Jonghyun curses inwardly for the umpteenth time as his fingers keep fumbling with the buttons on the left sleeve of his dress shirt. He has been standing in front of the mirror for at least fifteen minutes, futilely trying to fit the impossibly obstinate buttons in their respective holes.

With what little amount of optimism he has left, Jonghyun switches focus to the opposite sleeve. That, though, doesn’t quite turn out as planned, a few breathy profanities slipping past his lips as the fabric once again slides past the tiny button. He’s supposed to be ambidextrous, damn it.

Come on come on come on, he chants mentally when the circular object finally pushes past the rim, hands flying up in a quick victory dance. His eyes go back to examine his handiwork, though only to find the button situated in the wrong hole.

“Oh, for s sake!” exclaims Jonghyun, pulling vehemently at his sleeve in a bitter attempt to now unhook the button. But, even that seems an impossible task.

He’s about ready to tear the shirt off and set it afire when a quite amused voice startles him out of his mini-battle.

“Lashing out won’t solve anything, Mr. Pacifist.”

Sighing, Jonghyun turns his body halfway to cast the owner of the voice a pair of defeated puppy eyes.

There, slumped against the doorframe of their bedroom door, stands Kibum in all his glory, hip canted out, arms languidly crossed, head resting against the wooden panel. His fringe is parted in the middle, eyebrows framing mischievous feline eyes, lips tilted in a slight smirk.

“Easy for you to say; you’re not the one dealing with a persistently uncooperative shirt,” Jonghyun huffs, fingers venturing back to fumble with his sleeve.

A low chuckle emanates from Kibum who ambles closer. “C’mere, you doofus,” he demands, albeit in the affectionate manner only Kibum masters, hands coming up to grab Jonghyun’s wrist. He manages to tug the button out and fasten both in less than a minute, dropping Jonghyun’s right sleeve in favor of working on the other. And not once does he drop the arrogant countenance.

Jonghyun can’t keep himself from scoffing. “It’s not fair. You’re using two hands.”

Kibum’s sharp gaze shoots up to lock with Jonghyun’s, one thick eyebrow arched defiantly. Gulping, Jonghyun watches as the raven haired removes one hand from his wrist, slim fingers twisting the fabric of his shirt, fitting each button in their places in the most graceful of manners. That’s when Kibum, the arrogant bastard, raises his head with a mocking gaze, haughty grin on f