Work Text:
Relaxing, body comfortably pressing against the Cody living room couch, eyes training on the TV glowing in the dark, open room. Watching the nature documentary about ocean life that Andrew had put on minutes ago, his head resting atop your lap. Smiling softly, soaking in his face, finding yourself by his side after years of incarceration two days ago.
Visiting you first, standing by your front door, dropping the grocery bags in your hands. Wrapping your arms around Andrew, hugging his stiff body, sobbing into his chest. Minutes of him quietly comforting you on the front step of your apartment, him breaking the hug, leaning down, grabbing your bags, along with the things that fell out of them.
Telling you everything, deflecting your cries about not telling you about his early release, wanting to surprise you. Spending the night together into the next day before heading off to the Cody house, Smurf cooking a big dinner for him. After both of you settled down, parking in the living room, working off your full bellies before heading home.
Fingers mindlessly twirling, combing through the uneven patches of short hair, trailing down to the skin of his neck, warming your fingertips. Shifting under your touch, hand pulling away, glancing down at the man, catching Andrew's hazel eyes.
"Do you know how to cut hair?" he asks, peering up, voice slightly straining by the awkward angle. Eyes flickering to his hair, then back to his eyes, nodding, "A little," you answer aloud.
"Can you cut mine? Shitty prison haircuts," he asks, hand reaching up to his hair, fingers messing with the short length of hair.
"Wouldn't you want Smurf to do it?" you ask, raising a brow, slightly smiling, knowing your boyfriend was a mama's boy. "She doesn't do it how I want it," he mumbles, looking up towards his hair.
"I can try, do you want me to just clean it up?" you ask, running your own fingers through his hair again, scanning Andrew's head of hair, trying to plan out the trim.
"Yeah, to even it out," he responds, both of your hands pulling away from his scalp as Andrew sits up.
"We can do it in Craig and Deran's bathroom," he says, watching as he turns off the TV, standing up. Following your boyfriend out of the living room, walking down the hall, past Deran's room, into Craig’s bedroom, not bothering to tiptoe around the sleeping man, having heard his snores from down the hall.
Moving into the bathroom before you, flicking on the light, quickly searching underneath the sink as you close the door behind you. Pulling out a black bag, setting it atop the bathroom counter, unzipping it, taking out black clippers.
Leaving Andrew to meticulously assemble and clean them, scanning the bathroom, finding, grabbing a beat-up, metal fold-up chair in the corner. Quietly, unfolding the worn chair, being more considerate of Deran sleeping next door.
The only brother who visited you the most out of the three years, on the request of Andrew, making sure you were taken care of financially. Giving you money from his own cut until Smurf sold Andrew's place, coming by one last time, giving you just enough to get by for the next few years. Never really having any other reason without Andrew around to see Deran or another member of the family.
Setting the chair close to the counter, just as Andrew finishes, snapping on one of the short attachment combs, handing the clippers to you. Taking them, allowing the man to pull off his shirt, placing it atop the counter.
Watching as he sits down, hands lying atop each thigh, waiting patiently for you to start. Turning on the clippers, humming in your hand, guiding them down onto Andrew's scalp. Slowly dragging, hearing it crunch, cutting away at the uneven length, seeing tufts of hair fall atop Andrew's freckled shoulders.
Carefully working the short length, not wanting to have him go bald from a single mistake, driving the clippers around his ears. Brushing the length with your fingers, checking before moving on to another section.
Working towards the front, stepping between Andrew's legs, feeling his hands grab hold of your thighs. Slowly trailing up, resting on your hips, lightly squeezing, causing you to be too afraid to look down. Knowing Andrew would turn the quick trim into something else, being in prison for so long, still showing you how much he missed you.
Smiling to yourself, finishing the front section, shuffling around his legs. Pushing, tilting Andrew's head to the side, going around his other ear before meeting back up with your work from the other side.
Taking off the comb attachment, placing it atop Andrew's shoulder, cleaning up his lines, carefully lining the back of his neck, not needing to hold the man still. Folding his ear, cleaning the line around them before ending back up in front of him, slowly trimming Andrew's temples, glancing at his eyes, catching your eye instantly. Smiling shyly, feeling as though you had been caught, backing away, turning off the clippers, finally finishing.
"Done," you say, setting the machine upon the countertop, seeing Andrew stand up, grabbing the comb attachment from his shoulder, checking your work in the mirror. Running a hand over his shorter hair, expressionless.
"How'd I do?" you ask, eyes scanning your work, following his hand running over the length.
"Good," he says, eyes still glued, scanning his scalp for anything amiss. Turning towards you, eyes meeting for only a second before Andrew looks away, attention turns towards the mess.
"Don't worry about it, go shower," you comfort, hand gesturing to the shower behind you. Eyes following the gesture, nodding, leaning towards you, pecking his lips quickly before he could get an arm around you.
Disappearing behind you, ears flooding with the noise of running water, taking the clippers in your hand once more, brushing out Andrew's hair from the clipper's blade into the sink. Spraying them with disinfectant, cleaning out the sink of hair, then putting them away. Turning to the hair on the floor, swiping it up with the small broom that had been under the sink. Throwing out the bits of hair, folding up the chair, placing it back in the corner you took it from.
Breathing in a deep breath, eyes floating towards the shower, Andrew moving around in the glass box, staring, attracting his eyes. Watching as he stops washing his neck, looking towards the shower door, slowly opening, offering you to join him.