The one where Alexander can’t assemble Ikea furniture to save his life:
“Fucking hell!” You huff and yank the allen key from the slot in which you’d thought it was supposed to go, chucking it angrily at the nearest wall. You frantically peer down at the crumpled piece of paper in your hands, willing the diagrams and arrows on the page to reveal literally any of their many secrets.
You are so entirely enraptured with what you’re doing that you don’t notice Alexander in the doorway until he whistles lowly. “What on earth are you doing, kid?”
You clutch the paper in your fist and wave it around dramatically. “You’ve got to help me out here, Alex. This is the kind of confusion I would imagine archeologists grappled with upon discovery of ancient hieroglyphics.”
Alexander scoffs and pushes himself from the frame of the guestroom door. “Nonsense, kid,” He strolls over to where you’re splayed out on the hardwood floor, random Ikea bedframe parts litter the space around you like a warzone. “How tough can it be?”
An hour edges by and all Alexander has accomplished is the formation of the bottom frame. For some reason, the long metal bar that goes down the middle of the frame isn’t fitting in to any of the holes and he looks about ready to tear his hair out at the root. “Remind me again as to why we are setting up Ikea furniture for our guest room?” He sighs heavily and settles up against the far wall in defeat.
You take a long swig from the beer bottle in your hand before deciding how best to answer this. “One of us… can’t recall who, decided it would be fun to change things up and have deliciously rough drunk sex in the guest bed.”
Alexander squints up at you, lips quirked up in a half smirk. “And?”
“And,” You murmur. “We fucked the bed into literal disrepair.”
Alexander elicits a hearty laugh, and it’s everything you can do not to start laughing along with him. “Oh that’s right. Thought we ordered an unreasonably expensive new one?”
“We did,” You confirm. “But it won’t be here for another week at least, and company’s coming in,” You glance down at the text message from your best friend and sigh. “In two days. So I dug out this bedframe that I forgot I had and here we are.”
“Here we are.” Alexander repeats resolutely.
Another half an hour passes before he realizes he’s had the metal bar going the wrong way the entire time.
“Oh my god,” He curses under his breath and tosses the instructions to the floor in exasperation. “Why do they feel the need to make this so fucking difficult?”
“I just…” You shake your head in utter disbelief. “I- how can you be so effortlessly awful at this?”
Alexander scowls at you, his mouth slightly agape. “You weren’t much better off on your own!”
Midnight rolls around and the frame is built and is (so far) capable of withstanding the weight of the mattress and blankets atop of it. Alexander stands proudly at the foot of the bed, a beer wedged in his hand as he surveys his handiwork. “What do you think, kid?”
You stand next to him, lacing your fingers with his much larger ones and drop your head to rest against his bicep. “I think that you did a wonderful job Alex,” A beat passes between the pair of you before you add, “And also that you should be stripped of your passport and Swedish citizenship immediately.”
And the elder Swede just drops his head back and belly laughs, and you can’t help but laugh right along with him.
