written for the 64damn prompts on livejournal. right, no school today, was bored, no ideas for new or in-progress stories. came across 64damn prompts and voila.

Title: Hair dye and Animals

Characters/Pairing: Doug Penhall, Tom Hanson -- Doug/Tom

Prompt: #11 Animal

Rating: K

Warnings: nope

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Summary: "You can be!" Doug called back. "But mostly only when you're in bed!"

A/N: The reason this is set about Mean Streets and Pastel Houses is because of the Ramones' Animal Boy.

"Hey Doug, do you think I'm an animal?" Tom called from the washroom. He was trying to rinse the black from his hair, but found it a hard task since he had decided the sink would be easier than showering.

"Well..." Doug replied, trailing off, a small smirk playing on his lips.

"Stop smiling," Tom muttered, annoyed. "I'm being serious."

"Yeah, I figured you were," Doug replied dully, now standing in the bathroom's doorway. Tom had not been expecting Doug, nor had he heard him due to the running water, and he jumped at the suddenly close voice. "God damn it!" he yelled angrily as he looked upwards to find the walls and ceiling now splattered with black dye.

"Oh relax," Doug replied. "It's just hair dye."

"Are you kiddin' me?" Tom muttered. "This crap is supposedly washable. And if it's barely comin' outta my hair, what makes you think it's gonna come offa the walls?"

"Because the stuff in your hair is supposed to last four weeks. It's only been three and a half. Close enough, though, 'cause that crap is coming out pretty good. And if it doesn't come off the walls, then we paint over."

"Yeah, yeah," Tom muttered, groaning. "This isn't working!" he shouted and looked into the mirror, pouting at his soaked, splotched with black, hair.

"Come on," Doug said, grabbing Tom's arm and pulling him away from the sink. "You should be usin' the shower, first off. Why were you using the sink?"

"I don't know. Thought it would be easier."

"Uh-huh," Doug replied. "Just sit against the side of the tub and I'll get that gunk out once and for all."

"Oh no," Tom replied, horrified. "You are not-"

"Just shut up and do it or else I'll, I'll..."

"Uh-huh," Tom replied, smiling. "You'll what, Penhall?"

"I don't know yet. But look, my brother mucked his hair up when we were younger, and it came out easily this way."

"With hair dye?"

"No. Mud, some gum, a bit of grass..."

"And I bet you had nothin' to do with that."

"Just shut up and kneel," Doug muttered. "Now."

"Oh, well, since you asked so nicely..."

Tom kneeled down in front of the tub, knees digging harshly into the floor below. Since he had been washing out the dye all he wore was a pair of boxers and old shirt he had found. No point messing up anything good, after all.

"Now hold still," Doug muttered, twisting the taps so that the faucet would spew a mixture of both hot and cold water. As annoying as Tom was, he wasn't going to freeze or burn him, especially when there were so many ways for Tom to 'repay' him very easily and quickly in the washroom.

After Doug had washed out the dye, much to Tom's dismay that Doug could do it and he couldn't, he stood, groaning upon noticing the large, black, wet spot, splayed across the front of his shirt.

"Oh, mine is worse," Tom replied with a grin as he stood and noticed the cause of Doug's sudden sulking.

"Yeah, it was an old one, anyways," Doug replied, seemingly happy. With a large grin, he added, "Something new for the McQuaids, huh?"

"For Doug McQuaid, yeah," Tom replied. "That shirt ain't small enough for Tommy."

"True. Ah shit, you're shaking," Doug replied quickly. "Just hold on, I'll get some towels and dry clothes."

Tom smiled as Doug suddenly dove into 'mother hen' mode, having no complaints. He was cold and wet, and, technically, it was all Doug's fault: it only seemed right that Doug was the one to fix it.

"You never answered my question!" Tom shouted suddenly as he listened to Doug rummaging around in their bedroom. "Am I an animal or not?!"

"You can be!" Doug called back. "But mostly only when you're in bed!"