"Eet iz impossible, I will not do eet!"
Gregory sighed, aggravated to the core. If any class Yardale had needed, it was a "How To Teach Frenchman To Brush Their Teeth". Or, especially, bullheaded ones.
"Just try, for goodness sake, it won't kill you!" Gregory huffed with his arms laying across his chest, his right hand holding on tightly to a toothbrush and his left holding onto a tube of toothpaste.
"Get that sheet away from me!" Christophe -more or less known as the mole -said angrily. He was backed against the kitchen sink in Gregory's tight-fitting bathroom. He was only dressed in tan boxers and his regular black t-shirt, having taken a shower to get rid of dried blood only a few minutes before. His usually brown hair was damped black and stuck randomly on his head. His eyes were black as coal and his lips were the color of pink oil.
"No," Gregory replied forcefully, his naked foot tapping on the ground. He, too, only wore his boxers. They were pure white, his t-shirt a stained green sort-of color. His hair was pushed back out of his face to reveal his two perfectly tinted blue eyes and small mouth surrounded with red lips that he almost always caught Christophe staring at. Gregory sighed once more, placing the set of toothbrush and toothpaste on the counter beside where Christophe was sitting, eyeing the boys stained teeth through the small opening of his mouth. "My God, Christophe, don't you ever brush them?" Without a second thought Gregory cupped Christophe's chin with one hand and yanked his mouth open, poking at the teeth within.
"Geet your filthy hands out of my mouth!" Christophe spoke but did not move his hands to stop Gregory from doing so, retreating from battle it seemed.
"I just washed my hands..." Gregory murmured, letting the mole's mouth free as he went to picked up the toothbrush and toothpaste. He squirted a little bit of toothpaste on the bristles and once more opened Christophe's mouth, brushing his teeth as if he was his parent. The brown-haired teen made no attempt to help the blonde in cleansing his mouth, making it take longer than it shoulder have. But when it was done Gregory removed the toothbrush from his mouth and pointed at the sink, "Spit." He ordered, which the mole paused before completing the task.
"I fucking hate you." Christophe mumbled, his mouth resembling a dog with rabies. Gregory noticed this and quickly got a wash-cloth, wetting it and attempting to wipe off the mole's mouth. "Wipe your ass with zat, not my face."
"I'm going to make you sleep on the floor if you don't let me, mole. I won't allow anymore of liquid coming from your body to stain my sheets." Warning him, Gregory lifted his hand once more and started to wipe off his mouth. A minute of silence calmed both of the two's temperamental moods down before one of them spoke.
"Why don't you ever do eet?" Christophe asked suddenly, his cheeks a faint pink under Gregory's wash-cloth.
"Hmm? Do what?" The blonde inquired, not paying attention to the others words completely.
"Kiss me." A smirk tugged at the blonde's lips, but he resisted the urge to laugh out-loud.
"Kiss you? What do you mean, Christophe?"
"You know what ze hell I mean, beetch."
At this Gregory chuckled, pulling the washcloth away from Christophe's face and onto the counter. Hmm, to kiss him or not to kiss him? He seems like he wants it -and he did swallow his pride and ask for it...hmm, seems like a good time. I've waited for this for a while, must be my time finally. But how to proceed...now that's the question -
"Do it now sheet-face, before I knock your head into ze wall." The smirk plastered on Gregory's face only widened at this, and he leaned forward to taste mint and dirt on Christophe's lips.
After this, he was sure to go back and clean the mole's teeth once more.