@feltelures asked for dhaos and grune brushing each other’s hair and now i’m in hell thanks
Grune’s memory truly was the most unfortunate thing about her; it failed constantly, forcing her friends to make the same explanations multiple times and drawing dangerously close to testing Dhaos’s patience in most conversations. But even worse were the occasions when it did not fail, when she made her promises with a gentle conviction and held to them unerringly.
Most mundanely, she never failed to remember to bring Dhaos his groceries, though he’d rather hoped she would put off her visit today.
“Dhaos!” she called cheerfully from his door a little down the hall. He sighed in only mild irritation; having expected her visit he’d at least had the foresight to get his shower over with quickly, but now he would be forced to greet her in nothing but a bathrobe.
...He slipped some briefs on before calling back.
Robe tied safely around his waist Dhaos found her gazing dreamily at the flowers in his… vase (a drinking glass), a finger to her lips in thought. Just as he opened his mouth to insist that no, he did not need more of them, she looked up and broke into a wide smile at the sight of him.
“Grune,” he responded simply, resigning himself to the inevitable hug he received in return. “There is no need to come when it’s raining out.”
“Oh, but I wouldn’t want you to be hungry,” Grune said. “And the rain is so nice.”
“It’s also quite cold,” Dhaos retorted, just shy of grousing. He’d been enjoying some fresh air when it started, and hadn’t made it home in time to keep from getting wet.
Grune’s answering blink told Dhaos she hadn’t felt it at all. “Is it? ...Oh, your hair is wet!”
Dhaos resisted the urge to point out that he was wearing a bathrobe, as that was the very last thing he wanted attention drawn to just at the moment. “The rain came upon us before I returned home.”
He had expected her to make some other comment about how nice the rain was and how glad she felt that he’d seen at least a little of it before he came inside, but what she instead said was, “Would you like me to brush your hair for you?”
He blinked, but this was not such a strange request for Grune, and so he recovered quickly. “That will not be necessary.”
“If you don’t brush it now, it might get tangled and hurt when you brush it later,” she said in response, about as seriously as someone like her could manage.
“Thank you for the offer, Grune. But I can manage it myself.”
Grune was silent for an instant longer than was normal for her-- such a short moment that Dhaos would not have noticed it in anyone else. But when she spoke it was not to say anything out of the ordinary. “Sophie and Fenimore and I like to brush each other’s hair sometimes. You can brush my hair afterwards, too.”
Dhaos fell back into his customary silence and studied her. This was all fairly standard between them by now, but something in Grune’s expression seemed… hopeful. More eager than usual. And once that thought crossed his mind, the next was that it was almost as though she were bargaining.
She beamed, as she always did when he relented to her, but fell back into her usual puzzled expression before long. “Hm… Now…?”
“I’ll get the brush,” Dhaos said, turning back to reenter his room. He definitely did not want Grune in there again any time soon.
When he emerged again Grune smiled blindingly, and with the most initiative he’d ever seen from her took the brush from his hand. “We can get nice and comfy on the couch.”
Deciding not to argue with her choice of words Dhaos again relented, lowering himself onto the sofa and feeling the cushion dip under Grune’s weight behind him. Idly he thought of how only a year or two ago he would never have turned his back on anyone this close, but Grune would never have harmed a soul if she could help it.
“Tell me if it hurts, okay?”
Dhaos had done his best to pick out a brush that did its job but didn’t make him regret the length of his hair, and Grune’s was a naturally gentle hand. Though he only did so out of necessity Dhaos couldn’t deny that brushing his hair generally felt pleasant, and the last person to do it for him had been his father, long ago.
No, came a thought unbidden, as Grune’s fingers found their way between the strands to his scalp. The last person to brush his hair had been Grune, during that week so soon after his arrival here, when the Demon King was a distant dream and he couldn’t have conceived the thought of herding her away from his bedroom. She had loved to play with his hair, burying her fingers in it then as she did now, and though he ought to have seen the connection sooner and nipped this in the bud before it began, he…
Well, it was foolish and unreasonable to be upset with her over it. Grune was entirely incapable of malice and deception. She had told him precisely what she wanted, and if that need sprang from a memory Dhaos would rather have forgotten that was no fault of hers.
His hair was indeed impressive, as he knew well. But Grune’s fascination with it seemed at once innocent and rather deeper than Norma’s constant attempts to put her hands on it. Because, he thought, he was her friend, and it was a not-insignificant part of him.
Grune’s hands slowed in her attentions without his realizing it, and her sudden start behind him summoned him out of his thoughts. “Oh… I promised you could brush my hair too.”
Dhaos assumed she wanted to go on and felt oddly disquieted about taking that from her, and without thinking grasped for a suitable excuse. “Your hair is tied up already. I would hate for you to ruin your work on my account.”
“That’s okay,” she said at once, reaching up to undo her crown. “I can do it again after we’re done.”
She undid the braid with surprising speed for one so easily distracted, and soon her own hair tumbled down about her shoulders, as he had seen it so few times in their acquaintance. Dhaos hesitated, but he was too accustomed to granting her more innocuous requests when he could, and quietly reached out to take the brush from her without thinking.
“...Tell me if it hurts,” he said, echoing her words from earlier.
“Oh, I will,” she assured him absently.
Her hair felt like water under his hands, and belatedly he realized that this was something he truly hadn’t done since his before his parents died; this was the domain of servants and close loved ones, and ever had he and Karion carefully danced around physical intimacy of any sort. The thought should have soured his mood, but Grune’s presence tended to soothe such feelings away, even moreso when her cheer subsided into a quieter contentment.
There really was no need to brush Grune’s hair, as it was entirely flawless, but Dhaos made a point of going over it twice before setting the brush aside. “Finished.”
He’d rather expected her to doze off, but Grune’s hands reached up to rebraid her hair as soon as he’d given her permission. “Thank you, Dhaos.”
“Your hair requires little in the way of additional maintenance,” he pointed out. And then before she could respond: “And thank you as well.”
Her smiled returned, brighter than it had been when she arrived. “Maybe I can brush your hair again some other time?”
He should have known she would ask again if he expressed anything resembling gratitude. It was always a danger when dealing with Grune, but restraining his sigh took somewhat less effort than usual this time.
