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❝ We've unintentionally matched our shirts. ❞
YOUGRINNEDTHEmoment you saw Bart's car pull up to your drive-way. With a mumbled goodbye to your mother, you grabbed your bag off the coat hanger, wasting no more time before rushing out the door.
You bounded down the steps to Bart's car, practically skipping, before you found yourself opening the passenger door and sliding in. "Hey." You called and with a wide grin, you leaned over, pressing a kiss to Bart's cheek, completely oblivious to the look on his face as you situated yourself, turning to pull on your seatbelt.
It was then that you noticed the look on Bart's face. With a frown and furrowed brows, you slowly turned back to face him. "bart?" You called, shaking your head in confusion. "What's wrong?"
"Your shirt," he mumbled, pointing at it. With a raised brow, you glanced down at yourself, pulling on the material with a dumbfounded expression.
"Yes," you nodded, utterly baffled. "What about it?"
With a sigh, Bart frowned, "we've unintentionally matched our shirts, again. I refuse to change."
"Oh," you giggled, "that's what you're upset about."
"Yes."
"It's fine," moving back to pull on your seatbelt. "I think it's sort of cu-"
"Change your shirt, Y/N."
Your lips parted, stunned as you turned back around, once again, to face Bart. He stared back at you with the utmost serious expression you'd ever seen on the usually hyper-spazzed boy. For a moment, you just stared at him, wondering if he was actually going to make you change your shirt. It was two minutes later, when bart had yet to back down, you realized, yes, he was going to make you change your shirt.
"Fine," you huffed, dropping your bag to the floor and pushing open the door. Once you were out of the car and on your feet, you slammed the door behind you, glaring at Bart. "You're a child."
"Thank you!" Bart called, a grin falling on his lips.
Five minutes later you were back in the passenger's seat, slightly out of breath as you pulled on your seatbelt. You didn't bother saying hi to Bart, already thoroughly done with his childish behaviour for the day. You expected him to start driving, but he never did and with a huff, you turned to him, eyes narrowed. "What now?"
"Is that my shirt?"
"Yeah," you shrugged, "why? You told me to change, and I did. Can we go now?"
Sputtering, Bart cheeks went red. "I meant change into one of your own shirts! Not one of mine!"
"Listen here, allen," you growled, pointing a finger at him. "You made me change, therefore, I get to wear whatever I want." Bart only pouted, and you grinned. "Think of it as making sure everyone knows i'm yours. No competition."
"The team will make fun of us."
"No, they're going to chastise us for being late," you snarked. "Let's go."
"Fine," bart grumbled, turning on the ignition. "But don't complain to me when you're all embarrassed."
"Don't lie," you smirked, crossing your arms over your chest. "You love it."
Gazing back at you just before he started driving, bart's eyes wandered up and down your upper half before he grinned. "You do look hot."
