fic: you don't have to put on the red light, part 2
Title: you don't have to put on the red light
Part 2: arrangement
Author: she_burns1
Pairing: Bret/Jemaine
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Bret hires Jemaine to be his ‘companion’.
Disclaimer: I do not owns the ‘Flight of the Conchords’ or anything connected with them.
Spoilers: SS2 ‘A New Cup’ and 'Friends' - though nothing too spoilery.
Warnings: crack!Jemaine!prostitue!fic
Notes: The tameness continues!
Back to Part 1
“I’m not going to pay you ten dollars a hug!”
“Aw! Why not?”
Bret crossed his arms and looked very sterenly at Jemaine over his ceral, “If I pay you ten dollars a hug. that’s only 10 hugs, that’s a rip-off.”
“Not if you manage them right! And it is not a rip off! It isn’t! That’s a good going rate for hugs! Most prostitues would charge you twenty for that, I’m doing it for half price.”
“Can’t be half price, you asked Carol for forty dollars per…um…for, you know, each time you, slept together, so-” Bret’s voice gradually grew quieter and quieter with each word.
“That was different, that was,” Jemaine’s face grew warmer as the conversation went down this stranger avenue. They had started the day off early, discussing fees for services Jemaine would provide Bret. Jemaine had all ready started locking down, what he felt, were good prices in his head last night as he had been getting ready for bed, so he had been quite surprised to Bret’s opposition on almost every price he had named.
First Bret objected to three dollars and fifty cents for hand holding and Jemaine had let him haggle it down to a dollar fifty (which had been quite a wrench for him), then they had agreed that five dollars was a good price for Jemaine’s playing with Bret’s hair - Jemaine hadn’t known why Bret had wanted that particular thing, but it had been brought up with great embarrassment on both of their parts and quickly settled the same.
Then came the closer, more prologned, contacts - sitting close together on the couch and hugging and so forth. Neither of them had even breathed a word about anything remotely sexual until Carol had come up, because, frankly, neither one wanted to.
Hand holding and hugging were one thing, but, what Jemaine had done with Carol was another. They would not be kissing and they would certainly not be sleeping together.
Bret may have agreed to buy Jemaine but he was buying him as a companion not as a prostitue. This was an unspoken understanding between the two of them. At least, Jemaine had thought it was until Bret had brought Carol up.
He shifted about in his seat, looking down at his tea, “Bret…you…um…you don’t want…anything too…”
“No, no.” Bret said quickly.
Jemaine let out a huge sigh of relief, “Good, good.”
“I just…I brought it up as…to compare. And contrast. To compare and contrast your…pricing. Just…doesn’t seem fair.”
“Well, how much do you want to pay for hugs?”
“Five.”
“Five?”
“Yeah, five. That’s good, right?”
“Okay, well, I just need a mintue to get over that.”
“Over what?”
“That insult.”
Bret gasped, shocked, “That’s not insulting!”
“It is insulting. My hugs are worth way more than that! Five dollars is all ready how much you’re spending on, um, your hair…thing…so-”
Bret flushed at that, “I just, Coco used to play with my hair. It was nice…soothing…”
“Yes, right,” Jemaine added ‘weird’ lightly beneath his breath, hoping Bret wouldn’t catch it, but unfortunately he did.
Bret narrowed his eyes at Jemaine, “You know, maybe this was a bad idea-”
“No, no,” Jemaine quickly waved this off, because last night, after thinking up his pricing plan, he had fallen asleep to the idea of him, with his well earned hundred dollars, in a bar surrounded by beautiful women, “No, Bret, it’s not, it’s…look, how about seven.”
“Seven?”
“Yeah.”
“Hmm…six?”
“Six dollars and ninety-nine cents.”
“That’s pretty much seven.”
Jemaine hissed, upset to be caught, as he had hoped that would go over Bret’s head, “Yes, right…”
“Six dollars and seventy-five cents?”
“Done.”
“Good. Shake?” Bret asked and the two shook hands as they had done upon each agreed price.
“So…I think we got it all, right? Hugging, hand holding, resting-”
“Resting?”
“Yes, Bret, you know ‘resting’.” Jemaine said this word with some emphasis. Both Bret and Jemaine had, again with much embarrassment, worked around snuggling. Neither one wanted to use that particular word, and had settled on ‘resting’ deciding that this word was nicely neutral.
“Oh! Yes, resting.”
“Your weird hair thing-”
“It’s not weird!”
Jemaine ignored him, “Sitting proximities, standing proximities, and casual touches…think that covers everything, right?”
Bret went over all of it in his head, eyes rolled up in thought, “Yeah…think that’s it.”
Jemaine let out a sigh, “Okay, good, so…what else we got going on today?”
“Dunno. Band meeting?”
“Yeah, at three. You notice how Murray has us coming over every day now?”
Bret shrugged, “Maybe he’s lonely.”
“Yeah, but Bret he’s been lonely since we’ve met him and he hasn’t been this…clingy.”
“Well, he’s also been fighting with Jim.”
“Jim? Who’s Jim?”
“Murray’s friend,” Jemaine still looked lost so Bret continued, “You know, you called him a dick-”
Jemaine squinted, thinking back and then it came to him, “Oh, him, well I didn’t really call him a - huh - so, fighting with Murray?”
“Mmm,” Bret murmured, focused again on his cereal.
“What about?”
“Hmm?”
“What are they fighting about?” Jemaine pressed, curious about this new piece of gossip.
Bret shrugged again, “Jim knitted him something and I don’t think Murray liked it. I think it made him feel funny or something. I wasn’t really paying too much attention when he was talking to me, but, think it was something like that.”
“Huh.”
“Yeah, so, they’re not speaking right now. Figures. Weaving is better than knitting,” Bret added this last part almost viciously as he ate another big spoonful of cereal.
“Yeah,” Jemaine said absently, “And Jim is a dick.”
Bret finished the last of his cereal and rose from the kitchen table. He rinsed out the bowl in the sink, and, without looking at Jemaine, cleared his throat, “So, um, now that we’ve got…our arrangement settled. Do you…you think maybe I could…make a purchase.”
Jemaine leaned back in his seat, brow knitted, “What?”
“I, um, kind of wanted…maybe…you know, we, we could sit on the couch. Watch some TV…and you could…maybe…play with my hair a bit?” Bret only managed to get through this by focusing most of his attention solely on rinsing out a bowl that was, by now, all ready clean.
Jemaine licked his lips, nervous. He scratched at the back of his neck, “Yeah, um, okay. But, you know, I ask my clients to shower first.”
Bret reared back a bit, confused as he finally turned off the water and abandoned the bowl, “Shower?”
“Yes.”
“Well…okay. Is…is a bath all right?”
Jemaine let out a noise of sufferance, arms crossing, “I suppose.”
Bret brightened, “Okay. Be back in a bit.”
88888888888
“You’re terrible at this.” Bret complained as Jemaine tugged half-heartedly at his hair.
“I am not.” Jemaine said firmly.
“You are. You’re just yanking it.” Bret muttered. They sat next to each other on the couch, the television droning on in front of them.
“Well, it’s…the angle’s weird.”
“You think it’d be better from a different angle?”
Jemaine merely muttered something inaudible under his breath and continued running his hands unenthusiastically through Bret’s hair. This continued for a few more moments in silence until Bret let out a yelp and turned accusingly on Jemaine, “Did you just pull some of my hair out?”
Jemaine rolled his eyes, “No! I didn’t! It’s…just, my hand got stuck, had to pull it out-”
“Yeah, well, you didn’t have to pull out my hair with it!”
“It couldn’t be helped! Your hair is curly! I was worried I’d never get my hand out!”
“Do I have a bald spot now?”
“No, Bret, don’t be ridiculous. At most you lost maybe, three strands.”
“Three strands!”
“Yes.”
“Right, well, you’re not getting paid.”
“What? I played with your hair!”
“Yeah, for less than five minutes. And you did a lousy job of it. I’m not paying you for a lousy job!”
“It wasn’t lousy!”
“Jemaine, I just lost three strands of hair because of you, three strands I won’t ever get back!”
“They’ll grow back,” Jemaine muttered under his breath, crossing his arms and looking very put out.
There was a heated bit of silence as both had had their feelings hurt by the other and neither was really up for talking yet. Jemaine relented first, “’S just…I’ve never…played with someone’s hair before. None of my other clients wanted me to play with their hair. They wanted me to play with their boobies and boobies are different from hair-”
“Not if they’re hairy boobies,” Bret pointed out and they both recoiled at the image this idea brought up. Bret spoke again just to help shoo the image along, “Besides, you didn’t have any other clients.”
“That’s not true!”
“Jemaine, you never got paid by that woman in the hotel, so-”
“I had other clients! Plenty of other clients! I just didn’t tell you about them.”
“Really?” Bret asked.
“Sure.” Jemaine lied, “I just…I wanted to protect you from that sort of thing. You're kind of naïve, Bret.”
“I am not.”
“You are. You’re like…innocent, like a newborn fawn or something-”
“You mean like Bambi?”
“Who?”
“Bambi, from Disney.”
“Yes, like Bambi and I’m like, you know, the Mother, trying to protect you from the outside world.”
Bret looked startled, “Not the Mother!”
Jemaine’s eyes narrowed as he searched his memory for what happened in the movie and when he did remember he suddenly sobered up, looking a bit tearful, “Oh. Well. Maybe not her.”
“That movie’s terrible.” Bret breathed, looking a bit teary himself.
“Dunno. Like the scene on the frozen pond. You know, with the other cute little animals.”
Bret wiped a hand at his face, pushing away tears that had attempted to come at the memory of Bambi’s unfortunate mother. He recalled the pond scene and grinned, “Yeah. You can be Thumper. If you want.”
“Thumper? Really?”
“Sure. He’s Bambi’s best friend.” Bret said brightly, enjoying this conversation. He loved animals, even animated ones.
“That works then,” Jemaine agreed and Bret smiled at him, everything right with the world again.
Bret suddenly had an idea and said as casually as he could manage, “I could, I mean, maybe…I’ve played with hair before…like Coco’s…maybe I could…you know, show you how.”
“Show me?”
“Yeah,” Bret said and he went to the far end of the couch, leaning back against it, “Here, lay, um, lay back against me.”
Jemaine raised an eyebrow, “You want me to lay on you?”
“Yeah, this should get the, um, the angle right.”
“But, if I lay on you, won’t that be, um, sort of…gay.”
Bret sighed, annoyed, “No. Not really. ‘Sides, this is the only way it’s going to work, I think. And if you want to learn how to do this and earn your five dollars-”
“Ah, yes, you’re right.” Jemaine conceded, and, with some humility, he arranged himself on the couch until his back rested on Bret’s chest, his head a bit against Bret’s shoulder.
The position wasn’t entirely uncomfortable and the longer Jemaine lay there, the less awkward it became. Bret helped by talking, “Okay, good, now, see, you just run your fingers through the hair, like this.”
Bret began gently combing his fingers through Jemaine’s hair, massaging his scalp lightly. Considering he cut Jemaine’s hair, this wasn’t an entirely new experience for him. The only difference now was that instead of sort of moving through the motions, he was taking his time.
His hands carded through Jemaine’s hair and for the first time he really noticed how thick and soft Jemaine’s hair was. It felt nice, flowing under his hands, the individual strands sort of tickling his palms and as he went about the task he found he rather enjoyed it.
He looked down at the top of Jemaine’s head and watched the hair move about. He could see a variety of colors in the dark strands - black and brown and blue…or at least he thought he saw those colors. He closed one eye to see if this narrowed things down a bit.
Jemaine, for his part, was finding this to be more enjoyable than he would have thought. The more Bret played with his hair, the more relaxed he became and he found he now understood why this was something Bret had wanted. No one had really played with Jemaine’s hair before and he found the experience to be very pleasing. In fact, in between Bret’s fingers moving through his hair and the heat of Bret’s body along his back he found himself growing drowsy.
Bret himself got sort of lost in playing with Jemaine’s hair and found he liked the weight of another body pressed back against him. The day was warm again outside the apartment, heating up the tiny room they were in and Bret found his eyelids growing heavy.
88888888888
“Bret.”
The voice was quiet, whispery, and Bret only let out a sleepy mumble.
“Bret, wake up.”
Bret blinked a few times and licked his lips sleepily, “Mmm?”
“Bret, wake up, we’ve got to get to our band meeting.”
Bret took in a deep breath and came more into wakefulness. Jemaine’s body was still on top of Bret’s but he had turned slightly now, his face near Bret’s. Bret’s tired mind scrambled to remember why Jemaine was so close and once he remembered he blushed, “We fall asleep?”
“Yeah,” Jemaine said, looking a bit shy, “Um, you did a good job. With the hair. Think I know how to do it now.”
“Good. Good.”
There was a hot pocket of silence and Bret’s blush grew worse as he said softly, “Jemaine?”
“Yes, Bret?’
“Do you…want to get off me now?”
“Hmm? Oh! Yes! ‘Course,” Jemaine sort of fumbled about until his body was off of Bret’s. Bret stood up and fixed his rumpled clothes a bit sheepishly. Then he looked at Jemaine again and laughed. Jemaine frowned, “What’s so funny?”
“I hadn’t noticed, um, Jemaine, you, your hair…’s bit crazy.”
“What?” Jemaine breathed and went to the bathroom to look in the mirror. Jemaine’s hair was indeed a bit crazy. Disheveled and sticking out every which way. Jemaine clucked his tongue and looked about for a comb.
Once it was fixed he met Bret at the front door, “You ready?”
“Yeah. You?”
Jemaine nodded and they headed out.
On to Part 3
Part 2: arrangement
Author: she_burns1
Pairing: Bret/Jemaine
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Bret hires Jemaine to be his ‘companion’.
Disclaimer: I do not owns the ‘Flight of the Conchords’ or anything connected with them.
Spoilers: SS2 ‘A New Cup’ and 'Friends' - though nothing too spoilery.
Warnings: crack!Jemaine!prostitue!fic
Notes: The tameness continues!
Back to Part 1
“I’m not going to pay you ten dollars a hug!”
“Aw! Why not?”
Bret crossed his arms and looked very sterenly at Jemaine over his ceral, “If I pay you ten dollars a hug. that’s only 10 hugs, that’s a rip-off.”
“Not if you manage them right! And it is not a rip off! It isn’t! That’s a good going rate for hugs! Most prostitues would charge you twenty for that, I’m doing it for half price.”
“Can’t be half price, you asked Carol for forty dollars per…um…for, you know, each time you, slept together, so-” Bret’s voice gradually grew quieter and quieter with each word.
“That was different, that was,” Jemaine’s face grew warmer as the conversation went down this stranger avenue. They had started the day off early, discussing fees for services Jemaine would provide Bret. Jemaine had all ready started locking down, what he felt, were good prices in his head last night as he had been getting ready for bed, so he had been quite surprised to Bret’s opposition on almost every price he had named.
First Bret objected to three dollars and fifty cents for hand holding and Jemaine had let him haggle it down to a dollar fifty (which had been quite a wrench for him), then they had agreed that five dollars was a good price for Jemaine’s playing with Bret’s hair - Jemaine hadn’t known why Bret had wanted that particular thing, but it had been brought up with great embarrassment on both of their parts and quickly settled the same.
Then came the closer, more prologned, contacts - sitting close together on the couch and hugging and so forth. Neither of them had even breathed a word about anything remotely sexual until Carol had come up, because, frankly, neither one wanted to.
Hand holding and hugging were one thing, but, what Jemaine had done with Carol was another. They would not be kissing and they would certainly not be sleeping together.
Bret may have agreed to buy Jemaine but he was buying him as a companion not as a prostitue. This was an unspoken understanding between the two of them. At least, Jemaine had thought it was until Bret had brought Carol up.
He shifted about in his seat, looking down at his tea, “Bret…you…um…you don’t want…anything too…”
“No, no.” Bret said quickly.
Jemaine let out a huge sigh of relief, “Good, good.”
“I just…I brought it up as…to compare. And contrast. To compare and contrast your…pricing. Just…doesn’t seem fair.”
“Well, how much do you want to pay for hugs?”
“Five.”
“Five?”
“Yeah, five. That’s good, right?”
“Okay, well, I just need a mintue to get over that.”
“Over what?”
“That insult.”
Bret gasped, shocked, “That’s not insulting!”
“It is insulting. My hugs are worth way more than that! Five dollars is all ready how much you’re spending on, um, your hair…thing…so-”
Bret flushed at that, “I just, Coco used to play with my hair. It was nice…soothing…”
“Yes, right,” Jemaine added ‘weird’ lightly beneath his breath, hoping Bret wouldn’t catch it, but unfortunately he did.
Bret narrowed his eyes at Jemaine, “You know, maybe this was a bad idea-”
“No, no,” Jemaine quickly waved this off, because last night, after thinking up his pricing plan, he had fallen asleep to the idea of him, with his well earned hundred dollars, in a bar surrounded by beautiful women, “No, Bret, it’s not, it’s…look, how about seven.”
“Seven?”
“Yeah.”
“Hmm…six?”
“Six dollars and ninety-nine cents.”
“That’s pretty much seven.”
Jemaine hissed, upset to be caught, as he had hoped that would go over Bret’s head, “Yes, right…”
“Six dollars and seventy-five cents?”
“Done.”
“Good. Shake?” Bret asked and the two shook hands as they had done upon each agreed price.
“So…I think we got it all, right? Hugging, hand holding, resting-”
“Resting?”
“Yes, Bret, you know ‘resting’.” Jemaine said this word with some emphasis. Both Bret and Jemaine had, again with much embarrassment, worked around snuggling. Neither one wanted to use that particular word, and had settled on ‘resting’ deciding that this word was nicely neutral.
“Oh! Yes, resting.”
“Your weird hair thing-”
“It’s not weird!”
Jemaine ignored him, “Sitting proximities, standing proximities, and casual touches…think that covers everything, right?”
Bret went over all of it in his head, eyes rolled up in thought, “Yeah…think that’s it.”
Jemaine let out a sigh, “Okay, good, so…what else we got going on today?”
“Dunno. Band meeting?”
“Yeah, at three. You notice how Murray has us coming over every day now?”
Bret shrugged, “Maybe he’s lonely.”
“Yeah, but Bret he’s been lonely since we’ve met him and he hasn’t been this…clingy.”
“Well, he’s also been fighting with Jim.”
“Jim? Who’s Jim?”
“Murray’s friend,” Jemaine still looked lost so Bret continued, “You know, you called him a dick-”
Jemaine squinted, thinking back and then it came to him, “Oh, him, well I didn’t really call him a - huh - so, fighting with Murray?”
“Mmm,” Bret murmured, focused again on his cereal.
“What about?”
“Hmm?”
“What are they fighting about?” Jemaine pressed, curious about this new piece of gossip.
Bret shrugged again, “Jim knitted him something and I don’t think Murray liked it. I think it made him feel funny or something. I wasn’t really paying too much attention when he was talking to me, but, think it was something like that.”
“Huh.”
“Yeah, so, they’re not speaking right now. Figures. Weaving is better than knitting,” Bret added this last part almost viciously as he ate another big spoonful of cereal.
“Yeah,” Jemaine said absently, “And Jim is a dick.”
Bret finished the last of his cereal and rose from the kitchen table. He rinsed out the bowl in the sink, and, without looking at Jemaine, cleared his throat, “So, um, now that we’ve got…our arrangement settled. Do you…you think maybe I could…make a purchase.”
Jemaine leaned back in his seat, brow knitted, “What?”
“I, um, kind of wanted…maybe…you know, we, we could sit on the couch. Watch some TV…and you could…maybe…play with my hair a bit?” Bret only managed to get through this by focusing most of his attention solely on rinsing out a bowl that was, by now, all ready clean.
Jemaine licked his lips, nervous. He scratched at the back of his neck, “Yeah, um, okay. But, you know, I ask my clients to shower first.”
Bret reared back a bit, confused as he finally turned off the water and abandoned the bowl, “Shower?”
“Yes.”
“Well…okay. Is…is a bath all right?”
Jemaine let out a noise of sufferance, arms crossing, “I suppose.”
Bret brightened, “Okay. Be back in a bit.”
88888888888
“You’re terrible at this.” Bret complained as Jemaine tugged half-heartedly at his hair.
“I am not.” Jemaine said firmly.
“You are. You’re just yanking it.” Bret muttered. They sat next to each other on the couch, the television droning on in front of them.
“Well, it’s…the angle’s weird.”
“You think it’d be better from a different angle?”
Jemaine merely muttered something inaudible under his breath and continued running his hands unenthusiastically through Bret’s hair. This continued for a few more moments in silence until Bret let out a yelp and turned accusingly on Jemaine, “Did you just pull some of my hair out?”
Jemaine rolled his eyes, “No! I didn’t! It’s…just, my hand got stuck, had to pull it out-”
“Yeah, well, you didn’t have to pull out my hair with it!”
“It couldn’t be helped! Your hair is curly! I was worried I’d never get my hand out!”
“Do I have a bald spot now?”
“No, Bret, don’t be ridiculous. At most you lost maybe, three strands.”
“Three strands!”
“Yes.”
“Right, well, you’re not getting paid.”
“What? I played with your hair!”
“Yeah, for less than five minutes. And you did a lousy job of it. I’m not paying you for a lousy job!”
“It wasn’t lousy!”
“Jemaine, I just lost three strands of hair because of you, three strands I won’t ever get back!”
“They’ll grow back,” Jemaine muttered under his breath, crossing his arms and looking very put out.
There was a heated bit of silence as both had had their feelings hurt by the other and neither was really up for talking yet. Jemaine relented first, “’S just…I’ve never…played with someone’s hair before. None of my other clients wanted me to play with their hair. They wanted me to play with their boobies and boobies are different from hair-”
“Not if they’re hairy boobies,” Bret pointed out and they both recoiled at the image this idea brought up. Bret spoke again just to help shoo the image along, “Besides, you didn’t have any other clients.”
“That’s not true!”
“Jemaine, you never got paid by that woman in the hotel, so-”
“I had other clients! Plenty of other clients! I just didn’t tell you about them.”
“Really?” Bret asked.
“Sure.” Jemaine lied, “I just…I wanted to protect you from that sort of thing. You're kind of naïve, Bret.”
“I am not.”
“You are. You’re like…innocent, like a newborn fawn or something-”
“You mean like Bambi?”
“Who?”
“Bambi, from Disney.”
“Yes, like Bambi and I’m like, you know, the Mother, trying to protect you from the outside world.”
Bret looked startled, “Not the Mother!”
Jemaine’s eyes narrowed as he searched his memory for what happened in the movie and when he did remember he suddenly sobered up, looking a bit tearful, “Oh. Well. Maybe not her.”
“That movie’s terrible.” Bret breathed, looking a bit teary himself.
“Dunno. Like the scene on the frozen pond. You know, with the other cute little animals.”
Bret wiped a hand at his face, pushing away tears that had attempted to come at the memory of Bambi’s unfortunate mother. He recalled the pond scene and grinned, “Yeah. You can be Thumper. If you want.”
“Thumper? Really?”
“Sure. He’s Bambi’s best friend.” Bret said brightly, enjoying this conversation. He loved animals, even animated ones.
“That works then,” Jemaine agreed and Bret smiled at him, everything right with the world again.
Bret suddenly had an idea and said as casually as he could manage, “I could, I mean, maybe…I’ve played with hair before…like Coco’s…maybe I could…you know, show you how.”
“Show me?”
“Yeah,” Bret said and he went to the far end of the couch, leaning back against it, “Here, lay, um, lay back against me.”
Jemaine raised an eyebrow, “You want me to lay on you?”
“Yeah, this should get the, um, the angle right.”
“But, if I lay on you, won’t that be, um, sort of…gay.”
Bret sighed, annoyed, “No. Not really. ‘Sides, this is the only way it’s going to work, I think. And if you want to learn how to do this and earn your five dollars-”
“Ah, yes, you’re right.” Jemaine conceded, and, with some humility, he arranged himself on the couch until his back rested on Bret’s chest, his head a bit against Bret’s shoulder.
The position wasn’t entirely uncomfortable and the longer Jemaine lay there, the less awkward it became. Bret helped by talking, “Okay, good, now, see, you just run your fingers through the hair, like this.”
Bret began gently combing his fingers through Jemaine’s hair, massaging his scalp lightly. Considering he cut Jemaine’s hair, this wasn’t an entirely new experience for him. The only difference now was that instead of sort of moving through the motions, he was taking his time.
His hands carded through Jemaine’s hair and for the first time he really noticed how thick and soft Jemaine’s hair was. It felt nice, flowing under his hands, the individual strands sort of tickling his palms and as he went about the task he found he rather enjoyed it.
He looked down at the top of Jemaine’s head and watched the hair move about. He could see a variety of colors in the dark strands - black and brown and blue…or at least he thought he saw those colors. He closed one eye to see if this narrowed things down a bit.
Jemaine, for his part, was finding this to be more enjoyable than he would have thought. The more Bret played with his hair, the more relaxed he became and he found he now understood why this was something Bret had wanted. No one had really played with Jemaine’s hair before and he found the experience to be very pleasing. In fact, in between Bret’s fingers moving through his hair and the heat of Bret’s body along his back he found himself growing drowsy.
Bret himself got sort of lost in playing with Jemaine’s hair and found he liked the weight of another body pressed back against him. The day was warm again outside the apartment, heating up the tiny room they were in and Bret found his eyelids growing heavy.
88888888888
“Bret.”
The voice was quiet, whispery, and Bret only let out a sleepy mumble.
“Bret, wake up.”
Bret blinked a few times and licked his lips sleepily, “Mmm?”
“Bret, wake up, we’ve got to get to our band meeting.”
Bret took in a deep breath and came more into wakefulness. Jemaine’s body was still on top of Bret’s but he had turned slightly now, his face near Bret’s. Bret’s tired mind scrambled to remember why Jemaine was so close and once he remembered he blushed, “We fall asleep?”
“Yeah,” Jemaine said, looking a bit shy, “Um, you did a good job. With the hair. Think I know how to do it now.”
“Good. Good.”
There was a hot pocket of silence and Bret’s blush grew worse as he said softly, “Jemaine?”
“Yes, Bret?’
“Do you…want to get off me now?”
“Hmm? Oh! Yes! ‘Course,” Jemaine sort of fumbled about until his body was off of Bret’s. Bret stood up and fixed his rumpled clothes a bit sheepishly. Then he looked at Jemaine again and laughed. Jemaine frowned, “What’s so funny?”
“I hadn’t noticed, um, Jemaine, you, your hair…’s bit crazy.”
“What?” Jemaine breathed and went to the bathroom to look in the mirror. Jemaine’s hair was indeed a bit crazy. Disheveled and sticking out every which way. Jemaine clucked his tongue and looked about for a comb.
Once it was fixed he met Bret at the front door, “You ready?”
“Yeah. You?”
Jemaine nodded and they headed out.
On to Part 3