Domestic Dorks fluff "Ssh. Stop fussing. I’m just braiding your hair." :D
“Will you please hold still? It’s going to slip if you wriggle about.”
“I’m getting a cramp in my foot—ow!”
“Sshhhh. Stop fussing. I’m just braiding your hair.”
“It’s not my hair per se. It’s an extension.”
Eponine rolls her eyes and tugs on a wayward stand of her partner’s hair. The fact that his curls are quite thick and silky do not make the task at hand much easier, not even if she’s comfortable on the sofa while he’s crosslegged on the floor in front of her. “You’re the one who wanted to go as a Jedi Padawan to the party. You should have looked up the hairstyle first.”
“It looked easy enough, well better than wearing one of those masks to look like Yoda or something,” Enjolras grouses. “It’s too hot for that.”
“You’re lucky I didn’t decide to go as Padme, or I would have you doing my hair too,” Eponine retorts. “Though it’s still early in the evening—”
He scowls and crosses his arms. “I’m not going as Anakin and you’re not Padme. That’s toxic.”
“Just a game,” she croons. At any other time these words, for all the memories they carry, would be stinging, but tonight is a time for revelry. “You guys take this Star Wars stuff too seriously.”
“Says the lady who got us tickets to the movie premiere?” he asks pointedly.
She clucks her tongue as she ties off the thin braid by his ear; honestly it looks ridiculous, but it’s accurate and good enough for the occasion. “Mostly because I hate the fact that I can’t resist you,” she mutters, giving his shoulders an affectionate swat. “You make a fool of me.”
He smirks before catching her hand and pushing himself back up on the sofa. “Turnabout is fair play, Eponine.”
“Oh you would know,” she retorts, flicking the braid out of the way so it doesn’t get mussed when she kisses him, by way of exacting revenge for this latest weird venture.
