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"So, how do you feel about your hair?" Ken asks. Her eyes are glinting with nefarious intent; Wato stares into them through the mirror perched on her vanity, idly chewing on a thumbnail.
The two of them are holed up in their shared dorm room. Wifies, as the emotional support and the elected official deigned the head of the snack-bringing committee, is perched atop the mess of Ken's bed, holding a bowl of popcorn and a Hot6 (grape flavoured, because he's got terrible taste). He'd also brought a strawberry-flavoured Monster and a cold oolong-peach tea for Ken and Wato respectively, and some bobby pins when Ken had asked nicely and batted their eyelashes a few times.
"I... have no particular feelings on it?" Wato responds, slowly. It feels perhaps similar to walking atop a minefield. Ken's smile grows wider, and faintly Wato thinks about the click beneath his foot. Line, sinker.
"Great. I have a Pinterest board. Here, I'll be right back, you just stay right there..."
She bustles off, clinking around the room on tables and in drawers before disappearing into the ensuite bathroom. Wato looks slowly over to Wifies, who munches on another handful of popcorn sympathetically before offering Wato the bowl. Wato grabs a piece; it's salted kettle corn. Ken had done a good job on electing Wifies, because even if he has shit taste in drinks it seems snack choices are well within his many talents.
"What are the odds that I come out of this looking like a Texas Chainsaw Massacre victim?" Wato asks through another piece of kettle corn. Wifies actually pauses to ponder the question for a moment, which isn't reassuring.
"Well, Ken did Seawatt's hair that one time, when he lost a bet. Remember?"
"Oh, that was her?" It hadn't looked half bad, actually. Kind of weirdly punk-ish for Seawatt, a lot of spikes and sort of asymmetry going on for a business major, especially one as stuck up as he-- he'd reformed like halfway through the year, though, when he'd started going out with that blond ethics major everyone had been gossiping about, so maybe those events were connected, but it wasn't Wato's business anyways. It was probably a nightmare to style but Seawatt had worn it proudly and still kept it up, and it had kind of become iconic? Hm. Wifies may have a point.
"Yeah. I'd say it's... eighty-twenty."
Wato looks in the mirror at his own relatively boring style, and mourns his days of being plain and uninteresting.
Ken returns with a pair of tiny, sharp-looking scissors, a metric ton of hair-clips stashed all over his clothing and a few in his own hair, making it stick up in funny places, and a wide arrangement of combs, brushes, curlers and something that looked at first glance like an industrial-grade sheep shearer, plus a spray bottle. It all wobbles in their arms vaguely threateningly until he spills it over Wato's side table, looking smug.
With a flourish, she presents a little cape, the kind a hairdresser uses: Wifies valiantly tries not to giggle as they fasten it around Wato's neck. He looks over to the phone in her hand, and squints at the screen, but she'd taken his glasses off a while ago so all he can see is smudgy brightness rather than whatever Pinterest board she has pulled up.
"Any hard no's? Lengths, styles, colours...?"
"Colours?" Wato asks, verging on disbelief.
"Yes, colours. Get with it, Wato. Any, or can I go ham?"
"Um." He's had the same hairstyle most of his life. Hell, he's never even touched a hair-dye brush, let alone a pair of scissors. "Nothing, like, super neon? Uh, and nothing that requires constant upkeep. Like Seawatt's."
"Mm. I'll take that into account." Ken says absently, plucking a comb from the side-table and taking it to Wato's hair, not too gently.
"Can we turn on a movie or something?" Wifies asks after a few minutes of aggressive brushing, halting Ken with the scissors hovering in the air like a mad doctor's scalpel. She hums. Wato staunchly does not sweat, nor shiver. Unrelatedly, he hopes Ken never pursues any kind of medical degree. "No offence, but watching someone get their hair cut isn't super interesting. Especially if you're gonna dye it, too."
"None taken. Edward Scissorhands?"
"Not when you're holding those scissors that close to my head. I cannot do that right now," Wato vetoes immediately.
"It makes me sad." Wifies adds, taking a moment to sip his Hot6 in contemplation. "Hm. Cruella?"
"Edward Scissorhands makes you sad but not Cruella?"
"What is it with you two and watching fashion-related movies?" Wato cuts in with a frown, "Can't we just watch, like, Star Wars or something?"
"We are not watching Star Wars." Ken and Wifies say at the exact same time.
It takes a little bit of hashing, most of which is not stalling on Wato's part at all. Ken does only have a limited amount of VHS tapes she can even put into her player on such short notice, which does cut down on their selection quite a bit, and Ken and Wato both have watched all of them at least thrice. Wifies hasn't seen many at all, as it turns out, which factors into their final decision quite a bit because whenever he mentions it offhandedly they both turn to the other in sync, lock eyes, and nod. The decision is made in an instant.
Ken slots in the tape for Scooby Doo on Zombie Island.
--
"Okay. Hold your head still, Wato."
Wato, as he has been doing for the past however long, thanks whatever deity, god and otherwise influential spirit or supernatural being he can reach that he hasn't wanted to get his hair dyed or styled before, ever. And that Ken likes him at least a little. And that he still has all of his hair-- he's got a lot to be thankful about, actually. The time spent letting Ken do whatever they want to her stylistically has given her a lot of time for introspection. Maybe he should join that badminton club, glasses be damned.
"Looking good," Wifies says absently, gaze affixed steadily onto Ken's CRT television set. "Hey, do you think that Velma and Daphne are secretly dating?"
"Secretly?" Ken scoffs. Wifies nods sagely.
"I think they're all dating, all four of them." Wato adds as Ken takes out a good chunk of hair in the back. "Velma and Daphne probably started dating first, though. And then Daphne invited Fred, who invited Shaggy."
"They're open, though. Like Velma with Hot Dog Water."
"Hot Dog Water?" Wifies turns. Well, Blob-Wifies turns. Wato's glasses have been confiscated for longer than the movie's been going. It kind of makes it hard to see the screen, but he's seen it enough times to recite it in his sleep, so it's not like it's making it all that hard to keep up.
"Ah, that's from another series. It's true, though. Hey, we should have a Mystery Incorporated watch party sometime."
"You gonna do Wifies' hair then?"
"No," Ken and Wifies harmonise. Ken continues, "Because he knows what to do with it, unlike you. And I think Parrot would kill me."
Wifies just scoffs at that, though he doesn't deign to deny it.
In the end, it takes Ken three hours and change to cut, dry, bleach and dye Wato's hair, along with all of the styling that comes at the end of that because it's apparently necessary, quoth Ken. There's probably more hair than Wato even has now scattered across their dorm room floor, which Wifies obediently procures a broom for, but refuses to actually sweep on account of only being hired for snack duty.
Finally, Ken gives Wato their glasses back. He slides them into place and peers in the mirror without preamble, blinks a little, and then squints.
"...Is that even me?"
"It worked!" Ken jumps up behind him, whooping. Wifies puts his hand up for a high-five, and Ken slaps it so hard Wato hears it echo.
The person in Ken's tiny, sticker-encrusted mirror has... less hair, surely, than Wato remembers. It's kind of shaggy, which is ironic considering the movie choice, and is still long in the back but Ken's freed his eyes by both cutting him bangs-- short, curled inwards flapper-style-- and tucking back the two long pieces of hair by the sides of her face so they frame it, instead of hiding it. Wato has much more face than he recalls ever having.
The back is the same, mostly, except with less volume, and the inside bits are split-dyed green and pink. Not neon, thank god, more of a tastefully mute. Wato combs a hand through them, shocked. Ken giggles proudly.
"It's." Wato's brain stalls for a moment. "It's. Really pretty, actually. Thanks, Ken."
"Uh huh," Ken says smugly.
Wato stares some more. It's really, really pretty. Something bubbles, in his chest: like he's pressurised. It feels like he's going to scream, but he isn't, but he could. He stares at it some more, touching the bangs daintily, like they'll break them if she's not careful, tracing over the sides and the layers in the back. Ken's smile softens just a touch in the mirror, perched behind him.
"I have an idea." Wifies proclaims, loudly.
Wato jumps a little, but doesn't pull his eyes away from his reflection Narcissus-style until Wifies physically has them by the shoulders and is pulling them up and across the room to stand in front of Ken's full-length mirror. They blink a little bit, looking over to narrow her eyes at him. He smiles innocently back.
"You're about Ken's size, right?"
Ken, catching on, sidles over to bracket Wato in on their other side.
"Um. About. I'm a bit taller, though..." Wato trails off as Wifies pulls open Ken's closet without preamble, ruffling through until he finds what he's looking for. Ken, if even possible at this point, grins even wider. Wifies holds it up.
It's a muted green cardigan.
--
Wato will say, in their own defence, that they have no idea how they got into this situation in the first place. He-- okay, so he might have been a tad bit obvious about liking his new hairstyle, no thanks to Ken. So what? That didn't excuse--
"Stop wobbling!"
--This.
Wifies, apparently their amateur film team's makeup artist, had given her no chance to protest before bullying her into sitting down to get her face all dolled up. The long and strenuous process had involved a lot of terrifying-looking implements, including a silver springtrap-adjacent device that he had clicked and yanked on Wato's eyelashes with, and a pencil of which the application involved literally yanking Wato's eyelids inside out. Horrifying things.
He did look very good once they were done, though, he'd give them that. In a great-depression era way.
Next, Ken had banished them to the bathroom to change out of their ratty t-shirt and sweatpants into clothing far better-looking but just a bit short on them, obviously some of Ken's that they had never paid attention to them wearing before. The outfit was relatively simple: green cardigan, pink dress. Literally two pieces, minus the jangling multitude of accessories that Ken had practically locked him up in, because apparently the outfit itself wasn't enough. Wato looked, for all he knew, like a walking jewellery store.
"Do you have any shoes that would match this?" Wifies had mused, looking over Wato critically, making her feel somewhat akin to a slab of meat at the grocers.
"I have some mary-janes. You think that would work?"
Wato, as all three had quickly learnt, has no natural talent that would aide him with walking in platform shoes.
Now, she stares in the floor-length mirror again, and that same fucking feeling comes back to bite. It's like-- something's in her ribs, expanding, pressing up into the apple of her throat. It feels like light, like they're glowing from the inside out. He blinks at the reflection of himself.
The dress's skirt is long, a baby-pink mess of folds and ruffles at the end, hemmed by white lace on the bottom and the v-line of the top, tied with straps of white ribbon and a little bow at the v's vertex. It twirls when he moves, and they try an actual spin, watching it flare out like a bell and flutter around his ankles as it settles. They have to swallow past the lump in their throat; behind them, Ken and Wifies watch silently. He can catch the tail-end of a grin on Wifies' face, a small one.
Wato hitches the dress up a little bit to look at the shoes, and at the white socks with lace at the end that Ken had forced him to put on.
"...I love it," She says eventually. It comes out a little wobbly. Ken slides up behind them to drape his arms over her shoulders with an agreeable hum, and Wifies approaches too, though he does keep a bit of distance and his hands on his hips. Wato ghosts a hand over his hair, blinks very quickly a few times.
"You look very pretty, Wato," Ken says earnestly.
Wato blinks a few times again. Ken pats her head consolingly.
"Thank you," He manages eventually, surreptitiously rubbing at his eyes. Ken, kind as he can be, does not say anything about it.