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“It’s hot,” Shoutarou complained, stretching in his chair. He had a report to write, but it was frankly just too hot to think. Even the Futo wind wasn’t doing anything but blowing hot, stale air around.
“You’re the one who grew out your hair,” Philip said absentmindedly, his nose in his blank book. The heat meant that there were more clips than usual in Philip’s hair, both barrettes from Queen and Elizabeth and his eccentric binder clips.
“At least I didn’t dye it green,” Shoutarou countered.
“What would that have to do with the heat?”
“I dunno. It’s hot, in the wrong season.” Shoutarou knew he was being grouchy.
“Climate cha--”
“Do not finish that sentence, it’s too hot to be depressed about the state of the planet.”
Philip gave a half smile at that. “Very well, Shoutarou. I’m going to go in the garage. Gentarou-kun has been in contact and made me interested in space and I am especially fascinated by Pluto.”
Shoutarou chuckled. “I remember when it got demoted. Whole thing.”
Philip nodded before heading to his whiteboards.
“Ah, I really should work on this…” Shoutarou reluctantly put paper into the typewriter, trying to find words to describe the fuzzy French bulldog he had had to chase through a car dealership.
It was slow going, his hair sticking to his neck and distracting him.
“Ah, mou !” It was just too hot and Shoutarou couldn’t take it. He rummaged around in the drawers, looking for rubber bands so he could put his hair up.
He had just found a bag and was about to put his hair up in a ponytail when Queen and Elizabeth came in.
“Shou-chan you are not about to put a rubber band in your hair!” the two scolded as one, making Shoutarou startle.
“You sound like a chicken when you squawk like that,” Queen said, pulling out her purse.
“Yeah, one about to get his head cut off,” Elizabeth agreed, also pulling out her purse.
“Use these,” the two said in unison, holding out scrunchies. One was green and one was purple.
“Um, no, it’s fine,” he said. The only reason he was going to put his hair up at all was because he figured no one else would be around.
It was the wrong thing to say. They went and marched around the desk, ignoring his protests, putting his hair in two small ponytails, a small argument on which side the green and purple scrunchies went on resolving itself quickly.
“There.” they announced in unison.
“Why is Shoutarou pouting now?” Philip asked, having come in again, clearly curious about the commotion.
“He’s mad about his hair, even though he was going to put a rubber band in it,” Queen explained.
“Ah.”
“Isn’t it cute?” Elizabeth asked.
Philip’s amused glance told Shoutarou all he needed to know. He covered his face and groaned.
“Half-boiled reaction as usual, Shoutarou. But maybe now you’ll stop complaining about the heat.”
Shoutarou groaned louder. But he had to admit that it was so much easier to think if his hair was up.
So maybe he left it up like that. And maybe it became a habit. (and maybe Akiko bonked him for being an idiot who thought looking cool was more important than being cool temperature wise.)
And maybe, just maybe , Philip liked taking his hat off when Shoutarou wore his hair like that and using it to hide kisses.
Just perhaps.