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“C’mon man, you gotta let me do it. Just once. Just this one time. Look at how steady my hands are, yeah? So you gotta! Just this one time!”
This had been the exquisite poetry that had convinced Auron to allow Jecht to braid his hair.
“Why?” Auron had asked through grit teeth.
“Because it’s fuckin’ begging for it! C’mon. Please. Just indulge me in this, this one time. And I’ll never bother you again!”
Which was a lie. Jecht was bound to bother Auron again, and Auron...well, he was bound to bitch and moan about it but ultimately let it slide. He would never openly admit it of course, but Auron liked the teasing. It made him feel...it made him feel...
He didn’t know how it made him feel, he thought as Jecht carefully combed his fingers through the lengths of silky straight black hair before him. He didn’t know how it made him feel, but thinking about it would have to come later. Right now - with Jecht sitting on a tall black leather ottoman behind him and with almost all of the left side of his face resting comfortably against Jecht’s inner thigh - right now was not the time for thinking.
It had been far too long since he allowed anyone to idly play with his hair and frankly, he was in a curious state of relaxation.
“Why did you learn how to do this?” Auron finally asked. Jecht made a low sound in the back of his throat before speaking gruffly around a mouthful of pins and hair elastics.
“When my wife was pregnant, we thought we were having’ a girl,” he began. “So I figured maybe I should learn how to braid a little girl’s hair, you know, have something to do so that I could bond with her.” He sighed and shook his head. “It’s funny how I ended up with a girl anyway.”
“What exactly is that supposed to mean?”
“I mean, I’ve told you about him,” Jecht said casually. He pressed his palm flat against the top of Auron’s head, ripping it from his thigh and holding it still. “Don’t move. Just look straight ahead like – yeah, that. But I mean, I’ve told you about him. He’s a petulant little shit, and a crybaby to boot. I would have preferred a girl if he’s gonna insist on bein’ one.”
“I don’t think you’re being honest.”
“Nah, he’s a little crybaby. Honest. And he hates me. Never misses an opportunity to tell me.” He spit an elastic from between his lips and aggressively wrapped it around the tail of a neat, shiny braid. He paused to admire his work for a moment before diving back in by taking another section of hair and running it carefully between his fingers and beginning on another braid. “This don’t hurt, yeah?”
“No, it’s fine. What’s not fine is how you talk about your son.”
“So says the celibate monk,” Jecht muttered.
“Okay first of all, no. And second, not once have I heard you say one nice thing about him. So then tell me: what gives you the right to be upset with him when he doesn’t...what, love you? For calling him a shit and a crybaby? He’s seven, Jecht. He’s a child.”
For a moment Jecht loosened his grip around Auron’s hair. He stammered uncomfortably as he struggled to find the words, before finally settling on a weak “I...I don’t know, man.”
“Do you even love the boy?”
“I...yeah, I mean...yeah.” Jecht groaned, a low aargh rolling out from somewhere deep in his throat. “I mean, of course I do! He’s my son!”
“Then tell me: why are you so cruel to him?”
“Because if I don’t toughen him up, then who will? The fucking neighborhood brats who would beat the shit out of him? No! Fuck no! I don’t want him to have the same fucking childhood I had! I’m teaching him how to fight back!”
“And how, exactly, is abusing your son teaching him how to defend himself?”
Jecht shook his head and laughed bitterly.
“The fuck, man? You don’t got any kids! What makes you think you can lecture me?” he barked as he gave a section of Auron’s hair a yank, which inadvertently slammed the back of the younger man’s head straight into Jecht’s crotch (to both their horror).
“Damn it Jecht, must you really ask?!” Auron snapped as he pulled forward, hoping to get a little distance between him and Jecht’s splayed legs.
“Listen, man...” Jecht started, his tone almost pleading. “I get it. I’m a shitty dad. But my dad was a shitty dad, and I figured that...well, if I’m not throwing empty liquor bottles at the boy, then I’m doing better than my dad did with me. And his dad was shitty...the mean motherfucker used to throw punches so I’m sure my dad felt that throwing empty liquor bottles at me was a step up...” He sighed and gathered Auron’s hair back into his hands. “I come from a long, long line of shitty men who became shitty dads. My son’ll be a shitty dad too. It just...is.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” Auron said quietly. “You can change it when you get back home. You realize you can do better. So do better.”
“The damage is done, man. He hates me. The little bastard hates me.”
“Jecht.”
“Sorry.”
“Stop telling me that you’re sorry. Start telling him. Then, start showing him.”
Jecht sighed. A somber silence fell between the two of them, with Jecht focusing entirely on his work. After a pause, he asked “D’ya really think I’m abusing him?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.” He cleared his throat and sniffed. “That’s...that’s unfixable, isn’t it?”
It was Auron’s turn to sigh.
“No, not wholly. You...your whole family needs work, Jecht. Your wife needs to be present for him. You need to stay sober and learn how to be a father to him. And the three of you need to learn how to function as a family, because he never asked to be placed into the situation you and your wife placed him in. You both chose to have him. So be the parents that little boy deserves.”
“Yeah. You’re right,” Jecht murmured, his voice a hair above a whisper.
He fell back into silence as he worked, breaking it only to instruct Auron in as few syllables as possible to turn his head this way and that. Finally, he grumbled a low “okay, go look in the mirror” to his patient model.
What Jecht had created was far from simple. Varying braids and twists of varying thicknesses had been worked into what could be best described as a complex, sweeping updo. Of course it was a slightly feminine style – Jecht had learned how to braid girls’ hair, after all – but it was far from an amateur’s effort.
“Wow, you...definitely have a talent,” Auron stammered. Jecht shrugged.
“Yeah, I took a couple classes,” he said. “You really think it looks nice?”
“I’m going to regret taking it down,” Auron said sincerely. He turned away from the mirror and gave Jecht a small smile. “Your request was unusual, but...I...mostly had fun. Thanks.”
“Wait.”
Jecht pushed himself off the ottoman, skipped across shag carpet and hopped to a stop. Gingerly, he brushed a few rebellious strands of hair back from Auron’s face and gently tucked them behind his ear.
Auron took a slow breath.
Jecht was close. Close enough that Auron could feel the heat of his own measured breaths. He narrowed his gaze before simply allowing his eyes to fall shut, just as the tip of Jecht’s callused thumb danced lightly across his bottom lip, just as he could taste the crackling electricity between them...
“Stop,” Auron whispered, his voice wavering.
“Huh?”
“Stop,” Auron repeated, with more authority.
“But I thought — ”
“It’s wrong,” Auron said quickly, his words crashing into each other.
“Oh,” Jecht exhaled.
“And besides, you’re married.” Auron murmured, just as hurriedly.
“It’s an open marriage!”
“Oh, is that what you call it?”
Jecht groaned again, louder this time as he began shaking his hands at the sky. Suddenly, he gripped Auron tightly around the shoulders and shook him.
“Whhyyy why why WHY THE FUCK are you so beautiful and yet so infuriating? YES, THAT IS WHAT I CALL IT!” Jecht roared. “Because that is what it is! That’s what works for us!”
He sighed, dropping his arms to his side before crossing them with a huff. He dove straight into his explanation, glowering daggers into Auron the whole time.
“Listen, man...” As all good explanations must begin. “She knew what she was getting into when she was getting into it with me, okay? She knew I was a superstar with a healthy number of away games, okay? So we both agreed to explore a more...you know...open sort of an arrangement. It just works.”
“I’ll have to take your word on it,” Auron muttered with a shrug.
“Oh, I invite you to,” Jecht said tersely.
Auron glared.
Jecht grinned.
“’m just fuckin’ with ya,” he teased.
Auron’s gaze briefly flicked back up at Jecht before settling back comfortably at his own feet. He began to worry at his bottom lip. Just do it, whispered a tiny voice housed deep inside. Just take that one step. Close the gap. Hook your finger over the leather strap that held Jecht’s pauldron to his body and pull him in. See what happens.
The worst was nothing.
No.
The worst was dipping a toe into the waves of Jecht’s ocean and finding himself being pulled under the rushing current. The worst was drowning.
Auron knew a hazard when he saw one. And yet, there was a small piece of him that wanted to drown.
“What?” Jecht asked, with just enough concern to pull Auron from his churning thoughts.
“What?” Auron parroted.
“It’s that look you have...look, I’m sorry if I acted...inappropriately. I thought maybe you wanted it. And besides, I guess...” Jecht swirled his hand in the open air as he tried to find the words. “I guess braiding your hair turned out to be a more ah...intimate gesture than I anticipated.”
“I certainly didn’t help it along by resting my head on your thigh.”
“Yeah well, I wasn’t gonna ask you to move.”
“Then...” Auron said carefully. “Then if not no, how about...not now?”
“I can handle not now. That just means you owe me. With interest.”
“It absolutely does not mean that,” Auron said firmly.
“You didn’t even ask what I meant!”
“And I don’t need to.”
“Fine, be that way.” Jecht grinned. “You’re redder than a fuckin’ tomato, you know that?”
“Thanks.”
“No, really. This is why I tease you, you know. You just make it so easy for me.” His grin made way for a smug smirk as he lowered his voice to a whisper. “Yanno, I can tease you in other ways. Doesn’t have to be verbal.”
Auron slowly turned to look at Jecht, an incredulous look on his face.
“Motherfucker,” he hissed. Jecht beamed.
“Yes I am,” he said with pride.