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Neither Hide nor Hair

Summary:

Bridget’s hair has always been a fascination of Jaal’s. When he notices its color fade though, he begins to worry that she might be ill.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

As has become their routine lately, Jaal and Bridget work beside one another in relative silence. They each focus on their individual projects; she has her new and improved omni-blade and he’s tinkering with his modified kett rifle. Jaal, however, finds himself too distracted to concentrate on his work; his attention constantly being drawn to his human companion.

It’s her hair.

He’d eventually managed to work up the courage to ask about it one day, and she’d answered his questions with amusement. She’d even let him touch it. It was softer than he would have thought, and much more fluid. It still boggled his mind that there were over 100,000 individual strands that made up its shape.

What he was paying attention to right now was not its shape though, but its color. Ordinarily, it was a vivid lavender with some darker splotches near her scalp, but lately, it had faded to a much paler shade and the blackish brown of her roots had extended a full two inches. He can’t help but wonder if her hair color is indicative of her mood, or perhaps her physical state? He hadn’t noticed any obvious changes in their previous conversations, but he might not have been paying as much attention at the time…And if the color is not affected by her mood, but is instead indicating that she’s come down with a serious illness, he feels compelled to check on her wellbeing.

“Erm, Ryder…” Jaal begins with hesitation, unsure how to broach the topic.

“Hm?” Bridget glances up at him curiously, brushing a lock of the hair in question behind her ear. “What’s up?”

He opens his mouth to ask what’s on his mind, but soon shuts it in indecision. If the color of her hair really is tied to her health, he isn’t certain if it’s appropriate to ask about. Lexi had explained that humans don’t hold the same qualms about discussing their physical wellbeing as the angara, but the thought of asking if she’s ill still doesn’t sit well with him.

“It’s…your hair,” he says carefully. “Are you…feeling okay?”

There. That seemed neutral enough – a question that could be posed toward either her emotional or physical state and (hopefully) not too invasive.

She lifts a brow in confused amusement, her lips curving up in a smile. “Yeah. Why do you ask?”

“Ah…well…” He can feel the telltale heat of a blush making its way to his face and he hopes it isn’t too noticeable. “It’s just…your hair. It seems to have faded in color recently, and, um…is a bit darker on the top. I was worried you might have come down with something.”

She quickly breaks into laughter, startling him from his embarrassment.

As he stares at her in utter confusion, she’s quick to make apologies. “Sorry, sorry…” she manages, though a few errant giggles manage to escape. “Yeah, I noticed…I’ve been meaning to dye it again recently, but it keeps slipping my mind.”

That causes his eyes to widen, which no doubt spurs her amusement further. “Are you saying that you artificially change its color? What purpose does this serve?”

Bridget holds a hand to her mouth in an effort to keep her laughter at bay, but soon enough cracks up once more. Jaal can’t help but frown. He’d thought it was a perfectly logical question, but perhaps he was mistaken.

“Oh, man…” she says, wiping a joyful tear from her eye. “You are too much.”

He tilts his head in puzzlement. “Too much what?”

She snorts again and quickly shakes her head in dismissal. “Sorry. Idiom. Don’t worry about it.” He’s about to inquire further, but before he can say anything, she’s speaking once more. “Anyway…yeah. Some humans like to change their hair color. Some people do it for fun, others might do it to rebel against their parents.” Her face stretches into a wide grin. “That’s what Emmett and I did when we turned sixteen…It drove our dad crazy at first. Mom wasn’t too happy about it either, but she was supportive that we wanted to express ourselves.” She pauses a moment, seemingly deep in thought before asking in amusement, “Did you really think humans came with naturally purple hair?”

He blushes again and glances away bashfully. “Can you blame me? You were the first of your species I encountered, and many of my people come in hues of pinks and purples…I had no reason to question it.”

“That’s fair enough,” she answers with a smile. “But still, you’ve met Liam, Cora, Suvi, and Gil…You had to realize that I stood out a bit?”

“Well, yes, but…I didn’t want to presume…” He breathes a nervous sigh. “The angara come in a wide spectrum of colors…I simply assumed it was the same for your people.”

She nods thoughtfully and grins. “Understandable. I can only imagine how strange we must seem to you.”

He returns the smile. “I suppose it does seem a little silly that your hair color would be tied to emotion or malnourishment. It makes much more sense that it would stay the same unless you take the time to alter it.”

“Well, you weren’t completely off,” she mentions and he’s tempted to look at her in exasperation. Why can’t anything about her species ever be simple?

“Our hair does change color, just not in the way you’re thinking of. It gets darker for some people when they get into adulthood – it’s usually more obvious for those born with lighter hair, and on a more general scale, our hair turns grey or white when we get older. There are people who continue to color it though, so that they can look younger longer.”

His face scrunches up in confusion. “Why would they want to hide their age? In our culture, age marks the wisdom one has gained and is something to be celebrated.”

She thinks about it a moment before shrugging in response. “You know, that’s a good question…I guess it has something to do with beauty standards. Which I think is pretty silly when we live in an era surrounded by dozens of alien species, but to each their own, I guess.”

Jaal considers her words for a moment. It seems odd, to want to change one’s appearance into something they’re not, but then he remembers his people’s affinities for perfumes and lotions and rationalizes that the two are perhaps not so different after all.

“Well,” he says with a definitive smile. “It seems I learn something new about your people every day.”

He is unprepared for the brilliant smile she bestows upon him, and it causes his breath to hitch. What he had assumed to be a simple compliment has her utterly beaming with joy and his chest squeezes in…apprehension? Adoration? He cannot say for certain, but whatever this feeling is, he yearns for more of it. To be beside her, to discover more about her and her strange ways. She is unlike anyone he has ever known and it both frightens and excites him in the best possible way.

Notes:

Based on one of those “things aliens find weird about humans” posts where they’re confused about the concept of dyeing hair.

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