A hissing noise rang out from John's bedroom, and to no one's surprise, it came from John's mouth. His eyes were wide and fearful. Dave sighed. He'd been acting like this for such a long time now, and he really needed to bathe. It was getting disgusting.
"Dude, I don't care what you say anymore, come with me," he said in the nicest voice he could muster without sounding too forceful. "You're all greasy and you smell like fish all the time now."
John hissed and slid himself farther under his bed, "I don't like showers!" Ever since he had become part cat, this had been his new additude. He refused to eat much more than fish, and if not actual fish, then fish flavoured. It was making their shared apartment start to smell weird.
Dave groaned, knowing that he would have to do this the difficult way. He got down on his hands and knees, then his stomach, and started to slide himself under John's bed. He reached out to try to grab him by the arm, but he slipped it back before he could get a hold of it. Dave gave him a 'this is getting old fast' look.
"You're coming with me, whether you like it or not," he growled in annoyance and impatience. Dave slid forwards a bit more and got a good hold on both of his wrists. He began to slide back out from under the bed, while John was dragged along, baring his teeth and kicking his legs in a feeble attempt to get away from him.
"No, no, no, no," John chanted, "I can't go in there! I'll get wet! I don't like getting wet, Dave, stop it!" He looked upset and terrified, but it wasn't like he hadn't been in water before. He had know him long enough to not give the cat-boy everything he wanted if he started whining and hiding from him. In fact, he quite often did the complete opposite of what John wanted when he did that.
"Sorry, dude, but it must be done. You reek and look like shit," Dave said, once he had finally pulled him out from under the bed. He pulled John out the rest of the way and scratched between his two furry, black ears to calm him down. It worked quickly, Dave noted, as he was making a quiet purring noise that he'd have been embarassed to make when he was human. He sighed, "If it makes you feel better," he hesitated, "I'll come in with you. We can just keep out underwear on or something."
John groaned, "It'd be better if I just didn't get wet at all, you know." He avoided looking into Dave's eyes; keeping them glued on his tail, which was swishing back and forth on the hardwood. "But…" he rolled his eyes, looking up at Dave again, "Fine, I guess we can do that, as long as its a short shower, so I don't have to be in there for long."
Dave gave him a rare smile, rather than a smirk, "Finally," feeling pleased with himself. He felt sort of bad for doing this to his best friend, but he had to do what he had to do. And he really had to do it. The blonde boy stood up first, then pulled up John after him, and lead him into the bathroom. He flinched at the sight of the shower. Dave sat him down on the floor near the glass door while Dave turned on the water and made it a nice temperature. When he looked down to tell John to get it, he was pressed against the door.
"For fucksake, man, get it together. It's just water. You'll be just fine," Dave said in an attempt to comfort. When his friend didn't move, he moved for him quickly. He pinned him against the door. "Whether you like it or not, we're going in there. Now either you go in yourself or I'm going to make you."
John shook his head, sliding down, closer to the floor, "I can't do it." He looked around Dave at the now steaming shower, then back up at him. "It's too wet," he complained.
He groaned, running his hands through his hair, "Look, John, you're making this a lot more difficult than it needs to be, so don't get mad at me for this, alright?"
Before he had a chance to reply, Dave had reached down and pulled John's shirt off. He squirmed to get away, but the taller boy wouldn't allow it. He kept one of his hands on his chest while he unbuttoned John's jeans and slid them off. He pushed him towards the door of the shower again, not taking his eyes off of him as he declothed himself. John's eyes were wide, and he looked like he was about to cry. He reached forwards and pulled his square glasses off of his face before taking off his own sunglasses and setting them on the counter.
He opened the shower door and nudged John inside, and he followed. John stuck to the wall, while Dave stood directly in the centre with his eyes closed, letting the warm water embrace him like a liquid blanket. He reopened his eyes again, only to see that John really was crying now. He sighed, "Sorry about this," he appologized before reaching out and pulling him into the water.
John hissed and jumped into his arms; his fingernails digging into his shoulders and back. Dave swore that he bit him too. His whole body was shaking. John was practically climbing up his body, so his legs were wrapped around his wasit, and his arms around his shoulders.
"Stop, dude, seriously, that hurts," Dave whined. In an attempt at comfort, he held him up, so John was sitting on one hand, and the other arm was wrapped around him. "Come on, you're a grown man now, I'm sure that you can stand in the shower without me holding onto you." John's grip merely grew tighter; his sharp fingernails dug deep into his spine. He moved in discomfort, but stopped trying to get him down. He sighed, reaching for the shampoo. Convineiently enough, it was left open, and he could squeeze it directly into John's hair without having to let go. He moved them both out of the direct spray of the showerhead, using the wall to hold John up, so he could lather the shampoo into his hair without difficulty. He used excess shampoo on his hands to scrub down his body. It was pretty filthy from a month of not bathing with anything but his tongue.
John let out a quiet little cry when Dave brought him back into the water, and more tears came out. He reached for the conditioner and did the same again. John, of course, had the same reaction as before. His nails scraped down his shoulder blades painfully, causing him to hiss out in pain. "Dude, calm the fuck down, you're fine," he muttered just loud enough for John to hear, "You're done now."
The cat-boy sniffled, "R-really? I can get out?" John loosed the vise-tight grip he had on his body by a fraction.
Dave sighed, "Yeah, now let go so I can breathe again." He took his own arms off of John and let him get off on his own accord.
John slowly climbed down, though it was really more like sliding down the entire length of his body. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he pressed his back to the shower wall to get out of the water's path as much as possible. Even his tail seemed to be against the wet surface. His sharp, pointed, kanine teeth stuck out of his mouth slightly, and they had dug into his lip so hard that there were puncture wounds.
"Just give me a second, and I'll be done," Dave said as he washed his own hair quickly. He watched John with amusement at his ridiculous behaviour before he turned around and shook his head, smiling a bit, "Little shit."