Mr & Mr Hitman

A Shift for the Hitman

"God damn it. It's too small," Samuel mumbled silently as he dressed in the changing room of Lion's Den's.

It was around nine in the evening, and according to Priscilla, the clients start hustling in at ten. He looked down at the uniform. It consisted of a black suit vest, a dark red long-sleeved buttoned-up shirt, some black slim-fit jeans, and black combat boots.

Everything fitted perfectly except for the shirt. Sam removed the vest, looking at himself in the mirror. The shirt was so small to the point where he was nearly having difficulties breathing.

He felt that the buttons or the fabric itself would pop out or tear if he made even the tiniest movement.

He turned on himself, now admiring his side profile. His biceps were the only positive aspect of the undersized garment. The sleeves were wrapped tightly around his arms, the shapes of the muscles popping out more than they should. Taking the risk of ripping the cloth, he flexed his forearm, a rush of confidence gushing through him.

It wasn't that he was a ripped guy, the shirt was just too tiny.

"I pray to god to erase this sight from my mind," Cameron stood at the door, his eyes fixed on the floor, obliviously avoiding the man in front of him. Then Samuel understood what was wrong.

The younger man was wearing a replica of the shirt, except the size was way larger compared to his body. "This looks like a dress on me," he shook his arms, showing Samuel how baggy the sleeves were.

"You have to eat more man," Samuel chuckled earning a side glare from the man. He never really paid attention to it, but the difference in their sizes was way bigger than what he initially thought. In short, the size of Sam's arm was halfway larger than Cameron's. As for their height, the shorter man's head reached approximately just under the protagonist's chin.

"Spare me the talk. Priscilla just asked me if I wanted to wear heels," the deuteragonist sighed. "I can't help that I take after my mother's height."

He took the shirt off, his pale and delicate chest exposed, feeling a little chill go up to his spine. Repeating his action, Samuel removed it too, handing the garment to the other man. Cameron looked up in shock, his eyes falling on the man's abs, going up to his chest and ending on that cheeky smirk of his. He looked down embarrassedly, "Damn, I have to hit the gym as soon as possible."

Samuel grinned, "I don't mind exposing my lady killer muscles but it's getting cold," he gestured his eyes at the shirt, which was supposed to be his, that Cameron was using to hide his body.

"Yeah, sorry, lady killer man," he finally returned the shirt to Sam, made sure to wear his garment properly and scurried away like he always did.

Shaking his head while letting out a chortle, Samuel exited the room, his uniform now finally worn correctly.

He met Priscilla and Candace in the club. The women's uniform was different compared to the men's. They wore metallic purple shirts that reflected light, and black skirts reaching just above their knees, with honeycomb-patterned tights just under. And to Cameron's grief, they also had combat boots, except with heels.

The building was grand and had three levels. The ground floor was divided into two sections. The bar was on the left side while the dancefloor was on the right. The second floor, called a mezzanine, was designed to cover only the edges of the room, the middle being empty so that people on that floor could see the main hall. It was designed this way so that the dancefloor could be aerated more, and for customers to call for waiters more easily. The final stage was the VIP lounge.

"Drink milk every night," Candace advised, ruffling Cameron's hair.

Samuel just stood, eyeing the other man. Something didn't sit right.

Why did Cameron's attitude change so quickly?

Like sure, that's not a bad thing. But it feels like something happened to him.

Did he realize that it was useless to act against me? Did he just give up building his walls?

"No. His walls are still here, this time stronger than ever," he mumbled to himself.

His logic was: Cameron just went along with everyone so that no one would suspect him.

For whatever reason.

"What are you doing? Talking to yourself?", Priscilla looked him in the eyes.

"Yeah. I was wondering how to keep the girls off me tonight," he smirked, receiving a sarcastic chuckle from the woman.

"Come on. We both know I pull more girls than you will ever," Priscilla shook her head.

"Now, now, who pulls who?" Candace rested her chin on her girlfriend's shoulder.

"Nothing," the older woman averted her gaze, and this amazed Samuel. Priscilla was one of the most fierce women he ever met.

But I guess everyone has a weakness.

But did I?

Family? Dead.

Lover? Inexistent.

Did he have something, or someone, that he wants to protect at all cost?

He turned his gaze to Cameron.

Just what was this feeling?

...

NEXT CHAPTER IS GONNA LEAVE YO MOUTH HANGING.

AND YES I'M DOING THAT THING THAT HOOKS YOU INTO IT.

HAHAHA

YOU CANNOT ESCAPE MY SPELL