So I kinda got a little idea for Near, it can be headcannons, drabble- whatever you want. What if nears s/o taught him to braid his hair, and now instead of twisting his hair in between his fingers, he braids it. I just thought it was a cute idea!
I need this in my life anon, you have no idea
You had so feverishly gazed into the eyes of a predator disguised in the skin of prey. Near's face was so eloquently focused on his computer screen, devoid of any form of life. He was a statue in front of you, and the hand that rose to twirl silver strands of his hair. You didn't think that habit was necessarily bad, in fact you liked watching him, but you had quite the idea to make it all the more worth your while.
"Hey, Near," you said softly, as not to startle him from his state of hyperfocus.
"Hmm?" He didn't turn away.
"Do you know how to braid hair?"
His eyes met yours, finally broken from their trance to find something that piqued his interest.
"No, actually," his tone had an eager edge to it. "I suppose that wasn't just a passing question?"
"Nope," you scooted closer to him, "C'mere, I wanna teach you."
Near made no effort to argue with you and pried himself away from his screen, sitting in front of you with his cheek pressed to his knee.
"Y/N, I don't have that much hair to work with," he protested, but you caught him on that track quickly.
"Sure you do! You don't need humongous hair to make a good mini-braid. Here, follow my hands."
You raised your hands to his hair, and seeing no signs of hesitation, you took his hand and started to grab strands. His hands were cold under your warm hands, and they seemed to warm up with each twist you did.
It followed that way, one strand after another, another twist and the like. Eventually, your hand dropped Near's, and a sweet little braid resided on the side of Near's head, hanging loosely.
"There," you said proudly. "What do you think?"
Near didn't say anything for a moment, and you were worried he might've hated it. However, he quickly turned to you, and he nodded slightly, the corners of his lips twitching with something sweet.
After that, you would pass by the living room and often catch his hand to his hair, though upon closer inspection, he was subtly twirling strands under strands, just the way your hand shadowed on top of his. You would smile to yourself catching this.
You suppose it really is the little things.
