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“Will you just hold still?”
Raleigh bristles. Holding still, being held down – anything other than constant freedom was against his nature. Years of being on their own when it was just him and Yancy, years of being completely alone on the Wall, and now being forced into his own headspace after the second time piloting alone all protested against the phrase. But even he couldn’t ignore what everyone had been saying; you knew it was time for a haircut when the Marshall casually stopped by your bunk to drop hints.
So here he was, sitting in a chair underneath a crude drape made from a trash bag while Chuck, of all people, hovered over his shoulder with a pair of scissors. Raleigh has his back to the sink with the chair close enough that if needed, Chuck has easy access to the water there.
Why he thought it was a good idea to let the brat so close to his neck with something sharp, he would never know.
“Seriously, mate, you keep fidgeting like that and I’ll take your ears off on purpose.” Chuck snorts. “Not that you should complain about losing them.”
“At least mine don’t have ginger hair growing from them.”
“Fuck you, Ray, you know I’m too young for ear hair.”
Raleigh smirks at this. “You’re right. Shit, I forgot, let me go get your safety scissors before the Marshall sees you with those big boy ones.”
A long-suffering sigh met his jibe. “You want this mop tamed or what?”
“Where did you even learn how to cut hair?” Raleigh raises his hands in defeat but it’s still a few moments before Chuck reaches behind him to the sink. A cold hand cards water through his hair and Raleigh has to stop the groan that rises at how good the motion feels.
“Mum taught me,” Chuck says quietly. The sound of soap foaming awkwardly hangs in the air before it joins the water. “She always joked about what the hell Dad and I would do without her, so she’d teach me things just in case.”
And now Raleigh feels like a complete asshole. He sighs, more in disappointment than relief, as Chuck continues to run soapy hands through Raleigh’s admittedly too-long hair. “Chuck, I’m–”
“Leave it, Ray. You didn’t know.”
He feels too much like shit now to even challenge the nickname, though Raleigh thinks now it’s more a habit than a taunt. Maybe even bordering on a term of endearment?
Chuck begins snipping while he’s lost in thought and Raleigh quickly notices that Chuck is handling the scissors with the same precision and skill he brings to everything in his life. There’s no need for Chuck to take care here, not with everything that’s happened between them, but Chuck’s hands are light and careful and if Raleigh didn’t know better, he’d think the touches are more caresses than professional haircutting.
At the end, Raleigh turns his head in the sink’s mirror. It’s shorter but still styled, and is more than he would be able to get from anyone else in the ‘Dome. The rest of the cut had passed in silence. It’s not as bad as he thought to share the same space as Chuck when the two of them are silent instead of incessantly trading insults. And the story about Chuck’s mother teaching him things to survive on his own hits a little too close to home.
So as Chuck silently turns away, Raleigh clears his throat. “Uh, hey Chuck? Would you mind maybe, since we’re here, getting my beard as well?”
Something flashes in the kid’s blue-green eyes, a kind of recognition that he was thinking along the same lines as Raleigh, and he smiles appreciatively at what the offer really is; company. “I’m sure everyone would appreciate me taming that fucking carpet.”
Maybe, even after everything, they can still settle into something like friendship.