A Pinch of Sugar | ( unita speciale x Fem!Reader)

16- Odd

You are not into drugs, you are not into drugs, you are not into drugs. 

You are not into drugs, and yet, what you're looking at is probably no different than what you would see if you took acid. You swear you're hallucinating when you see Doppio, Doppio Vinegar, your superior, in a skirt.

A skirt? Yeah, a skirt, one of your skirts. Just standing in front of the common bathroom's mirror, admiring its folds and the way it fluttered as he twisted side to side-- It looked like he was pretty into it, his repressed smile coming out crooked as he turned to look at it from behind.

Only, when he did turn, he finally caught sight of you in the doorway. Mouth agape. Eyes frozen open. Now, you were his mirror, reflecting the same petrified face as he, only he happened to act quicker than you.

In one quick movement, the door to the bathroom was slammed shut, nearly taking your fingers with it if you hadn't moved. Did you see that right? Was Doppio-

Nope. Couldn't have been. You must've tripped and fell into some cocaine earlier, definitely. You probably had a powdered mustache, evidence smeared on your upper lip as proof of your hallucination, because this is not happening.

"Sir? Are you alright?" Your voice was barely anything more than a strained whisper. Do you apologize? Laugh? Comfort him? What do you even do in a situation like this?

You hadn't seen Doppio make an appearance for weeks, and this is the first thing you see when you happen to find him again? Absolutely, you must've seen wrong.

"Hello?"

No sound came from beyond the door, nothing other than the slight click of the lock.

"Sir-?"
"I didn't, I didn't mean to-- (Y/n), I'm sorry! I'm super sorry!" 

Of course, being caught in something he'd typically never wear was embarrassing, so mumbled, panicked speech was to be expected; however, he was so flustered, in fact, you could barely tell what he was saying. Filling in the blanks, you pretended you understood the majority of the word vomit that left his mouth.

"I was dropping papers to Cioccolatas office and found it on his desk, and-- No, I didn't, it was in my office and then I was messing around-- No! Squalo gave it to me-!"

You didn't want to know which one of those excuses was the truth. "Sir, please, it's not that big of a deal, I don't mind."

Yes you did. You did mind, a lot, actually. Not that he was wearing a skirt, but that he'd done it when everyone was supposed to be away, because it was noticeably yours. 

"No, uhm-- I'm drunk! Yeah, a whole lot! A whole bottle of- of something, all gone!"

"Sir, I assure you, I'm not upset. I actually think it looks good on you!" You hoped your forced positivity didn't make itself too obvious. "In fact, I have a couple others you should try instead, if you'd like! So could you open the door please? So we can talk about this?"

No sound came from inside the bathroom, and you're afraid you might have done too much. He probably thinks you're humiliating him, trying to drag out his little show so you can laugh longer.

Nevertheless, the tell-tale click of the doorknob told you of its access, and with almost unwilling movements for fear of what may lie beyond, you wrapped your fingers around the knob, "I'm coming in.."

The sight didn't change, and the theory that you were violently high was thrown out the window (Unfortunately)

Doppio stood in the corner of the cramped space, which was probably no bigger than a closet, with his head sunk to the floor. Bubblegum eyebrows were upturned and a frown dragged at quivering lips, pale hands wrung themselves out as the ends of pierced ears burned bright red.