Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You don't find much, rooting through the dumpsters. Nothing useful anyway - though there was the occasional gem you'd come across. Perhaps a near-perfect condition accessory, thrown away for being the wrong shade or saturation, maybe a brand-new toy, cast aside to make time for more pageant rehearsals. Even then, unless you could find a use for it, there wasn't much point keeping it. Not like you could sell it; anyone with the money to take it off your hands would most likely be the type to turn their nose up at anything second-hand.

Ramshackle, what a town.

Even with pathetic odds, some scraps tried their luck anyway, some out of routine. Once you'd gotten the hang of when to duck behind the metal walls, when to remain silent as to not alert any keen passerbys, dumpster diving was a breeze. Such was the case for three scraps in particular, who I won't waste any time introducing. You know em, you love em-

Stone had stayed close to their base, using the excuse that the bin they resided by could always use the double-check. Realistically, all three knew the other was the furthest thing from a morning person. Vinnie didn't mind mornings so much - the evenings had their charm, peaceful and above all else were quiet, but sleeping in had its consequences. 'First come first served' is a motto shared by many challenges out here.

Skipp, quite unlike his friends, adored the early hours. The days where he could peel his eyes open just in time to watch the sun peek above buildings opposite, they made for some of his favourites. It came in handy, a sense of alert arriving early in the day gave him a keen eye when rooting around…or for anything really.

He'd sift through bins that bit faster than the other two, and took his job very seriously. As serious as you can being the personification of ‘go with the flow’. Although, Skipp couldn't help but miss the whole ‘only grab what we can use’ agenda, often raising up random finds to whoever cared to turn his way. Teddies, jackets, plastic bottles…

…and at one point, a dress.

It wasn't in too bad a shape: wrinkled, sure, but no seams had come undone, and the fine fabric hadn't quite worn to the point of roughness yet. Clearly a lootbag’s, though how it ended up being tossed away was a mystery, as most items out here were. The rosy hue stuck out like a sore thumb, especially when grasped in Skipp's debris-covered hands, but it wasn't awful.

Either way, Vinnie sure as hell wasn't wearing it. Something like that, you might as well invest in neon arrows pointing directly at you, spelling thief. Not to mention it was tacky, completely not her style, though for lootbags that may as well be standard. The verdict? “Absolutely not. Thanks, but I like my dignity intact.”

With that, Vinnie continued working through her own pile. It took enough time as-is, not that the intermittent interruptions didn’t make the task more entertaining. Expecting the typical mumble of lighthearted protest, she halted her search to listen out. It was hard enough to hear the guy already, bless his aversion to raised voices.

Figuring she'd simply missed it, Vinnie went about her business, unaware of the way no words were spoken. Nor did she notice how the dress was neatly folded up and placed back in the dumpster, rather than absently tossed to one side. Skipp had no reason to take such care, but a part of him just felt drawn to it. Felt wrong to scrunch it up as it was before, it was a shame so many gorgeous things got discarded so easily.

During his rummage through the rest of the trash heap, he'd catch himself glancing back at where it'd been set down, as if leaving it too long would cause the dress to spontaneously disappear. Even though it'd make no difference if it did. By the end of their looting, Skipp hadn't let the lingering attachment go. As if oblivious to the multiple prompts Vinnie made to ‘get a move on’, he kept staring at the first dumpster he'd attended to, taking a long last look like the decision was life-changing.

Vinnie didn't want it. They didn't know anyone else who would.

No one at all.

Shrugging it off, Skipp went through the motions of patting himself down, making sure his and any permanently-borrowed bearings hadn't been lost, before hopping over to Vinnie's side. His thoughtful expression had begun to fade, not quite leaving when the other began to hesitate.

Not one for hypocrisy, the lad kept any and all comments on needing to skedaddle to himself, rocking on his heels and counting bricks to pass the time. It was an odd spell of silence, birds whistling being all that broke it until an abrupt “Oh, fuck it.”

Seeming somewhat irritated, Vinnie marched herself straight back into the alley they had emerged from. Clicking her tongue, as if that helped any, she glanced around momentarily before reaching up and into one of the dumpsters. The girl's hand re-emerged, clutching the dress in a fist, no longer happily folded up as he'd left it. Leaving no time to question her motives, what even led her to go back in the first place, Vinnie shoved the clothing into her friend's hands.

“There, it's yours. Do what you want with it, weirdo.” She gave a disgruntled huff, or at least that's what it sounded like, and strode onward leaving a very puzzled Skipp to trail after her. He wasn't sure how pleased he was being referred to as a weirdo, intended to be hurtful or not, buuuuut!

On a lighter note, he ended up taking back the dress, for whatever strange reason of his own. Obviously nobody was going to wear it, Vinnie didn't want it, and they didn't know anyone else who would. Maybe he just liked the fabric? The design? The unnecessarily pink theme?

A part of Skipp envied the maidens of Ramshackle. Their outfits always adorned with hats, gloves, jewellery, patterned dresses stitched to perfection with trimmings and ornaments enough to make any tailor drool. The men? They just looked daft, in his oh so humble opinion. Nowhere near as much grace, elegance - Stone leaving most of his old wardrobe behind probably did him a favour 😒 /j

Whatever his brain decided he wanted to do, Skipp had the entire rest of the day to figure it out. Or however long he'd get away with hoarding it. The three of them had agreed a while ago to keep possessions to a minimum; less things to carry made it easier to move should the need arise. Now, he had the time to figure things out, but hadn't quite expected to spend it all on just that. Yes I know the quality is dropping, it's nearly 5am give me a break /j

Staring down at the garment resting in his lap, he could've gone ages without realising Vinnie was inching closer and closer to his face. Something random they'd started, mainly with a shitfaced Stone, testing how far gone he was by how long it'd take for him to swat you away. They're such good friends like that <3

Vinnie didn't need clarification that the other hadn't had anything to drink, never did, instead she was mildly concerned about how distracted Skipp seemed. Hung up on a thought. Deciding to leave beating around the bush for gardeners, she asked him upfront, “Sooooo…what's up? What's bothering Skipp today?”

Pausing, Skipp shook his head, pressing a palm against Vinnie's face and gently pushing her away.

“Oh, nah, it's nothing important. Just-”

Apparently not satisfied with where that answer was going, her eyebrows furrowed slightly. Pinching two fingers together, she pressed them against Skipp's temple, making a noise reminiscent of radio static. “Kshhh, hold on, kshhh, I think I got the wrong signal? I'm looking for the Skipp's worries station. Kshhhh. Is it this one?”

Chuckling, Skipp insisted, “It's fine, honestly-”

“Ah, wrong one. Kshhhh, kshhhhh.”

“Vee, your nails are scratching me.”

“Nope, wrong station again, damn.”

Unsure whether to feel amused or irritated, he moved her hand off of his face, even if she continued cutting him off to mimic static noises. “Alright, okay, please get off.”

Pleased, Vinnie relented, sitting patiently beside her friend. Jokingly pinching her fingers again when a silence started brewing. Huffing a laugh, Skipp didn't make her wait too much longer, lest he become a faulty radio once more /j. “Guess I just…I dunno. Keep thinking about this. I like it.”

“No shit.”

“But, I mean, more than I'd like seeing it on a lootbag? Or on you?”

“Wow, rude.”

“And I figured I just thought it looked cute, or that I could use the fabric for something else…but I'm maybe starting to think that I might…perhaps…possibly wanna wear it myself but of course I couldn't do that cause that'd be weird that's weird I mean you don't see any of those guys wearing skirts...right?”

Fortunately, Vinnie had halted her efforts to pester an answer out of him. Maybe he'd said enough already, maybe he should just stop talking-

Unlike the gentleness he had handled it with earlier on, Skipp gripped the fabric that little bit tighter, continuing his ramble like he'd never get the opportunity to talk again. “And you called me a weirdo and you're probably right because what- what guy in their right mind-”

“Okay, hate to interrupt, but I'm gonna stop you right there.”

Vinnie didn't want it, and they didn't know anyone else who would. Anyone else who should. He should've just thrown it back in the dumpster, grown up and focused on the task at hand, not…whatever this was.

Leaning forward to enter his line of vision, her expression didn't show a single hint of disgust, or irritation. Confusion, maybe, but nothing alarming. That didn't stop Skipp from wanting to sink into the floor and become one with the concrete, though.

“First of all, last I checked, kilts exist.”

“...that's not the same thi-”

“Abababa, I'm talking. I have the talking stick.” Vinnie interrupted, waving a very stickless hand. “Second of all, who gives a damn what you wear and what you don't? We're scraps, just say it's all you could find. Not like the poshies could judge us any more than they already do.”

Which, okay, she had a point, but what about the other scraps they knew? What about Stone?

“I couldn't care less what you throw on. If it makes you happy, and you aren't being suffocated to death by a corset or some shit, then go for it.”

Skipp smiled at that, eyes trailing back down to the slightly dirtied dress still sitting in his arms. Hugging it closer, he glanced back up at Vinnie, who only met him with complete sincerity.

“What if it…doesn't make me happy, and I just look…daft, or something?”

“Maybe you will, maybe you'll look awesome. Don't know until you try.”

Chapter Text

Well, he tried.

He'd left his pants on underneath, clearly visible and bulking up the dress in a way that unfortunately made him look as ridiculous as he'd feared. Not only that, but it was stupidly loose. He didn't want to ask for help, but…

“Hey! You didn't end up actually suffocating, did you?”

“Wh- no???”

“Good good. So are you done, or..? Didn't think it'd be that hard to figure out. Step in, pull up, boom. Dress on.”

Sheepishly peeking around the cardboard wall they'd set up (probably not with an impromptu fashion show in mind), Skipp looked anywhere but where his friend was sitting patiently. Somewhat patiently. “Neither did I. Think the back is broken, it's just open.”

“Broken..? Ohhh, is it like a lace-up?”

“A what-up?”

“Does it have ribbons on the back?”

“...that's what they're for?”

“Judgment retracted. Maybe. About 50%. You're fine, people usually get a hand with doing that up anyway, come here.”

Stepping around the cardboard, he held the front of the dress while Vinnie took the ribbons at the back. She fumbled for a moment, but eventually managed to start threading them through. If Skipp didn't know any better, he'd have thought Vinnie wanted to suffocate him. When he thought it wouldn't get any more tighter, fun fact, it did.

Fortunately, no murders had been planned for today 😔

It was a little tight, but nothing worth throwing it back in the dumpster for. Vinnie took a few steps back, admiring the bow she'd managed to tie the ribbons into, knowing full well it'd probably fall out after a few minutes. Eh, it looked cool.

There weren't any mirrors, or any sort of reflective surface that didn't involve walking out into plain view of a social nightmare, so Skipp had to settle for just looking down, watching the skirt shift every time he moved. It wasn't…horrible, that was good, right?

Honestly, it was growing on him. Definitely not just because he liked watching the skirt poof up when he spun. Definitely not that.

Vinnie left him to it, watching him spin like an idiot for as long as he did, an amused smirk forming on her face. Sure, society's made up rules stated that any men who embraced femininity would fall victim to The StareTM, but come on, look at the lil guy, he's having fun. And since when did they follow rules??? Maybe Skipp, definitely not Vinnie, and neither did Stone…

…where did he go off to, again?

Apparently not far, PLOT CONVENIENT TWIST because I'm too tired to write a good one, their good ol Irish pal had been standing there, just…watching. Confused. Any and all context as dead as the people who got divine judgmented 😔

Skipp had taken a second longer to notice their friend had returned, immediately turning a similar colour to his outfit when he did notice. You remember that feeling of wanting to become one with the concrete, crawl into a hole, all that? Yeah, it's back 💪

Before either of the two could even try to come up with some sort of excuse for…this whole situation, Stone's face scrunched up slightly, looking at Skipp for a very, very long few seconds. “Skipp…really? You're wearing that? What even is that?”

“It's a dress, dipshit.” Vinnie retorted before his comment had even landed with the other.

“I know that.” Stone shot back, as if surprised as to why she didn't seem to agree.

“Then what's the problem? Hm?”

“Vinnie. Vinnie look at him.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” She insisted, folding her arms tightly. If I described it as her saying ‘try me bitch’ without words, does that put the image in your head? /j

Vinnie's eyes darted between Stone and the now fidgety Skipp, as if willing him to just stop. Talking. Already. Stone either didn't get the hint, or just didn't care. “You didn't put him in that, or did you? He chose that dress?”

“Yeeees? I mean, kinda, it was more just something…I…found.” Skipp chimed in, raising a hand slightly. Y'know what? Maybe it was time he stopped talking as well, maybe everyone should stop talking, maybe he should just take the damned thing off and burn it.

At least then his friend wouldn't look at him like that.

Mumbling something under his breath, Stone took a step back, heading back out of the alley and back the way he came. If Vinnie didn't feel like punching him before, she sure as shit did now, not making much progress in that plan before a hand reached her shoulder.

She shook it off.

Despite this, Skipp started talking. “You don't have to worry about him. He'll be back.”

“What? Skipp, that's not-”

“It's fine, Vinnie.”

“No, it's not, I can't believe you're just going to let him-”

“It's fine. Really. I'll take it off.” He shrugged, smile nowhere near as bright as it had been before, but nonetheless following through with what he said he'd do. Shuffling to hide behind the small cardboard wall, he continued, “Shouldn't have put it on in the first place, really. What did I expect?”

Well shit, now she just wanted to punch Stone even more.

Shame, he'd already be too far to catch up to. Waiting a moment to make sure Skipp was fine undoing her shitty bow, Vinnie left the alley. To where? Who knows.

Heaven forbid Skipp find something he likes.

Chapter Text

To skip (hehe, skip) the unnecessarily long description of an alleyway you've probably seen a million times, Skipp was perched against the wall, sitting cross-legged and picking at the loose rocks in the floor. Not much else to do. He had his mandolin, but didn't feel like playing anything. Besides, nobody to listen.

Without anyone else there to keep each other company, it got awfully lonely awfully fast. Skipp didn't miss it.

Hearing a familiar set of footsteps nearing the alley, Skipp had to force himself to not immediately jump up to greet the other. Dude had a dignity to maintain 😌

The sentiment was immediately lost when Stone appeared around the corner, a little different to how he left. His hands and sleeves were scuffed, shards of glass still fluttering down from his arms. His expression didn’t tell Skipp much about what to expect, and although every inch of his being wanted to check in with his friend, look over his hands and face for injury, he wouldn’t make it very far in life if every conflict they had was instantly forgiven.

Returning to pretending the gravel was interesting, he paid Stone no mind, except for the small ‘hello’ and greeting smile that flashed across his face. So, a bit of mind. It wasn’t returned, and Skipp made a mental note to recall just why unconditional kindness was engraved into his brain.

He shouldn’t be dramatic. Stone’s his friend, he probably didn’t mean to be hurtful, even if he was right to look at him the way he did.

Said friend moved further into the alley, standing over Skipp ominously before crouching down to be on his level. You wouldn’t think Skipp was the oldest, would you? Not with Stone’s giraffe looking ass legs /j. Waiting until the other eventually took the hint to meet his eyes, Stone shoved a bag into his arms before standing back up. Any gravel Skipp had been holding was now lost amongst the rest :(

“...what’s this?”

Stone paused, looking at Skipp blankly for a moment before responding, “Bag. Open it.”

“That’s not worrying at all.” Skipp laughed, though he wasn’t really sure what he had to be worried about. There was only so much you could hide in a plastic bag. Glancing back and forth between Stone and the bag, have I said bag enough times, he reached in and quickly pulled out the contents. A lump of fabric.

“There shouldn't be any tears in it, but check anyway.”

“Tears in it..?” Figuring it was some kind of blanket, he lifted it up allowing the item to unfold itself. Instead of a blanket, some random tattered shawl or whatever, the part he held it by was curved slightly. Looking down, it was drawn in at the middle, and when he rotated it in his hands he could see a lot more clearly the sleeves and neck and was he seeing things or did Stone just hand him another version of the thing he’d scowled at him for wearing???

“Figured you'd want something less…bright. Blatantly lootbaggy.” Stone mumbled an explanation, not needing any elaboration on Skipp’s baffled expression. Cliche as it may be, standing out in a place like this - being scraps as they were - wasn’t a great idea. Stone hadn’t been…’new in town’ for as long as the other two, but it had been made clear from day one that any remnants of who he’d once been were better off left behind, he was better off blending in. And I mean, what Stone had walked in on before was obnoxiously bright pink, flowy - it painted a huge target on his friend’s back.

Don’t make yourself obvious. That’s not to say every form of self-expression was off the table.

So, the first one they’d found wasn’t suitable. Solution? Compromise, find something better. Admittedly, Stone could have done with elaborating on such reasoning beforehand, something he could do with practising, but what was done was done. “If you don't like it, I can ju- oookay.”

Remember when I told you how Skipp had been trying his darn hardest to keep composed? Yeah, he failed, miserably. Near enough launching himself at Stone, he wrapped his arms around his friend in a tight grip, forehead pressing against his shoulder. There might have been some relieved tears, but that was neither here nor there. Still having one arm around Stone, Skipp looked back at the outfit in his hands. It was a little shorter in length, skirt pleated rather than one nearly reaching his ankles, and a much calmer maroon.

It kinda matched his beanie. Whether that was intentional, only Stone would know.

“I like it. I really like it.” Skipp beamed, running a thumb over the material and finally releasing his friend from the death grip 😔

Seemingly relieved to hear it, Stone at least hesitated before shoving Skipp off of him. Yippee. “If you’re planning on putting it on, the place I got it from has a decent mirror. You can actually see yourself.”

“I can do!” He hummed, “Brings about the question… where did you get this? Didn’t think you’d find anything like this just lying around.”

“Yes. And also no.”

“...eh?”

Chapter Text

Of course, it was stolen, to no surprise. Skipp wasn’t the biggest fan, never had been, but you do what you gotta do.

The place Stone had mentioned was a relatively out-of-the-way apparel store. The front window had been completely boarded up, but a smaller side window hadn’t received the same treatment, apparently. It was completely shattered, broken glass littering the space outside and across the shop floor. Stepping inside, Stone attempted to brush up some of the glass with his foot before motioning for Skipp to follow.

Looking around at the shop’s wares, the thought briefly popped up that the store owners very much wouldn’t appreciate their store being broken into. I mean. Common sense. Judging by the thick layer of dust blanketing each shelf, a calendar set to the incorrect date, and just the general sense of abandonment, it felt safe to assume they were at the very least on holiday. A really long holiday.

That, or they’d been poofed out of existence with some of the other lootbags. Could’ve been one of the folks he’d struck with his mandolin. Or Vinnie fruit ninja-d, or Stone blew to pieces. Ah, good times.

“Is this where you got your jacket?” Skipp piped up conversationally, as if they weren’t actively breaking and entering. The store had clearly once been some kind of boutique, so it wasn’t too much of a stretch, he thought.

“Hm? No, no this is an old one. I used to come here every now and again, mainly just to resell some of the jewellery. Course, that was when I wasn't so…” He paused, thinking for a moment before gesturing to himself. “...looking like this. And granted, it was a bit more alive the last time I checked.”

Yeah, he believed him.

“Anyway, mirror. Go, look, have fun.” Stone continued, loosely gesturing to the other side of the room. Where he had pointed was, indeed, a full-length mirror, supposedly for guests trying accessories on. And…it was an odd sight.

Not that he didn’t know what he looked like, but reflections from passing windows only really gave you a small…wait for it, wait for it…window of time to take anything in. Now, assuming the store owner didn’t happen to know a necromancer in their time and made their way back, he had all the time in the world. Figuratively.

He did a lil twirl, as one should do upon wearing a dress for the first time /j, not taking his eyes off of his reflection. Admittedly, although the pink was a nice change, this felt much better. Less eyestrainy. Stone kept facing the other way, admiring the suddenly interesting shards of broken glass and scruffy floor. Not that the other needed privacy, but hey, this was his moment. One he didn't really get before, no thanks to him.

And when they made their way back to Vinnie, he was still wearing it.

She seemed pleased to see the two back, even more so that there wasn’t any lingering discomfort or tension whatsoever. Not a strong suit.

It was nice to be back. He’d probably made all of this a much bigger deal in his head than it needed to be, but! It was nice. Knowing Vinnie would stick up for him, knowing Stone genuinely cared and looked out for them. I’m not gonna turn the ending into one massive ‘power of friendship’ deal, but Skipp couldn’t be happier knowing he was surrounded by people (2. 2 people Skipp.) that he really felt safe around. Whatever shenanigans they happened to get into.

…

“...bet Stone just wanted the pink one for himself.”

“Annnnnnd there goes the moment.”

“Love you guys!”