A/N: This was so random. But I thought I'd get a laugh out of writing it, and so it was born…my mind is pitiful, really :'D Plus, I wanted to post something on my birthday~

Warning: Crack? Pink frills, and that's all I'm saying :X

Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures

Desperate times call for desperate measures...right? Right? And this was most definitely a 'desperate time' on Hiroki's part. Normally, under normal circumstances, there was no stinking way Hiroki would even consider it, but...

If only he'd remembered to put their clothes in the wash the day before. Damn, damn, damn!

Hiroki had woken up late, Nowaki gently poking and prodding at him until he was conscious.

"Hiro-san! Hiro-san! Sempai asked me to come in early today, so I have to leave now!"

Hiroki hardly remembered anything after that (other than Nowaki's soft lips on his forehead). It was a wonder he even managed to pull himself out of bed. After dragging himself around their apartment for half an hour, Hiroki was in a rush from having waited much too long to get ready for work.

And it was then Hiroki wanted to bash his head into a wall for forgetting to wash their clothes for the second time that week. He and Nowaki traded off and this week just happened to be the week in which laundry was his responsibility. Sure, he would be fine shirt-and-tie-wise, but...his undergarments were another story. And it was then he recalled a certain unworn 'present' Nowaki had given him...

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"Sorry for being late, Professor!" Hiroki said as he walked into their office, coffee sloshing in the handy thermos Nowaki had thoughtfully purchased for him. The numerous manila folders he cradled to his chest obstructed his view of the floor, and he stumbled on an innocent pile of books. He managed to catch himself but not before the folders flew from his arms and papers escaped, spreading about like wings and their subsequent feathers, whooshing to the floor before Miyagi had enough time to swivel around in his chair.

Miyagi stifled a chuckle as Hiroki gritted his teeth, grasping the handle of his thermos hard enough that his fingertips paled. He walked over to his desk and set it down, then nearly tore off his blazer as he took it off and spread it across the back of his office chair. With a heavy sigh, he kneeled on the floor to pick up his documents.

"Having a shitty morning, eh, Kamijou?" Miyagi teased, watching his subordinate push the papers together and straighten them into a pile.

"To say the least. I almost couldn't find clean clothes to wear to work, a kid nearly ran me over with his bicycle on the way here, the dean asked me to look over all these student folders yesterday but I forgot so I have to do them now, and, well, this office is as messy as always..." Hiroki griped. When he realized he was just going on and on, he clamped his mouth shut, pretending he hadn't said anything.

"I see," Miyagi said, nodding. He stroked his chin like the old man he claimed he was and tried to think of something wise and comforting to say as Hiroki struggled to reach a particularly stray-landed paper. But then...Miyagi saw it.

His lips curled into the evilest of smiles.

"Ka-mi-jou!" he cooed, moving away from his chair. "I didn't know you were into that kind of thing!"

"What?" Kamijou asked distractedly. When there was no answer, he asked again without turning, "...What is it, Professor?"

Miyagi had sneaked onto the floor, startling Hiroki as he spoke from directly behind him. "Pink is your color of choice, eh? Or is it his?"

Hiroki jumped up in surprise when Miyagi yanked at his underwear as it peeked out over the tip of the waist of his pants. He flipped around, stumbling until his back was flat against the wall, away from Miyagi, who simply smiled slyly at him. He blushed profusely as he attempted to adjust the underwear back in place, eye twitching at every bad move.

Miyagi laughed to the sky, stopping abruptly to ask.

"Really though, can I take a look?"

Hiroki flinched as Miyagi moved closer, somehow snaking his arms around him. His fingers brushed soft skin and the tickly sensation made Hiroki squirm.

"Professor, get off of me!" he said sternly, pushing against the older man's chest. Miyagi backed off, but not before pulling on a side of Hiroki's pants to see more of the garment covering Hiroki's hip. Hiroki slapped his hand away with enough force to leave a mark.

"Get. Off."

"I'm done now, Kamijou."

At that moment, Miyagi began trembling. Hiroki almost stepped forward to ask what was wrong and offer some snippy remark, but then Miyagi doubled over, laughter spilling from his mouth and onto the floor.

The assistant professor's anger surged.

"Shut up! Shut up!" he yelled. "I told you I had tr-trouble finding clean clothes, didn't I?" He looked away, crossing his arms.

"But that? That? Kamijou, those pink, frilly undies make you look even more irresistibly delicious than usual!" Miyagi choked out between laughs before coughing another silent fit of them into his hand.

Hiroki's face burned red. "It was all that was clean! And please stop with the sexual harassment or I. Will. Report you!"

Miyagi, who hadn't heard a word he said, was finally able to get a hold of himself long enough to straighten up. He cleared his throat and put his hand on Hiroki's shoulder, a look of pity blossoming on his face.

"You might have been better off wearing something dirty."

Hiroki proceeded to take hold of Miyagi's arm, twist himself around, pull Miyagi over his shoulder, and slam the old man into the ground, all in one quick movement.

As Miyagi lay on the ground groaning, Hiroki brushed his hands off. He would have felt more pleased with himself had he not been able to admit to himself that there was a little truth to Miyagi's words.

Hiroki spent the rest of the day checking his back, occasionally sliding along walls like a paranoid caterpillar, and being bitter to his poor, poor students.

---

"I'm home," Hiroki called as he slipped off his shoes in the foyer and headed towards the kitchen where a mouthwatering scent seemed to be drifting through the door.

"Welcome home, Hiro-san!" Nowaki cheerfully replied as Hiroki walked in.

"What are you making?" Hiroki asked, peering over his lover's shoulder at the pot on the stove. A brownish, bubbling concoction filled with bobbing vegetables seemed to be brewing within it.

"Nothing special. I'm just trying out some of these curry sauce recipes," Nowaki explained, gesturing at the cookbook that lay open on the counter beside him, "but they're not turning out so good." He gave a pained smile as he scooped up some with a ladle and let it plop back into the pot. "Sorry, Hiro-san. I bet this is making you hungry. I'll start on dinner in a moment, okay?"

But the smell coming from the substance was intoxicating and Hiroki found himself curious.

"Could I, uh, try it?" he asked.

"Are you sure?" Nowaki sounded mildly surprised.

"Well, it smells really good," Hiroki confessed in a low grumble.

"Alright, Hiro-san, go ahead." Nowaki stepped away from the stove. He began to untie the apron from around his waist as he handed Hiroki, who was looking into the pot suspiciously, the ladle.

"Ah," Nowaki said quietly. Hiroki followed his line of sight to where a spot of the sauce had somehow managed to splash onto the pages of the cookbook.

"I hope sempai won't be mad," Nowaki murmured as he grabbed it, angling the book carefully in his open palm so it wouldn't shut. He placed his apron on the counter and made his way over to the bathroom in hopes of being able to clean the cookbook off with minimal damage.

Hiroki was indecisively twirling the ladle in his fingers when suddenly a timer went off, the continuously ringing bell spooking him. For the second time that day, something flew out of his hand. As he bent over to pick it up, Nowaki returned.

And for the second time that day, someone saw it.

"Hi-Hiro-san…" Nowaki whispered. Hiroki, realizing what had happened, froze for an instant. Then he whipped around, covering his backside.

"Nowaki!" he said in surprise when he found his lover blushing, misted blue eyes fixed at the place where it had been, and covering the bottom half of his face with a hand.

"E-Excuse me…" Nowaki mumbled as he strode back out. It might have just been Hiroki's imagination but he could have sworn he also heard something along the lines of "pink" and "frills" and "he's wearing it, he's actually wearing it". Maybe a little "thank you, God", too.

He blushed twice as hard as Nowaki when he noticed the fresh blood drops from Nowaki's apparent nosebleed on the kitchen tile.

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A/N: I also have something planned for Christmas, so please look forward to it XP