Paint me right...
-Roxette

"Iie."

"Please Sage?" Rowen crooned, persistent as ever. "Please please please please please? I'll do anythin' ya want, be on my knees to ya fa a MONTH, please?"

"No." Sage stirred his tea resolutely. "And you already owe me a month's worth of kneeling for that ridiculous fashion show incident."

Rowen was on the floor in a flash, his face pressed to Seiji's belt buckle, ready to pay his debt at 11 o'clock a.m. in the middle of the kitchen. "PLEASE. You're perfect for it, you'd be so beautiful, c'mon, fa me?"

"Ask Ryou."

"He hasta work an' ya colorin' is bettah. I thought of it with you in mind, please? PLLLLLLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAse?"

Kento glanced up from the funnies and snickered. "I never have to beg Sai THAT hard, Rowen. Got no dignity, dude?"

"This is fa' CLASS." Rowen snapped.

Kento chuckled. "If I'd known that, I woulda been a Literature major too." He took his sandwich and escaped before it got too ugly in the kitchen. Sai was brave and stayed, loading the dishwasher.

Rowen had clasped his hands together in a gesture of supplication, mouthing "please" up at Sage like some kind of Mantra. His eyes were dewy with wild, desperate hope. It was one of his best acts yet. Sage folded his arms and glowered down at him, wishing Rowen's eyes weren't so disarming.

"Detach. I can't go anywhere."

"I'd do it fa YOU." Rowen accused.

Sage blew at his hair in impatient frustration. "I would never ask you to do anything so INANE."

"It's not INANE, it's culture and it's my GRADE, c'mon, Sage." Rowen wrapped his arms around Sage's narrow waist, holding tightly. "PLEASE. If you LOVE me."

"Love is irrelevant when it comes to your schemes. Give me one good reason to give up my Saturday."

"Um... because I won't let go?"

"Strike one."

"Because you'd be unutterably beautiful and everyone will gush ov'a ya?"

"That's what got me on the runway LAST semester, strike two."

Rowen looked up, discarding his act, suddenly sincere and serious. His arms fell to his sides. "Because I asked you to, Seiji."

Sage's shoulders fell in defeat, his eyes softening. "Oh, for god's sake, get up," he bitched. "But dammnit I want a LOINCLOTH!!"

"You'll do it?" Rowen practically sparkled, shooting to his feet.

"Yes," Sage gloomed, defeated. Even his hair sagged.

"aw-RIGHT!!" Rowen preformed a little boogie, nearly lifting Sage up with his enthused hug and wild grateful kiss. "Thankyouthankyouthankyou I LOVE you! You have SO saved my ass."

"Well, it's in my best interest, I suppose," Sage tried to recover his tea. "But if you-"

"It'll be PERFECT. Trust me." Rowen raced upstairs to start making plans.

"What's this for, Sage?" Sai calmly wiped down the counter.

"Rowen's theatrical make-up class. They have to enter some sort of competition."

Sai's green eyes went wide. "Ooh. How... nice."

"Yeah," Sage scowled. "I got a bad feeling about it too, Sai."

"Sage... C'mon, wake up. Time ta start."

Sage woke up instantly, as always, and stared at Rowen in stunned disbelief. His clock read 4:30a.m. And Rowen, fully dressed and showered, was kissing HIM awake. "Who are you. What have you done with Rowen?"

"The show's at ten, we gotta hurry." Rowen winked and whipped the blankets off of Sage, grinning at him. "I made ya breakfast-"

Sage's expression shifted to one of horror. "First you warp my sense of reality and now you're... cooking?" The verb was obviously being used loosely.

Rowen pouted. "A cup of your tea and nuking one of Sai's bran muffins does not constitute me cooking. I'll be ready by the time ya get outta the shower, now get."

Sage glanced warily at Rowen, who was pulling out a frighteningly large and beat up tacklebox filled with odd bottles, jars, pencils, and other arcane cosmetic items. "What's that for?"

Rowen looked blankly at him. "Oh, I thought I'd do an Avon mural on your ceiling. Sage, jeez. It's what I'm using on ya." He pulled out a bottle, checked the label, and began shaking it enthusiastically. The ball-bearing inside rattled.

"Is it... safe?"

"I'm shu'a. I ain't doin' nuthin that'll hurt ya." He glanced up at Sage, still hovering worriedly in the doorway, no doubt envisioning massive hives breaking out on his perfect white body. Rowen smiled. As if Sage could hide how appallingly vain he was. "Sage. Trust me. I like that sexy ass'a yours too much ta damage it."

"Alright." Sage knew he was vain, but he also knew Rowen wouldn't muss up his pretty bedmate for any price. Secure in his safety, he did as Rowen suggested. This was, after all, Rowen's project.

And like it or not, Seiji had agreed. Honor, you know. He would do anything he was requested to-

"Except THAT, Rowen. Absolutely not."

"You agreed!" Rowen rested his hand on his hip, bottle clenched like a .45 in his right hand.

"NOT to being spraypainted!! I saw 'Goldfinger'!"

Rowen couldn't help but grin, aware of Sage's secret James Bond obsession. Rowen had drug him to go see 'Goldeneye' in the first place, getting him accidentally hooked. "C'mon, Sage. This is NOT spraypaint. It won't hurt. It's just makeup in a funky bottle."

Sage arched an offended eyebrow. "DON'T talk down to ME. I'm not worried about it hurting, I just think it's not... Hygienic." He folded his arms, trying to look superior. Rather difficult, since he was wearing only what the gods had graced him with at birth.

"Fine." Rowen began packing up his stuff. "Fine. If something THIS important ta me don' mean shit ta ya, fine. Be that way. I nev'a wanted ya ta do it in the first place, I knew you'd be a brat. I asked Sai to back up just in case ya pulled this chickenshit on me."

"I'm not being a brat!" Sage stomped forward, as Rowen knew he would, coming directly into range.

SPPPPKKKKTTHTHHH!!!

"Good." Rowen's eyes narrowed, surveying the large patch of now-golden skin on Seiji's chest. "Then hold the hell still an' prove it."

Seiji fumed, but held still. "You will pay for this dearly, Tenku no Toma."

Rowen giggled. "Doncha know that's what I was hopin' for?" he replied, and proceeded to gild Sage's ass.

tbc...

by Tenshi no Korin
yoroiden samurai troopers
b i s h o n e n i n k