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Wally's hair was something you knew he took a lot of pride in. Every day he styled it in a unified curl atop his head, pompadour neat and proper and the side pieces always carefully laid in front of his ears, the back of it holding a little swoop upwards. It was only in dire straits, like being caught in an unexpected rainstorm or during an intense, hands on game that Julie concocted, that you ever saw it mussed.
Well, it had been that way for a while.
Because recently, in the late evenings you occasionally spent together, he'd take his hair down before you left. Unwinding it from its pretty pompadour into a cascade of navy waves and minor cobalt cowlicks. It was an interesting sight to see; he kept it up with a mix of product and hairpins, constructed in such a way that was fairly impressive to see come down. You let him place the pins in your palms as he pulled them out one by one, rather than have them collect in his own palm or on the coffee table. You also helped gently pick out any pins still hanging stubbornly in his long locks, the kind that evaded his fingers and were lost in the kerfuffle.
Once his hair was empty of its structural scaffolding he'd scoop the hairpins from your hands and leave to wash out the leftover product, returning in his pajamas and house coat, slippers on his feet and hairbrush in his hand. You'd scooted back for him to sit between your legs, taking the offered brush and talking about whatever you pleased as you brushed through his hair, gently untwisting snarls and running the bristles through it until it was dry.
There was something inherently intimate about brushing someone else's hair. A routine personal care task placed in the hands of another; not due to inability, but trust. Trust that you would do well, that you could do well. That your touch would stay gentle and any pain incurred would be accidental.
You weren't sure who else he let do this. Barnaby for sure, and possibly Julie as well. But likely no one else. Just them, and you.
Droplets of water sprinkled your pants as you brushed, wicking the water out of the strands. Despite the copious amounts of product he most certainly used, Wally's hair was fluffy and lush when freshly washed. Not quite soft, but not quite coarse either. His hair was thick, and when laden with water you could already see the pattern it held when not straightened and teased smooth.
Wally's hair was very curly.
It wiggled and waved while wet, slowly curling and corkscrewing as it dried. You were enamored with the variation in each blue twirl, winding some around your finger and watching as it either kept its shape or unfurled into a looser twist. He didn't seem to mind your fascination, simply humming to himself whenever you stopped talking.
If a bit of hair caught in an awkward way on the bristles of the brush, he'd let out a low, toneless "ow"-- but otherwise he was very forgiving of any pulling as you neatened his hair into a curly, slightly frizzy cloud. You had asked him about leave in conditioner or oil to combat it, but he had said he "straightened it out in the morning" and seemed adverse to changing his routine when you suggested options. That was fair enough; he could do whatever he liked with his hair, even if you did find his natural curls quite lovely.
When his hair was only slightly damp, you set the hairbrush aside and combed your fingers through his hair bottom up, checking for any hidden snarls as your task came to a close. He hummed as you scratched your nails against his scalp, and you saw him shiver as you threaded your fingers, gently, in the hair just above nape of his neck. A place rarely touched on anyone, especially when they had long hair. You pulled your hand back slowly, watching the curls wriggle against the back of your fingers before falling to lay with the others.
Tapping his shoulder, you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.
"All done." you murmured.
Wally placed his hand on your thigh as he turned to look up at you. His expression was peaceful, and a bit sleepy. Eyelids drooping and smile heavy.
"Thank you very much. I'm ready for you to leave now." he said, patting your leg. Despite the bluntness of his words, you simply smiled down at him.
"Of course! Thank you for having me over."
"Of course." he said, repeating your words as he stood up. You followed suit, walking over to the front door and putting your shoes on. He hovered nearby, hands clasped politely in front of himself as he waited for you to finish lacing up your shoes.
"You want me to call when I get home?" you asked, despite knowing the answer.
"Okay. Then I'll call everyone else after." he said, exactly the same way he always did. You nodded, straightening up and smiling at the sleepy look Home gave you as he opened his door, a quiet squeeeeakk of the hinges as it did so.
"Home says goodnight." Wally said.
"Goodnight, Home." you said to the house, who settled into their foundations with a low creak. You stepped through the doorframe, looking out at the golden sunset before turning back to look at Wally.
He stood there on the other side, letting out a little sigh as your eyes met. He slowly unclasped his hands, raising one up to wave at you in an unhurried way.
"Goodbye. I love you."
Your smile went soft as you blinked slowly at him.
"Love you too, sweetheart. See you soon."
With that, Home close their door with a click, and you headed to your own home, already eagerly anticipating the goodnight call with your neighbourhood darling.