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“Was your hair always this long?”
Axel, still exhausted from last night’s events, lets out a sleepy, confused “haah?” when someone gently tugs on his hair.
His lids crack open, sliding his half-lidded blue gaze over to the wide-eyed expression on Altare’s face. In between his leader’s fingertips is a lock of long, red-streaked blonde hair, still damp from his morning shower.
Axel lowers his spoon back into his cereal bowl. “Yeah?” He says around a yawn, blinking in confusion at Altare’s noise of surprise. “I mean, I recently got a haircut. But I always try to keep it at this length.”
Altare’s voice is softer with wonder, “I’ve never seen it unstyled before…”
His fingers start carding through blonde and red strands. Axel lets out a pleased hum when Altare’s nails scratch against his scalp.
“That feels nice.” Axel’s voice is raspy and languid with leftover sleep. He feels Altare’s touch grow bolder at his words, fingers running through his hair over and over again in a rhythmic motion that makes Axel want to doze. His eyes fall shut once more.
“Huh? We’re petting Axel?”
“Fuck off, Bettel.” Axel says. Bettel predictably ignores him, and Axel can feel the air move around him as the jester sits on the empty chair on his other side.
“Wasn’t a dog joke, this time.”
Axel cracks one eye open to shoot Bettel a suspicious side-eye. The other man looks as tired as he is: hair disheveled, eyebags prominent, most of his makeup wiped off, with his lashes clumped together with leftover mascara.
Maybe they partied too hard last night.
Bettel’s mismatched eyes are also trained on Axel’s hair; on how Altare doesn’t stop running his fingers through it. Axel should probably feel more embarrassed being reduced to a bug under a microscope, but this early in the morning he just doesn’t care.
Bettel tilts his head, an inquisitive hum escaping his throat.
“You look good with your hair down.” He admits. Axel blinks slowly.
“Thanks, I guess.” He doesn’t stop Bettel when the jester also can’t help himself and runs his blackened fingertips gingerly through his hair.
Axel is confused.
“Nani? What is this, touch Axel’s hair day?” He doesn’t get their fascination with his hair. It’s just his hair, same as it’s always been. “I just didn’t bother with the gel yet.”
“It’s weird.” Altare replies, gently untangling a small snarl with his finger. The slight pull on his scalp sends a tingle down Axel’s spine. “But it’s a good weird. I don’t know why you bother styling it every morning when it also looks just as good like this.”
“It gets in my face.”
Axel’s brow creases when Bettel pushes his hair back and away from his forehead.
“Just pin it back.” Bettel’s long nails are scratching the top of his head, while Altare’s fingers are pressing against where his spine meets his skull. Axel suppresses a shiver.
“S’not convenient when I’m in the middle of combat - it’ll just fall off– what the fuck is happening here, like actually?”
Face warming, Axel attempts to bat their hands away, “Can you guys stop? I’m trying to eat here–”
Altare’s finger gets snagged into another errant tangle, the movement pulling at his scalp, while Bettel unknowingly drags two of his nails over the crown of his head in an attempt to style his hair–
Axel groans, and then immediately regrets it as everyone stills.
“...Enjoying yourself, buddy?”
Bettel breaks the silence, mirth in his voice, and Axel can see that teasing grin from his periphery that makes him want to dropkick the jester into next week.
Altare’s quiet laughter makes Axel’s ears burn, “You know what? I think he is.”
“You guys are sick, sadistic fucks, you know that?” The gladiator snaps, cheeks hot, and his two tormentors just keep snickering and playing with his hair without a care in the world.