Honestly, how could that silly elf run around in just a short sleeve shirt? It’s cold out. It’s winter. There’s snow everywhere, the wind cut through his cat suit like it was nothing. Yet Íþróttaálfurinn was doing flips and handstands and all that other ridiculous stuff. Just watching him made Glanni cold. Ugh.
Walking past a boutique, he eyed the mannequins in the window. I mean, it couldn’t hurt to get him one right? Of course not. This was a great plan. All his plans were great.
Entering the small establishment he glanced around looking at the different sweaters, blouses and long sleeve shirts. Obviously he would look great in pink, and of course black. Picking up an atrocious burnt yellow sweater, the colour would look awful on anyone. Picking up a tan long sleeve he scoffed, not hideous enough. Next was a off-orange knit, not comfortable in the slightest, also would probably stretch out in a heartbeat.
With a sigh he tugged the burnt yellow sweater off the rack. Disgusting, perfect. Grabbing a magenta knit in his size he strolled over to the changing rooms and asked to try on the sweaters. Of course the absolute idiots let him in. Slipping the pink sweater on under his cat suit. He exited the room, dismissing the worker. Paying for the disgusting sweater he went to leave the shop. No alarm went off, such a small place having faith in people. Sheesh, he should have stolen both sweaters. Locating the infuriating elf was easy. He followed the sound of children laughing.
“For you,” he threw the bag at the jumping bean.
The elf did a backflip and caught the bag, “What’s this?”
“A sweater, it matches mine,” Glanni unzipped the cat suit slightly to show a hint of magenta underneath.
“That’s really thoughtful Glæpur, you shouldn’t have,” the man pulled the hideous sweater out of the bag and pulled it over his head. As the shorter man fought with the arms of the sweater Glanni stepped into his space. As soon as his dumb face and moustache were free from the fabric Glanni leaned down to kiss Íþróttaálfurinn. Íþrótt’s face flushed, “Not in front of the children Glæpur…”
“I’ll do whatever I want, whenever I want. Including stealing kisses from the local hero,” Glanni leaned down to press another kiss to the elf’s lips.
Íþrótt just sighed, “Thank you for the sweater, it’s nice and cozy.”
“Good, and now the children have a properly dressed role model too,” Glanni smirked pecking him one last time before sauntering off.