Prompt: Dedra is feeling chuffed that she's managed to learn another impeccably neat hairdo from watching holo-vid tutorials, and wants Syril to notice and compliment her. She's bad at communicating this, of course.
For @fandom-fantasy-fuel — hope you like!
Dedra hadn’t expected him to notice her hair immediately. The dubiously-named Ghorman twist had taken her nearly an hour and three holonet tutorials. The pins tugged at her scalp in an unfamiliar way, the weight of her hair distributed more evenly than with the bun.
She’d been ordered to attend a Vesty Week reception — civilian dress only. She’d dug an old dress from the back of her wardrobe, where it had sat in a garment bag for at least two years. Its chief virtue was the modest cut that hid a pocket for her comlink.
Syril stood in the kitchen, where he was preparing some kind of vegetable stock. He fretted over the pot, lifting the lid every few minutes to peer inside. A towel was tossed over his shoulder.
“Dedra,” he greeted, hearing her footsteps. “Is it time?”
She nodded curtly and stuck a stray pin back into her updo. “I will return very late. Do not wait up.”
Syril looked crestfallen, but he said nothing.
“Duty calls,” Dedra justified.
“I know that. It’s just that you spent all afternoon shut in the bedroom. I’m not criticizing,” he clarified quickly, “I know your work is vital and often sensitive. But—”
“—It wasn’t all afternoon,” Dedra corrected. “And I wasn’t working.”
“I was attempting to style my hair.”
Syril abandoned the pot to take a closer look. She watched him take in the smooth roll of hair and the ends tucked neatly underneath. She knew Syril had a particular fascination with her hair, and treasured the rare occasions when she’d let him touch it. He circled behind her, and she felt his breath tickle her neck.
“It looks wonderful,” he declared, and Dedra knew he meant the compliment. He leaned forward to kiss the top of her shoulder. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice.”
Dedra extricated herself and went to the entryway to put on her shoes. For the hundredth time, she wished Senator Organa’s soirée had permitted dress uniforms. All of this fuss was taking valuable time from her Axis investigation. Stars, even visiting Syril’s mother would be a better use of her time.
“Apology accepted, provided you help me take it down when I return.”
Syril blushed. “I’d be honored.”
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