Work Text:
“Your hair’s getting long, man.”
“Hm?”
“I said your hair,” Charlie repeated, sitting down in the barstool next to Mac. “It’s getting long.“
Charlie slid one of the two beers he was holding over to Mac, taking a sip from the other.
“Oh. I guess it is.” Mac agreed, running a hand through it absentmindedly.
Charlie was right; Mac hadn’t gotten a haircut since before they bought the bar, and in the few months they’d owned it, his hair had grown to almost reach his underarms. He could tie it up now if he wanted to, although he only did that at his apartment to get it out of his face. After all, he needed to look at least a little bit badass as the unofficial bouncer of Paddy’s Pub, and a stupid little ponytail was decidedly not the way to do that.
But, really, it was getting inconvenient. Falling in front of his face while he was pouring drinks, getting in his mouth while he talked - it was becoming a much bigger hassle than it was worth.
“I’ve been thinking about cutting it.” He added, twirling a strand between his fingers and holding it in front of his eyes. Not that he knew much about hair, but it looked like he had split ends, and those were supposed to be trimmed, right?
“Really? Dude, come over to mine after work!” Charlie offered, “I’ll cut it for you.” He waved his beer around dangerously as he spoke, but managed to bring it to his mouth without spilling a single drop.
Eyes following the motion of the mug, Mac’s gaze settled on Charlie’s lips, before quickly blinking and looking up at the ceiling. He scoffed and raised an eyebrow, playing it off. Super subtle. “You? You can cut hair?”
“Yeah, man! I’ve been cutting mine for years now.”
Now that he thought about it, that wasn’t particularly surprising. Charlie was a bit of an expert at finding little ways to save money, and his hair did always look just a bit scruffy. Not bad, per se, but had a bit of messy charm to it.
“Alright, dude, why not. But you’re dead if you fuck it up.” He warned, pointing a non-threatening finger at Charlie as he brought his eyes down from the ceiling back to Charlie’s face.
Charlie just laughed, shoving Mac in the shoulder. “Very scary, Mac. Maybe that’ll work on the next guy that tries to steal your drugs.”
“You’re an asshole.”
Laughing again, Charlie leant back to scan the pub for any patrons.
“Empty. Let’s just close early tonight.”
-
“So, how do you want me to cut it?”
Mac was sitting on the floor in front of Charlie’s futon, legs crossed, hands behind his head, leaning back against the cushions. Standing on the couch, Charlie was busy rummaging through various belongings on the shelves, apparently looking for his ‘hair-cutting scissors’ (seriously, were regular scissors not good enough?).
“I dunno, man, do whatever you want. I trust you.”
He heard Charlie’s searching pause for a second before it continued. Outside his field of view, a warm blush spread across Charlie’s face.
“Yea-“ Charlie cleared his throat. Damned voice crack. “Yeah, um. Sure. Okay.”
“Uh. Okay.” Mac repeated, trying (and failing) to ignore the warm feeling in his chest at Charlie’s flustered demeanour. Seriously, all he said was that he trusted him - they’d been friends since fucking forever, that was a given. Charlie’s reaction to being told as much and Mac’s respective reaction to Charlie meant nothing. Nothing weird about it.
Still, Mac found himself running a nervous hand through his hair. He gnawed on his lip as he waited for Charlie to say something to fill the silence, a prayer that was thankfully answered as Charlie let out an “A-ha!” when he found the scissors.
He snipped them a couple of times, and then turned around as he dropped onto the couch, bouncing on the cushions with his legs dangerously close to whacking Mac in the head.
“Alright, here we go,” Charlie mumbled, presumably to himself more than to Mac. He shifted behind him, ending up with his legs on either side of Mac, knees right next to his shoulders, uncomfortably close to him. Not that Mac was uncomfortable, necessarily. Just that he was really close, so much so that he could feel the heat radiating off of Charlie’s body, and it was giving him that annoying warm tingling feeling in his chest. Seriously, what was up with that?
It didn’t help when Charlie put his hands on the back of Mac’s head, guiding it down, before he ran his fingers through the hair at the nape of Mac’s neck. The warm feeling spread up his neck and onto his face, and he was thankful that Charlie wasn’t in front of him to see.
“How were you - how are you gonna cut it?” Mac inquired, hoping his stuttering wasn’t too obvious.
“Hm, not sure. Got a few ideas. How short can I go?”
“As short as you want, man. I’ve been growing it out forever, time to change it up, y’know?”
“I can work with that,” Charlie said, moving Mac’s head downward again. “And stop moving, man,” he continued as he started cutting.
-
“Dude, why do I have to close my eyes again?”
Now sitting in front of Mac, Charlie was seemingly almost finished with cutting his hair. He’d made Mac shut his eyes once he started getting closer to his face, and Mac was pretty sure he’d finished with the sides and back, which left only his bangs.
“I want it to be a surprise!”
Mac sighed, but kept his eyes closed. It couldn’t hurt to humour Charlie a bit; he seemed to be enjoying himself. He felt a light tug on his scalp as Charlie grabbed another small section and snipped.
“Turn your head.”
Mac complied, turning it to his left.
“No, other way.”
Charlie’s hand moved from Mac’s hair to his jaw to guide it the other way, surprisingly soft against his rough stubble. Mac felt his breath hitch at the touch as he felt that goddamned warm feeling in his chest again. Slowly opening his eyes, he saw Charlie staring intently at him, ever-so-slightly tightening the grip on his face. As if he were trying to remember how to speak, Charlie’s mouth opened, and closed again, eyebrows furrowing.
“Um,” he started, gaze still locked on Mac’s face. “Let me just-“
Charlie brought the scissors in his other hand up to Mac’s face, and lined them up on his forehead, leaning forward in the process. His face was mere inches away from Mac’s, who felt his cheeks growing hot (which was totally not a blush) at Charlie’s closeness. He heard the scissors snip a few times before Charlie ran his fingers through Mac’s hair, repeating the motion, not once removing the hand from his jaw.
“I, um- I think I’m done now,” Charlie declared as he placed the scissors on the floor and leant back on his hands, finally letting go of Mac’s face.
“You- uh- can I see? Do you- do you have a mirror somewhere?” Mac stuttered, tripping over his words.
“Oh shit, yeah, I think it’s over there somewhere behind those fucking guitars,” Charlie began as he gestured to the wall to his right. He stood up and offered his hand to Mac, who hesitantly took it to pull himself up, quickly letting go.
Charlie walked to the side of the room and started kicking discarded clothes out of the way, carefully placing the musical instruments into the corner.
“There we go!” Charlie exclaimed proudly, “Take a look!”
Charlie had just barely moved enough junk out of the way for Mac to be able to see his reflection, but he could see it nonetheless.
It was short. Much shorter than he had expected Charlie to go. On top of that, Charlie had parted it slightly to the side, and some of the hair at the front fell forward onto his face. He ran his hand back through it, slicking it back, before it fell forward again. He turned his head to the side, running his fingers down the short back and sides, unable to stop a smile growing.
“Do you like it?” Charlie asked meekly, looking down at his feet.
Mac turned around to face him and grabbed his shoulders. “Like it? Dude, I love it!” He half-yelled, shaking Charlie with each word.
Charlie beamed. “Thanks, man,” he said as he looked up from his feet to Mac, noticing again how close they were. He reached a hand up to run it through Mac’s hair.
“I’m glad you like it. It- uh- I think short hair suits you.”
His hand moved down, but to Mac’s cheek instead of his jaw this time, and Charlie could almost see the cogs turning in Mac’s brain.
“You look nice, Mac.”
Charlie’s thumb rubbed back and forth against Mac’s face, whose eyes were staring wildly at Charlie, looking his face up and down. Muscles tensed in his jaw as he clenched his teeth, Charlie continuing to look up at him. His hands were still held firmly on Charlie’s shoulders, and his fingers dug into the fabric of his army jacket nervously.
Without warning, Charlie leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Mac’s lips, lingering for a mere second before he pulled away. Mac stared, dumbfounded, a million thoughts running through his mind. His chest felt like it was going to explode with how fast his heart was racing.
“Was that- I’m sorry, was that ok? Did you not want me to?” Charlie stammered anxiously at Mac’s delayed response.
“No- yes- it was-“ Mac began, “-can we do it again?”
Charlie let out a quiet laugh and lightly patted Mac’s cheek, before he leant back in for another kiss.