JJ considers himself a simple pleasures kind of person. He doesn't need a lot to make him happy… women, men, and coffee are in his top three. Why not all three in one morning?
He gingerly untangles himself from Isabella's loose, sleepy cling on him, pecking her temple.
Feeling perky, despite the initial, hungover confusion about waking in a stranger's apartment, JJ strolls out into the corridor, adjusting his signature JJ brand boxer-briefs.
The walls of the front room appear off-white, just like the sheer, billowing curtains — but the floorboards leading towards the kitchenette are topped with a rolled out, fuchsia-pink carpeting and patterned blue-and-pink rugs. There's a mustard-yellow sofa and a striped, orange one as well. He's not that picky about someone's creative freedom, but this is a hot-mess level.
JJ chooses to dismiss his thoughts, heading for the coffee pot. Or lack of coffee pot.
He tilts his head at the gleaming, positively intimidating machine with a foreign, scribbly label. Is… this like a Keurig brewing coffee-maker? Where's the spinning rack of mini cups?
There's more buttons on this thing than a pilot's switch-board, JJ tells himself. Four separate but identical-looking spouts pointing downwards and no instructions in sight.
It can't be that hard.
JJ locates the power button quickly, tapping it lightly. He leaps nearly a meter in the air and flinches when the machine whirs on angrily. Is it… grinding coffee beans or is it broken?
No water, and no coffee leaks out of it, for all its noisy, mechanical screeching.
Using gut-instinct, JJ presses a few more buttons, frowning studiously. One of these has to work, right? To his relief, the dark brown, caffeinated liquid he hopes for shoots out of… oh no, all four of the spouts. And he didn't even put a ceramic cup underneath them!
Now in full-fledged panic mode, JJ attempts to stop the flow — with his bare, right hand. He cries out pained as the hot (coffee? hell juice?) flow cascades onto the ground, pooling by JJ's toes.
He bashes an uninjured fist against more of the buttons, terrified by the machine's further screeching.
"Shit, why, why…"
JJ lets out a short, startled cry as footsteps approach from the same corridor he entered from. Isabella hurries over and blinks out the daze from her piercing blue eyes. "Jean, what are you doing?"
As beautiful as his girlfriend looks, rumpled in her glittery top from yesterday's nightclub gig and a pair of low-cut bikini panties, he mustn't let her know his deed. JJ frantically dashes around to yank Satan's coffee-maker cord out of the wall, banging his kneecap on the way.
He turns, faking an innocent, bright smile as Isabella stares him over, hands resting on her hips.
"What on earth are you doing to Lucille's coffee-maker?" she asks indignantly, her ruby lipstick-stained mouth pursing in a way JJ only knows as I'm onto you, Leroy.
One of JJ's bandmates enters behind Isabella, clasping her shoulder and kissing her cheek perfunctorily.
"Morning," he chirps out, walking straight over to JJ and narrowly missing the coffee-puddle. JJ vaguely remembers him wearing the fashionably ripped jeans and a purple crop-top. This time, the bandmate kisses JJ right smack on the spit-sticky lips, cocking an eyebrow. "If I knew you were a tiger in the sack, I'd have fucked you sooner. Bella, you holding out on the rest of us?"
Isabella tuts softly, but coming off good-humored when her boyfriend stammers incoherently. "Drunk hookups in the wee hours aren't relationships, Liam," she reminds him.
Liam snorts. "Better than commitment."
Another woman, topless and with golden-blond curls, wraps her arms behind Isabella, nuzzling her hair. "Kill me, Izzy," Lucille moans out quietly, clearly suffering a head-splitting migraine.
"What the hell did you do to the floor?" Liam says, grimacing and exiting the kitchen's mess.
Isabella's eyes narrow. "Yes, Jean—what did you do?"
"Listen, it's not my fault—it's possessed—"
"You broke the coffee-maker, didn't you?"
JJ hangs his head, defeated. "Yeah, a little," he mumbles, shrugging.
"It's fine. Thing's old anyway," Isabella's friend explains, tightening her arms to the other girl and peering up. "What I wanna know is… who the fuck tried to finger me with shaving cream?"
"Not me," JJ and Liam announce in stilted but earnest unison. Isabella's cheeks flame.
"I was DRUNK—I'm so sorry—"
JJ finally laughs, rubbing a non-blistered hand over his face.
Simple pleasures, huh?
Yuri on Ice isn't mine. I really miss writing humor stories, so this was a fantastic opportunity to exercise my abilities. I'm actually a big fan of this story, so I hope you all love it. Thoughts/comments appreciated! Prompt from yurionicekink on Dreamwidth: "Any character of your choice breaks an appliance." and this also covers my JJ/ISABELLA bingo space for YOI BINGO hosted on Dreamwidth and Tumblr! Woooo!