Columns : Barnaby Brooks Jr x Reader

Messy with Barbie

    From the way he was acting you figured he'd been followed. The Barnaby you knew wouldn't flirt with you with his free will, so there had to be something. He leaned next to your ear and spoke in a hushed whisper.

    "Thanks to your answer we'll be dealing with each other until tomorrow morning."

     There goes your plans on going home and drinking.

    "I didn't know they were that desperate for new media, it was the only thing I could think of all we do is walk the city." You whispered back. A camera crew had to have been cornering him down the hallway and should now be outside your door.

    "How'd you find out anyway? About being followed?" You asked.

    "Phoebe had been asking me more questions about our activities when we go to our homes," you cringed at that, "then she walked over to the camera crew and it was easy to put the pieces together from there."

    You nodded, you'd have to think fast to not raise any questions.

    "Mess up your hair."

     He looked offended at that statement, it sounded like you'd been telling him to mess up hours of work. If you were you didn't care, he could just fix it again in the morning.
     You cocked an eyebrow up at him, "Did you want me to run my hands through your hair or?" You trailed off so he would catch on. He rolled his eyes at that and pushed himself off the wall he trapped you between. He looked over at the vanity in your dressing room, before stylishly messing up his hair.

     "Perfectionist." You uttered.

    "If you're going to complain about me, at least say it louder."

    "I called you a perfectionist." You said as you approached him. "I told you to mess up your hair, not get your degree in cosmetology."

     He ran his hand through his hair and it still looked perfect. You reached a hand toward him and he slapped it away.

    "And I didn't say you could touch me, worry about your own hair." He seethed at you. In the mirror, he watched as you stared back at him while taking both of your hands to scramble around your hair. You flattened, bunched, and massaged your hair. In record time you'd messed up your hair all while staring at the perfectionist in front of you.

    "Here you go I hope my demonstration was good enough." You sarcastically responded, "Your turn."

    "I'm done already." Barnaby said, he turned to look at you with your hands on your hips.

    "You look Hollywood movie messy, we're trying to be realistic here." You tried again to reach for his hair before he grabbed your arms.

          "Cut it out."

      You didn't, instead, you pushed forward. One way or another he was leaving this room with messy hair whether he liked it or not. Barnaby walked backward from your steps toward him. "I said stop, I don't need your-"

     A stroke of karma hit him and his shoe had been caught on a snagged part of the carpeted rug. He fell to the ground with a look of horror, you'd began laughing until realizing he was tugging on your arms for support now. You crashed into the man below you.

    The blonde looked irritated, but you figured you wouldn't miss this opportunity.

    "Can you let go of me now?" With a huff, your contracted boyfriend did so and your hands leaped for his hair. When he'd pushed you off his hair was already a jumbled mess.

     "Seriously (Y/n)?" He glared at you as you laughed on the ground. "Oh my god!" You said between breaths, "You look great!" Barnaby sat up and watched as you tried to get air.