Author's Notes: I wrote this during church. Yeah >>;
After Riza left, Barry disappeared into Farman's room and locked the door. The other man stood, clad in only a tank top and shortshorts, locked out of his room.
Humming floated out the cracks from the locked room. The buff wallflower in shortshorts glared with closed eyes at his bedroom door.
"Barry, what are you doing in there?"
The humming ceased.
"I can't tell you~" Replied a cooing voice.
Farman continued to glare at the closed door. Hours passed. And the door to Farman's room was still shut, the humming continued, the tune, sounding somewhat like Requiem. Midnight came and gone, and Farman ended up falling asleep on the couch, figuring Barry would not open the door any time soon. Dawn's light peeked into the apartment of our two favorite crackmakers, and the door that hit Barry opened.
The suit of armor glanced at the couch and "grinned" at the man who was asleep. He swished, yes swished, towards the couch. Once there, he poked the other's cheek. The man on the couch grumbled and turned on his side.
With ended up with him falling on the floor. With a grunt, Farman lifted himself up and rubbed his head. He squinted at Barry.
For the other was decked out in whut looked like a poor excuse for a dress.
"Are those my bedsheets!?"
"I look like a dashing bride don't I Chief?" Barry "winked" at the man on the floor.
"My bedsheets Barry! BEDSHEETS!?" Farman struggled to his feet to he could go back to his stiff self.
Barry twirled. "It took me all night just to get this the way I wanted it. Doesn't it look marvelous on me?"
Farman started to shake as his face turned beet red. Anyone would get mad at a time like this.
Especially when Barry had to tear the sheets just to make a dress that could fit around his whole body and they had no spare sheets in their posession.