Okay so I'm in the bath and would love some of your incredible words to fill this writing prompt: Eggsy as the cute as pie Lush worker and Harry as the put-upon gentleman looking for a gift for someone (I guess someone he doesn't know very well) or following a mark into Lush (I don't know, he's just there!) and eggsy is forced to greet him as per lush law. Cue dates and baths together forever, all the fluffy feels xoxoxoxo
To be entirely honest Nonny, my first reaction to this was “hell nah” not because the prompt isn’t amazing (as is the next one you sent) but, unpopular opinion time, I personally cannot stand Lush. I mean I like the concept just fine, workers are usually friendly, but to me it all smells the same and when I go into a shop with my earbuds on, it usually means that nope, I do not want a demo done on me. Let’s just say my antisocial ass when shopping has had one too many bad experience with salesclerk who couldn’t understand my simple “I am looking for now, I’ll ask as soon as I need help”. Like I get you want to show me your cool products, but can I get an idea of which one I want to know more about before you bombard me with them? … Anyway rant over, sorry about that Nonny.
Also, I’ll probably use the bingo cards as inspiration for little snippets in this Lush verse, so stay tune Nonny, you’re getting a several stories this month :D They won’t be long though because I gotta focus on the bang, but I do hope you like them!
Day One - Velvet
The posh gentleman that just stepped into the shop looks as if he’s inadvertently walked into a warzone and Eggsy cannot really blame him.
Even after a few months of working at Lush, he sometimes internally cringes at his own coworkers. Not that he’s really any better, after all, an enthusiastic greeting is one of Lush Law, but there is something to say about being able to read your customers’ body language.
For example, now that the posh gentleman has declined his offer to help with a look that is very reminiscent of a deer caught in headlights, he needs to back off or the man will bolt out of the shop at the first occasion. The poor bloke is clearly overwhelmed and doesn’t seem the sort to like being reminded that he is out of his depth.
So instead of badgering him, Eggsy leaves him to peruse the shelves at his own pace and goes to help a group of giggly teenagers. He keeps an eye on the gentleman through all the awkward flirting though and as soon as the girls are out of the shop with more bathbombs than they really need, he goes to arrange something or another on a shelf close to him him.
His wait is rewarded when the man finally turns from the products he had been staring at for the last five minutes and politely clears his throat to get his attention.
“I am sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you had a few minutes to help me out.” He’s smiling all sheepishly now, as if ashamed to have refused his help at first and Eggsy finds himself answering his smile with something more genuine than the ones he gave the girls a few minutes ago.
It’s either that or he’s afraid he’ll make an embarrassing noise over how cute the man looks now that his dimples are showing. And really the man must have a good twenty years on him. Eggsy doesn’t mind one bit, but the gentleman might take offense to being cooed over.
“Sure, I’d be happy to. Have you find anything you’re interested in?” He might have been standing in front of the massage bars, but Eggsy doesn’t want to assume anything.
Maybe he should have though, because the gentleman waves vaguely at the massage bars as he replies and he tries very hard not to imagine how those hands would feel on his skin.
“They all seem great, but my partner’s skin is quite sensitive and I trying to determine if ‘velvety oil’ or ‘luscious melted butter’ will cause a reaction or not.”
Eggsy ignores the pang of disappointment at hearing about the man having a partner, but really handsome as he is, it’s not really surprising. Anyway, it’s not like he was thinking of giving him his number or something. The last thing he wants is to be written up for inappropriate behaviour, which shockingly enough, can happen fairly easily.
“Well, none of those should cause a reaction, except if they’re allergic to any of the ingredients. I got a friend who breaks into rashes at the littlest thing, but she swears by those.”
“He’s not allergic to anything, no… Which one would you recommend?”
Usually, that would be the time he would ask about what kind of scent he and his partner might like, but for once he’s got a pretty good idea of what they might enjoy. Maybe it’s stereotyping since he imagines his partner to be equally as posh as him, but he doubts they’d be a fan of the strawberry one anyway.
“Shades of Earl Grey,” he says as he takes one to offer the man. “I’d also recommend buying a tin for it, so you can keep it somewhere handy without fearing it will melt on anything. Oh and I know there’s no risk of a heatwave in the middle of winter, but the stuff does melt at body temperature, so I’d keep it in the fridge during the summer when you don’t plan on using it.”
The man has sniffed the bar tentatively during his little speech and Eggsy gets a little thrill when he nods in clear approval of his suggestion.
“I’ll take this one then. And a tin.”
He’d offer to give a little demonstration of the product on his hand at least, but the suit he wears seems to have cost more than what he’s earned since he’s got the job and he’d hate to stain it by accident. He also might have the slightest fear he’ll make some inappropriate sounds if he was to actually touch the man and he’d really like to keep his job, thank you very much.
That and the man is already moving toward the cash, obviously not wanting to spend a minute more here now that he’s got what he wanted.
He makes short work of ringing his order up and giving him his bag, but the ‘have a nice evening’ dies before it can even form on his lips when the man takes his hand between his for a gentle shake.
“Thank you for all your help…” It takes him a moment to realise that the man is waiting for his name, but anyone would be thrown off at having their hand suddenly held by someone they’re trying very hard not to fantasize about.
“Eggsy.” It’s a bit choked off, but the man doesn’t mention it, nor does he say anything about how unusual a name it is.
“Thank you again Eggsy. I’m Harry,” he gives a little press on his hand before letting go and Eggsy has to bite back a disappointed groan. “If we like this,” he gives a little shake of his bag, “I’ll probably be back to look at more.”
“I’m usually there all week except on tuesdays.” As soon as the words leaves his mouth, he has to fight the impulse to bash his head against the counter, because really Harry already told him he’s got a partner, there is no point in flirting.
But Harry seems genuinely pleased by that tidbit of information and seriously dimples should be made illegal.
“I’ll keep that in mind. Good evening.”
He’s pretty sure he’s imagining the reluctance in how Harry turns away to leave, or projecting his own wish for him to stay longer on him, but there’s no imagining how Harry looks through the window once he’s outside and meets his gaze one last time before starting to walk away.