Work Text:
When Dandelion had moved in he’d brought all his possessions with him. It wasn’t that he owned much, he lived in a small apartment before moving into Geralt’s home, so everything in it - short of furniture, which had come with his lease - could fit in Geralt’s van.
He had a few instruments, books, clothes, a computer, a phone, his frankly absurd collection of sex toys, and, even more absurd, more hair and makeup products than Geralt had seen outside of a store. He had more than Yen.
The third day after moving in, he had crawled out of bed - naked of course, because he refused to wear clothes in bed on principal, even when they hadn’t fucked - looked at his reflection in the mirror, and announced that his hair looked terrible and he couldn’t take it anymore. Geralt wasn’t sure what ‘terrible’ meant. It looked fine to him, it was still blonde, for fucks sake, just a bit frizzy. Dandelion seemed so upset by the state of his hair that he hadn’t noticed the hickeys Geralt had left on his neck.
“You know where the bathroom is,” Geralt said with a shrug. He was still in bed, not having seen the point of getting up if Dandelion was just going to trot around and stress about his appearance (what did it matter, no one would see him).
Dandelion scurried off to do just that.
Deciding that they might as well not waste water, Geralt followed him, shrugging off his clothes and stepping into the shower after him.
“Oooh! Sexy,” said Dandelion brightly, giving him a wink. He was furiously scrubbing at his hair, grinning like a madman.
Geralt knew Dandelion had brought things with him, he’d seen them in the shower - he’d even brought an extra shelf, that suction cupped to the wall for fuck’s sake - but he’d made a point not to look at them too closely because it was all so overwhelming.
“How many shampoos do you need?” Geralt joked.
“Two,” said Dandelion seriously. “One for regular use and to clarify.”
Geralt decided not to ask what that meant, instead grabbing a bar of soap (his own, regular soap, thank you very much, not the ‘extra moisturizing’ nonsense Dandelion had brought). “You have… a lot of…” he motioned to Dandelion’s bottles.
“Shampoo, conditioner, deep conditioner, a protein treatment, curl cream, gel, mousse, and a heat-protectorate spray.”
“Oh,” he said, as if that explained it.
Predictably, he was done in the shower a long time before Dandelion. As Geralt was doing his last rinse to make sure he’d gotten all the soap off his hair, Dandelion was holding his head upside down, catching water in his hands and then scooping it into his hair.
Geralt blinked, shook his head, and decided he definitely did not want to know.
He stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, wiping himself off quickly before the water got all over the floor.
“What are you doing?” Dandelion was staring at him, still standing in the shower and dripping wet.
Geralt froze, halfway through scratching a towel over his scalp. “Drying my hair?”
“Ugh,” Dandelion groaned. “Geralt, that’s terry cloth, it’s awful for your hair.” He shook his head.
Geralt shrugged. “It’s worked for several decades.”
Dandelion shook his head in disbelief, then flipped his head upside down again and started rubbing more shit into it.
Deciding he couldn’t stay in the bathroom any longer - or he might start laughing - Geralt wrapped a towel around his waist and ducked out. He made his way to the kitchen, deciding he’d treat Dandelion to a nice breakfast (just on the off chance that he stopped playing with his hair long enough to notice the hickeys).
He was midway through frying eggs when Dandelion’s scream echoed from upstairs. Geralt paused until he heard hurried footsteps from upstairs, which confirmed that Dandelion hadn’t tripped and fallen. A moment later, the singer burst into the kitchen, stark naked except for a towel (that was noticeably not terry cloth) on his head.
“Geralt!” he demanded. “What the hell have you done to my neck!” Then he froze, his eyes landing on the stove. “Food!” he called happily.