Disclaimer: I don't own.
A/N: Happy Easter, darlings. :)
I've got another one-shot. Get me to 10 reviews on this one and I'll post it up. :D
Ps. I'm sorry if I fail at writing. T_T
Dyed
Summary: Miley and Oliver have some fun with Easter eggs and colourful dye. What could happen? Short one-shot.
Miley Stewart whistled to herself as she stood at the sink, sleeves rolled up and armed with an egg in one hand and a pin in the other. Biting her lip, brow furrowed in concentration she punctured a small hole at the narrower end of the egg, before turning to the other side and puncturing a bigger hole in the wider end.
Satisfied, she put the egg to her mouth and made a small opening with her lips, blowing air.
She carefully placed the egg over the glass bowl she had been working with, allowing the gooey liquid to spill into the bowl.
She was so focused, that she didn't notice the front door open and close, and a figure approaching.
Oliver Oken stood behind her, standing on his toes, grimacing at the sight of her blowing out raw egg.
"That's kinda gross," he commented, placing a hand on her back.
She let out a squeal, and the egg slipped out of her hand, flying into the sink, and ultimately.. Cracking.
"..."
"...Sorry?"
She whirled around, smacking his chest with a surprising force. "Don't do that!"
"Do what?" he asked, confused.
"Don't--" She gestured with her hands. "Sneak up on me!" She pointed accusingly at him. "You made me break an egg."
He resisted to urge to laugh. "..Because.. that would mean the world has ended?" He stared at the various eggs around. "Why are you... Blowing eggs?" He felt his cheeks redden a little at the way that sentence was phrased, but shrugged it off.
"I find it hard to believe that you, Oliver Oken, have never painted eggs before." She wiped her hands on the apron she was wearing. "How could you live without ever doing that at least once?" She mockingly shook her head at him, as if she felt truly sorry.
"You make it sound like I need it to breathe, Miles," he said, following her around the island.
"Help me empty these eggs out," she ordered, pushing a couple towards him. "Lilly's coming soon, and she, unlike you, appreciates the art of egg painting on this beautiful Easter morning."
"Lilly's coming?"
He saw Miley stiffen a little, and turn her body towards him. "Yes, why?" she asked, suspicion poorly disguised in her casual voice.
"Just wonderin'..." he responded slowly, taken aback by her sudden hostility.
"Hmm." A moment of awkward silence passed. "Get to blowing," she commanded, and he looked up to see she had that playful grin on her face as if awkwardness hadn't passed.
He leaned towards her, a smirk on his face. "Blow what?" He made a kissy face at her, laughing at her horrified look.
She picked up the newspaper and smacked him with it. "You're sick!" She grabbed a couple eggs, turning her back to him, but not before he saw a blush rise on her cheeks.
Could she-- Nah.
"Here." She placed an egg up at his mouth, and thrusting a bowl into his stomach.
He grimaced. "Uh. No thanks. I only like putting eggs near my mouth when they're cooked and edible. And besides," he added. "Can't we just buy those eggs that are already painted at the store? I'm sure they'll be prettier--"
"Oliver Oken, are you doubting my art skills?"
"You seem to like my name today," he said cheekily.
She blinked at him blankly, and quickly turned her eyes into a glare.
"Sorry," he apologised.
"Help me and I'll make us cheese omelets."
"Did I say cooked and edible? I meant raw and stomach-ache inducing!"
She grinned.
"Atta boy." As she walked past him, she leaned up, her lips brushing against his ear. "Maybe I'll blow something for you later," came a seductive voice that DEFINITELY did not belong to his best friend. He squeaked, when her hips bumped into his, and whirled to face her incredulously.
She winked at him, a sly smile on her face.
He broke at least 5 eggs, after.
-
He grabbed a pair of googly eyes, and planted them on his coloured egg. "I'm making an Oliver egg," he announced.
She scoffed, shaking her head. "I'm making a Hannah egg," she said, holding up her egg, decked out in a blonde mini wig.
"Is this dye permanent?" They had started painting, as Lilly was late. As usual.
Miley shook her head. "No. Why?"
He dipped his fingers into the liquid and made to stroke his egg, but at the last second, whirled and swiped his fingers quickly across Miley's face.
"OLIVER!"
"You look like you're wearing war paint," he chuckled.
Her eye twitched, and in a flash, she had used her paintbrush to fling some paint at him.
Laughter erupted around the kitchen as the uncompleted eggs lay forgotten and the two teenagers chased each other around, shouts of glee and empty threats ringing about.
"Gahh--" She let out a muffled shout as Oliver pinned her against the kitchen counter, holding her waist firmly while one hand stained with colourful paint wiggled at her threateningly. "Oliver!" she squealed, struggling. "Let me go! Truce! Dangit, boy, truce!"
He placed his hand on the other side of her, successfully pinning her down.
"What would you say if I said I didn't want to?"
A slow smile spread on her face.
"Well, I'd say, make something out of it."
"Like what?"
She responded, by grabbing the front of his shirt, and while she did pull out a chest hair, (again) she had her lips firmly pressed against his, which made up for it entirely.
He staggered back a little, and Miley took control of the situation, backing him up against the island counter instead.
He gladly moved his mouth against hers, elation among the many emotions he was currently experiencing.
He pulled back, and opened his eyes to see her staring back at him, lips pouting and cheeks flushed.
"Oh," he breathed. "Like that."
"Glad you caught on," she teased quietly, releasing his shirt, and smoothing out the crinkles.
"You know," he stated, leaning his head down to slowly kiss her jaw. "You did promise something about a cheese omelet."
She sighed, leaning back and indulging herself in the feel of his lips against her skin. "Sure. Sure," she mumbled dreamily.
"You also did say something about blowing something for me," he said, smiling cheekily against the corner of her mouth.
"Sure, sure," she repeated, the same dreamy tone in her voice.
He pulled, back a satisfied smirk on his face.
A pause, then--
"Oh my God! No! You sicko!" She smacked him. Hard.
"Ow! Miles, you never said anything about abuse!"
She shrugged, pulling him in for another kiss, the two eggs still laying there forgotten.
The moment their lips touched, however, the eggs wobbled a little at the same time, and simultaneously fell towards each other, leaning on each other for support.
"Happy Easter, Oliver."
"Happy Easter, Miley."
--