Work Text:
Deep breaths. In, out. Come on, Dany.
She ran through the curls again. The stupidly perfect ringlets bounced back as soon as her fingers went all the way through the curtain of black.
“Jon, are you sure?”
“You’ve complained about the length. I’m complaining about the barber’s prices. It’s a compromise.”
That’s easy for the person not holding the scissors to say.
As well as someone who definitely had too much trust in their girlfriends. Because she had seen what he was like when he got a bad haircut. By professionals.
She raised her hands to floof his hair once more. They shook with nervousness. His hair was too pretty for her to even make this close to bad. Plus, she wouldn’t be able to use it as ‘the only reason she started dating him’ in their banters.
“You can’t get mad at me.”
“I don’t have the ability to get mad at you.”
She went to protest, but he swiveled, catching her slightly trembling hands in his.
“Even if you do mess up. I have beanies.”
He kissed them, curing the shakes, and returned back without another thought.
I’ll let him cut my hair, too, Dany promised herself before getting to work.