What a Mess!
Dec. 30th, 2021 10:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rage_rekkerWays to say I love you 74: "I saw that you were almost out of shampoo, so I went and got some for you."
“Bjorn?” Rekker called out as he walked into the house from shopping. He set the groceries on the kitchen island while listening. It sounded like Bjorn was smashing things. That wasn’t the usual. Rekker was usually the one to have that kind of tantrum in the house, not the Swede.
“Bjorn?” He came into the bedroom still carrying one of the bags. This one was pink paper with ribbon handles. “What the fuck is going on?”
Bjorn’s suitcase was on the floor, and everything was everywhere. It looked like it had exploded, literally since the clothing was flung from the bathroom nearly to the hall. Rekker did his best not to step on anything as he made his way toward the noise in the bathroom.
When he entered the bathroom he found his lover in just panties, crying and manic over fuck knew what. Rekker certainly hadn’t seen anything wrong and his first instinct, the bracelet being lost, was dismissed when he saw the pink stones still on Bjorn’s wrist.
“The day’s ruined!” Bjorn complained as soon as he saw Rekker. His chest was heaving from exertion and tears.
“What the fuck is wrong?” Rekker was confused and just sighed at the emotional Swede. “Come here.”
He opened his free hand for a hug which Bjorn immediately threw himself into Rekker’s chest, face still crumpled into a pout as he wiped at the tears. The Brit noticed that Bjorn’s hair was still wet from the shower, and he pushed the damp blonde hair out of the singer’s face.
“Are you going to keep crying like a little bitch or tell me what this mess is?” Rekker motioned back toward the bedroom and the disaster he’d walked through.
“I’m supposed to go out but….” He paused to sniffle and wipe at more tears. “… I don’t have any fucking hairspray. There’s no time to get any and my…”
Rekker tried to soothe him and stroked his back because he knew the singer was having a meltdown over his appearance. Rekker held up the bag where Bjorn could see it from his place buried against the Brit’s chest. The bag swung gracefully on the ribbon handles for a moment before the Swede snatched it.
“I noticed it sounded almost empty yesterday.” Rekker smirked while waiting for the realization.
Bjorn peered inside the bag and squealed with childlike delight through the tears. Rekker’d remembered that the one salon down in the Strip had what Bjorn had insisted was the best hairspray in the world. Sometimes his anxious brain remembering every small detail was a benefit, rarely, but sometimes it was. He’d gone there on purpose when he realized the Swede was about to run out.
“You went there for me?” Bjorn had gone from tears through excitement to something like shock by the time he looked up from the bag.
Rekker laughed quietly. “I’ll risk smelling like a whorehouse full of cosmetic bullshit to stop the fucking waterworks.” He pulled on the Swede with the arm still around him.
He heard Bjorn gasp and then nuzzle into all the red curls falling over the Brit’s shoulder. “You love me.”
It almost sounded like a question and Rekker shook his head. “You know, sometimes you sound like a dumb blonde?”
He kissed the singer’s forehead and playfully patted his ass. “Go fix your face before Sigurd starts with his fucking texts wondering where you are.”
He let Bjorn go and chuckled more as he went back to the kitchen to put away the groceries. He’d probably have to clean up the explosion of clothes in the bedroom too, but he didn’t mind.
“Bjorn?” Rekker called out as he walked into the house from shopping. He set the groceries on the kitchen island while listening. It sounded like Bjorn was smashing things. That wasn’t the usual. Rekker was usually the one to have that kind of tantrum in the house, not the Swede.
“Bjorn?” He came into the bedroom still carrying one of the bags. This one was pink paper with ribbon handles. “What the fuck is going on?”
Bjorn’s suitcase was on the floor, and everything was everywhere. It looked like it had exploded, literally since the clothing was flung from the bathroom nearly to the hall. Rekker did his best not to step on anything as he made his way toward the noise in the bathroom.
When he entered the bathroom he found his lover in just panties, crying and manic over fuck knew what. Rekker certainly hadn’t seen anything wrong and his first instinct, the bracelet being lost, was dismissed when he saw the pink stones still on Bjorn’s wrist.
“The day’s ruined!” Bjorn complained as soon as he saw Rekker. His chest was heaving from exertion and tears.
“What the fuck is wrong?” Rekker was confused and just sighed at the emotional Swede. “Come here.”
He opened his free hand for a hug which Bjorn immediately threw himself into Rekker’s chest, face still crumpled into a pout as he wiped at the tears. The Brit noticed that Bjorn’s hair was still wet from the shower, and he pushed the damp blonde hair out of the singer’s face.
“Are you going to keep crying like a little bitch or tell me what this mess is?” Rekker motioned back toward the bedroom and the disaster he’d walked through.
“I’m supposed to go out but….” He paused to sniffle and wipe at more tears. “… I don’t have any fucking hairspray. There’s no time to get any and my…”
Rekker tried to soothe him and stroked his back because he knew the singer was having a meltdown over his appearance. Rekker held up the bag where Bjorn could see it from his place buried against the Brit’s chest. The bag swung gracefully on the ribbon handles for a moment before the Swede snatched it.
“I noticed it sounded almost empty yesterday.” Rekker smirked while waiting for the realization.
Bjorn peered inside the bag and squealed with childlike delight through the tears. Rekker’d remembered that the one salon down in the Strip had what Bjorn had insisted was the best hairspray in the world. Sometimes his anxious brain remembering every small detail was a benefit, rarely, but sometimes it was. He’d gone there on purpose when he realized the Swede was about to run out.
“You went there for me?” Bjorn had gone from tears through excitement to something like shock by the time he looked up from the bag.
Rekker laughed quietly. “I’ll risk smelling like a whorehouse full of cosmetic bullshit to stop the fucking waterworks.” He pulled on the Swede with the arm still around him.
He heard Bjorn gasp and then nuzzle into all the red curls falling over the Brit’s shoulder. “You love me.”
It almost sounded like a question and Rekker shook his head. “You know, sometimes you sound like a dumb blonde?”
He kissed the singer’s forehead and playfully patted his ass. “Go fix your face before Sigurd starts with his fucking texts wondering where you are.”
He let Bjorn go and chuckled more as he went back to the kitchen to put away the groceries. He’d probably have to clean up the explosion of clothes in the bedroom too, but he didn’t mind.
