Malcolm Mclaren Imagines

Shall We?

I sauntered down from the bus stop, doing my best not to look too upset. My boots make a loud clack on the grimy pavement with each step I take. I kept my hands in the pockets of my jacket as I passed the heaps of black bin bags stacked high. I saw the pink shop front already opened up so I headed inside letting the door fall closed behind me as I made my way inside the graffitied store full of racks and shelves. 'Moonage Daydream' playing from the jukebox in the corner, As I went across the shop floor I undid my jacket and slipped it off hanging it over my arm as I went for the curtain to the back room.

But before my hand even touched the curtain, My path was blocked.

I didn't even want to dignify his nonsense today, but I had to look up at him as he was in my way.

There Malcolm stood, in his usual shoes, black leather trousers, his white sleeveless shirt printed with the cowboys touching tips, his dark curls well tussled. His wrist leant against the doorframe, his hip cocked in the other direction and his hand in his pocket completely blocking the entrance to the shop's back room. He smirked down at me with that knowing grin.

"Problem. Speak."

"I'm not in the mood Malcolm," I glared,

He removed his hand from his pocket and rested his thumb on my chin forcing my eyes to his, "Natty. Speak."

"I don't have a problem," I told him, as I ducked under his arm and headed down the corridor to the back room, but as I hung up my jacket he followed,

"And I can shove my cock up my arse. We both know we're bullshitting. So speak Natty." He says wrapping his arms around me from behind, and giving my body a little sway in his arms,

"Malcolm, I am in the kinda mood where I'm willing to kick you in the nuts."

"There's ever a time you're not willing to kick me in the balls?"

"...True," I sighed, "I'm just really not in a good mood today," I told him shoving him away and heading back to the shop floor letting my red hair loose from the bun,

"And the reason is?" He followed me once more,

"None of ya business," I sighed as I checked the desk for everything,

"Natty, come on." he leant on the desk beside me,

"Will you quit calling me that!" I sighed, "Why do you even call me that anyway?"

"You always try and ask for American Beer, notably Natual light," he explained, "And ... it pisses you off so much when I call you Natty,"

"True," I sighed,

"So, come on. What's making those blue eyes cry?" He tapped my nose,

"You really wanna know?"

"I do,"

"You won't just be a cunt?"

"I won't be a cunt,"

"You are going to at least pretend to give a shit?"

"I will actually give a shit."

"Fine," I sighed, grabbing the letter from my bra and handing it to him before taking some shirts to restock them,

"And for the record, I do give a shit about your problems."

"Do you?" I rasied an eyebrow,

"More than I do anyone else," He shrugged, "May I read?"

"No I handed you a letter from my bra so you could sniff it, Yes you can read it!"

"I mean I'll do both if you let me," He joked before he looked, "... Home Office," He muttered actually reading properly, "Dear Miss Natty," He joked, "we are writing to inform you that the Work and Education Visa you where granted on the 17th of May 1977 is now due to... Expire! ...On the 31st of June 1979. As you are aware if you do not return to your home country, notably The United States of America before midnight on the 31st of June 1979, An official warrant will be out for your arrest. If you proceed to stay beyond your Visa expiration you will face imprisonment, deportation and a one Thousand pound fine! As well as have your potential future Visa's rejected. Thank you have a nice day at the Home office!" He read,