"You should wear them to the auction," Logan decided. He might not feel anything like ready to admit he was even in the vicinity of a closet, much less comeoutof it, but…
If Oz is gonna get bid on, I want him wearing MY sneakers
"Hey Logan," Oz called, turning away from the mirror.
"Yeah?"
Oz looked down at the sneakers for a moment, then over at the rows of figures covering his shelf.
"…You said your shoes were like my collectibles, right?"
"I guess?" Logan answered, uncertain where this was going.
"Well, with some collectibles, they're worth the most when they're new in the box," Oz pieced together slowly. "You take them out, you touch them, you play with them… Their value goes down."
Crud
"…So?" Logan replied, trying to ignore the alarm bells ringing in his head.
"Logan." Oz's eyes narrowed. "How much are these shoes worth mint?"
Not meeting Oz's gaze, Logan answered quietly, "They, uh, usually retail around a hundred and forty nine."
"…And?" Oz asked flatly.
Logan winced. "AndI could probably get six, maybe six fifty, listing them online."
Oz stepped back. "Sixhundredand fifty? Oh, my God."
He sat down quickly on his bed, already yanking at the laces to take them off. Logan immediately covered both of Oz's hands with his own, halting the well-meaning destruction.
"It's fine," Logan said, licking his lips. He moved Oz safely away from the laces, resting their joined hands against Oz's ankles. "You aren't going to mess them up here," Logan…may have lied.
Oz's eyes were wide, jumping rapidly to the sneakers on his feet before searching Logan's face, then back again in a nervous cycle.
"You have me wearing six-hundred-dollar shoes!" Oz complained, to which Logan diplomatically did not correct him about the extra fifty dollars. "That guy just rolled in here andhandedyou six hundred dollar shoes! Wait — " Oz's eyes landed on the stacked boxes in Logan's closet " — are theyallworth that much? Logan, fuck. Just how long have you been a sugar baby?!"
His voice was getting higher, his words coming faster and faster. But damn it — Logan couldn't help but laugh.
"Okay, first: they aren't six hundred — " and fifty, Logan definitely did not add, assuming it would not improve his case " — unless I decide to sell them and can also find a buyer willing to pay that. Most of my other sneakers aren't worth nearly this much — " Logan ignored Oz's squeaked'Most?'" — and… ugh. Second: please don't ever call me a sugar baby again," he finished, wrinkling his nose as a conga line of rattles and diapers danced through his mind.
Oz just stared grimly down at the sneakers. "Fine. You split all the hairs you like. But tell me this: if I'd said yes, if I hadn't asked: how much would these shoes fetch on Monday, if I'd agreed to wear them to tomorrow's auction?"
Logan ducked his head, thumb sweeping little circles over Oz's skin. "…it's fine, don't worry about it."
"Logan." Oz gave an exasperate huff. "Whenever and however I want, right? Then I want you to tell me:how much?"
With a wince, Logan answered. "Maybe a hundred?"
"Logan!"
"Look, I said it's fine, didn't I?" Logan argued, eyes dropping to the sneakers as he remembered Oz admiring them in the mirror's reflection. "Besides, they look good on you."
Real good
"And if people see?" Oz hissed. "Ashton and some of the guys drool over these as much as you do. They're going to notice if we both go stag to a party, and I'm wearing a six-hundred-dollar pair of your shoes."
Fucking yessirthey will, Logan couldn't help but grin, warmth and pride filling his chest at the thought.
