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“How is the water pressure in your shower better than mine when I pay about three times as much rent as you do?”
Segs steps out of the bathroom, rubbing at his hair with a towel and grinning at him. It’s damn good to see him in Tyler’s space again. He has this way of making any room he’s in feel smaller, and if Tyler’s honest with himself, he’s missed it. Missed the way that he’ll talk shit all night long, but he’s always looking around to make sure everyone’s having fun. Missed the way that when they go out somewhere, Segs’ personality gets so large and overwhelming that it can feel smothering, but then when they go home (because he flirts with hot girls and he flirts with hot guys but he always goes home with Tyler) he’ll curl up on the couch and put his head in Tyler’s lap and whine till Tyler scratches his scalp and talks to him about nothing until he falls asleep.
Mostly, he’s just missed him.
Marshall butts at his hand and shoves with his nose till he’s up under it and Tyler has no choice but to scratch behind his ears, and he smiles down at him, because yeah, he’s missed Marshall too. “I don’t know, man,” he says to Segs, who still hasn’t put a damn shirt on. Tyler is having serious issues not giving in to his urges to lick that stupid Stanley Cup tattoo. “But maybe if your hair wasn’t so long you wouldn’t need exceptional water pressure.”
“Um, fuck you, my flow is the best.” Segs drags a hand back through it. “Way better than Kaner’s, that’s for sure. I can’t believe I couldn’t talk him into growing the mullet again.”
“Your flow needs to go.”
Segs pauses, lifts his eyebrows. “Dude, that was weak.”
“And yet no less true.”
“Well, if you hate it so much, then cut it.” Segs flops backward onto Tyler’s bed, sprawling across as much of it as possible.
“Uh, no?”
“Seriously, dude, I’m gonna have to cut it anyway, and this’ll keep me from having to worry about like, making an appointment and shit.” Segs stretches out full-length, arms above his head and his sweatpants slipping further down his hips with each small movement.
“I have exactly zero experience cutting hair.”
“You shave yours all the time! How hard can it be to trim it? Just get some scissors, snip snip. Easy.”
Tyler snorts. “You’re not worried I’m going to make you look like a hedgehog?”
Segs sits up, alarmed. “Well, now I am.”
“Chill out, baby, I’m not going to screw your hair.” Tyler slaps his hand on Segs’ stomach and stands up. “Okay, if you’re serious, drag that chair into the bathroom so there’s a mirror. I’ll go grab some scissors.”
“Sweet.” Segs practically leaps up, and Tyler rolls his eyes as he heads to the kitchen to find his scissors.
“Okay, how do you wanna do this?” he asks once he’s found them and is heading back to the bathroom. “Like, how short are we talking?” Segs’ hair is almost to his ears at this point-- it passed the attractively-long stage a while back and went straight for the wannabe-Hanson-brother-long stage.
“Uhh...like, not draft-short but maybe Cup-short?” Segs shrugs, and Tyler takes a moment to appreciate his delts before snapping back to attention.
“Yeah, okay. Let’s see how this goes.”
“Your confidence is overwhelming.”
“Whatever, asshole, you were the one who asked me to do this.” Tyler takes a deep breath. “Okay, here goes nothing. If I fuck it up, blame’s on you.”
Segs grins at him in the mirror. “You said you wouldn’t screw my hair, baby.”
“Behave,” Tyler says sternly. The very last thing he needs is Segs flirting with him while he’s got sharp objects in his hands.
The actual cutting doesn’t go too badly. He takes his time, cutting slowly, and finally gets it trimmed so that it’s above Segs’ ears, at least, but still long enough that he can do that stupid slicking-it-back thing that he loves. If he lets his fingers trail across Segs’ scalp when the opportunity presents itself, well, Segs practically begs him to do that all the time anyway, so it’s no big thing.
“Okay, just gotta get the back-- ‘scuse me,” he says, practically plastering himself to Segs’ back so he can reach around him to put the scissors on the counter and grab the clippers he always uses to shave his head. Segs grabs his wrist before he can straighten back up and put space between their bodies again.
“Scalp me and I kick your ass.”
“Oh, don’t worry, honey, you’ll still have that beautiful Seguin flow the ladies love when I’m done,” Tyler promises. Segs grins at him in the mirror.
The trimming is not as easy as the cutting. The vibrations from the clippers make Segs shiver every time Tyler tries to start trimming, and that’s just not going to work. “Stop that,” he says finally, because besides Segs shivering like that being kinda hot, Tyler’s going to end up hurting him. “I don’t wanna cut your ear off or something.”
“Can’t help it,” Segs says, fidgeting a little.
“Are you--” Tyler glances down and groans exasperatedly at what he sees. “Are you seriously getting hard right now?”
“Can’t help it, super hot guy being all touchy feely around my scalp.” Segs looks completely unashamed, which surprises Tyler not at all.
“I scratch your head all the time.” When Segs just looks at him in the mirror, Tyler groans again, for a completely different reason. “Seriously? Every single time? Dude, why the fuck did you never say anything, I totally would’ve jumped you in a hot second.” He blinks, backtracks. “Unless like, it’s not me, it’s the scalp thing, and you didn’t want me to jump you, because I don’t wanna like, assume anything--”
“Okay, a) you need to stop freaking out when you’ve got those clippers so close to my ear, and b) yes, asshole, it was you, okay?” Segs rolls his eyes. “It’s always been you.”
“God, you sound like a romance novel.”
“Sweet. I can check that off the bucket list.”
Tyler stares at him in the mirror. “The sad thing is, I can’t tell if you’re being serious.” He switches the clippers back on and steps closer to Segs, so he’s pressed flush against his back again. Leaning over, he says against his ear, “The sooner you let me get on with this, the sooner we’re done and can move on from whatever weird kind of foreplay this seems to be.”
“Is that a promise?” Segs’ voice is low and rough and as he turns his head to look Tyler in the eye, so close, Tyler wants to kick himself for not realizing that he apparently could’ve had this all along, and he needs to kick himself so that he snaps out of it and stops staring at Segs’ lips.
“Fuck yes, that’s a promise.” He lets himself lean in and steal one kiss, one brief taste, before he takes a giant step back. “Now be. Still.”
“Ooh, orders. Kinky.”
“Seguin, I swear to God.”
“Sorry.”
Tyler glares at him in the mirror. “No, you’re fucking not. Don’t even front.”
“No, I’m really not.” Segs grins. “Come on, finish it up, baby. We’ve got better things to do.”
“Jesus, what did I do in a past life to deserve you?”
“Something really, really awesome.”
“Not where I was going with that.”
Somehow, probably due to a miracle of some sort, Tyler manages to trim the back of Segs’ hair so that he doesn’t look like he’s trying to be PKane and grow a mullet. The second he’s done, he turns the clippers off, tosses them aside, and manhandles Segs out of the chair and up against the wall.
“Can’t believe you’ve wanted this as long as I have and we’ve never done anything about it,” he groans against the hollow of Segs’ neck. God, he smells good, and he tastes even better. Tyler nuzzles against his jaw, knowing both of them are going to have beard burn from that and really not giving a fuck.
“Whatever, it’s just as much your fault as mine. At least I didn’t get a lockout girlfriend,” Segs shoots back, his hand sliding around the back of Tyler’s head so he can fit their mouths together again.
“Was dating her before the lockout, asshole,” Tyler reminds him, speaking against his lips. “Not my fault you made yourself seem super unattainable, okay?”
“Wha-- how did I do that?” Segs’ hands grip Tyler’s hips firmly and he turns them so that Tyler’s the one against the wall.
“Uh, by hitting on everything with a pulse, including Freddy and Blacker?” Tyler’s head falls back, hitting the wall with a thunk, as Segs starts mapping the skin beneath his jaw and behind his ear with his lips and tongue and occasionally teeth.
“Yeah, but like, that’s not the same way I hit on you. It’s different. This thing with us is different, you know?” Segs nips at his mouth, quick and fleeting and not at all what Tyler wants right now (except it’s exactly what he wants, when it comes down to it, because it’s Segs).
“Different how?”
“I don’t know, just-- God, yes,” Segs chokes out when Tyler slides his hand down the front of Segs’ sweats. “Okay. Bed. Now. I’m not busting my ass on this tile, I don’t wanna explain that shit at camp next week.”
Tyler snorts. “Yeah, your life is so hard.”
“Fuck off, Ference and Marchy don’t need any more ammo than they already have, okay?” Segs practically shoves Tyler out of the bathroom and back toward his bed, and you know what, he’s not complaining. Not even a little.
The next morning when he gets to the rink for practice and hears loud, obnoxious catcalls the second he takes off his shirt to change because apparently Segs is a possessive fucker who likes leaving marks? That’s when he’s complaining.