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Drops of water dripped from the window frame onto its sill; others raced down the glass, while others absorbed into the ground. The sound of a key jiggling in the door interrupted Feliks from his thoughts. He looked up to see Tolis opening up the door, all soaked from the rain, his hair... puffy? Feliks saunters over and gives Tols a sweet kiss before helping with his coat. “I’m home,” Tolis whispers to the blond against his pink lips. Feliks likes to wear the prettiest pink glosses for Tolis. “Let's get you warmed up,” Feliks says gently as he guides him to the fireplace. Even with constant renovations to keep his home trendy, Kelicks has kept the same fireplace for quite a long time without updates. Tolis tosses a log into the fire and plops down on the couch. The Pol cuddles up and puts his hands in Tolis’s usually slightly wavy hair, but finds his fingers getting caught up in loose brown curls. “Since when is your hair curly…?” Feliks wonders aloud.
“It’s not,” Tolis replies
“Looks curly to me,”
“It’s never been curly...”
Feliks hops off the couch and attempts to pull Tolis up off the couch. The Lithuanian chuckles and gives in, standing up and taking Feliks’s hand in his.
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Feliks drags Tolis to the bathroom, and he starts running the water in the tub. “Put your head under,” the blond instructs, and Tolis listens, putting his head under the running water and hissing at the chill of the water. Feliks hadn’t even tried to let it warm up! “Pol, it’s cold!!” he complains. Feliks only murmurs under his breath, “Stop complaining.. And, like, it won’t be so bad.” He starts washing Tolis’s hair and even uses his fancy shampoo. Tolis instantly recognizes the rosy smell, yet Feliks has banned him from using it because it is definitely not a cheap hair product. Feliks’s hair always smells so floral and sweet. God, he thinks all of Feliks is gorgeous. From his straight blond hair to the frilly socks he likes to wear. From his bright green eyes to his perfectly polished nails. Tolis doesn’t even mind being the one to pay for Feliks’s constant beauty treatments. But Feliks always has been pretty, even in the Middle Ages, when they both definitely looked their worst. Tolis has always found himself loving how Feliks looks, always thinking he is so incredibly beautiful.
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Tolis comes out of his thoughts to a warm towel on his head, Feliks is towel-drying brown hair. The brunet sleepily mumbles a few love confessions, nothing he’s never told him before. “Hush,” Feliks says sharply as he runs product through Tolis’s hair. He closes his eyes and relaxes, trusting the Pol with his appearance completely. Tolis feels Feliks’s fingers scratch his head, manicured nails that feel so perfect against his scalp. The Lithuanian lets out a groan, making Feliks giggle. He scrunches up Tolis’s hair as the taller man squints one eye open and takes a peek in the mirror at his now... curly hair. “Huh..?” he whispers to himself. He never knew his hair was this textured, even if it is just loose curls. Tolis had always considered his hair to be wavy, but now that he thinks of it, his hair just has never been healthy enough to hold the waves he had when his hair was wet. It always turned half straight by the time it dried. “I guess you were right, my hair is curly…” Tolis admits
“I know,” Feliks answers his admission with a smile, leaning closer to a smirk.
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Once Feliks finishes drying Tolis’s hair, the pair lie down together. Feliks smiles and giggles as Tolis buries his face in the blond’s rose-scented hair. He cups Feliks’s face and peppers it with kisses. “Liet~” Feliks teases
“Yes?”
“Could you, like, pay for my hair tomorrow?”
Tolis sighs, “Of course I can…”