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It was 2 a.m. Actually producing songs had been long forgotten about; instead, Adam and Yauch opted for drinking on the floor of Adam’s bedroom.
Yauch ran a hand through his blonde hair mindlessly. He leaned back against the side of Adam’s bed, took a swig from his bottle, and said, “We should dye my hair.”
Adam cocked an eyebrow at him. “Right now?”
“Why not?” Yauch asked, and damn if that wasn’t a great argument to Adam in that moment.
“Fuck it.” Adam pushed himself up off the floor. He set his beer down on a table and offered an outstretched arm to Yauch.
Yauch looked up at Adam from the floor before taking his hand. Yauch always underestimates how strong Adam is; Adam helped him up like it was nothing. Yauch suppressed the drunken -- yes, he was drunk, that’s why -- urge to grab Adam’s arm muscles just to feel them.
“I have hair dye but only green,” Adam said after shuffling through his bathroom cabinet.
Yauch took the black bottle from Adam’s hands and began to examine it. “Why the fuck do you have green hair dye?”
Adam only shrugged in response. Yauch read the instructions. “Okay, so we just, like, put this in my hair.”
Adam paused. Skeptically, he asked, “You wanna do green?”
“What else we got?” Yauch asked rhetorically. Sounded solid to Adam. “I’ve been told I look good in green.”
Firstly, Adam has never ever seen Yauch wear green ever. Secondly, “By who, the colorblind?”
Yauch punched Adam, who laughed loudly.
“You got gloves?” Yauch asked.
“Yeah.” Adam disappeared into his house and returned with somehow mismatched disposable gloves. Yauch didn’t question it. Adam wiggled his gloved fingers in Yauch’s face. “Are you ready for your surgery, Mr. Yauch? Or are you Mr. Horovitz for tonight?” he asked in a very shitty, presumably-European accent. Yeah, they were drunk.
“I would not take your last name,” Yauch said immediately.
“What? Why not!” Adam’s accent dropped immediately as he whined like they were discussing something that would actually happen.
“My last name’s fuckin’ cooler than yours dude,” Yauch said. He clicked open the lid of the dye bottle. “It goes better with my first name.”
Yauch went to squeeze some of the dye into Adam’s hands when Adam pulled them away unconsciously. “We have the same fucking first name, idiot.”
“Are you gonna help me dye my hair or what?” Yauch huffed.
“Yeah, whatever. I’m doing it?” Like you don’t have the gloves on already, Yauch thought.
“Yeah, you’re doing it,” Yauch said. Adam hummed a short ‘okay.’
Adam held out his hands and Yauch put a dollop of the green into his hands. “‘s cold,” Adam mumbled, though he didn’t stop Yauch. Yauch closed the bottle and set it on the counter. “Go get a chair. You’re too tall.”
“Maybe you’re too short,” Yauch argued, but still he complied and left to grab a seat from Adam’s dining room. When he returned, Adam was sitting on the toilet seat and staring at the dye which he had spread across the entirety of his gloved hands. He seemed mesmerized. Yauch wasn’t sure if it was because Adam was intoxicated or if he was just like that. Probably both.
Yauch set the chair down in front of the mirror, snapping Adam out of his haze. Adam got to his feet. “Where should I stand?” He’s never dyed someone’s hair before; he doesn’t really know how it works.
Yauch sat and looked at him. “Wherever you want.”
Adam hesitated for a second, then just decided to stand behind him. It would probably be easiest. Yauch was much shorter than Adam now. Adam made eye contact with him in the mirror and held up his green hands with a grin. “You ready?”
“Yeah,” Yauch replied, returning the smile.
Adam slipped his hands into Yauch’s hair, massaging the dye into his scalp. Yauch closed his eyes and let his head fall so Adam could get the back. It was weirdly relaxing. He leaned into the chair and let Adam do his work.
Adam wasn’t quite sure what he was doing. There’s not much to it, but he still felt like he was doing something wrong. But Yauch tilted his head into the touch and Adam should’ve made fun of the content noise that he let out, but for some reason he didn’t. He could tell Yauch was enjoying it. He didn’t really wanna ruin that. Or something.
He wasn’t really paying attention. When Adam’s mind came back to, he looked in the mirror and realized he missed the entirety of the front of Yauch’s hair. “Oh, shit,” Adam mumbled.
“Did you fuck up my hair?” Yauch said immediately.
“No, calm down,” Adam said, rolling his eyes. “I just forgot to get the front.”
Yauch opened his eyes and saw his reflection. He laughed. Half of his hair was dark green and the rest was bright blonde. “Fucking idiot.” Adam walked around to stand in front of him. Yauch looked up to meet his eyes. Adam was hesitating about something; Yauch knew that look in his eyes. Adam bit the inside of his cheek before stepping even closer to Yauch, spreading his legs apart so he could sit in Yauch’s lap.
“Don’t fucking--” Adam started, looking at Yauch. “I need to see better. This is the easiest way.”
Yauch raised his eyebrows and lifted his hands in playful surrender. Adam squeezed a bit more dye into his hands.
The two made eye contact for a second. A weirdly long second. It was awkward, but it wasn’t. Adam looked away and Yauch did the same.
Adam brought his hands up to Yauch’s hairline and began to rub the dye into his hair. Yauch didn’t close his eyes this time; he kept them on Adam, watching how focused he was. He noticed Adam sticks his tongue out when he’s focused. He smiled.
“What?” Adam said to Yauch’s expression.
“Nothing,” Yauch lifted. Adam raised an eyebrow but didn’t push it.
Yauch’s arms had been cautiously hovering at his sides. It wasn’t a comfortable position, but he didn’t know what else to do with his hands. Everywhere that he wasn’t, Adam was. Shakily, Yauch rested his hands on Adam’s thighs. He felt Adam pause, but neither of them said anything.
Adam’s hands continued massaging the color into Yauch’s hair for a minute or two before they slowed. He didn’t move, and he didn’t make eye contact. They just stayed there like that, Adam in Yauch’s lap and Yauch’s hands on Adam’s thighs.
“...You done?” Yauch asked softly.
“Um, yeah,” Adam said, quickly removing himself from Yauch’s touch. Yauch’s legs felt so cold without the body warmth. He grabbed the dye bottle and reread the instructions. “Now we wait 30 minutes.”
Adam pulled the gloves off his hands with his teeth and threw them in the sink. He stood there. What to do for half an hour?
“You wanna go listen to music?” Yauch asked, reading his mind. Adam nodded.
“Don’t fucking get on my bed!” Adam barked, following Yauch as he completely ignored him and climbed onto Adam’s bed anyways. “You’re gonna get it all green and shit.”
“What’s the problem with green?” Yauch teased with a stupid smirk. He leaned his head towards Adam, trying to get the dye on his clothes.
Adam tried to push Yauch away by the shoulders. “Dude!” he yelled over the other’s incessant laughter.
At some point, Yauch gave up, though he continued to threaten Adam with the risk of dying Adam green, and they put some record on. After a bit, Yauch turned to Adam. “You think it’s been long enough?”
“Ehh, probably,” Adam shrugged.
They made their way back to the bathroom to wash the dye out of Yauch’s hair. “You don’t have a detachable shower head?” Yauch asked.
“No. Why?” Adam asked, clueless.
“Whatever,” Yauch sighed. He grabbed the bottom of his tee and tugged it up over his head, discarding the shirt on the floor. He looked over at Adam. “You think you could help me wash it out?”
“Not if you’re butt naked,” Adam joked, unable to peel his eyes away from Yauch pulling his shorts down.
Yauch looked at him. “I’m not taking my underwear off,” he said like that made it much better.
Adam grumbled indistinctly. He slipped out of his tank and Yauch couldn’t help but watch his arm muscles flex as he did. Yauch had to turn around so Adam wouldn’t catch him staring. He turned on the water and stepped into the shower.
Adam followed after pulling his jeans off, slipping into the shower next to the wall, as out of the way of the water as possible. Yauch was facing him, the water hitting his torso and soaking his boxers and Adam tried his hardest not to look.
Yauch bent over so Adam could more easily reach his hair and so he could get his hair wet. Adam put his hands back into Yauch’s hair. It was disgustingly intimate, what they were doing. Yet neither of them wanted to stop.
Jade-tinted water fell from Yauch’s hair as Adam washed out as much of the dye as he could. Neither of them said anything.
Adam’s plan to stay dry didn’t really work. He didn’t have much space, so he ended up just as drenched anyway.
“Okay,” Adam said when he was finished.
Yauch looked up and their eyes met. They could turn off the water now, step out of the shower, get dry. But they didn’t move.
In one swift movement, before Adam could even realize what was happening, Yauch brought his hands up to hold the back of Adam’s neck as he leaned in to press their lips together.
Adam froze. Yauch pulled away. Still, he didn’t speak. He looked nervous.
God, they were so drunk.
Adam kissed him back.
They moved together, a mess of roaming hands and moaning lips, Adam grabbing Yauch’s waist to pull him closer and Yauch exploring Adam’s body.
Then, as if they were snapped out of a trance, they pulled away. They both felt weirdly empty without the other’s touch. They looked at each other as if to say, “No, that didn’t actually just happen.” Adam stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel.
Yauch turned the water off and pulled the shower curtain back. Adam threw him a towel, too. They headed back to Adam’s room.
“No fucking way,” Adam deadpanned.
Yauch twisted towards Adam. “What?” he asked, but Adam wasn’t looking at him.
Adam pointed to where Yauch had subconsciously leaned his head back against the wall while they were sitting on the bed. There was a round, emerald-hued spot where he once was.
“You dyed my fucking wall green!”
“Oops.”