"Jaime!" Vic yelled, stomping around the house and looking for his boyfriend. Kitchen, no. Living room, no. Bedroom, no. Studio, no. Jaime was hidden way down in his little hi-me cave, which was actually even more secluded and private than the little music studio they had. "Jaime!" Vic whined, firmly planting his feet onto the ground as Jaime looked up from his book.

"What, what do you want?" Jaime asked, dog-tagging his page and setting the book down. Oh, was this a new fight? Jaime was getting excited over it.

"Would you like to tell me where the hell my lucky shirt is?" Vic asked, pointing a finger. It was so early in the morning, but it was never too early to have a little fun.

"You mean the long-sleeved, brown one, with circles?" Jaime asked, tilting his head and twirling his fingers in a circle.

"You know exactly the shirt I am talking about Jaime! Now, what the fuck did you do with it?" Vic asked, bending down so he was right in Jaime's face with his hands on his hips.

"I threw it away." Jaime scrunched his face and turned his head. Vic was quick to turn it back using three fingers and moving his chin.

"Look at me, when I'm talking to you." Vic growled. "Tell me what you did with my lucky shirt."

"I told you already, you little shit. I threw it away!" Jaime yelled, pushing Vic backwards and away. Oh, no. Jaime wasn't going to let Vic talk to him like that, never.

"Are you serious?" Vic huffed in anger. He actually could believe Jaime. Time and time again, Jaime complained about the shirt. Jaime wasn't lying. He expected this actually. And even though Vic expected it also, he wasn't okay with it. Not one bit.

"Yes, Vic! That shirt is old and disgusting!" Jaime screamed, flailing his arms and avoiding eye contact.

"I never throw out any of your soccer jerseys! I never complain!" Vic pointed out.

"I wash my soccer jerseys, Vic. I don't think you've watched that shirt in a year." Jaime said, pushing Vic's chest.

"Well, duh, if I wash it then all the luck is… lost!" Vic said. He completely understood how stupid he was being over a shirt, but it is lucky. "Jaime, I need my shirt!" he pouted, hoping to guilt Jaime into magically pulling another lucky shirt out of his ass. But Jaime wouldn't be convinced so easily.

"Why?" Jaime asked curiously. He didn't throw it out just to bug Vic, because he really did hate the shirt. But he didn't know of any special event Vic would need "luck" for. Jaime didn't understand luck and Vic was incredibly superstitious, it pissed Jaime off on several occasions. His thoughts on the matter were "total bullshit" and he hated that the whole luck kept Vic from washing a shirt.

"I already told you, Hime! My cousin's bachelor party is tonight and I need to bring him luck!" Vic yelled in annoyance.

"Really? And you were going to wear that trash to your cousin's bachelor party?" Jaime asked with an added dose of sass.

"Alright, since when are you the fucking fashion police?" Vic screamed while swinging his fists through the air.

"Since now, and I won't let you wear that atrocious shirt to your cousin's bachelor party!" Jaime shouted, showing his teeth. Vic stared at him, hard, trying to change his mind. Didn't work. Vic huffed in his face, finally giving up and going to strut out of Jaime's cave. "Just where the hell do you think you're going? We aren't done here!" Jaime said, grabbing Vic's arm and pulling him back.

"I am done here! Let go of me!" Vic whined trying to yank away his arm, but Jaime had a damn good grip.

"I am not letting go of you, until you give me the apology I deserve." Jaime sneered.

"Me?! You're joking, you are the one who threw out my shirt!" Vic complained and Jaime just about had enough of him.

"God, you are so fucking irritating!" Jaime shouted, pulling Vic by his arm and enveloping him in his arms. He gave him a hard kiss on the mouth and pulled away just as quickly. Vic leaned right back in to kiss him even harder. He would have punched Jaime right there in his jaw, but that would be taking things too far.

"And you're so irrational." Vic told him as he put his arms around Jaime's neck. Jaime was basically just holding him very tightly to his chest, Vic's feet were even a tiny bit off the ground.

"We're both better off without the shirt." Jaime stated. And Vic leaned back in, this time not as harshly. He gave him a nice, long kiss that they both really enjoyed despite how angry they are at each other.

"But I want the shirt!" Vic whined, pouting and putting his down on Jaime's shoulders.

"Can't you just fucking let it go?!" Jaime begged and still Vic wouldn't have it. Hard-headed as he is.

"Hey, if I threw any of your things out with you permission, you would be pissed like I am!" Vic told him.

"Well, it's a good thing you didn't, then. I'd hate to have to get furious with you, Victor." Jaime teased. "Forget about it! You got us bickering like we're married." Jaime complained, letting Vic go so he could back up.

"I wanna marry you." Vic said with a smile and Jaime thought he looked very cute.

"I'd marry you in a heart beat." Jaime responded, glad that something finally got Vic's mind off the shirt.

"Your proposal better come with my shirt." Vic retorted and there left the cuteness.

"Really, Vic? Do you expect to go find whatever landfill that shit ended up in and dig it out of the goddamned trash?!" Jaime exasperated. God, Vic, he was such a piece of work.

"YES," Vic shouted at the top of his lungs. "YES, I DO!"