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23 March 2009 @ 01:02 am
Title: Curly
Rating: GP
POV: 1st
Disclaimer: Girl's mine, and I wish the brothers were too.
Summary: Marie tries to change something about her boyfriend. (Entry of mine and my two friends' first Jonas Brothers Fiction Challenge)

I gave up.

There was nothing on television that was as remotely interesting as a ball of dirt. Even the excessively made-up woman who was happily throwing her chance at winning a hundred million dollars to the stars. Or the ninety-something-year-old man who had an eighty-something-year-old tissue collection.

I yawned, and then proceeded to punch the power button on the remote control, when a sudden sound caught my attention.


Running water. I frowned, and then smirked. He must’ve opened the bathroom door. I opened my mouth to call out to him when it suddenly struck me: it was the perfect opportunity. Without another thought, I dropped the remote control and raced to my bag, where I had stashed my hair iron earlier for the usual just-in-case purpose.

How absolutely convenient.

As quietly as I could, I drew the iron out, and then hunted around for a socket that was close to the bathroom, which, thank the god of architecture, was just a stone’s throw away from the living room.  I found the perfect socket immediately, and I hastily plugged the iron in.

And then, with all the stealth I could possibly muster, I made my way to the source of the sound of running water.

Thank you for not being home, Joe and Nick.

Before I reached the bathroom door I bent down so that there were less chances of him catching my reflection in the mirror, and then I carefully peeked around the frame.

There he was, waving his favorite electric blue comb underneath the tap, and muttering the lyrics of When You Look Me in the Eyes.

This was it. There was no turning back now. I held my breath, tightened my hold on my now warm iron, and crept up behind him. He continued wetting his comb and singing, looking as vulnerable as ever.

I love you, but I have to do this
, I thought grimly. I released the clamp of my weapon, and slowly lifted it until it hung level with his head.

I closed my eyes, and began counting:

One… two…


I opened my eyes, and as hard as I could, I clamped the iron onto his hair.

“SHIT, THE HELL?” he immediately yelped, bounding to one side. He whirled around and stared at me in angry shock, and then at the weapon in my hands. I gave him a tiny smile. “Don’t scare me like that!” he snapped. “And what were you doing?”

I let the smile hold for a second more, before I dropped it and let my annoyance rule. “I’m straightening your hair, that’s what I’m doing!” I exclaimed.

He gaped at me. “What? You- you’re straightening my hair? Why?”

I folded my arms together. “I told you, I don’t like it curly.”

He continued to gape at me, and then he lifted a hand and tugged at one of his locks. It bounced a little in his fingers, and I grimaced.

“But I like it curly!” he declared.

“I know that, sweetie, but…” I trailed off. Wow, this was a little hard to explain. “Okay, Kevin,” I said slowly, watching his expression, “I love you, but you look like a daddy.”

“A daddy,” he repeated, his eyes narrowing.

“I’m sorry, but you really do! I mean, it’s just so curly… and with your sideburns… ugh.” I shuddered.

“You’re my girlfriend!” he exclaimed. “You’re supposed to support me!”

I gasped. “I knew you were gonna throw that in my face!”

“Well, it’s TRUE,” he huffed, patting the back of his head. My irritation subsided a little; he looked so much like an innocent little boy then, with his face now a little pink.

“Come on, you had it straight before!” I whined.

“That was just an experimental thing!” he declared, turning around and examining his reflection in the mirror.

I switched the iron off and settled it on the counter beside him. Then I leapt forward and flung my arms around his waist.

“HEY!” he yelled in surprise.

“Then experiment again!” I cried, pressing my cheek against his broad back. “Please, please, please?”

“My straight hair wasn’t such a hit with the fans,” he said, and I felt him shake his head.

“It is to me,” I said sweetly, lifting up my chin and resting it on his shoulder.

He looked at my reflection, and then broke into an amused chuckle. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

“Hello, I was about to use my cheap iron to straighten your hair, yes I’m crazy,” I said, and he burst into loud laughter. “So you’ll do it, you’ll do it?”

He pinched his chin in mock thought. “Hmm, nope.”

“Oh come on!” I wailed. “Straight hair fits you more! And there has to be a fixed pattern for the Jonas Brothers: Nick, curly. Joe, wavy. You, STRAIGHT!”

He laughed again, turning and moving out of the bathroom. Still I clung fast to his waist like there was no tomorrow. And there would be no tomorrow if he didn’t straighten his stupid hair.

I really had no idea why it bothered me so much. I mean, he was born with curly hair, for crying out loud. It was really none of my business for me to tell him to change it.

And yet it was.

“I’ll do anything you want!” I offered, as we trudged into the kitchen. “I’ll curl my hair, if that’s what you want! I’ve always wanted to have Taylor Swift’s hair!”

“Yeah, I don’t think you should mention that to Joe,” Kevin said amusedly, opening the fridge. “And I won’t definitely like you with curly hair. Nooo way. I love your hair the way it is.”

“And I love the way your hair can be!” I said, watching him take out the carton of orange juice that I had confirmed as expired earlier. “Um, you don’t wanna drink that. So your hair–”

“Come on, Marie,” he sighed in exasperation, tugging himself out of my embrace, to my surprise. “Just… leave me alone, okay? Drop it.”

I opened my mouth, and then shut it, thinking better of what I had been going to say.

Instead, I reached out, grabbed his face, and crashed my lips onto his.

“There,” I said breathlessly, after I had pulled away about a minute later, “I think I’m just going to do that every time I see your hair. To calm me down.”

He simply stared at me blankly, and then he finally said, in a broken voice: “So… why do you have your hair iron with you?”.