kiddo

chapter sixteen

"It's that time of the month," Keishin announces loudly, his voice traveling from his kitchen to meet me on the couch.

I sit up, face skewed with a mixture of confusion and slight anger, "Excuse me what? Just because a woman may act more hostile does not automatically mean she is-"

"I meant my hair," he chuckles lightly, walking up with two plates in hand, "I have to dye my roots."

"Oh," I say with wide eyes, "Sorry."

"It's fine, I know men can be assholes," he comments before sitting down and handing me lunch, making me crack a grin.

"Guten Appetite!"I wish before digging in, mumbling after a moment, "I should do my roots too."

He smiles, "Together then? After this, we can go to my store and pick up some bleach."

"Mhm," I mumble, swallowing before saying, "It'll be like a date."

His eyes meet mine and he raises his eyebrows, "That's what you expect out of a date?"

"I mean," I try to reason, "You cooked me food, and now we get to do something together. A perfect date."

"First of all, it's egg fried rice. Nothing complex or fancy. Second of all, I will be taking you on a proper first date soon. This would be too mundane to be considered our first date," he rationalizes, a strand of hair coming loose as he shakes his head, falling softly across his face.

I can feel my face heat up as a small blush colors my cheeks, the sight in front of me making my heart race. With a small pout, I insist, "Then it's our 0.5 date. Like the prologue to a story. It doesn't mean much to the rest of the narrative, but it still has value."

"Okay baby," he hums, giving into my antics, "It's our half date."

I grin, happy to have my way, stuffing another mouthful or rice into my face.

. . .

"Hold still," I giggle, trying to apply the white goop to his roots, "if you keep moving around it'll be uneven."

"But it's burning my scalp," he whines, squirming as he sits cross-legged on the floor.

"Pussy," I mumble under my breath as I apply more bleach, careful to make sure every strand is saturated.

He looks up at me, moving his head out of my reach as he asks, "What was that?"

"Oh, nothing," I reply quickly, pushing his head back into place, "Just that you're a fat fucking wuss that can't handle a little bleach burn."

Leaning back I feel him try to retaliate but with a hard grip on his head I growl, "Do you want me to irritate your scalp more? I'm almost done, just give me a minute."

"Yes ma'am," he answers swiftly, sitting up straight and settling down.

I groan quietly, muttering, "Don't call me ma'am, it makes me feel like a senior citizen."

"Okay, baby," he chuckles lightly, making sure to emphasize my pet name.

With a grin, I shake my head, clicking my head as I put on the last bit of bleach, "There, you are a free man! Just let me prep a bag to wrap your head in."

"Okay," he hums, watching as I run to the kitchen and spray some water in a plastic bag, making sure to hurry back to the bathroom.

"Come here," he grins as I come into reach, pulling me into his lap. I smile, straddling his legs as I wrap the bag around his head, tying the handles into a bow. With an analytical glance, I admire my work, making sure that no hair has escaped the plastic plume.

"Perfect," I mumble, lightly fussing with the bag.

With an outstretched hand, he pulls my chin down, forcing our gazes to meet as he whispers, "Just like you."

I roll my eyes, but a small smile betrays my dismissive demeanor.

He closes his eyes and grins, a hint of childlike glee as he says, "Give me a kiss."

With a chuckle I trace my fingers from the bag down to his jawline, hands coming to engulf the sides of his face as I lean in slowly, lips meeting his softly. His hands run up my thighs, his touch sending me into a frenzy. I lose my breath in the tangle of lips and tongues, every second better than the last. A sharp bite on my lip makes me dig my fingers into the back of his neck, leaving claw marks in their wake, my heart racing as the rest of the world seemingly melts away.

"This is the best half date I've been on," he mutters as I pull away, catching my breath with a smile.

"It's also the only one you've been on," I challenge, coyly raising an eyebrow.

"Semantics..." he teases, fingers playing with the hem of my shirt, and after a moment he looks back up, asking, "Should we do your hair now?"

His soft brown eyes and tantalizing smile rapture me, and as I lean back in I mutter, "My hair can wait a few minutes."