Sanders Sides One Shots & Shorts

The Devil Wears Prada (An AU)

TW: Swearing/Cursing, Mature themes, some meanness/rude comments, some sexually suggestive comments/actions (That's... new. Never had to tw that before 🤭)
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Date Written: ??? Sometime in February?? Maybe??
Word Count: 5346
POV: Omnipotent Narrator, 1st Person

(ALSO PS I KNOW SOME OF YOU GET NERVOUS TO COMMENT BUT SERIOUSLY YOUR COMMENTS ARE LIKE THE BEST PART OF MY DAY SO IF YOU HAVE A REACTION TO SOMETHING ITS OKAY TO COMMENT okay thanks on with the story :p )

The bathroom is warm and steamy. There's a towel hung over the side of the counter by the simple porcelain sink. The mirror is foggy along the edges, and the medicine cabinet is open, there's two toothbrushes in a holster, each in their own spot. There's toothpaste, combs, razors, lotion and deodorant, all lined up neatly and organized by owner. Somewhere in the background of the smallish bathroom, the stream of water from the shower can be heard turning off. I won't be detailing the visual of the shower, though, as that would be incredibly indiscreet of me. It would be best to wait until the occupant at least wraps himself in a towel.

Alright, he has a towel now. White and plain. It's not overly fuzzy, just your basic towel. Practical. A bare foot steps out onto the bathmat. A nimble hand reaches for a stack of clothes that's folded neatly atop the closed toilet seat.

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While we wait for him to dress, I'll divert your attention over to another young man. He doesn't live in the same apartment as the first one, actually quite the opposite. These two gentlemen, if you could call them that, live in completely different worlds. This other man is also in his bathroom, but it's large, and extravagant. It's all matching striking white, with golden highlights. The sleeves of his designer leather jacket are visible in the vast mirror before him, he's pulling open a drawer that's filled with a chromatic display of what looks to be over forty different lip glosses. He's combing through them, searching for the specific shade he wants. He finds it, a pinky-purple that's shiny against his applicator brush. He carefully applies it, smiling as it pops brightly from his black leather jacket and his tailored skinny jeans.

--

Meanwhile, back in the first bathroom, it's occupant is now dressed. He's wearing a dark grey dress shirt, with a black tie over top, all over black dress pants that are a bit too big for him. But he doesn't pay it much mind. He's got his glasses on now, black and bulky, and he's brushing his teeth. His hair is towelled dry, and begging to be brushed. He's professional and unglamourous. A typical young man, fresh out of college, ready to chase after his dream career. His name is Logan Christie, and an aspiring journalist. He's smart but green, and he's perfectly happy. He also has a job interview in an hour. Logan quickly runs a comb through his hair, glancing over himself quickly before leaving his bathroom.

Logan closes the door behind him, and steps back into the bedroom, to see his boyfriend sitting somewhat upright in bed, reclining in mismatched cotton sheets. He's still wearing an oversized band T-Shirt and his boxers that he slept in. He's got his phone in his hand, scrolling through various social media without much interest. His eyes flick up at the sound of Logan coming back into the room. Virgil smiles at him, "Morning."

"Good morning." Logan returns his smile, and crosses around to the other side of the bed, to where his boyfriend is sitting. He presses a kiss to Virgil's matted bedhead of hair. Virgil hums, and tilts his chin upward, and purses his lips exaggeratedly. Logan shakes his head. "Absolutely not, you haven't brushed your teeth yet."