own works while also not leaving anyone hanging. See y’all next prompt post.
9. Not knowing how to sew but trying to fix a torn shirt because it’s their s.o.’s favorite
Lafayette loved wearing his boyfriend’s clothes. Hercules being just a bit shorter and a little more than a bit wider made his hoodies and tees and pyjama pants only a size too wide.
“Just don’t rip them up,” Hercules joked, taking the habit in good stride. “Some of that’s home-made.”
Lafayette took his oath seriously, even if it did make Hercules snort and giggle adorably when he knelt and solemnly swore with one hand to his heart. Which was why his current predicament was so worrying.
He gave the stray cat a rueful look. “This is your fault,” He said, to the animal that didn’t understand language and couldn’t possibly be blamed for the tatters it made of his shirt, not when Lafayette was the one who scooped it up suddenly for a hug. The cat flicked an ear, not impressed in the slightest. With a twitch of the tail, it turned and fled down the street.
Lafayette frowned. It was okay, he could fix this. He just had to get home, get the shirt off, get the blood off the shirt… everything would be fine! The damage wasn’t that bad, just two parallel tears from where the claws had hooked through cloth and into chest. It couldn’t be that hard to sew two ripped edges together!
People kept shooting Lafayette strange looks as he rushed home. Blood occasionally dripped off on the sidewalk. Lafayette held the shirt out, trying not to smear more blood into it. It was all a bit dramatic- Lafayette could barely even feel a sting.
He got home, and thankfully Hercules was not yet visiting- though he was due in an hour, so Lafayette had no time to waste. “One step at a time,” Lafayette muttered to himself, slipping his shoes off and darting for the laundry sink. With a quick motion, the shirt was off. He turned the tap on with one hand and reached for laundry soap with the other.
Washing the blood off was easy, Lafayette knew how to do that. It was almost familiar, even, with how often they all got into scuffles. Under the soap and bath of hot water, blood lifted from the cloth, fading to pink in the water. Lafayette drained the sink.
Now for the hard part. Lafayette had no idea how to sew. It couldn’t be all that difficult. His dear Hercules fixed Lafayette’s clothes all the time- and he would never claim his Hercules’ work as anything but talented genius, but the repairs always looked simple.
First, a needle. Or maybe not. Didn’t Hercules use the sewing machine for such jobs? Lafayette knew he had one in the house, from when he’d briefly considered taking up sewing to try and impress Hercules. In the end, Hercules had asked him out before the machine was even delivered, and the rest was history.
Lafayette never claimed to be a smart spender, he just had the money to afford it.
The sewing machine was covered in dust. Lafayette carefully brushed it clean, and pulled out the cords- including a foot pedal, curiously. Lafayette loved staring at his Hercules while he worked, but he’d never paid attention to how the machine operated, too busy staring at his boyfriend’s lovely focused face, or the way he stuck his tongue out just so at a particularly tricky part.
Lafayette sighed. He was getting off topic. He readied the shirt, plugged in the cords, and lightly tapped the pedal- the needle went down and up, but did nothing else. He pushed it harder- still nothing. Was it broken? Lafayette inspected more closely.
Right, there was no thread. That was a thing. Lafayette laughed at himself, keeping the mood light instead of contemplating the sudden hopelessness of how little he knew. Lafayette knew he had bought some of that too. He reached into the storage box. There were about a dozen spools, more or less, in a variety of colours. Lafayette chose the one that matched the shirt, as close as possible.
“Now, to thread it.” Lafayette hummed, and stared at the machine. If his memory served, the spool went up stop, but how did it thread? Lafayette studied the machine, looking for some kind of sign.
Lafayette began to wonder if he was a bit out of his league. He reached into the box for the instruction manual, and got to work.
Hercules knocked on the door, but walked in when there was no answer. It wouldn’t be the first time he was too busy to get the door, and plus Hercules knew he was expected. “Laf? Honey?” He called, but there was no answer. Hercules took his shoes off and padded further into the house.
At the second call, there was nothing. On the third call, a muffled thump and an extra muffled curse. “Laf?” Hercules felt a hint of concern work its way into his head. “You okay?”
“I’m fine!” Lafayette poked his head out from his bedroom. His voice was shrill and loud and the very definition of ‘not fine’. Hercules approached slowly, hoping it was a simple matter of a spill or mess of some sort. Lafayette was a bit touchy about his house’s presentation, even when, or perhaps especially when, it was just Hercules. “Seriously! Don’t come in!” Lafayette’s voice hitched and wavered, ever so slightly.
Hercules’ heart picked up. Something was definitely wrong. “Hun, please let me see? What’s wrong, you sound upset.” He reached the door, but Lafayette was holding it half closed, with a wild, panicked look on his face. “Whatever it is, I can help! It’s okay!”
Lafayette wavered a moment, trapped between an assurance and breaking down. The break down won out, and he threw the door open. “Oh my god, Herc, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to do it, I swear!” He was heaving, near hysterics. And there was dried blood all over his naked chest.
“Oh my god, you’re bleeding!” Hercules lifted his hands uncertainly, mind racing. “What happened? Did you get into a fight alone? Laf, are you okay? DO you need the hospital? Or, you can’t go to a hospital? God, what happened, what-”
He was cut off by a wet snort. Lafayette giggled and teared up at the same time. “I forgot about that entirely! Nothing of that sort is wrong, Hercules, please calm down. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to panic you.”
Though confusing, the words were a comfort. Hercules forced his breathing to even out. “You sure you’re okay?” At Lafayette’s nod, Hercules sighed in pure relief. “Alright then. What’s the actual problem, then?” Because there was clearly someting.
Lafayette tipped his head guiltily. “I promised not to tear your shirt, but there was this cat… I know it’s your favourite shirt, I tried to fix it. I’m so sorry.” And with that, he stepped away. Hercules peered over his shoulder.
There was a sewing machine, one Hercules didn’t even know Lafayette had. The sewing machine was a tangled mess, the sewing thread set up all wrong. Beside it sat a shirt Hercules recognized. Hercules stepped into the room. He did not recognize the messy clumps of thread, an apparent attempt to secure two tears, but really only a success at attacking the front of the shirt to the back.
“That is a mess.” Hercules commented, a little impressed despite himself. At Lafayette’s sniffle however, he quickly amended it. “Honey, you tried your best. I’m not upset, honest.”
“But I ruined your shirt, and then ruined it more trying to fix it?” Lafayette wiped quickly at his eyes.
“It’s just a shirt,” Hercules comforted. “And besides, I can still fix it. You haven’t done any permanent damage, and even if you did, I still like you better than any shirt of mine.”
Lafayette smiled, tiny and shy. “Even your favourite?”
Hercules chuckled. “Laf, you’re my favourite. Now let’s fix you up, and you can tell me the whole story.”
Lafayette’s smile widened. Things were just fine after all.