Work Text:
Amon often behaved like a mischievous child.
Sitting on the desk, the Time Angel with curly dark hair tapped his bent, clown-like toes on the chair leg, attracting Bethel's attention. The neatly folded sheets of paper were thrown into disarray with one movement of the hand, as if a cat had dug its claws into a couple of papers, arching its back so that its busy owner would finally notice it. Deep blue eyes cast only a fleeting glance at the sly smile spreading across the other's lips, and then he returned to work.
Slowly leaning forward, Amon slid his hand to the document that Bethel was signing, smearing the still wet ink. Their noses almost touched, and the mischievous joker did not give him a chance to look away from him again, leaving him bored.
The chuckle that escaped touched the other's lips along with the tickling breath.
"Amon."
"Yes~," he sang, quite pleased, and turned his gaze to the thick black hair that lay softly on his shoulders and back. "If you let me play with your hair, I will leave you alone."
"No."
"How kind of you, Bethel!"
Jumping off the table, Amon spun around, dancing, and went behind the chair. His hand pulled at the black ribbon in his hair, and his fingers dug into it, tugging it lightly. Bethel frowned, but resigned himself to his fate.
Amon ran his hand through the black strands, thinking.
Something that would suit his Bethel... Those bulky hairstyles that the ladies wear for weeks? So funny and ugly. It would be interesting to see how the head of the Abraham family walks with her. Or collect a bunch of flowers and arrange a bouquet on his head, so fragrant that the others will hold their noses in disgust? An innocent smile played on Amon's lips, not giving away his true thoughts.
Hearing a heavy sigh that escaped from Bethel's mouth, as if he had caught him on strange ideas, he still made a choice.
His lips folded into a tube, humming a simple song.
Cold, thin fingers took one strand after another with strange calmness, intertwining them. It seemed as natural as playing on someone else's nerves. Hands sank into the hair, which resembled the sensations of immersion in a calm lake, giving softness to the skin.
Having finished the improvised braid, Amon tied it with a ribbon, completing his whim.
"Done~"
In his opinion, a braid suited Bethel best of all. Delicate and elegant.
It's a pity that at the moment of his death, his hair fell onto his arms in long black sleeves, tangled, not like before. His fingers roughly dug into the black strands, getting stuck in them because of squabbles. Humming a simple melody in a hoarse voice, Amon seemed to be lulling the sleeping man on his lap.
Having tied his hair with a black ribbon, he felt his face tremble, showing a distorted grimace.
"That's it, Bethel... They won't get dirty. Didn't I tell you that you have no taste? Ha-ha..."
He didn't know who would dispel his boredom now. And who would allow a madman to approach like this, accepting inept caresses and love...