quick-change [ ❥ ]

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"I'm gonna kill Street." You groan, ducking your face into the basin to try and wash the remnants of flour off of your face as Deacon laughs behind you. "Seriously, what kind of a man-child starts a food fight in the middle of shift?"

"One that doesn't take losing at boxing very well, apparently." He says, closing his locker and walking over to you. You're still drying your face when he puts a hand on your back, rubbing up and down gently as he smiles at you through the mirror. As you grin up at him, you catch sight of your flour-dusted polo shirt in the mirror and wrinkle your nose at the sight. Deacon sees this, and bumps your shoulder with his arm and holds his hand out to you.

"Here- take one of mine." In his outstretched hand is a shirt, one of his navy-blue workout ones. You arch an eyebrow at him but still take it, swatting at his arm when he grins at you. "You look good in my clothes."

"Jokes on you", you say under your breath as you tug your ruined shirt over your head and fling it into the laundry basket, pulling Deacon's too-large one on in place of it. "I look good in everything."

"Of course you do, honey." He says with a smile, tugging you around to face him so he can fix the collar of your shirt as his eyes flit to yours. "Now, come on- let's head back out there. The last thing I want to do is give Street enough time to think up something else to do."

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