July 18, 2013, 1:59 p.m.
The Chronicles Of Nightbird (And Captain Oreo): A Series: Verse #7: Cooper's Gel
K - Words: 1,219 - Last Updated: Jul 18, 2013 Story: Closed - Chapters: 10/? - Created: Mar 08, 2013 - Updated: Jul 18, 2013 127 0 0 0 0
If there was something Cooper loved –among many other things- was coming home right after school and having lunch watching one of his favorite shows, Johnny Bravo.
He would never tell anyone but he sort of aspired to be like him sometimes; the implacable charm, the flawless, shiny hair, the dashing smile. The extreme built body he could do without, it was after all, just a cartoon. It wasn't like Cooper wanted to be like a cartoon. But still, he was a pretty good role model... except for all the times he was sort of a douche, which was something he didn't want to be.
So he would be the Johnny minus the douchery.
Yeah, that would work.
On top of that, that day their teacher had released them a few minutes earlier, so he had even more time to prepare himself one good meal. Jackpot. He walked across the living room, leaving his backpack on the floor next to the couch and headed towards the refrigerator. He was meddling through the piles of food and stacks of condiments when he heard it.
A familiar laughter rang in his ears. It was kind of a frantic, nervous giggle and with a sigh, he wondered what on Earth his little brother was up to this time.
Blaine probably didn't know he was home at this hour of the day, so he crept silently up the stairs, feeling already the thrill in his stomach. To be honest, every day with his brother was a fun one.
He heard another giggle from the bathroom and then a soft thud and a gasp. Cooper's exaggerated tip-toeing position slumped, suddenly worried. What if that had been Blaine falling?
There was silence for only a second in which he was frozen before he heard a simple "Oh."
An oh he knew rather well.
"Gotcha!" he yelled, opening the door with a rapid, sudden movement and a big smile, all of which fell instantaneously as soon as he took the picture in. "Oh my God, Blaine, what the fuck?"
The kid was standing on top of a stool in front of the mirror, eyes wide, staring right at his brother, hair sticking out in the weirdest formations. All over the sink were splurges of a certain translucent, with a red tint, jelly-like substance and on the white tiled floor a big, heavy bottle was rolling, more of the same stuff spluttered across a big part of it. And then he realized what it was.
He felt his world spin and he had to press himself against the wall behind him, holding onto the threshold.
"Blaine, is that... my Cover Boy gel?" he asked, melodramatically, hand firmly on his chest. He looked up to see the boy who was offering a hesitant smile, asking for permission to laugh. Cooper's face only grew sterner. "Do you think this is funny?" he gestured with his hands and Blaine's ghost of a smile vanished as he shook his head. "This is not funny, Blaine! Johnny Bravo is funny. This is everything but funny, Blaine!" His brother raised his eyebrows, thrown off for a second at the mention of the cartoon, but he stood there still. "You have got to stop touching my products, Blaine. This is completely unacceptable, what would Captain Oreo think? I don't think he'd like it, since he feels as strongly about products as I do," he started enumerating solemnly. "Would have Nightbird dropped the gel bottle? I don't think so. And what would the citizens of Chicken Nugget Valley think if they heard about this? Not to think of mom, she's gonna kill—Oh, who am I kidding? I can't talk to you seriously with that on your head," he said, gesturing to the three high peaks of hair, all looking like pointy swords in ridiculous angles. "Take that off and we'll talk," he sighed, resigned. "Because this can't go by un... unsaid, unspoken. Unscolded," he tried, squinting at the ceiling. "Unad—Ugh, unsomething! Okay, Blaine?" he spelled. The little boy nodded at the speed of light several times, staring up with huge eyes at his brother. "Good," he turned to leave the small, shared bathroom.
"Coop..." his brother called timidly.
"Yes?" he asked, trying to maintain the seriousness of the situation, rotating on his heels to look at him.
"You just said the f word," he lowered his scandalized, tolerant voice. "In front of me," he went on, stressing, as though Cooper hadn't realized why that was wrong.
He stared at him for a few moments, expression blank.
"I won't tell mom if you don't," he pointed at him finally lowering his head and looking at him through his eyelashes.
Blaine's eyes were still incredulous and lost. They darted to his right and blinked back at Cooper. He nodded slowly with parted lips.
"Cooper?" Blaine spoke again, still small.
"Yeees?" he turned once more, seeing his baby brother fiddle nervously with his hands.
"I'm sorry about using your beauty hair stuff—"
"Products," he corrected, closing his eyes, summoning patience.
"—I promise I won't touch them again. I just wanted to look like you," he said.
Cooper's heart melted instantaneously.
"Well, that changes everything," he swoop down to lift Blaine and take him in his arms, his short legs tangling and his little arm around Coop's neck, a smile grazing his face. "If you wanted to look like me, all you had to do was ask, little bro," he shook his head at him with a smile, as he walked into the small bathroom.
"Coop, I want to look like you," he asked, lifting his chin and looking at his brother
"There you go," he smiled back, bouncing him in his arms. He stepped over the mess on the floor and put Blaine down. "Now, Blaine; this is called gel, okay?" he began explaining, showing him the bottle that he picked from the floor. "Cover Boy Gel, more specifically, and it's more precious than Christmas itself," Blaine nodded quickly, face denoting the level of deep attention. "It basically keeps your hair in place. It's for you to look like this," he ran a hand over his perfectly styled wavy and bright hair while nodding. "And not like this," he shook his head, pointing at his brother's exaggerated, weird sort of Mohawk. Blaine's eyes followed his hand, lips still parted in concentration. He nodded again, shutting his mouth and beaming. "Great, now I'll teach you how to be me, c'mere," he lifted him again and placed him on the stool that was still there, standing behind him. "Next time, you apply less... much less than what you used and you just gently sweep it and then slightly mold it with your hand, okay?" he said. "I'll teach you better after we wash that abomination off your hair, so let's just... wash that off," he scrunched his nose up in disgust, putting Blaine down on the floor again. He opened the hot water tap and grabbed the shampoo bottle.
"Now, while the tub gets ready for your beauty bath, I'm going to talk to you about something very important, Blaine, okay?" he asked, bobbing his head up and down. The boy looked up at him, all ears and all eyes. "Good. Do you know who Johnny Bravo is?"