Work Text:
After surviving a mystical place called boarding school, you were rewarded with a shiny high school diploma. Although you appreciated its high-quality paper and classy font, there was another, more important reward you had obtained from surviving high school: your adorably grumpy boyfriend, Jeremy--or as you sometimes called him (much to his dismay), Jerebear. A few seasons passed, and now the two of you were officially in college. Still dating, of course--your charm hadn't run out. If anything, it had only gotten stronger! As evidenced by...
… How your germophobic boyfriend stood currently, in the bathroom with you.
"Come on! How much longer are you gonna stand there in the corner?"
"Until you let me leave."
Oh, dear Jeremy. He's always been so difficult, hasn't he? He stood in the corner of the small bathroom with his arms crossed, refusing to budge a single centimeter. His signature scowl was exactly the same as when you first met him. In a way, he kind of resembled an angry cat--which was amusing, since no water had actually touched him yet. You were equally charmed by his grumpiness as you were annoyed by his unnecessary defiance.
"Oh, brother. You and I both know that's not happening, so hurry up and hop inside before the water gets cold. Wouldn't you rather take a warm shower than a freezing one?"
"Fine."
He always caved into your demands, but putting up a fight was part of your dynamic. You generally viewed it as a positive thing. After all, few things in life were more satisfying than overpowering your boyfriend. Even if he was difficult, you welcomed the challenge! Jellybean was a woman who triumphed over adversity, and taught green-haired men their place!
So Jeremy stepped into the shower with you, and the already-too-small bathroom became the wow-this-space-really-is-uncomfortably-tiny bathroom. Since he was shorter than you, he stood directly underneath the showerhead, while you stood against the other wall. The two of you faced each other... and you got a good look at his bare chest. His pale, skinny, incredibly fragile chest that definitely hasn't seen sunlight in years. You thought it was unbelievably sexy.
"Why are you staring at me?"
"Because my boyfriend is hot, obviously."
He didn't respond to that statement with words, but his avoidance of eye contact said everything you needed to know. Your little Jerebear was embarrassed! As the one who "wears the pants" in this relationship, you felt it was your duty to reassure him... even if neither of you were wearing pants currently.
"Let me stare at you just a little longer, okay? I meant what I said about you being totally hot. Would I shower with someone I found unattractive? I even agreed to the stupid condition of wearing swimsuits! That's how badly I wanted to see you shirtless!"
“So what, I owe you a favor now that you’ve let me keep a shred of my dignity?”
“You’ve been dating me since high school. Your dignity died the moment you said yes to my confession.”
“Technically, I never said yes.”
“Well you didn’t say no, either! Now hand me that bar of soap.”
Showers are for showering, not for bickering. Jeremy’s hair was soaking by now, hanging down miserably like someone caught in the rain. Adorable! The soap was sufficiently bubbly, and the suds made you feel playful.
“Jerebear, let me help you wash.”
“No. I can do it myself.”
Your smirk fell immediately. You watched as he scrubbed every inch of his body thoroughly, like he was sterilizing lab equipment. He even scrubbed over his swimsuit, which was… well, at least there was plenty of soap, so you were unlikely to run out (probably).
“What’s the point of showering together if we’re basically showering separately? Just let me help you. At least let me do your hair.”
“I don’t want to…”
“Too bad. Now hold still.”
Finally, an excuse to touch his soft hair. You rubbed the soap into his hair, and couldn’t resist the temptation to sculpt it into a giant green mohawk… which earned you a fierce glare from your beloved boyfriend. With a short laugh, you washed the soap away with an intentionally rough splash. Teasing him was just too difficult to resist.
“Ah, this brings back memories. Remember when we went to the pool together in high school? I splashed you then, too. You gave me a veeeerrrryyy similar glare. Good times!”
“No, I don’t remember.”
“You liar! You totally remember.”
“Nope. Maybe you should get checked for hallucinations.”
“Ha ha. Very funny, Jeremy.”
He only ever smiled at your expense (and even then, it was more like a smirk). But you were a considerate girlfriend, and figured that this was only fair. After all, he put up with similar torment from you, and… oh, who are you kidding? You were totally gonna get him back for this joke. He pretended to forget your cherished memories! How could you possibly allow that? Your brain hatched an idea, and suddenly you were smiling again.
“Forgetting our past dates isn’t cool, Jerebear. I’m totally hurt. If you wanna make it up to me… you’d better kiss me.”
“Ew. Not happening.”
Most boyfriends would be thrilled to kiss their girlfriends… but Jeremy was not like most boyfriends. The two of you stood silently in the shower for a few seconds, the dripping water being the only sound effect amidst the awkwardness.
“You know… plenty of guys would kill for a smooch from me. You’re missing out on a golden opportunity here.”
“Go kiss those guys, then.”
“I don’t want to kiss other guys, though. I want to kiss you. We’re dating, so what’s the problem?”
“Kissing is gross. Keep your mouth away from me.”
It was barely an explanation, but you spoke fluent Jeremy by now. So… you took the soap and began washing your lips. This earned a very disgusted look from your confused boyfriend. Those pencil thin eyebrows were perfect for casting judgment upon people. You spit out the tiny bit of soap that got inside your mouth, considering it a worthy sacrifice.
“There! Perfectly clean.”
“Uh, is this a normal part of your shower routine?”
“No, silly. I did it to kiss you. Now pucker up.”
“Wait, stay back–”
In an attempt to escape, Jeremy stepped backwards; but since the shower was tiny (as previously established), he knocked his head lightly against the wall. Luckily, his gorgeous features remained unharmed. As he rubbed the back of his head in frustration, you took the opportunity to explain yourself.
“You’re totally scared of germs, right? So I washed my lips. Simple. Now you can kiss me without any hesitation.”
“You’re a total weirdo.”
“Maybe. But I’m not hearing any objections.”
Jeremy sighed heavily, but he didn’t refuse. He completely avoided eye contact, and… was he blushing? Oh, he was totally blushing. How unfortunate for him that he was born so pale–he could never hide how brightly his face glowed pink when embarrassed.
You leaned in and kissed him. You were totally confident in your kissing skills, and were certain a French kiss from you would make his entire year–but for his sake, you kept it to a small peck. It was short and sweet, a brief moment of joy that lasted no longer than a blink. Ah, how it hurts to withhold your passion! But well, you had time. In your heart, you knew that this love would stretch across years. Jeremy would not escape you that easily… not that he wanted to anyway, even if he refused to admit it. And besides, anticipation made rewards sweeter.
Nothing compared to the satisfaction you felt after pulling away; Jeremy’s stoic face had cracked, revealing visible vulnerability. It was not just in his rosy cheeks, but in his whole expression–his round eyes, the way his brows pulled together, and his pout that looked almost disappointed to separate from you so soon. Yet he would never admit anything, not a single word. Perhaps more than germs, he feared this exact moment: emotions welling up within like a storm, threatening to overtake him. He hesitated, but opened his mouth to speak.
“... You taste like soap.”