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Keith reached an absolutely not trembling hand up, going to the back of his head to the exact spot he knew the hard and yet sticky glob of alien-chicken saliva had dripped onto and formed the most disgusting, giant knot Keith had ever had in his life.
But unlike other knots this one would not come out.
Not with soap, not even with shampoo.
Not with peanut butter or oil.
Not with a comb — there were pieces of one now stuck in the glob — or a brush or Keith’s fingers near frantically trying to dig into the disgusting mass.
His literal last chance had been the cleaning product Coran had given him that he said could remove practically anything. He’d cautioned Keith not to work it in too much as otherwise he ran the risk of giving himself a bald spot, but Keith had figured he could lather it all on top of the knot that was practically a bun at this point and go from there.
He didn’t expect it to be completely gone, but just…
Smaller.
Manageable.
Something if he had to cut it out he wouldn’t be losing over half of his hair.
He stretched his fingers.
And encountered the knot that had not shrunk at all.
Keith squeezed his eyes shut as his hands dropped, clenching around the sink basin.
“Damnit,” he whispered, feeling a hot tear trying to sneak out. “Goddamnit.”
It’s not that he was vain like Lance or even Allura. It was hair, it would grow back.
Just…
The last time someone other than himself had cut his hair…
Keith’s hands tightened on the sink ledge.
It had been one of the group home workers who had declared his hair was too long, too messy and unkept, and that somehow related to why Keith was getting into so many fights, and had dragged him into the cramped staff bathroom to cut it.
She’d clearly had no idea what she was doing and Keith had not only ended up with his hair cut into awful chunks and ends, she’d cut him with the scissors across the back of his head when he’d jerked as she’d pulled too tight and it had hurt and he’d actually ended up in the hospital for stitches and an antibiotic because of course the scissors hadn’t been sterilized.
He had wound up with a bald spot after all where they’d had to shave it to apply the stitches, but one of the nurses there had at least cleaned up what he could of the mess made of Keith’s hair and so the bullying hadn’t been what it could have (it had still been bad, but not as bad).
Since then the only person who had ever cut Keith’s hair was Keith and while he didn’t do the best job — clearly given Lance’s insistence on calling it a mullet and while Keith didn’t follow fashion trends he knew mullets were not considered by most to be attractive at all — it was good enough for him.
Except now…
This was not something he could hope to cut on his own as he didn’t have that kind of skill and if Lance teased him about his mullet he couldn’t even imagine the other boy’s reaction when Keith showed up with a giant clump missing, edges shorn and no doubt a bald spot (or spots).
Shiro had already told him that if Coran’s solution hadn’t worked he could help him shave it off and Keith trusted Shiro with that, he did, and while he didn’t want to he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable with Shiro cutting his hair.
But he also didn’t want a shaved head. Not only did it remind him far too much of the incident at the home but he had the faintest scar from the stitches and it’d be visible for sure and then that would prompt questions he didn’t want to answer.
And if not Shiro…
Then the only other real answer aboard the castle was Lance.
He apparently not only cut his own hair but kept up Hunk and Pidge’s and had apparently taken over Allura’s as she needed and he had offered to “fix” Keith’s hair before even though Keith had always scowled and said he didn’t need Lance’s help to which Lance always just grinned and told Keith he could keep telling himself that, just as he told himself mullets were in style.
Keith cringed thinking about asking him.
The only other person was Coran and Coran had already volunteered as well, but…
But somehow everything he touched ended up curled like his moustache and Keith would rather be bald than to be having small moustaches all over his head.
So while Lance would be the best to salvage what he could of Keith’s hair, he had no desire to hear the other boy making comments about his hair or the situation that had started it: where a space chicken at the farm they were touring had apparently mistaken Keith’s head for a female space chicken and gone to roost upon it and perform their mating proposition, which involved expelling all of their stomach contents into the others’ waiting beak.
Keith’s head though had no beak so he’d instead gotten half-digested food pellets and saliva all down the back of his head and while the food pellets had come out the saliva had not and Keith had gone to try to comb his fingers through it and unintentionally matted it even worse.
The longer he left it in the worse he knew it would become — the matt was already larger than it’d started off — and then the only option would be to shave his entire head and while Keith’s hair grew decently fast — no doubt from some Galra gene and hence why it had grown to the point where waiting for haircut day for that group home worker hadn’t been feasible — it would still take months if not a year for it to even be close to what he’d had before or what Lance could probably save.
And so…
Keith shuddered out a breath.
To ask Lance for his help it was and pray he didn’t regret it more than the bald head.
Last he’d seen Lance was in the kitchen with Hunk where they were experimenting making omelets with the space chicken eggs — Keith would darkly rather be roasting and eating the chicken that had vomited on him — and so that was where he went, feeling like he was headed for the guillotine.
He almost wished he was. If he lost his head then he wouldn’t have to be dealing with his hair.
He was still trying to figure out how to best ask Lance for his help that would result in the least amount of teasing and crowing by the time he reached the kitchen, but he needn’t have even tried as Lance spotted him before Keith could even open his mouth.
“Oh ho,” Lance grinned like the cat that caught the canary as he set down the tomato he’d been washing, “is that my favorite mullet-soon-to-not-be coming here for the amazing Lancey-Lance’s assistance to make his hair finally presentable?”
Keith grit his teeth and dug his nails into his palms.
He changed his mind.
He’d rather be bald than deal with Lance.
Keith said nothing as he turned abruptly on his heel before he’d even fully entered the kitchen.
Lance let out a squawking sound followed by a high-pitched, “Keith, wait! Wait!”
Keith did not.
“Keith, come on,” Lance was following him down the hall but to Keith’s relief wasn’t actually physically trying to stop him. If someone tried to grab his hair or shoulder right now…
He shoved the awful memory away.
“I was just teasing,” Lance tried, but Keith ignored the barely there apology. “Please don’t let Shiro shave your head. That’ll be even worse than the mullet.”
Keith whirled around then, eyes flashing and nails digging half-circles into his palms through the gloves.
“Maybe that’s what I want,” he snapped, shoving every bit of anger, every frustration, to the front of his words and not letting any of the hurt show that of course, even now, Lance couldn’t be serious.
And he definitely was not letting him anywhere near his hair.
Lance’s eyes widened, mouth forming a little ‘o,’ and his one outstretched hand fell slowly to his side.
Keith turned back and continued his trek towards Shiro’s room.
Lance didn’t follow.
He shuddered out a breath.
This wasn’t what he’d wanted, but he’d rather this then—
Rapid footsteps sounded behind him.
Keith braced himself for the unwanted touch but Lance didn’t try to grab him, instead going past Keith and planting himself in front of his walking path and despite the action Lance’s face was not cocky, not laughing, and not defiant.
He just looked sad and…
And guilty.
It gave Keith pause before he shoved past Lance and his arms instead folded defensively across his chest, waiting for whatever it was Lance wanted to say now.
“Keith, wait, please,” he held out a hand in a sort of stop sign. “Can, can I start over?”
Keith didn’t say anything.
“Look,” Lance ran a hand through his own hair and only because Keith had seen him make the gesture a hundred times before kept him from walking right then and there as Lance highlighted Keith’s current predicament, “I messed up back there. You came to me because you needed my help, right? And I sort of threw it in your face even though that wasn’t what I meant. And, and I’m not going to try to do anything you don’t want. Just get the knot out and clean it up. That’s it, promise. But, but if you’d rather let Shiro do it I understand, I do,” and while Lance looked pained at the prospect he didn’t eliminate it. “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I upset you,” and Keith’s eyes widened slightly at that, “and hurt you.” Lance hung his head. “And I’m sorry.”
Lance had never apologized like that to Keith. Ever.
He could feel some of the sharp tension holding him rigid loosening at the apology. It was a 180 from Lance’s behavior earlier, but…
But it felt sincere.
“Okay,” Keith said quietly, barely audible to even himself but Lance’s head snapped up.
But contrary to the large grin or excitement about finally getting his hands on Keith’s hair…
Lance looked only solemn.
“I won’t mess it up,” Lance promised.
And Keith knew they both weren’t entirely talking about his hair.
He gave a nod.
“Come with me,” Lance turned on his heel back towards the kitchen. “I’ve got a spot prepped in the kitchen — best lighting there — and we can get you all gussied up before dinner.”
The words, lighter in nature, were not mocking, and while they didn’t get Keith to crack a smile he fell into silent step next to Lance.
Hunk clearly saw them come back in and he shot Keith a soft, genuine smile and inclined his head to the kitchen table where just as Lance had said there were towels, scissors, and what Keith could only assume were Lance’s own brush and comb, before pointedly turning back to meal prep and giving them privacy.
Keith took a seat on the pulled out chair and tried not to flinch as Lance snapped a towel next to him as he brought it practically expertly around Keith’s front and back but clearly he hadn’t been successful as Lance had murmured out a soft, almost concerned, “You okay?”
“Fine,” Keith bit out, his hands white-knuckled again as he gripped the chair arms.
Lance didn’t push.
“Okay, so what were you thinking? Try to keep it as close as to what it was or try something new?” Lance asked and Keith could hear him behind him picking something up off of the table.
“What it was,” Keith said.
It was familiar.
He didn’t tend to like change as most times…
Most times it was not for the best.
“It’s definitely gonna be shorter,” Lance warned him. “But, I think,” and hands landed featherlight on the knot and Keith tried not to hiss as even that prod pulled at his scalp, “maybe I could go for something like Hunk’s? It’s got the same sort of flare in the back and would still balance out your bangs. That okay?”
“Fine,” Keith agreed as while Hunk’s hair was definitely shorter it did mimic his a tiny bit.
“I’ll keep it as long as I can,” Lance said. “And I’ll try not to pull too much. Relax as much as you can, okay?”
Keith could not relax, especially as despite Lance clearly being careful every tug and snip did pull painfully on his scalp.
But Lance’s little mutters of, “holy crow, this is really in there,” and “dang, mullet, your hair is super thick,” and “oh apples and bananas, Hunk, can I borrow the paring knife? These scissors just aren’t… cutting it,” and that last one had been followed by Hunk’s groan at the pun and Keith even felt his lips quirk up for a moment, were never cruel or antagonizing and bit by bit as surely as the knot began to fall apart to Lance’s cuts Keith could feel himself losing a bit of his grip on the chair.
And then he tensed right back up as he felt fingers comb through his hair.
“Knot’s gone,” Lance murmured, finger-combing Keith’s hair again, the sensation both pleasant and yet far, far too personal.
And he didn’t say anything but Lance must have felt him stiffen as his hand fell away and Keith could feel his cheeks heating but Lance didn’t say anything about it.
“Gonna get to styling it now, kay?” he said instead.
Keith nodded.
The silence was broken now by Lance’s soft intermittent humming and just as soft commands of things like “head down, look forward now,” the soft snip of scissors and the sounds of Hunk cooking.
It was nothing like last time.
Lance’s hands were gentle as he combed out Keith’s hair and didn’t linger longer than they needed to and it was actually…
It was actually kind of soothing.
And then Lance found the scar.
Keith could feel it as fingers brushing to part his hair and section it trailed over the small raised bump and if that hadn’t been enough to make him curious Keith instinctually going ramrod straight would.
Here it came.
The questions about what caused it, is that why Keith didn’t want his hair cut, what had happened, why was—?
Lance kept going, humming again.
Keith felt frozen.
He…
He wasn’t going to ask anything?
And as the minutes ticked by Keith realized no, Lance wasn’t.
Something warm curled in his chest at that.
A few minutes later he felt Lance lift the brush away and release the last clips he’d had in Keith’s hair and then there was a soft, “All done, mullet,” and apparently the nickname was sticking regardless of style. Keith realized he didn’t mind as much now. “Take a look?” Lance continued and as he opened his eyes — not entirely sure when he’d closed them — there was a mirror hovering in front of him.
Keith swallowed and lifted his eyes up to his reflection.
His mouth parted.
It…
It actually looked…
He reached a hand up towards the much shorter locks than he was used to, but…
“And the back,” Lance held up another mirror behind him to reflect the back of his head, that while cropped shorter to account for the loss of hair, was still…
He still had a full head of hair.
“What do you think?” Lance lowered the second mirror but Keith could see him reflected in the one hovering in front of his face.
“It…” Keith’s eyes went back to his own reflection before he met Lance’s in the mirror, “it looks good.”
And while Lance smiled it wasn’t the shit-eating grin of earlier.
It was just happy.
And instead of saying something like “of course it does, I cut it!” Lance only continued that soft smile and said, “I think so too. And, in the future, if you want it trimmed again you can come to me, okay? Or if you want to do it yourself that’s cool too.”
“Thanks, Lance,” Keith said quietly, lowering his eyes as Lance took away the mirror.
“You’re welcome, Keith,” Lance said just as quietly.
And as Lance stepped away, saying something about a broom and how Keith was on sweeping duty, Keith reached a hand up to his hair, feeling the smooth, even locks, and felt his own lips pull into a small smile.
Because next time he needed a haircut…
He had someone he now trusted to do so.