Chapter Text
He'd pulled a move straight out of the movie Tangled. When the man fisted his fingers in Paul's hair, jerking him backward, his first thought was to make a joke about buying him dinner first but the action had been very, *very* effective and he suddenly didn't feel like running his mouth was the best idea for once. Especially when both of the man's companions were bearing down on him, the sun glinting off the sharp edges of their blades.
The one who had the grip on his hair was talking shit but Jesus ignored him. He knew it'd just be more of the usual bunch of bullshit this kind of asshole always pulled out about how he'd been as easily caught as his 'pretty' appearance implied he would be. Then there were some lewd commenta suggesting he might be more useful dead than alive - 'if you know what I mean'.
Yeah, they were all picking up the unoriginal bullshit he was throwing down. Jesus found himself rolling his eyes. 'Go ahead, underestimate me. That'll be fun'. He just manages to keep the thought inside his head and not let it tumble out his mouth. He'd hate to ruin the surprise...
Of course, in his current predicament, they'd never get the pleasure of experiencing it for themselves so he needed to get a move on. He decides to test the man's grip once more. Yep, *very* effective. And completely avoidable. He'd have time to be irritated about it later.
Maybe the ties he always used to keep his long locks up while he was out and there was the possibility that he'd have to fight hadn't been as secure as he'd thought. Maybe when he'd been tackled to the ground after a cheap shot, the ensuing struggle had been a little more rough than it seemed - he wasn't used to anyone getting the upper hand on him, he'd have to work on his training when he got home.
*When* he got home. Because no way in hell was he going to die (or worse) out here in the woods. Not like this. Not because of these douchebags. Not fucking today.
So he reached back, wrapped his hand around the hair at the base of his skull like he did every morning when he put it up but this time, his left hand reached for the one of the sharp little daggers sheathed at the side of his belt. Within seconds, he was free, his mind and body working together on autopilot to have the three men lying unconscious at his feet. He still didn't like killing - they'd tried to kill him but by the looks of them and the desperation they'd shown as they fought, he had to at least give them a chance to explain.
But as he secured their wrists behind them and prepared to radio into Odessa where some of the others were working to finally get everything up and running, he looked down at the forest floor, cocked an eyebrow. what the - oh shit. His hair had grown to reach almost the small of his back in the time since they'd arrived in Washington. And there, at his feet, scattered about the leaves and twigs were the nearly two foot long strands.
As the last few moments of the fight came back to him, he reached up to confirm that...yep, he'd done exactly what he thought he'd done, his hair cut off to just below his ears. It hadn't been this short since about 4 and a half months into the infection. He'd stopped cutting it when he left New York, hadn't bothered since, especially after he and Aaron had gotten together.
Aaron had a special affection for his 'curtain' - as the other man liked to call Paul's hair. Loved to smell it, loved waking up with it splayed out over his own face. He loved the way it fell over his shoulders and blocked out the world when Paul rolled them over in bed, straddling his hips, his hands braced against his chest...Paul hoped his husband was paying even better attention this morning than usual because *that* wasn't gonna be happening for a while. A long while. Fuck.
The man responsible for what Jesus knew was going to result in that terrible, devastated kicked puppy look on his husband's face was starting to come around. "Hair pulling? Dude, bitch move at best. Yeah, you're still in the land of the living. Maybe not when my man gets his hands on you..." he laughs, only slightly bitter, brings the walkie talkie up and presses down on the button to talk. "Hey, this is Jesus, I've got a situation on the perimeter, north side of the town, the residential area not too far from the library."
Maggie is the one to answer him, a slightly panicked quality to her voice. It made him feel a little guilty. Ever since the incident at the graveyard back in Virginia, his best friend had been - a little... paranoid? Overprotective maybe? But it also feel kinda nice that someone actually cared that much..."Are you ok? I'm sending Abraham and Sasha to your location... Jesus, are you ok!?"
He'd kind of spaced out, his finger tips still twisting the ends of the what was left of his hair, like he still couldn't believe it was real. "Maggie, I'm fine. nothing I couldn't handle. Just 3 assholes making trouble. They're secured."
"Don't scare me like that, damn it!" she scolds and he can't help laughing a little.
"Sorry, I just...well, you'll see. It's nothing serious, I'm not injured but...you'll see"
He doesn't hear her respond because Abraham and Sasha have arrived, the sound of their approaching steps coming to an abrupt halt a few yards behind him "Hands where I can see em!" Abraham shouts and Jesus tries not to laugh but does as he's told. He can hardly blame them..."Now turn around real slow and don't try nothin'."
He hears Sasha start to ask her boyfriend, "Where the hell is -"
"Jesus? it's a long story. don't ask..." Paul says, smiling, "Can I put my hands down now?" His friends both nod, mouths slightly agape. Well, shit, if this is *their* reaction, he hates to think of what's waiting for him at home. "A little help?"
They both come to their senses almost immediately, hauling two of the assailants to their feet, Jesus taking charge of the third, most guilty party, at least in his opinion.
He should have known Maggie'd be the one to come running, only noticing once she'd checked him over thoroughly for injuries. She knew better than to trust him enough to take his word for it. But when she does notice, she gasps, hand over her mouth. She even takes a step back.
"That bad, huh?"
"No!" she exclaims, remembering herself and her manners. Again, not that he can blame her. "It's just...a shock. Aaron is gonna be -"
"Trust me, I know..." he says, sounding a little defeated. And for the rest of the day, no one mentions it, like it's a giant elephant following him everywhere he goes.
When after a couple hours Jesus finds himself starting to feel a little self conscious about it, he understands why. He catches his reflection in a storefront window and doesn't even recognize himself but shakes it out and tugs the hat he keeps with him over his head. He'd been *so* focused on Aaron's reaction that he'd forgotten to let himself to react to it too. Somehow, the hat only makes the difference even more noticeable and he sighs.
"It's not like he's gonna dump you. He didn't marry your hair, dude." Enid is standing beside him watching him watch his reflection. He laughs. He *knows* that. "Oh, it's bugging you for *you* reasons, huh?" she asks, and he wonders how she can be so perceptive and so young at the same time. She hugs him. "It looks fine, just different and you're you, here with us in the new world making it work. You're ok." Again, she's still *so* young but somehow knows exactly what to say. She's cut staright throught to what's really weighing on him. The Commonwealth had been a mind fuck, giving him an unexpected and unpleasant blast from the past but he'd healed and this was going to be ok too. "Love you," Enid says, kissing his cheek and she's off.
"I love you too..."