Aiba is in the bathroom trying unsuccessfully to recreate his work hair when a loud crash sounds from the kitchen.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” Jun hisses.
Aiba runs around the corner and skids to a halt when he sees the giant dark puddle on the tile floor. Jun looks a little dangerous holding a shard of the broken wine bottle, so Aiba treads lightly.
“Good thing you missed the carpet,” he offers, optimistic.
Jun doesn’t reply, staring down at his splattered designer jeans.
“It’s early,” Aiba says, slowly moving for the broom leaning against the counter. “We could get another bottle…”
“We cannot get another bottle,” Jun replies, jaw set as he prepares to explain to Aiba exactly why this particular bottle of wine cannot be recreated.
Then their eyes lock and Jun laughs.
“I’m not a wild cat,” he says.
“Huh?” Aiba responds, looking from the mess to Jun in disbelief.
“You look fucking terrified.”
“You’re scary!” Aiba insists, picking up the broom.
“We have to get up the liquid first,” Jun sighs, setting the glass in his hand on the counter and grabbing a handful of paper towels.
“I know that,” Aiba huffs, blushing as he sets the broom down. “Let me get this, you go change.”
“Fine.”
Aiba’s surprised at how compliant Jun is, which starts to give him ideas, which makes him much more efficient at cleaning. When he’s finished mopping and sweeping, he finds Jun sitting on his bed in a black dress shirt and boxers.
“I don’t know what to wear now,” Jun admits, exasperated.
“Well, they’re not supposed to start showing up for another hour, right?”
“Right.”
Aiba comes into the room and gently pushes Jun back on the bed.
“You always change right before the party starts, anyway,” he reminds Jun, quickly unbuttoning his shirt.
“You know me so well,” Jun says, sarcastic.
“I do.”
Aiba’s lips move against Jun’s neck when he replies, and he’s absolutely sincere. Jun relaxes, running his fingers through Aiba’s curls.
“How much product did you use?” he demands suddenly, recoiling.
“The stuff in the green jar didn’t make it fluffy so I tried a few others,” Aiba answers, defensive.
“I don’t have ‘a few others,’” Jun says, eyes wide. “What the hell did you put in your hair?!”
A shower and a long session with Jun’s blow-dryer leaves Aiba pouting at straight hair in the hall mirror. Sho arrives first, with a bottle of red wine. During dinner, Jun is glowing as he shares the story of how Aiba managed to completely screw over his perm in one evening. Aiba would worry that his mishaps had a better effect on Jun's mood than his powers of seduction, but Jun’s hand stays on his knee under the table all night.
minor mishaps
---
Aiba is in the bathroom trying unsuccessfully to recreate his work hair when a loud crash sounds from the kitchen.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” Jun hisses.
Aiba runs around the corner and skids to a halt when he sees the giant dark puddle on the tile floor. Jun looks a little dangerous holding a shard of the broken wine bottle, so Aiba treads lightly.
“Good thing you missed the carpet,” he offers, optimistic.
Jun doesn’t reply, staring down at his splattered designer jeans.
“It’s early,” Aiba says, slowly moving for the broom leaning against the counter. “We could get another bottle…”
“We cannot get another bottle,” Jun replies, jaw set as he prepares to explain to Aiba exactly why this particular bottle of wine cannot be recreated.
Then their eyes lock and Jun laughs.
“I’m not a wild cat,” he says.
“Huh?” Aiba responds, looking from the mess to Jun in disbelief.
“You look fucking terrified.”
“You’re scary!” Aiba insists, picking up the broom.
“We have to get up the liquid first,” Jun sighs, setting the glass in his hand on the counter and grabbing a handful of paper towels.
“I know that,” Aiba huffs, blushing as he sets the broom down. “Let me get this, you go change.”
“Fine.”
Aiba’s surprised at how compliant Jun is, which starts to give him ideas, which makes him much more efficient at cleaning. When he’s finished mopping and sweeping, he finds Jun sitting on his bed in a black dress shirt and boxers.
“I don’t know what to wear now,” Jun admits, exasperated.
“Well, they’re not supposed to start showing up for another hour, right?”
“Right.”
Aiba comes into the room and gently pushes Jun back on the bed.
“You always change right before the party starts, anyway,” he reminds Jun, quickly unbuttoning his shirt.
“You know me so well,” Jun says, sarcastic.
“I do.”
Aiba’s lips move against Jun’s neck when he replies, and he’s absolutely sincere. Jun relaxes, running his fingers through Aiba’s curls.
“How much product did you use?” he demands suddenly, recoiling.
“The stuff in the green jar didn’t make it fluffy so I tried a few others,” Aiba answers, defensive.
“I don’t have ‘a few others,’” Jun says, eyes wide. “What the hell did you put in your hair?!”
A shower and a long session with Jun’s blow-dryer leaves Aiba pouting at straight hair in the hall mirror. Sho arrives first, with a bottle of red wine. During dinner, Jun is glowing as he shares the story of how Aiba managed to completely screw over his perm in one evening. Aiba would worry that his mishaps had a better effect on Jun's mood than his powers of seduction, but Jun’s hand stays on his knee under the table all night.