Tim, I Wish You Were Born a Girl

I am woken up at exactly 12:01 pm by the annoying child I call my best friend. For once, he listened.

"Maxxy!" he shrieks, "Get dressed, we have a date today."

I groan, "Tim. It's only noon. Why would we be going on a date when it's barely morning?"

He jumps on me, "It is the after noon. And we're going to the zoo. Now get up, get up, get up. And as pulls me off the bed, I'm surprised as always at how strong he is. Huh, maybe he could be a man after all, I think, my statement then undermined completely as he skips across my room to the closet and begins pulling out clothes, tossing them haphazardly to the ground.

After about ten minutes, he finally picks an outfit for me, a pair of skinny jeans and a red v neck t shirt, an outfit that he bought me for my birthday and that I've only worn once, when he gave me the sad look he's so good at. I decide not to argue, because this is his day, and it's too early to argue, and I should probably wear it again anyhow.

I grab a towel and head to the bathroom to shower, Tim following me closely with his own clothes in hand. As I step into the shower, I see him jumping, trying to reach the top shelf of the cabinet, where I moved his straightener to yesterday, just to watch this exact struggle. He turns, glaring at me.

He yells, "Maxwell Joseph Tucker, you did this on purpose, you dick! I did not give you permission to move my straightener. Get out of the shower right now and get it down!"

I smile at him for a second, laughing because he's exactly a fierce as chihuahua at this very moment. And then the ankle biter attacks. He stomps across the bathroom, jumping into the shower to pull me out. I groan, knowing that I'm going to have to spend the day hearing him complain that his hair won't lay right because I got it wet. Before anymore damage can be done to his precious hair, I step out of the shower and grab his many hair products that take up more space in the bathroom than all of my stuff.
Then I punch his shoulder before running back to the warm shower. "You fucker, it's freezing!" I say just as he groans from the pain.

I finish showering fifteen minutes later, and Tim forces me to stay in the bathroom for another thirty minutes while he attempts and fails to get his hair straight. He is such a girl!

Finally, he finished getting dressed and we leave the bathroom. He stops in the hallway to pose. I groan.

He looks up at me with wide eyes, "Maxxy? Do I look okay?"

I shrug, "Sure, beautiful, let's go." Which makes Tim stomp angrily, "You didn't even look up at me!" before suddenly smiling and running off to my bedroom.

He comes back in my favorite flannel sweater, which makes me growl at him. You dick, you always tell me flannel makes me look gross."

To which the pansy giggles. Actually giggles, like a chick. I've always hated when females giggle, but at least Tim isn't quite a high pitched when he does it. "Well duh, Maxxy. But it makes me look incredibly sexy."

To piss him off, I do the worst thing possible in his eyes: I slowly reach my hand up and ruffle his hair. To be honest, out looks exactly the same as it did before, already a curly mess, but it gets the reaction I wanted. His smirk fades and he glares, his green eyes boring into me, and he's trying so hard to look tough that I can't help but chuckle. He leaps on top of me, knocking me to the floor, and we wrestle for a few minutes before he suddenly jumps up to check his phone.

He grins, "Let's go!"

I frown, "Do we have to?"
And we go through the obligatory argument, but I know by how happy he looks that I don't actually have a choice.