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Every morning, Bloodhound had the same ritual with their hair. They had it down to an art by this point; no matter the time, date, weather, or plans for the day, it was always exactly the same. First, they took their hair out of whatever style they’d fallen asleep in. Typically, it was some kind of braid, since they always said that was the most comfortable, but it didn’t particularly matter. Then, they’d run their fingers through the dark-red strands, detangling any knots and tangles. Sometimes, if their hair was too tangled and matted, Bloodhound would use a comb, their curls puffing out into a frizzy mess around their head. Finally, they’d tie it all up, braiding it over their shoulder. In theory, this was to keep it out of their face. In practice, however, the uneven layers usually left Bloodhound with only marginally better vision, with long strands still hanging out and sticking over their face. Walter always found it almost hypnotic, watching them fold thick strands of hair over each other with such practised precision that they didn’t even have to think about it anymore. Just braiding away until the majority of their hair was at least slightly presentable.
This morning was no different. Walter lay in bed, his eyes only half open as the early morning sun glared through the windows. He wasn’t much of a morning person, much preferring to roll out of bed after 11 am. Alas, duty called. Between sorting out whatever bullshit was plaguing the village that day and the Apex Games, they were both usually pretty stacked. Despite that, Walter still preferred to steal away whatever extra moments he got in bed, especially if it meant he could hold his partner for just a few minutes longer. Bloodhound was sat on the side of the bed, unpicking their hair from the night before. He always thought they looked so beautiful in the sunlight, especially the light rays at this time of the morning. Like the Gods themselves were determined to illuminate them, highlighting all their best features. There were so many different shades in their hair, half of which you would never see in normal lighting. Silver strands shimmered as rays hit them, contrasting with the deep, almost brown-red shades that mixed with them. Other lighter reds, closer to a traditional ginger, coincided with light brown-red hairs, curling around each other and falling down Bloodhound’s back. Needless to say, this time of the morning was Walter’s favourite. Their strong arms flexed as they ran their fingers through it, pulling any knots apart almost effortlessly. Walter pushed himself up onto his arm, shuffling over to Bloodhound and wrapping his organic arm around their waist.
“Góðan daginn, ástin mín.”
Their voice was still groggy, a deep gravel still settling over every syllable. Bloodhound brushed their hair over their opposite shoulder, allowing Walter to rest his head against them.
“Mornin’,” he mumbled in response, pressing a lazy kiss against their jaw.
“Did you sleep well?”
Walter just groaned in response, practically falling back asleep against their shoulder. Bloodhound laughed, rolling their eyes and kissing his temple gently.
“Go back to sleep, mitt love, I will wake you up before we have to leave for the match.”
They attempted to guide him back down into the bed, but Walter grunted in protest, dragging them back down with him.
“Walter,” Bloodhound laughed, trying and failing miserably to pull themself back up out of his grasp, “I have a meeting.”
“S’probably not that important,” Walter yawned, “all the twats do in those meetin’s is moan at you anyway.”
“Já, but unfortunately, I did miss the last meeting to stay in bed with you. If I miss too many, they will become suspicious. I cannot tell them I had a mígreni every single time.”
Walter finally let go of Bloodhound, allowing them to sit back up. With that, they ran their fingers through their hair once again, untangling the fresh knots that their brief lie down had immediately caused. Once that was done, they separated their hair into three, somewhat equal parts.
“How d’you do that w’ your hair,” Walter said, his voice slightly clearer now but still dragged down by the weight of sleepiness. Bloodhound raised an eyebrow at this, looking at him questioningly, though the corner of their mouth quirked up slightly.
“What, brush it?”
“No, arsehole,” he replied with a small chuckle, “I mean like… braid it.”
“You could have just said that, love,” they teased, before properly responding, “it is easy. You just separate your hair and… twist it into itself, I suppose.”
“Can I give it a go? Sounds like a piece of piss.”
“As long as you do not make a mess out of my hair, yes, you may,” Bloodhound replied lightheartedly, sweeping their hair back behind them.
Walter sat up, shuffling himself around so he was kneeling behind them.
“It’s three bits you need, innit?”
“Já. They need to be generally even, but if one part is slightly smaller, it is ok.”
Walter split their hair, pushing the two side pieces over their shoulder to keep them out of the way. He pulled small pieces from the outer two until the middle section seemed about the same size as the other two, looking at them proudly.
“Now what?”
“Ok, take the three pieces in your hands. Now, take one of the outside pieces and move it to the middle.”
“Like over the top of the middle bit?” Walter asked, sticking his tongue out in concentration as they responded in the affirmative, folding the section over into the middle.
“Next?”
“Take the other side,” Bloodhound guided, feeling him pull slightly more on the other hair strand, “move that into the middle now, too.”
“Over the other bit?”
“Já. Add more tension to the hair, or it will be loose and fall out quickly.”
“Not the first time I’ve heard that in me life,” Walter joked, following their instructions practically perfectly. Bloodhound snorted slightly, trying not to outright laugh at the childish joke.
“Shush, heimskur maður. It is far too early for that.”
Reaching behind them, they slapped his knee playfully, though they couldn’t deny they were still trying not to laugh properly.
“Now you just need to keep moving the parts to the middle, one piece at a time, until there is not much hair left.”
“Aye aye, boss,” Walter replied with mock seriousness, shuffling the pieces around.
Bloodhound sat silently as he worked, albeit slowly, on their hair. Really, they could’ve done it themself and have been done in hardly a minute, but that wasn’t the point. No one had done their hair since they were a small child. It was nice, being taken care of. Walter’s fingers brushed the skin of their back as he went over, the cold steel contrasting with the warmth of his organic hand. Initially, they’d had their reservations about the metal arm, but they’d quickly learnt that it didn’t matter. No matter which hand he used to quietly brush a stray strand of hair behind their ear, or to run over their cheek as he stared at them like they were the only person in human history to have ever mattered, there was still a distinct softness to his touch that Bloodhound didn’t think anyone had held for them ever. At the very least, not since their parents had died. To feel this cared for, this loved, both set them at peace and sent their heart racing.
“You got a hair tie?” Walter said, finally, holding the bottom of the braid tightly in one hand. Bloodhound held out their hand, the tie wrapped around their wrist, holding it out in offering. He took their hand in his, fingers brushing over their wrist as he wrestled it off. Before they had a chance to pull their hand back immediately, though, he leaned down, kissing their knuckles gently. Bloodhound flushed, turning their face away.
“Slíkt flört,” they muttered, shaking their head only slightly, as to not dislodge any of Walter’s hard work, “stop, before I am actually persuaded to come back to bed.”
“So you’re tellin’ me you’re close to bein’ persuaded?”
“... Hmm. Perhaps.”
Walter smiled as he secured Bloodhound’s hair with the hair tie, purposely not replying to them. Instead, he changed the subject back to their hair.
“Ya know what? That wasn’t as hard as I’d thought it’d be.”
Walter sat back, admiring his handiwork. It wasn’t a perfect braid; no, it was slightly misshapen and wonky, but for a first attempt, it was solid. Bloodhound ran their hand over it gently, trying not to pull any parts out. While some strands still stuck out, little bits pushing from each section, but that didn’t matter. In that moment, they felt an inordinate amount of love swelling in their chest as Walter adjusted their hair.
“It is perfect,” Bloodhound declared, turning around on the bed slightly and smiling at him. Walter beamed at the compliment.
“What can I say, I’m a fast learner.”
They took his face in their hand, brushing their knuckles over his cheek and held it there, just staring at him with a bashful smile. Bloodhound touched their forehead to Walter’s, just breathing him in for a moment before speaking again, their voice barely above a whisper.
“Ég elska þig.”
Without another moment's delay, they kissed him softly, hoping that the momentary brush of their lips would convey just how much they loved him.
“For you, Houndy?” Walter muttered in response, his words pressing into their lips as he hardly pulled back, “I’d learn anythin’.”
“Shhh,” Bloodhound quietened him, kissing him once more before pushing Walter back down onto the bed, “I think I can feel a mígreni coming on.”
“Best to stay in bed then,” he nodded seriously, though the grin of an idiot was pushing onto his lips as he shuffled back under the covers.
“I think,” Bloodhound started, climbing under the sheets with Walter, snuggling easily into his open arms, “that is exactly what I need.”