Wig Problems (Matt/Mike drabble)
Title: Wig Problems
Rating/Warnings: PG? It's slash, but nothing major.
Word Count: 348
Characters/Pairings: Mike Chang/Matt Rutherford
Summary: "Who are you texting?!" "Mike Chang! He's got wig problems." (S1E11 "Hairography")
A/N: I don't own Glee or either of these lovely boys, sadly.
Matt: Dude. How the hell did that happen?
Mike: I don't know!
Mike: Can you just come help me?!
***
Mike watched as his boyfriend doubled over in a fit of laughter before he even stepped through the doorway to the bedroom. He knew Matt would want an explanation, but honestly, it was just embarrassing. Mike just stared, unamused, at Matt, arms crossed across his chest as best he could from the awkward position he was stuck in. Mike was much too tall to be dancing around on his bed, and it probably hadn't been a good idea to practice his hairography up there either.
“Okay, shut up,” Mike snapped at a still-laughing Matt.
“How... How?” Matt choked out.
“I was practicing,” Mike explained, gesturing to his laptop, which was playing the instrumental to the mash-up they were working on in glee. “And I can't get the freaking thing off because my sister pinned it on for me.”
Matt held in a laugh and hopped up onto the bed to help get Mike untangled from the ceiling fan. Once the black hair of Mike's wig was out of the metal of the fan, Matt let out another laugh, and was promptly punched on the arm. The wig was all over the place, fake hair sticking up in all directions.
“Next time I'm calling someone else,” Mike said, frowning at Matt and walking over to the mirror on the back of his bedroom door to pry the wig off.
“C'mon,” Matt said gently, gentle hands helping the other dancer pull the pins out from under the wig. “I'm sorry.” He took the wig off Mike and patted down his boyfriend's actual hair. He caught Mike's pout in the mirror and wrapped his arms tightly around the shorter teenager's waist, despite Mike's protest. He pressed his lips against the point where Mike's neck met his shoulder and smiled. “You're never living this down.”
“You're an ass.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
***
Rating/Warnings: PG? It's slash, but nothing major.
Word Count: 348
Characters/Pairings: Mike Chang/Matt Rutherford
Summary: "Who are you texting?!" "Mike Chang! He's got wig problems." (S1E11 "Hairography")
A/N: I don't own Glee or either of these lovely boys, sadly.
Matt: Dude. How the hell did that happen?
Mike: I don't know!
Mike: Can you just come help me?!
***
Mike watched as his boyfriend doubled over in a fit of laughter before he even stepped through the doorway to the bedroom. He knew Matt would want an explanation, but honestly, it was just embarrassing. Mike just stared, unamused, at Matt, arms crossed across his chest as best he could from the awkward position he was stuck in. Mike was much too tall to be dancing around on his bed, and it probably hadn't been a good idea to practice his hairography up there either.
“Okay, shut up,” Mike snapped at a still-laughing Matt.
“How... How?” Matt choked out.
“I was practicing,” Mike explained, gesturing to his laptop, which was playing the instrumental to the mash-up they were working on in glee. “And I can't get the freaking thing off because my sister pinned it on for me.”
Matt held in a laugh and hopped up onto the bed to help get Mike untangled from the ceiling fan. Once the black hair of Mike's wig was out of the metal of the fan, Matt let out another laugh, and was promptly punched on the arm. The wig was all over the place, fake hair sticking up in all directions.
“Next time I'm calling someone else,” Mike said, frowning at Matt and walking over to the mirror on the back of his bedroom door to pry the wig off.
“C'mon,” Matt said gently, gentle hands helping the other dancer pull the pins out from under the wig. “I'm sorry.” He took the wig off Mike and patted down his boyfriend's actual hair. He caught Mike's pout in the mirror and wrapped his arms tightly around the shorter teenager's waist, despite Mike's protest. He pressed his lips against the point where Mike's neck met his shoulder and smiled. “You're never living this down.”
“You're an ass.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
***