Chapter Text
The door to his bathroom bangs open, handle slamming against the door hard enough that Illario is sure it's going to leave a dent on the wall. The bounce back nearly hits Bellara in the face, but she catches it and barges her way in.
"What are you doing?" Illario asks, annoyed.
Bellara attempts to grab the razor from his hand but she can't reach as he holds it above her, even with those cute little hops she tries. He assumed that when he heard her fling herself out of bed, it was because she woke up inspired and was rushing to pull something apart or fix something or leave more ink and paper notes strewn across his previously immaculately kept room. Not because she wanted to burst in on him when he was finally recovering from a contract and three long days of traveling.
"Trying to - just hang on, come on," Bellara says and wiggles her fingers as she stretches up, balancing on her toes.
"I have no idea what you want to accomplish here."
"To stop you from shaving."
"I can see that much," Illario says and swipes his free hand across several days of stubble. "But what I don't understand is why."
"Oh." Bellara plants her heels back on her floor and blinks up at him. "Because it's hot."
Despite his best efforts, she tells him that he's handsome often but without any special regard for what he's wearing or how he's styled himself. For the first growth of a beard to have inspired that reaction - he's not sure what to do with that.
He leans on his initial impulse to be offended, pitching his voice up haughtily as he declares, "I am always attractive, cara mia."
"Right, right," she agrees, and he feels a little outraged about her tone. "But this is extra hot. Can you keep it?"
Her face is open and eager and sincere, and Illario thinks this is how he ended up with his space and life invaded, no privacy to be found even in the bathroom apparently. Still, he hadn't known before how nice it is to have someone genuinely worried about his well-being, to being welcomed back with a kiss and warm body plastered to his back to help him sleep, and he thinks (privately) that some frustration is worth it.
"You want me to have a beard," he says flatly.
"I mean, if you don't mind?" Bellara suggests. She bounces a little in excitement, fingers curling in his nightshirt, then blurts out, "I found this new serial. The main love interest is this guy that seems like he has a dark past. We don't know what it is yet, but I have a couple of ideas I can tell you about later. Anyway, he's definitely the bad boy type, a little mean but in a flirty way - he kind of reminds me of you? Oh but the best part about this one is that they drew illustrations for it. I don't know why more stories don't have that! So there's a drawing of him, and he has a beard - it looks so good!"
"You want me to have a beard," he repeats slowly, "because a fictional character you like has a beard."
"Well, not when you say it like that." Bellara fidgets under his gaze and frowns, but she can't stop herself from trying again hopefully, "But also, you know, you look really hot like this."
Illario mutters out a curse, then sighs, "My cousin is the one with a beard, not me."
He doesn't realize how vulnerable that sounds until her expressions eases into understanding, and he has to clench his jaw to stop himself from clawing the words back. Instead of leaving him to shave after that though, Bellara takes the razor from his relaxed grip, gaze turning speculative.
"Lucanis doesn't have to have a beard though."
"And what does that mean? Just what are you planning in that devious little brain of yours, hm?"
"Nothing!" Bellara protests. "I just bet we could convince him to get rid of it if that helps. Or, you know, you can both have beards, and you can be the hotter Dellamorte with one."
"…Fine. We'll see how it goes. For now," he warns, but he doesn't think Bellara hears him over the sound of her cheering.
"Thanks!"
She drops the razor in the sink and tosses one arm around him eagerly as she pushes herself up on her toes to kiss him, the other hand stroking through the short hairs on his jaw with a happy noise that sits warm in his chest. He hasn't had a beard except for a month in his twenties he'd rather forget, but something neat and trim, he thinks, he can work with that, make that fashionable. And if his new facial hair encourages Bellara to throw herself at him half-naked in the mornings and squirm enticingly - well, Illario supposes that's just the price of being unbearably attractive.