Work Text:
“Quit moving!” Phil gently grabbed Chris’ head. “Just sit still.”
“You’re standing in front of the mirror,” Chris complained. “I can’t see what you’re doing.”
“You don’t need to see anything,” Phil replied. “I’m the one doing your hair.”
“Exactly. The least you could do is let me know what’s going on.”
“Chris, I’ve seen you fix your hair a million times,” Phil said with exasperation. “I’m doing exactly what you do, I promise.”
“Well, forgive me if I’m having trouble trusting a man who doesn’t know the difference between styling gel and pomade,” Chris retorted.
“They both hold your hair in place; that’s all I need to know.” Phil straightened Chris’ head again. “Now, stop moving and let me finish.” Phil combed the final few strands of Chris’ hair into place, then stepped away so Chris could see himself in the bathroom mirror. “What do you think?”
Chris tilted his head from side to side, inspecting his hair from every angle. “It’s okay.”
“You could stand to be a little more grateful,” Phil chastised. “A hundred years ago, we would’ve had to shave your head for brain surgery.”
“Oh, God,” Chris moaned. “That would’ve been worse than the slug.”