AN/.-.
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Title: Cologne
Rate: T for language since I wanted them to argue a lil lol
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Cologne
Aksel grabbed the baby blue towel and scrubbed it up against his wet hair, he just took a bath, which was a difficult choice in the first place since it was raining outside and he didn't feel like freezing any further but decided against idleness. He sighed, thinking it may have been the wrong resolution, after all, the dripping locks brushed uncomfortably on his newly dried neck making him shudder for all the wrong reasons. He spent scouring his hair against the towel for a solid minute and once he felt it was dry enough, he discarded the damp garment on the laundry basket. He then brushed his tresses and grabbed a pair of pants and a comfortable shirt to wrap himself up.
It was a Saturday morning, he could very much do nothing, a concept he knew Jazz had a hard time grasping. Thinking about the short boy, he raised an eyebrow and looked around, where the hell was Jazz anyways? It was not like doing anything on a Saturday morning was some sort of crime or impactful on how lazy and useless one was, right? Unsurprised, Aksel moved his head as he heard shuffling downstairs. Jazz was probably cleaning, doing laundry, or something that wasn't interesting for Aksel.
He dragged himself to the shelf where they kept some of their vanity stuff and pursed his lips, instantly noticing that the thing he was looking for was actually missing. He sighed for the second or third time that morning and hurried downstairs. Of course, Jazz, with a broom in his hand, was cleaning.
"Where the hell is my cologne?"
"How would I fucking know?" Jazz frowned defensively, his expression seemed especially irritated that day.
"Charming of you." Aksel spat out in sarcasm, his eyes rapidly scanned Jazz's worn-out appearance and mused a smirk, he really looked like a housewife right now "looking pretty, sweety." At the new pet-name, he received a rather nasty glare from Jazz.
"Piss off, jackass."
Aksel snorted, he decided to add in mockingly "I love how you speak to me. Chef kiss."
"Fuck if I care." Jazz snarled, "You should help me the fuck up instead of standing there bitching about shit I don't fucking know."
Aksel groaned, still diverted at Jazz's belligerent demeanor "I cleaned, by my own last week." He reminded him, setting his jaw in a teasing light, "Sides, I always cook and wash the dishes, it won't kill you to do this on your own, you know?"
Jazz almost hissed, "Then fucking leave me the fuck alone."
Aksel raised an eyebrow, "Oh? You do seem especially charming today."
"You look especially stupid today, is that any surprise though?"
Aksel squinted his eyes. Maybe Jazz was upset upset "Did I forget anything? Is it your birthday? Is it our anniversary? Are you on your period?"
Jazz gripped the broom harder by the stick, he then smirked venomously, "Ever the romantic, aren't you? Asshole."
"For my lady, of course," Aksel winked, equally as poisonous as his boyfriend "and they say chivalry is dead."
"Fuck off, Aksel." Jazz rolled up his eyes, "I'm trying to have a peaceful morning."
"I was in the mood for that, but you seem bitchier than usual." Aksel closed one eye while he inspected his fuming boyfriend, either Jazz was upset about something he didn't know about (not that rare) or he was hiding something and wanted Aksel to drop any related subject. "Back to what I came for, Nakura Jazz," He pointed, "Where is my goddamned cologne?"
"Don't fucking Nakura-Jazz me, you motherfucking Aksel Naess." He roared, a red flush splashed his face, "Fuck if I care where it is, search up your goddamned ass, I bet it goes inside perfectly well!"
Aksel pushed his eyebrows together, sometimes, loving Jazz was the task of the day.
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Aksel's eyebrow twitched. He closed his eyes and decided that he might as well, start believing in some kind of God, only so he could pray to be granted the slightest bits of patience because damn it, he felt irritated beyond belief at this point. He ever so quietly pushed the doors from his closet shut and puffed out some retained breath. He looked behind him and at the sight of nobody in the room with him, he grunted.
He then walked over the edge of his bed and dramatically threw himself on the neatly made sheets. He blinked once as he laid on his back, watching intently at the ceiling, mentally drifting, trying to imagine a response to the only question that was popping inside his mind. Where were his goddamned shirts?
His eyebrows furrowed again. He had to be more patient and keep quiet before another hell broke loose inside the house. He turned his gaze to the door and his ear perked at the sound of Jazz's footsteps approaching. Right -he assured himself, he almost forgot, his shirts were probably on that damned basket of newly washed clothes. Jazz probably thought they were worth washing even if they were hanging in his closet and not in the dirty clothes basket -he nodded to himself, trying to remain calm. But hell, a tiny voice in his head argued, that was absurd, Jazz wouldn't wash clean clothes, now would he? Also, he didn't use fifteen shirts in the sole course of one week, now did he?
He propped his weight on his elbows at the irrupting click of the door being pushed open. Jazz narrowed his eyes at his sight and lifted his jaw, proudly nagged to say the least. "Was the load big?" He cautiously asked and watched as Jazz stomped his way into the bedroom with a basket full of neatly folded clothes.
"Kind of."
Aksel nodded and a grin tugged the corner of his lips up. If he examined Jazz further than what the short's flashy demeanor permitted him, then he could very well see past his immaculate frown. Was Jazz... feeling mortified? By what and why? He craned his neck slightly to one side and inquired aloud, "Do you need my help, perhaps?"
"No, I'm good."
After looking quietly at his almost permanently angry partner unobtrusively hang in what shirts were supposed to correspond to the closet, he immediately remembered what he was wondering before Jazz ever went inside their room. The train of thought intensified its pace as he allowed his mouth to open in disbelief. Two shirts? Only two shirts came back from the basket full of clothes. He raised an eyebrow as he watched Jazz place every other clothing-piece in their respective drawer, even his formal shirts were clean and back on the wood hangers but, where the hell was the rest of his shirts?
"Uh… Jazz?" he asked in contempt, not that they ever stopped arguing the entire day but Aksel really wanted to have the rest of the Saturday at peace.
"Fucking what?"
He grimaced, "...Where are my shirts?"
"Fuck if I fucking know!"
"I mean, I really don't mind? You take my clothes all the time, I was just wondering where are they if you do have them?"
"I don't."
"You know I don't mean it in a pesky way."
"I said so already. Fucking no!"
Great, Jazz snapped at him –again.
"Ah, come the fuck on!" Aksel this time furrowed his brows and stood up, fully facing Jazz's short form, "What the hell is wrong with you? I am just asking!"
"No!" Jazz growled, "You are accusing me of shit since you fucking woke up!"
"Accusing you of shit?" Aksel's eyes opened wide in surprise "The hell are you even talking about? I just wanted to know if you knew because apparently there is a tiny thieve-mouse that is roaming around without our knowledge and he is stealing all of my things!"
With a deep scowl, Jazz flushed to a cherry shade and dropped the basked indignantly, "you know what? I'm going to sleep in the guest room you fucking fuck. Leave me the fuck alone, I told you already, fuck if I know!"
Aksel was mostly astonished by Jazz's aggressive and unnecessarily vile behavior and only managed to mutter, "Suit yourself."
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Fucking Jazz and his eternal fucking bad mood -Aksel thought. He rolled tiredly over the bed, flashing eyes looking at the clock on the nightstand tick past midnight, Aksel grabbed the comforter and yanked it all the way up, trying to find a good position to sleep in but without the tiny, warm body at his side, he found none. He groaned and sat up. He sighed defeated, maybe he could drag Jazz from downstairs' guest room and make him stay with him. Thinking of which, Aksel didn't understand how the guest room even happened to be a good option for Jazz since he really decided to sleep there instead of simply apologizing to him. Maybe he could make a peace proposal only so they could sleep together.
Why did he put up with that brat?
He silently propped on his feet and winced at the cold surface of the floor. He scratched the back of his neck and after giving it a second and third thought, left the room. He yawned, he felt too sleep-deprived to even turn the lights on. Blindly, Aksel went downstairs and walked down to the further back of the house, past the kitchen where the guest room was closed shut. \
Once outside the basic cedar door, He pondered about knocking but decided against it. He swiftly grabbed the doorknob and twisted it open.
He peeked inside and slowly slid in the room. It was a particularly small room, nothing too fancy but very cozy if Aksel thought about it. Jazz seemed to be fast asleep, a book laid open on his chest and the dim lamp was still on, giving his porcelain skin an ethereal hue and the peaceful image made Aksel's cheeks pick a rosy tone. Who would have imagined such a feral and strong-headed person could look this innocent while sleeping? Aksel couldn't help but soften at the realization.
He moved closer and immediately upon placing the first step, his nose picked a much familiar scent.
Too familiar.
His own cologne.
He sniffed again and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, he really expected the culprit to be Jazz but where and why was he using his cologne on and for? His eyes averted to Jazz's limp hands. Just then it dawned on him about the pile of shirts Jazz was loosely tugging at. He inspected them closer and finally realized it was probably something Jazz hugged for comfort.
It also dawned on him that he was right all along, Jazz wasn't being actually hostile towards him, mostly rather, he was simply embarrassed.
He laughed quietly, he shook his head slightly and sighed. How silly.
He sat on the edge of the bed and reached down, shyly tracing his fingers against Jazz's cheek "Hey," he cooed silently, smiling at the various shirts crumpled together inside of Jazz's sleep-slacked fist, "Jazz, wake up," he repeated, Jazz's fingers twitched responsively around the shirts.
"Hey..." Aksel leaned on close to his lover's sleeping form, watching the tranquil rise and fall of his partner's chest, long lashes dusting delicate cheeks and thick eyebrows frowning lightly, even in a deep slumber-state. Aksel couldn't help but think he was flawless, even with all the hardships that his personality brought, Aksel simply wouldn't change a thing. He gently tapped Jazz's shoulder, "Hey Jazz, wake up."
He leaned closer and brushed his nose on the side of Jazz's head, going further down to plant a soft kiss on Jazz's cheek. He heard a tiny murmur escape Jazz's lips and smiled victoriously, he pressed another close peck to his ear and then another one sweetly pressed on the corner of his mouth, "Wake up, come on."
Jazz's long eyelashes fluttered open and he immediately frowned, he looked up at Aksel and then his eyes roamed to his own hand. He groaned sleepily as he realized he got caught by his grinning lover hovering above "Ugh, fuck! Laugh all you want dipshit, I like how you smell." Jazz confessed in an ashamed mutter, he turned away from Aksel. The alluded smiled and crawled on the bed, forcing their chests to meet. He snuggled down to bury his face between Jazz's ear and shoulder. "Get off!"
"Come on Jazz, I am not upset."
Jazz's blush intensified, "I didn't mean to steal them."
"I know." Aksel murmured, happy that his doubts were wiped out.
"I should have asked, I am sorry." Jazz mumbled back, "I also didn't mean to treat you like that..." he sighed in embarrassment, "I just didn't want you to figure out, it was me..."
"Silly, who else would it be, we are by ourselves here." Aksel snickered, nuzzling at his lover's neck, peppering butterfly kisses here and there.
"I said I am sorry, goddamn it." Jazz growled, eyes already closing pleasingly as Aksel was not so subtly brushing their clothed hips together in a silent agreement of what would happen next.
"I promise I won't mention it." Aksel smiled and nested himself between his legs, hovering close to a flustered Jazz, "But this is the cutest, most stubborn thing I have ever witnessed you doing."
"Shut up. You just said you wouldn't mention it."
"I won't," Aksel whispered and managed to pull Jazz even closer to him, successfully pressing his forehead against his and grabbing both of Jazz's hands to pin them above his head. Jazz's blush was still fevered with shame and mortification and Aksel knew it was cruel of him to mock him but he just had to ask, "Just one question... did you use those shirts for you know... a lil' self-help?"
"Holy fuck, shut up."
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