toji attempts to help with wash days
a/n: what a cute bond 🥺 how I love domestic toji
When you first started dating, Toji had only ever seen you in a protective style or a bonnet. He used to joke around about your hair being a "mystery" and you always laughed it off. As time went on, the once short and awkward pixie cut hair grew into the gorgeous curls and coils it is today and decided it was time to do deep treatment.
Steam curled against the bathroom mirror, fogging the edges until only blurry reflections remained. You left the bathroom to enter his room and sat on the carpet floor with a towel wrapped around your shoulders while another towel rested across your lap to catch the steady drips from your freshly washed hair.
As you were unpacking your bag to grab the products you needed, you heard the door open and see Toji leaning against the doorframe, watching you. His eyes were soft, like you were the most beautiful thing in the room.
"Look at you," he grinned, walking over. "That hair?" He ran his fingers through the air like he was feeling it. "Gonna be a whole damn goddess when you finish. I swear, I’m the luckiest man alive."
You raised an eyebrow, smoothing some product through your hair. "Don’t act like you ain't used to this by now."
"Yea, but seeing it in its natural glory? It's like watchin' art in motion." He crouched down next to you, watching you work your magic. "I like how you take care of it. Makes me wanna learn how to do it myself."
You snorted, shaking your head. "Boy, you? Do my hair? That’s funny.”
He smirked. "I could do your hair. Watch me. I’m hands-on."
You glanced up at him. "Oh, really? You think you could handle all this?" You laughed again, hands running through your curls as you styled. “You wouldn’t even know what to do with it. You’ll be pulling out the wrong products and mess up my whole vibe.”
He grinned wide, leaning in close. "You'd be surprised what I can do when I put my mind to it."
You smiled, feeling the affection pour out of him.
"Alright, alright," you laughed. "Maybe one day I'll let you try it."
Your hands paused in the middle of smoothing leave-in conditioner through your curls.
He shrugged like it was obvious.
"You already washed it. Lemme help."
You stared at him for a second before bursting into laughter.
"You don't even know what any of these products are."
"You are way too confident."
"Nah." He reached over, nudging your shoulder. "Just wanna take care of you for once."
The teasing smile on your face softened.
"But," you warned, pointing a finger at him, "if you rip out my curls, I'm putting you on probation."
"What kind of probation?"
"Oh well, cuz I love my hair."
You shifted so your back faced him while he settled cross-legged behind you.
"So..." he looked at the collection of bottles spread across the floor. "...Which one am I using?"
He picked up the first bottle he saw.
"...Why are there so many bottles?"
"Because my hair likes options."
He muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, "High maintenance," earning him an elbow to the thigh.
You handed him the right bottle.
"Okay. Start with a little."
Far too much landed in his palm.
You turned just enough to look at him.
"My leave-in costs money."
He snorted before rubbing the product between his hands.
You reached back, gently guiding his hands.
His fingers slid through your damp curls, surprisingly hesitant now that he was actually touching them.
"I'm trying not to get fired."
"You've been employed for thirty seconds."
He rolled his eyes before carefully separating one section.
He picked up the wide-tooth comb.
He started combing through the bottom of your curls exactly like you'd shown him.
Everything went smoothly.
The comb caught on a knot.
"The shit got caught, my bad."
You turned just enough to shoot him a look.
He was trying and failing not to laugh.
"You have to hold the hair above the knot."
You showed him where to grip before settling back against him again.
This time, he slowed down.
He held each section steady before easing the comb through, working little by little instead of forcing it.
His large hands became more confident with every section, gently separating curls with his fingers before combing through them.
"Why this takes forever."
Eventually, something clicked.
His movements became smoother.
Leave. Brush. Dryer. Oil. Repeat
His fingers gently lifted your curls at the roots while warm air flowed through them.
By the end, he was checking each section with his hand,
You reached up, fluffing your hair.
Your curls looked soft, defined, and surprisingly...really good.
You turned toward him with wide eyes.
"You actually did it! Thank you.” You turn to give him a kiss
His hand automatically found the back of your head, careful not to disturb the curls he'd spent nearly an hour helping with.
He looked down at your hair with quiet satisfaction.
"Next time, I’ll even learn how to braid."