"Are you sure you can do this? I really do not feel like losing all of my hair today," Michael said while shifting his weight nervously in the small plastic chair the both of you had dragged into the tight space of his bathroom.
You rolled your eyes before smiling confidently, "Yes Michael, I'm pretty sure I can do this. If I can dye my own hair, I can dye yours."
You grabbed the hair dye bottle and poured a glob of it onto your hand. You smirked as you grabbed the dye brush, scooping up a bit of orange dye. Flashing him a devious look, you questioned cheekily, "Are you ready for your new gloriously orange hair?"
He shook his head no, "What if I don't look good with orange hair?"
Immediately, you rolled your eyes once more, "You looked good with every other color Michael, why wouldn't you look good in orange? Like c'mon man, it's common sense."
Your words reassured him and even slightly offended him, his face growing less nervous. Without warning, you ran the brush through his bleached hair, watching as the dye coated his yellowish-white mane.
After a few minutes of using the brush, you quickly grew frustrated because it kept on tangling in his hair.
"Screw it," you muttered just barely loud enough for him to here before throwing the brush down and using your gloved hands to massage the dye into his follicles instead. You looked down at the 3/4 full bottle and back to Michael. He looked at you questioningly when you grabbed the bottle and unscrewed the lid, pouring all of the dye onto his head.
Michael's eyes widened, "Why the fuck did you do that?!"
You shrugged in response, "I got bored."
"Bored?!" he semi-shouted in disbelief.
"Yes are you deaf? Now shut up and let me work."
"Bu-"
"Shush," you sighed, furrowing your brow in concentration. You massaged the dye in for a couple more minutes, then stepped back, admiring your work. "Now we have to let it sit for thirty minutes."
~~~~~~~~~~
You were sat in the living room, waiting for the thirty minutes to be over.
"Oh my god! Help!" you heard Michael shout from the bathroom.
You quickly jumped off of the couch and rushed to the room. "Are you okay?" you asked, worried that Michael was hurt. You looked into the bathroom to see a completely unscathed Michael sitting cheekily in his chair.
"I-I heard you yell. I thought you were hurt." you stuttered before an annoyed look settled on your face.
Michael simply held his phone up, "It's been thirty minutes."
"You're horrible," you huffed, walking up to him before thwacking him on the back of his head.
"Ow," Michael groaned, rubbing his head gingerly, "I guess I deserved that."
"You guess right."
Michael pouted as you took him to the shower and turned the water on. You then began to wash the dye out of his hair.
"It's cold!" Michael whined before he tried to move away from the water.
"I know," you smirked. "This is payback for scaring the shit out of me."
It was quiet afterwards, the both of you watching as the hair dye colored the water and rushed down the drain.
After the dye stopped washing off, you turned the shower off and grabbed an old tattered towel.
"Don't look at the mirror while you dry your hair." you ordered while grinning at him with a large smile.
Michael merely nodded in response, looking at the wall instead of the mirror. As he towel-dried his hair, you plugged a hair dryer into the outlet and turned it on.
Michael jumped at the noise, dropping his towel in surprise. You giggled at his reaction as you dried the rest of his hair, grinning proudly at the end results.
"Okay, you can look now!"
Michael swiftly turned around, staring at himself for a few moments. Suddenly, he turned to you with a cocky smirk on his ruby lips, "I look hot."
You laughed, rolling your eyes. "Well seeing as it looks like your head's on fire, I have to say I agree."
Michael stuck his tongue out at you and laughed, tackling you in a hug and pressing a big sloppy kiss on your cheek, "Thanks for helping me babe."
"No problem Mikey," you said before nuzzling your head in the crook of his neck and breaking out into a grin.
