"Oh, Arrrrtie, would you like to bake cupcakes with me?"

"No."

"Come on~ You'd look so cute in my extra apron~!"

"Nope."

"But, Arrrrtie!"

"For the last time; N. O. No, Oliver!"

"Aw... in that case, would you like to play dress-up with me? I brought Kiku's maid dreeeessss~"

"...*sigh* You won't give up unless I do something with you; will you?"

"Yep~ Now come on, I have a ribbon that'll look just adoooooorable in your hair!"

"Fine..."

Oliver tugged Arthur to his bedroom, eyes sparkling. "What should we dress you in first?..."

Arthur rolled his eyes, giving a defeated sigh, "The one that's the less...frilly."

Oliver pulled out a white and pink frilly apron, all ruffles and bows.

"Tada! Now go get changed~"

Arthur frowned, harshly grabbing the article of clothing and ripping it from Oliver's grasp. As much as he would love to complain, he knew that the strawberry-haired man would probably die his hair a bright neon pink - again - and send a picture to Francis. Slipping into the sickeningly girly piece of clothing, the Brit crinkled his nose in distaste; and to think, the great pirate captain, Arthur 'England' Kirkland...was forced to wear a frilly apron by a psycho with a pink obsession...

Oliver clapped his hands together in amusement. "You look simply adorable!" He picked up a pink ribbon from the vanity behind him. "Now hold still..."

Rose bushes of embarrassment bloomed on Arthur's cheeks as the bow was clipped into his hair. "This is demeaning..." he muttered, bitterly.

Oliver's face lit up. "You are the cuuuuuutest thing, Artie! I have to take a picture." Oliver pulls out his phone before Arthur can blink.

"Say 'cheese'!"

Arthur frowned, "No, Oliver!"

Too late.

FLASH.

Ollie squealed. "You look just diviiiiiine! Your red cheeks and the bow go verrrrrry nice together! I am sending this to Allen, and... What is your America's name? Alfred?"

Arthur's cheeks had just created a new shade of red, clenching a fist, he exclaimed, "You won't send that picture to those bloody idiots!"

Oliver looked up from his phone, a bewildered expression on his face.

"Oops."

The green-eyed Brit growled, lowly; "You're dead." he stated, simply.

Oliver looked sheepish, his cheeks turning a slight crimson. "I don't suppose you'd want to pick something for me to wear, would you?"

A wicked, plotting smirk spread across Arthur's face, his emerald eyes twinkling with mischief, "Oh, that's even better~" he snickered, plot already formulating in his mind.

Oliver whimpered. "As long as it's not...too embarrassing? I do have a reputation to uphold..." He fiddled with his bowtie.

"Of course, of course," Arthur replied, though it wasn't very truthful sounding. He went to the closet, shuffling through the various articles of clothing until he finally pulled out the bane of the pink-lover's nightmares; a gray turtleneck.

Oliver went pale. "B-but...why?" He physically shivered at the sight of the drab piece of clothing.

Swinging the turtleneck back and forth in a slow fashion, Arthur chuckled; "I'm out of my comfort zone, so you have to be too." he practically sang, enjoying this far too much.

Oliver wrapped his arms around his body.

"P-please, anything but that..."

Arthur shoved the shirt into Oliver's hands, "It's either this or another costume much more embarrassing." he threatened, "And I'll get to send that one."

Oliver started mumbling to himself before asking; "What's the other costume?" He was almost afraid to hear.

"A nice little dog suit, then I drop you off at Francois' place. You'd be his little pet."

Oliver actually considered the possibility, then decided against it.

"F-fine. Do I have to wear jeans with it, too?"

Arthur nodded, "They're in the closet still."

Oliver walked to the closet as grimly as if he was walking to his deathbed.

"I...I..."

"Chop, chop; the quicker you do it is the quicker it's over with." Arthur smirked.

"Oh, you do not want to talk to me about chopping right now." Oliver muttered as he pulled off his sweater vest and pulled on the turtleneck.

"Especially since you haven't brushed your hair today." He added.

"Shut up." Arthur snapped, smoothing down his hair the tiniest bit.

Oliver grinned and mimed snipping motions with his fingers. "You're still sore about that time with Francis, aren't you, Artie?" He pulled on the turtleneck, and muttered something unintelligible.

"Of course I am!" Arthur blushed, face comparable to the tomatoes Antonio and Lovino grew in their garden, "The bloody frog..."

"Aw, poor poppet." Oliver remarked, slowly adjusting to the length of the turtleneck. "It would be a shame if somebody attacked your hair tonight, wouldn't it?" He scratched his neck. "This thing itches." He added.

Arthur rolled his eyes with a huff, tugging at the bow in his hair, "Well, it'd be such a loss if a certain someone lost their favorite frostings, wouldn't it?" he asked, grumbling something about the irritating bow under his breath afterwards.

Oliver narrowed his eyes and pulled on the jeans. "You play dirty, don't you?" Then he smiled. "The thing is, frostings can be replaced in an instant."

"Hm...fair point," Arthur said, "But...your own hair can't." he added with a nonchalant shrug.

Oliver smiled, the contrast between his pink hair, blue eyes, and grey clothing bright. "You are a clever one, Artie dear." He fingered the itchy wool clothing with disgust. "I wish that that mop of hair of yours and those boring plaid suits wouldn't hide it."

Arthur snorted, "You have the same 'mop of hair' Oliver." he huffed, irritated.

"The difference is, I actually bother to take care of mine." Oliver smirked. "Take a picture if you wish, it will last longer."

"I do take care of it, Oliver!" Arthur scoffed; as much as he would like to seem the tiniest bit intimidating, the apron prevented that dream from becoming even close to a reality.

Oliver snickered. "Yes, of course, that rat's nest look is absolutely on purpose." He smooths his own hair down and looks at his outfit. "This actually doesn't look half that bad. Needs a bit of color, though. A nice pink-"

Arthur cut him off, "Then it wouldn't be gray..." although, he had to admit to himself...the apron was starting to grow on him the tiniest bit...it would be better without the bow in his hair, or missing some of the frills on it...

"-I was going to say bow tie." Oliver grumbled. "Yes, a pink bow tie would set the whole thing off quite nicely." He looked Oliver up and down. "You can take it off now. I've had my fun. I wish mine wasn't so itchy, or I'd keep mine on too."

Arthur sighed, sounding relieved, as he took off the apron. Unclipping the bow from his hair, he stared at it; it was pink...Arthur walked over to Oliver.

"A-artie? You aren't going to slap me, are you?" Oliver whimpered. "It-It's the only bow I have, I swear! Please don't be mad..."

Another sigh passed the Brit's lips, staring into the other's blue eyes with his own green; something was clipped onto Oliver's turtleneck, and Arthur slipped out of the room, hands no longer holding what they once did.

Oliver fingered the clip-on bow tie on his neck. "O-oh..."