Chapter Text
"How do you do it?" Fleece asks as Hazel leaves his bathroom - and between their voice and finding them lounging on his bed, he can't help but jolt a little.
He hadn't even heard them come in.
"Do what?" He asks as soon as he recovers, crossing over to the closet to fetch his blazer as the final layer of his clothing.
"Take so long to get ready. I don't think I could spend two hours in the bathroom if I tried - at least not showering and whatever else it is you do. If I was shitting, maybe."
"How can that possibly be a foreign concept to you?" Hazel asks, looking over as they sit up, "I'd think your hair alone would take a least an hour to manage."
"What, this old thing?" Fleece says, lifting their braid, "that's the easiest part. I just squeeze it with a towel and brush it a bit. And I could braid it in my sleep."
"You don't use any products?" Hazel asks, "Really?"
"Well, I shampoo it, obviously. Like, once a week or whatever. The part closest to my head, anyway. Gravity pretty much handles the rest."
Curiosity getting the better of him, Hazel steps over to the bed to sit close to Fleece, and then he reaches out and takes their braid in hand. He runs his hands carefully along part of the length, squeezes lightly with his fingers - and when he looks back up, he finds Fleece watching him over their shoulder.
He immediately drops their hair, wondering what he'd been thinking to touch it so casually - and in an attempt to brush it off, he clears his throat.
"In that case, I'm surprised that it's so clean and soft - although there are a good number of split ends, by the looks of it. You could probably get a trim -"
"Spend a lot of time thinking about my hair, 'Zel?"
"No," Hazel immediately responds, standing back up to put some distance between them. Still, after a second he can't help but to add, "but if you used a little leave-in conditioner, it could be even nicer. Some product probably won't solve your problem with your ends but you could hide them pretty easily. It'd look cleaner for longer, too. I've never agreed with people who say you should only wash your hair once a week or less - but if it works, I suppose it works. It's not at all filthy - which is impressive, honestly, given the rest of the mongrels you grew up with."
Fleece doesn't answer, or respond at all, really, and after a few long seconds of waiting for them to Hazel turns away completely. His cheeks redden, just a bit, and all at once he wonders why he'd said anything at all. It wasn't his business or concern what they did with their hair and it wasn't as if they'd give a shit about what he recommended, anyway -
"Alright, show me then," Fleece says, hopping from the bed. With a blink, Hazel turns to look at them again - and finds them unbraiding their hair with quick and practiced ease. Hazel watches them in something like fascination as they free a cascade of hair from its usual binds - he had seen it like this before, of course, but had he really ever paid attention? He hadn't realized just how long it was - or how wavy it was from so long spent braided -
"You…want me to do your hair?" He asks.
"Yep," Fleece responds with a slight pop to their 'p.' "Show me what I'm missing."
Hazel stares at them for a minute longer - gaze alternating between their usual, impassive face and their hair. It felt like it ought to be a trap - but the opportunity -
"You'll have to wash it, first," he finally says, "some of the product has to be put in while it's wet."
"What, you won't even wash it for me?"
"You won't be able to do it properly in the sink, and I'm not climbing into the shower with you," Hazel retorts.
Fleece snorts, but then they start walking towards the bathroom - peeling their clothing off as they go.
"Would you at least wait until you're in there," Hazel snaps - but before they can answer, not that they would have, he adds, "wait."
He steps up behind them, once more feeling the need to clear his throat.
"Use the shampoo like you usually do," he says, "and then use the conditioner, too. It's the upside right bottle. Don't use it all over, though, or on your scalp." He reaches out, hesitating a second before slipping his fingers through the hair near their neck. Trailing a path down towards their shoulders, he continues, "put it through this area. Gravity should help it get through the rest. Then towel it off like normal when you're done."
"Got it boss," the respond - and then they disappear into the bathroom, hair pulling across Hazel's fingers as they go.
Despite Fleece's question about Hazel's time in the bathroom, it feels like it takes a while before they reappear. Which is good, because it gives Hazel the chance to prepare himself for the inevitable and when they finally leave the bathroom entirely naked he manages not to react beyond looking quickly away.
"Couldn't even keep a towel on?" He grumbles, gesturing to the stool in front of his vanity.
"Well, I didn't want to impede your access," they respond, walking towards the stool - although just before they sit, Hazel manages to bark out -
"Wait! Don't sit yet."
And then he ducks into the bathroom - where he gathers up his brushes and hair dryer, a few handpicked products from his collection, and after just a second of hesitation his own shower robe. Which he immediately lobs at Fleece as he leaves the bathroom.
"Just - put that on."
They huff a soft laugh, and to his relief start doing as he'd said.
"What's the matter, all this too distracting for you?" They tease.
"I just don't want your bare ass on my stool," Hazel retorts.
Fleece hums a noise of disbelief, but they don't say anything else as they tighten the robe around their waist and then settle onto the stool. Where they wait - ready for him. Ready for Hazel to work on their hair.
It takes him a moment to work up the courage to approach.
He sets his stuff on the vanity, takes a breath, and grabs the bottle of detangler.
"This might catch a little," He warns - and then he gets to work.
Each step looks much like the last. Hazel lathers his hands with the product of choice, and then uses his fingers to thread it through the bulk of Fleece's hair. He moves slow but steady - making sure to work the product into each and every fiber. With the detangler, he spends some time brushing through their hair too - holding a chunk of it in his hand and running the bristles through to ease away any knots or tangles. Of which there are plenty - not that he holds that against them. With so much hair that had likely never been cut, tangles couldn't be avoided.
By the time he's done with it, though, the brush passes all the way to the end without trouble. So he moves on to the oils. A little for their scalp - which he massages in with his fingers. As he does, Fleece gives a soft hum - and when Hazel chances a look in the mirror, he finds them with their eyes closed and head tilted slightly back.
Calm. Relaxed. Enjoying themself.
He pauses, just briefly - and after that, he's acutely aware of just how close they are.
The way his fingers pass along the nape of their neck every time he picks their hair up. The heft and pull of their hair as it runs over his hands and through his fingers. The way his robe sits loose on their shoulders - how it wouldn't take much effort to follow the trail of their neck down their chest and how much he might see if did -
Oil for their hair, just enough to cover the strands from their shoulders down to the tips. Leave-in conditioner, which Hazel spends quite awhile working in - rubbing, combing, massaging - until the last of the white is gone and it has vanished entirely into their hair. Volumizing mousse, once again at their scalp - not that they really need it, but he figures it can't hurt. Then it's heat protectant - and he switches to a fine-toothed comb to spread it through each strand.
Then the hair dryer, on low of course - and it feels like it takes ages to get their entire head of hair dry but Fleece doesn't complain and Hazel doesn't mind. Once it's fully dry, Fleece opens their eyes and starts to sit forward but Hazel briefly squeezes at their shoulder to stop them and reaches over for another bottle of oil.
"Do you seriously put this much on your hair every time?" They ask.
"My hair doesn't usually frizz," Hazel says with a sniff, "so I don't often do this step. But yours needs it."
Another hum, but they don't stop him. With a tiny bit of oil, he easily hides any fly-away strands and split ends and when he's finally through their hair shimmers beneath the light. He passes his fingers through it, one last time - pleased when his fingers come away with hardly any residue at all.
Then, he steps back as Fleece shakes their head from side to side. Their hair waves with the movement, coming to a rest each time they stop with a flutter. It's light, voluminous, and -
Well, if Hazel is honest with himself, it looks really nice.
Then, Fleece reaches back and starts bundling the strands together.
"Hang on, I want to braid it," Hazel says, stepping forward again.
"What do you know about braiding hair?"
"How hard can it be?" Hazel retorts - and he meets their gaze through the mirror. They study him without an obvious thought on their face - and after a second, they shrug and drop their hands.
"Alright, go for it then."
So,Hazel does.
Fleece doesn't give him any feedback as he works - and it is slow going. More than once Hazel gets a few braids away, and then realizes one has started to unravel - swelling in place and making the whole thing look uneven. So he undoes his own work and returns to the problem and starts again.
It's more difficult than he'd thought it'd be - not that he admits as much out loud.
"Hey, is that actual horse shampoo in your shower?" Fleece eventually asks, seemingly unbothered by his clumsy attempt.
"No, of course not, it's -"
"Because it's got a horse on the bottle. And it's called Mane and Tail."
"It's not horse shampoo," Hazel snaps, pausing with a curse to unbraid the bit of hair he'd just messed up, "the company makes horse shampoo, but so many people claimed it was good for humans too that they started marketing product specifically for humans. They just kept the name -"
"So it's horse shampoo."
"No, it's not."
"Yes it is."
"Oh, just shut up," Hazel says, "you're distracting me."
"Sorry to have to tell you this, bud, but you aren't doing a great job here - distracted or not."
"It's fine -"
But then they reach back and bat his hands away and immediately start undoing all of his work. With a huff, Hazel crosses his arms and meets their look with a glare.
"Look, the pampering was real nice and all, but you can't braid for shit," they say, "we'll be here all day, and my ass is starting to hurt."
"Whatever," Hazel grumbles.
He'd had it - and their refusal to let him finish irks him.
Still, as he settles on the edge of his bed, he watches them. He watches the deftness in their fingers, the ease with which they braid their hair almost perfectly each pass.
And before long, his annoyance turn to enthrallment and he half forgets why he'd been agitated at all.