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“Don’t pull on it. That hurts.”
Apollo gave another tug, for good measure. Hades grunted in annoyance. No amount of glares he sent his companion seemed to convince him to loosen his grip on his hair.
“It’s hair, not ropes. You can’t tighten it out of my scalp.”
“I’m trying to make sure the braids don’t fall out.” Apollo replied. “Of course, I could just let you walk around Olympus with floppy half-assed braids. Because nothing says ‘I work with dead people’ more than looking like one.”
Hades focused his attention on the mirror in front of him, scanning his face. As if having a nice hairstyle would stop him from looking dead. It was hard to look alive with skin that could rival snow and a 5 o’clock shadow that was at 6:30. He was no Aphrodite. His eyes were glass and the area around them were sunken and purple tinted, as if someone had beaten them in. He never took pride in his appearance, nor did he have too. He represented nothing beautiful or handsome. People didn’t come down to the underworld expecting a male model.
And yet, Apollo insisted on a makeover.
“What shampoo do you use?”
“Water.”
Apollo winced. “Perfect explanation.” He reached for golden comb he’s been using on Hades, now full of black, coarse hairs. His fingers felt raw from braiding and brushing, but he was having fun. Apollo could have sworn on the River Styx he’s seen the elder god smile a couple times during the ordeal. His complaints seemed empty; he was enjoying this, too.
The comb had seen better days. It was becoming more and more evident that Hades neglected his hair. It was thick, and whenever it was brushed it was silky, like black ribbons that waved with every move. Just as Apollo was nearly finished getting another set of tangles out, the comb breathed its last breath.
CRACK.
Hades felt his skin burn up. Surely his hair wasn’t that bad?
“Did I…. break that?”
Apollo stared down at the comb, now missing a chunk of it’s bristles and slightly cracked in the middle. The rest of the bristles that were missing either rested on the floor or were stuck in the head of black hair in front of him.
After a couple seconds of uncomfortable silence, Apollo leaned onto Hades and burst into laughter.
Hades tensed under the sudden touch. Apollo put his head on his shoulder and laughed, wrapping his comb-wielding arm around the other god’s body. It was a laugh-hug from behind. Hades could feel himself blush harder as he felt Apollo’s laughter against his body.
“Dude, that comb has been around for millenia. I can’t believe the person to finally put it to rest is the god of putting things to rest!” Apollo said between fits of laughter. He was obviously finding this hilarious. Hades figured there were worst reactions to breaking something that weren’t getting made fun of.
“Okay, curls. Lemme go get the backup brush. Sit tight.”
When brushed, his hair did have a nice curl to it. He had never really taken the time to style it or even look at it much, but seeing it like this- it was nice. It was almost worth the price of Apollo’s golden comb.
He sighed as Apollo left the room. As much as he whined and complained his way through the hairstyling session, it felt good to be apart of something. Apollo made nice company. And besides, he was really liking the hairstyle. Not that he’s actually admit that. He felt embarrassed, having hair so untended to it could break a comb.
He hoped Apollo wouldn’t hold it against him.
--
“Red would look so flashy!”
“That’s why I don’t want one on my hair!”
Apollo had Hades practically cornered, a box of brightly colored ribbons in one arm and a new, unbroken, silver hairbrush in his other.
“I am not putting a fucking ribbon in my hair.”
Apollo pouted. “It’s not like someone’s going to see you! Besides, your hair isn’t complete without it!”
Hades hair was nearly complete, thanks to hairdresser-in-training Apollo. It was a half up half down style, with two rows of loose braids that hung at his ears, and a few stray curls acted as bangs and touched down on his equally dark eyebrows. The rest of his hair was soft, and wildy wavy. After a couple lifetimes of not styling his hair, Hades forgot how curly it was. If Aphrodite could see it, the first word she would say would be volume. If Zeus could see it, his first word would probably be gay.
Apollo put on a pretty convincing puppy dog face and pouty lip.
“I’m not a ribbon type of person. I mean, I’m hardly a person in general, but a person who wears ribbons?” Hades rolled his eyes. “It would suit Poseidon more.”
“Is there a designated ribbon-wearing brother?” Apollo asked. “I’ve seen Poseidon tie his hair up with fishing cord a couple of times, but I don’t think that counts.”
“If there is a designated brother, I’m not it.”
Apollo wasn’t about to go down without a fight. He reached back into the box of assorted hair goodies and pulled out a thinner ribbon. It was a soft white, liked Hades skin, but obviously made from some type of silk. It had small gold embroideries all over the edge of it. It was intricate and gentle. Much different from the thick red ribbon Apollo was trying to force on him.
“Okay,” he began his compromise, “Maybe no red. But it’s best with a ribbon. I mean, this hairstyle was the reason ribbons were made.”
Hades could tell Apollo probably wasn’t going to give up anytime soon, but neither was he.
“I’ve been around longer than ribbons were invented, much less a ‘thing’. I can go without. I am a man.”
“A man that would look really cute with a ribbon in his hair.”
Hades kinda felt kinda flattered, kinda like punching Apollo in his stupid sun-god jaw. Before he could make a move, Apollo decided he wasn’t going to argue any longer.
He took the ribbon began tying it in the braid starting at Hades’s ear. Hades found himself taken aback by the sudden closeness of the two. He figured it would come to this eventually - Apollo was stubborn.
“Volia! My hairdressing skills still sharp from all the time I spent braid Artemis’s hair!” Apollo took a step back, as if admiring his work. His hands never left Hades’s hair, and the closeness between the two never ceased.
Apollo ran his fingers through a bit of Hades’s hair that wasn’t braided, letting the black strands twirl around his fingers like unwoven silk. Hades found hem of his robe to be much more interesting, and focused on not making eye contact. Curse the shyness that comes with being in the underworld so long; it wasn’t his fault the dead weren’t very good socialites.
“You look good.”
Hades broke his fascination with his robes to look up and met his eyes. If it weren’t for those eyes, Apollo could pass for a human anyday. They shone like the chariot, cloudy white surrounding a golden circle that really looked like the sun. Hades wondered from afar if you could go blind from looking into them for too long. He didn’t have to wonder that up close. They were captivating.
The Lord of the dead had never seen someone so alive. His skin glowed and his eyes shone, he always took big breaths in between every sentence, as if the oxygen around him could run out at any moment. He could feel Apollo’s heartbeat from here- or, no, maybe that was his own heartbeat he was feeling.
“I look good?”
“Well, duh.” The corners of the sun god’s mouth curled. “I am so talented at this, after all.”
“You are so big-headed.”
“You say it like you aren’t smiling.” Hades became self aware of his mouth and bit the inside of his cheek. “Don’t worry, it’s hard not to smile around me. I am such a riot, aren’t I?”
“Of course.” Hades said, still biting his cheek and forcing a scowl. “The God of the Sun, medicine, music, entertainment, and how could we forget- enlarged egos.”
“But here I am, with the God of the Dead, looking more alive than ever.” Hades couldn’t help but break a smile.
“That was fun.” Apollo said. “I’m willing to help you do your hair anytime, dude. You just gotta promise me one thing.
“And what would that be?” Hades questioned.
“You gotta bring your own combs.”
Hades switched back to a scowl and punched Apollo in the shoulder. Apollo just laughed through it.
He would deny it until the Earth crumbled, but Hades knew a comb was a small price to pay to spend time with Apollo.