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Mikki was going to start yelling at him soon. Well, maybe not yelling. But banging on the door, for sure. He’d been hogging the bathroom. He knew that. But Tamaki couldn't stop staring at his reflection in the mirror. Not because he was just so beautiful or anything like that. He wasn't Nagi.
It was the sparse blue hair growing out of his chin that he was staring at. It crawled along his jaw, random patches like crumbs against his face, except they didn't wipe off when he brushed at them.
Nope, he was definitely not Nagi. Nagi's skin was smooth and pretty and flawless, which he claimed was because of the 7-step skincare routine he followed every day. ("Seven steps for seven of us!" Nagi liked to crow, usually right before he tried to convince them all that they should do it with him. "The mask must stay on for exactly the length of one episode of Kokona, it's perfect!" No thank you.)
And most importantly, Nagi's skin was hairless.
Everyone else's skin was hairless. It was an idol thing, he was pretty sure. The guys in TRIGGER didn't have any body hair, either. Not even Ryuu-aniki, who would probably look pretty good with some. And Momorin and Yukirin didn't have any hair on their faces, and they were pretty much as much of idols as it got.
Alright, so. He'd shave it. That was fine. He could do that. Easy.
The bottle of shaving cream made a loud fttz noise when he pressed the top, but shaking it in frustration seemed to do the trick. Poofy white piled like gross-smelling frosting on his hand when he tried again. He smeared it over his jaw, heaping it on wherever those scraggly little hairs poked up until he couldn't see his skin anymore. Was that enough? Too much? How was he supposed to know? No one ever taught him what to do.
He tried to think back and remember what he'd seen his dad do, way back when, but— No, that wasn't really a good memory, and it didn't really help anyway. He'd just have to figure it out himself. Nothing new there.
The razor in his hand was heavy and awkward (he'd found it in a drawer, so clearly somebody in the dorm shaved), but Tamaki lifted it to his face and set it as straight as possible against his skin. And, hoping he wasn't messing up too badly, he did his best.
Day drinking was the best way to spend a day off. A beer in hand, some shitty drama droning on in the background, and the dorm blessedly free of energetic youngsters.
Not entirely free, apparently. Yamato looked up at the sound of footsteps. Tamaki slunk into the room, his shoulders hunched in on himself even more than usual, like he was trying to avoid drawing attention to himself.
‘Course, it wasn't hard to see why. Bandages crisscrossed his jaw like an unruly middle schooler. The glittering edge of a Kokona magical stick peeking out from behind his ear where he'd run out of the normal ones and borrowed from Nagi's special stash. It was hard to say if Nagi would be delighted by that or pissed off, so hopefully whatever Tama was trying to cover was worth it. Then again, it probably wasn't Tama's first choice in accessory either.
He could just pretend he hadn't seen anything. He thought about it, even, for half a second. Tama clearly didn't want anyone to say anything; the surly jut to his jaw made that perfectly clear. But if Yamato had to go have a talk with the school or deck some teenager, it was probably better to know now. Give him time to prepare, or something. "Did ya get into a fight?"
The jut of Tamaki's lower lip trembled between surly and pouting. He wouldn't meet Yamato's eyes, staring down at where his toes curled in his socks. "No. I shaved."
Yamato paused. The beer in his can sloshed to a halt, halfway lifted to his mouth. He lowered it, taking another look at the youngster. The bandages were obvious and damning, of course, but scratches littered Tama's face between their plasticky tabs. What little skin showed in between was spotty and reddened in that way it got when you shaved the wrong way and tried to use dollar-store aftershave on it. He wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been looking for it, but now that he was, it was unmistakable.
Aluminum clinked resolutely as Yamato set his beer can aside. The loud slap of his hands against his thighs made Tamaki flinch. "Alright," Yamato said, hauling himself to his feet, "come here. Let me teach you." He hadn't shaved yet today anyway. He could probably use it.
Tamaki seemed almost stunned as Yamato ambled past him, angling for their shared bathroom. He paused in the doorway, half-turning to throw a glance back at him. "You coming?"
Tamaki blinked, silent for a half beat before a wide grin split his face. "Yeah!"
Yeah, this was definitely worth the hassle.
The dorm might’ve been built for seven people, but the bathroom sure wasn’t. It was cramped with both of them in there, crowded around the sink. Yamato's safety razor sat at the edge of the basin. Drying off, he guessed. A smear of shaving cream still smudged the underside, but well, he wasn't the best at maintaining it either, so he wouldn't judge. Besides, for his first time, it wasn't half bad.
Yamato picked up the razor. "Usually I'd change the blade every time, but I'm out at the moment, so this'll have to do. I'll show you how to change it later." He squinted at the blade and the pale blue hairs still clinging to it, and made a mental note to show Tamaki how to clean it off better when he was done.
"Don't you need some of that shaving cream?" Tamaki asked. The can still sat on the counter, fluffy white oozing slowly from the nozzle.
"Ah, yeah, I guess so." Honestly, he usually skipped it when he was on his own, but maybe starting Tamaki off with all his bad habits was not a great idea. He was so not the best person for this job.
But he's the only one there was. And the other guys wouldn't exactly make the best references anyway. Just imaging Nagi with a mustache nearly make him laugh. He’d probably have one of those fancy French ones, and curl it at the ends. That would just be way too much.
The innards of the can clinked when Yamato shook it. How thorough did he have to be for this? Was he supposed to explain that you had to shake the cannister? That was a pretty normal aerosol can thing, Tamaki probably knew that. He'd been around loads of hairspray, at the very least.
That petulant embarrassment still crooked Tamaki's lower lip.
Better safe than sorry. "You've gotta shake it or it comes out all watery. It'll explode on you when it gets empty, so you'll know when you run low."
"E-explode?!"
Ah. Poor choice of words. "Not actually, don't worry. It just kinda fizzes and gets everywhere. It's a mess, but it won't hurt you or anything." The can fzzted into his palm. "You don't need a lot. Just enough to cover your skin. Keeps you from getting razor burn, but you don't wanna gunk up the blade." Tama’s eyes followed the motion of his hand as spread the cream over his face. Was that enough? Yeah, probably. It'd be fine.
Tamaki's face split in a grin. "Hehehe, now you've got a beard for real, Yama-san."
"Heh." Another shake of the can, and the haphazard white smudges around his chin grew, sculpted into a beard that was downright Santa-worthy. Tamaki laughed, his earlier awkwardness forgotten. "I want one too!"
"Next time," Yamato assured him. He really ought to scrape the excess away, but... Ah well, it could stay for now. Not exactly the best lesson for Tama, but so long as he was happy, that was fine. He could work around it.
Can set aside, he picked back up the razor. It was heavy, but familiar. Could he even remember what it had felt like when he'd first held one? Not really. He'd mostly just been glad his father hadn't tried to teach him on a straight razor.
Oh. Hm. He pulled back the blade to peer at it. Not at the dulled edge or the leftover hair that wouldn't quite give up even when he rinsed it, but at the heavy weight of the whole damned thing, awkward and stiff in his hand. No wonder Tama's face was all scratched up. Honestly, the fact that he wasn't cut worse was downright impressive. "This uh, isn't really the best kind of razor to learn on. I'll pick you out some good cartridge razors tomorrow."
Tamaki’s toes curled against the tile. "Can I... come?"
He looked so young like that. So uncertain. He knew what he was doing even less than Yamato did. But someone had to show him.
Yamato was kind of glad it was him.
"’Course you can. If you want, I'll pick you up from school and we'll go together."
Yup, that grin was bright, happy. Loved. The blind leading the blind, but they'd make a family of them yet. Tamaki might not have a dad to teach him this stuff, but Yamato would make damned sure he had a big brother for it. That was what Onii-sans were for.