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Dandelion was halfway through curling his hair when the door to Geralt’s room was flung open. The hot tongs scorched the tip of his ear and clattered to the floor as Dandelion yelped in pain. He hissed, holding his burnt ear as he glared at the intruder, pulling his silk gown closed around his waist. Lambert was standing in the doorway, a horrified look on his face which was flushed redder than his, quite frankly, gorgeous hair. Dandelion whined as he picked up the tongs, muttering the incantation that Yennefer had taught him to end the spell that kept them at the right temperature.
“What the fuck, bard? Was that magic?”
Dandelion scoffed. “Well of course it was, witcher, or did your medallion not tell you that?”
Lambert crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Geralt never told us you were a mage.”
“I’m not,” Dandelion admitted with a heavy sigh “they are a gift from Yennefer. One word to heat them up, the other to cool them down. It saves a heck of a lot of time, when I’m not being interrupted by a complete buffoon!”
“I smelled the burning, thought you were in trouble,” Lambert shrugged, clearly not even a little bit sorry for Dandelion’s injury.
“Well be more careful, that bloody hurt!”
“Why do you do it?” Lambert asked, picking up the tongs and peering at them with those beautiful amber eyes that all wolf witchers shared, eyes that made Dandelion’s heart flutter. “The hot metal thing?”
Dandelion raised an eyebrow and lifted a lock of pitifully straight hair in his fingers. It was about two inches longer than the rest of his hair but flat in comparison. He looked longingly at Lambert’s naturally thick curls, burning bright like a phoenix rising from the flames. “Darling witcher, not all of us are blessed with such luscious locks.”
Lambert scowled. “Yes you are?”
Dandelion laughed, plucking the tongs from Lambert’s fingers and muttering the incantation. After a few seconds he wrapped a section of his hair around the hot metal and waited. He hummed to himself as he counted in his head before pulling the tongs away. The hair bounced in a perfect curl, and he winked, waving the tongs in front of Lambert’s stunned face. “Some of us have to work for it.”
“Magic,” Lambert breathed, with wide dark eyes.
Dandelion giggled and carried on curling the rest of his hair. Lambert watched intently every time a fresh curl fell loosely down. He seemed to be completely entranced. Once Dandelion was finished he ended the heating spell and picked up the perfume bottle from the side. The bottle now contained a special elixir, a gift from Triss, that helped to set his curls. He closed his eyes and sprayed the mixture in a fine mist over his hair, once that was done he shook his hair out and flashed Lambert a dazzling smile. “And we’re done.”
“Fuck that,” Lambert grumbled.
Dandelion rolled his eyes and pulled Lambert so he was sitting awkwardly on Geralt’s bed. “Now, just because your hair is naturally stunning, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be taking care of it.” Lambert growled and tried to run from the room but Dandelion pushed him back down. “Sit!”
“I’m not Geralt, you can’t tell me what to do.”
Dandelion tilted his head, smirking at the witcher who was quite free to leave and yet remained on the bed. “Oh of course not,” Dandelion giggled “but let me try something?”
“Fine.”
Dandelion grinned and pulled a vile of lavender oil from his dresser, placing it on the bed next to Lambert then began rummaging through his drawers until he found the best brush for the job. He hummed and flicked his tongue between his lips. “I need to wet your hair.”
“What?”
He searched through the bottles on his desk, he knew he had a bottle of clean water somewhere on his desk. He picked up one and sniffed it, it smelt clean. He passed the bottle to Lambert. “Is this water?”
“Yeah.”
“Wonderful!” He grinned and jumped to sit behind Lambert on the bed. He sprayed the thick ginger hair until it damp all over. Then, working from the bottom he began to comb through the curls. The brush got stuck a couple of times in the tangles causing Lambert to curse and mutter under his breath but Dandelion paid him no mind. He continued to sing his latest composition about the trail up to Kaer Morhen as he worked. Once he’d brushed out all the tangles, he ran lavender oil through with his hands, making sure to massage it into the scalp. He grinned to himself when he heard a familiar rumble from Lambert’s chest. The first time he’d heard Geralt purr like this he’d burst out laughing but he was used to the sensation now, and he was proud he could lull the notoriously grumpy witcher into a state of relaxation to the point of purring.
“There we go,” he murmured.
“Hmm…”
He laughed as silently as he could, whilst he finished running the oil through Lambert’s hair, before styling as best he could. “Ok you’re all done.”
Lambert ran his hand through his hair and shook it out. “It’s still damp. Is that lavender?”
Dandelion shrugged. “Geralt likes the scent, I thought you might too. It will stop your hair drying out, and you deserve to feel pretty too, witcher, don’t forget it.”
Lambert snorted but smirked. “Thanks.”
Dandelion patted Lambert’s cheek, smiling brightly at his friend. “Anytime, my dear witcher.”