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Keisuke struggled up the steep, narrow staircase with a large bucket in each hand.

“Ta-ke-shiiii!” he whined plaintively. “These are heavy!”

The Myougi driver spoke around a large armful of supplies.
“And this is light?”

“Light-ER!” Keisuke insisted.

Finally reaching the bedroom at the top of the stairs, Takeshi dumped his supplies in the middle of the room. Keisuke quickly followed in his footsteps, dropping the buckets gratefully on the carpet.

“You’re lucky I’m helping you,” Takeshi grumbled. “Why isn’t your brother here?”

Keisuke sighed as he hugged and kissed the grouchy driver melodramatically.
“Thank you, Takepon,” he lilted.

Takeshi rolled his eyes, but planted a kiss on Keisuke’s nose anyway.
“You’re welcome.”

“Besides,” the blond driver explained as he began to unroll a sheet of plastic over the carpet, “it’s Aniki’s finals week, so mom said he was excused.”

“Oh, I see. In other words, his excuse was better than yours.”

Keisuke stuck his tongue out at the smirking driver.
“Yeah, but at least I’m better looking.”

Takeshi chuckled.
“I guess I can’t argue with that.”

“You’d better not!”