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"Are we even sure that this is a good idea, Stiles?"
"When have I ever had a bad idea, Scotty?" The sound of the electric razor bounced off the walls of the bathroom they were both standing in. Scott could see the little razor vibrating fast in Stiles' hand, the thing seemingly blurring in and out of reality.
He gulped, "Several times, Stiles! Several. Times." Don't get him wrong, Scott was grateful that Stiles had offered to do this, he really was, but he would be lying his ass off if he didn't feel like he was about to shit his pants over this. Coming out to Stiles was one thing, Stiles cutting his hair was another. The haircut was 100% scarier, because at least he knew Stiles would (or if he didn't, try to) understand his gender-weirdness and nonchalance to kiss any gender, but the haircut was free range horror-movie material. Scott's hair doesn't grow fast at all, so anything that happens in this bathroom will have to be a punishment Scott will have to live with for the next year or so.
But here they were, at 3 AM with some YouTube video on how to cut hair pulled up on Stiles' phone ( which was leaning against the wall), while Scott was sitting on a stool, shaking as much as the razor in Stiles' hand was. Stiles rolled his eyes playfully, shoving a very tense Scott, who reached out his hands to support himself against the sink. "You act like I'm going to murder you."
"You might murder my social life," Scott said.
"Right, like that's an existing thing," Stiles retorted, grinning when Scott let out a small snicker at the comment. Stiles always somehow knew how to calm Scott down. It was a natural gift that he never stopped using and Scott was eternally grateful for it. "Besides, it's the start of the summer and we barely even go out anyway. Your hair'll grow back by the time we enter high school," And despite Stiles' amazing sales pitch, Scott still looked hesitant.
"I.. I don't know, Stiles, okay? I was kind of hoping we'd actually do something this-"
"Scott. Scotty, ScottyScottyScotty Scott-ay. This is our freshman year! Our chance to make a good first impression on people! It's a fresh start! It's in the name! Freshman! A fresh-man! Do you want to be just a freshman," Stiles tilted Scott's head up so he'd face the mirror, as if to make a point, "Or a fresh man?"
With that logic, Scott couldn't really argue. When would he get the chance to start over like this? And besides, maybe Stiles was right. Maybe his hair would grow out by the time summer ends. Somewhat. Maybe. Okay, the doubts were creeping in again.
Scott could very easily wait for his mom to take him to get his hair cut, but she's been getting busier and busier. Scott didn't have a job either. Seriously, who is out here hiring 14 year olds? He was pretty sure that was kind of illegal. Just wait for mom, she'll take you to a professional. Wait it out. Wait for it. Wait for her. But before Scott could protest again and say he'd rather wait it out, he decided to do a stupid decision.
"Okay. Make me a fresh man," He said. He knew he was making a mistake but he was desperate. He was a desperate, desperate man.
Stiles practically lit up, grabbing the razor before Scott stopped him. Stiles groaned loudly, "Now what?"
Scott pulled out his phone, pulling up a photo before he handed it over to Stiles, who took the phone into his hand and looked at the photo for a few seconds. He looked over at Scott, touching his long, flowy hair, before looking back at the phone, then moving his hands in random positions, seemingly mapping out Scott's head. Scott sighed, rolling his eyes, not being able to fight that grin he always got whenever Stiles did something stupid.
"I could work with this," Stiles said.
Spoiler: Stiles could not work with that.
The entire time, he insisted Scott close his eyes, mostly to reveal the haircut as a surprise. Scott tried peeking several times, but Stiles always somehow caught him. Scott caught some clips in his hair his last peak. Stiles must be onto the layers, he thought.
"Scotttt," He groaned again after Scott tried squinting his eyes open again, "Be patient!"
"I am!"
"Clearly not! Don't make me put a blindfold over your eyes!" Scott could hear Stiles scolding him, and a few more snips were put in order.
Scott huffed, pouting slightly. He could hear Stiles' eyes rolling at that gesture, muttering something about an impatient man. Still, Stiles' fingers were gentle on his head. More snipping, more gentle sprays of misty water. He felt a few of the clips being removed from his hair, specifically the clips that was holding up his bangs. Stiles then took off all the clips and let his hair down, then he heard him gasp.
Shit.
"Stiles?"
"Uhhh…"
"Stiles?" Scott repeated, his voice a little shakier and louder.
"It's not that bad," Stiles sputtered.
Scott's eyes opened, and even he couldn't let out the gasp that he tried to keep in. His hair was… shit… to be nice about it. Layers that were supposed to be smoothly cut and blended together were very obviously choppy. Uneven. At least His bangs looked normal, but even then, they couldn't save the final look. His hands went to cover his mouth, absolutely sure that if he didn't, he'd scream. Or cry. Or both.
"Stiles, oh my God," He rasped out. His voice cracked slightly, adding a little more salt to the wound. "My mom's gonna kill me." He turned back to look at Stiles, Scott's eyes wide and full of fear. he should've waited. Now he'd be stuck with this haircut forever (he knew his teenage mind was blurring the actual reality of that timeframe. Really, what was 7 months to anyone, especially when three of them were going to be spent inside anyway?), but it was still a terrifying reality. "What am I gonna do? I mean, there has to be something to make hair grow faster, right? Like… rosemary oil, right? Fuck, no, I hate the feeling of oil in my hair. Extensions? A wig? A-"
As Scott rambled, Stiles looked at the razor in his hand. He didn't really get the chance to use it. He really only cut layers for Scott with his scissors.
He turned on the razor with a buzz.
Scott looked up, his ramblings cut short. "Stiles?"
Stiles looked at him, hands shaking slightly. Scott's eyes darted to the razor, and looked back up at Stiles who was staring at it.
"No." Scott said firmly, "Stiles, don't."
Stiles was still staring at the razor as it buzzed in his hand, the vibrations travelling up his arm. Scott stood up from the stool, suddenly all too aware of how weak his legs had felt. Both from the anxiety of his mother seeing his hair and because of how long he'd been sitting down. He reached his hand out and grabbed the hand Stiles was holding the razor with. "Don't," He said, turning it off.
Stiles' hand fell limp when Scott finally let go. He looked at the razor.
Then he turned it on again and shaved a good chunk of his hair off right before Scott could react, maintaining eye contact the entire time.
"Stiles!"
Stiles grinned. That stupid, easy grin that Scott was all too familiar with.
"It's okay! I needed a haircut. Floppy hair won't help during the summer to cool me down anyway. A buzzcut's just perfect for the summer." Scott stared at him, dumbfounded. Stiles laughed again. "Are you gonna help me, Scotty?"
Scott blinked, gulping before he grabbed the razor, standing behind Stiles to help him shave off the hair on the back of his head.
Minutes passed, hairs falling all over the floor as time dragged on longer and longer. By the time they finished, the previously clean, white floor was filled with brown chunks of hair from both boys. Staring at the floor, they looked up at each other, catching each other's eyes before Scott started to laugh. Stiles doubled over, reaching for the wall to support himself. "Oh my God!" He cried, "We look so stupid!"
All Scott could do was nod, trying to calm himself down from laughing to hard. His stomach hurt, and he could feel his face reddening by the second. He looked for his inhaler in his pockets, but was handed it to him by Stiles, shaking the medicine inside before taking a puff.
They calmed down after that, catching their breaths as they ran their hands through their hair, eyes closed. Then Scott heard a car honk outside. It was familiar.
Too familiar.
"Shit! It's my mom!" Scott got up, frantically looking around the bathroom to cover his head. Stiles scrambled too, though mostly because of the fact that the bathroom floor was decorated in Scott's and his hair now.
"Wait!" Stiles said suddenly. Scott looked up suddenly, his eyes still filled with sheer terror as he watched Stiles, obviously not recovered from… well, his new look. Stiles took off his red hoodie quickly, throwing it at Scott. "Put the hood on."
Scott nodded, too dumbfounded to find his words, but did as he was told. He slipped the hoodie on, the hoodie a little tight on him, but somehow still flowing down to his mid-thigh. Man, Stiles and that weird growth spurt. "What about you?" Scott asked, pulling the hood over his head. He tried fixing his bangs so they'd look normal, but they were messed up too, even if Stiles didn't get to them.
"What about me?" Stiles said, grabbing a few wet paper towels and scooping the hair up frantically.
"Your hair. My mom's obviously gonna notice your hair."
Stiles paused mid cleaning. He was right, Scott's mom was 100% going to notice the hair—or lack thereof. His eyes darted around the bathroom before he grabbed a random towel, bending over one second before standing straight up the next. A half-assed wrapped towel on his head appearing. Scott could see how the towel was slowly slipping from his head, but he was a little more focused on the fact that there was still hair littering his bathroom floor. The both of them didn't know how many paper towels were ripped and gently wet, but they knew it was enough to fill the small trash can with a small mountain popping out of it.
The door downstairs opened. Scott could feel his inevitable death approaching as footsteps slowly started growing louder and louder each step up the stairs. He shoved the paper towels further into the small bin, closing it before he washed his hands.
"Hey boys!" Melissa said, walking right past the bathroom. "Pizza's downstairs. Meat lover's, just like how you two like it." There was a sudden stop to her sentence, along with a pause in the footsteps before the floorboard started to creak again. She walked backwards, stopping herself with a hand on to doorframe, her brows furrowed. "What were you two doing?"
"Nothing!" They both exclaimed.
"You guys aren't very reassuring with that tone," She said, standing more firm now. "Scott?" She craned her head toward her son.
Under Melissa's stare, Scott instinctively cowered just a little. He loved his mom, don't get him wrong, but she had a way of making him tell the truth no matter what. He was honestly really impressed at her tactic of just staring him down until he burst. "Uhm… uh…"
"Scott just wanted to show me his skincare routine. You know how bad my acne gets," Stiles said, saving Scott a little more time to try to come up with an excuse. He knew how easy Scott could fold.
"…Okay," Melissa said, looking at the two of them suspiciously. "And the…" She gestured at his head, "the towel?"
Stiles touched the towel that was still wrapped around his head. "Uh… my hair was wet."
"And the hoodie, Scott?" She turned to him again.
"I was cold."
"Right."
The bathroom fell into a sudden silence before the towel from Stiles' head fell onto the floor with a small plop. Stiles' eyes slowly widened before he looked up towards Melissa, who had an equally (if not more) startled expression as she looked at Stiles. Scott took this opportunity to take off the hood, nearly giving his poor mother a heart attack. She put her hand over her mouth quickly before taking a few deep breaths.
"Okay.. Okay, it's not bad," Melissa muttered, looking at Scott's hair. "I can work with this. You're lucky Stiles didn't cut your hair too short for this," She said, getting some rubber bands from the drawer. "Stiles, scissors."
Stiles handed her the scissors with shaky hands.
"I'll try my best to salvage this, okay, sweetie?" She said, rubbing her hands on Scott's arms. This was maybe going to end with Scott magically looking better, or he'd have to wear a scarf on his head for the rest of his life.
Scott nodded, closing his eyes shut. He didn't want to see this process, though, if he was being honest, he trusted his mom better with his hair than Stiles.
"Your hair turned out better than expected," Stiles said in between bites of his hot wings. He took another slice of the pizza, putting it on his paper plate that was sitting on the coffee table.
Scott nodded, "And you know, the buzzcut suits you."
Stiles smiled, "Really?"
Scott bit his lip, huffing. "Uhm… it's still kind of jarring. I think I'm still just used to the mop on your head," He smiled, then laughed as Stiles sputtered and did motions with his hands.
"Hey! I still cut your hair!"
"Badly!" Scott took another bite out of his pizza. "You cut it badly, and my mom had to fix it!"
"You're saying that like it's a bad thing," Melissa called out from the kitchen.
"Yeah Scott, why are you saying that like it's a bad thing?" Stiles teased, jabbing at his ribs. Scott smacked his hand out of the way, but Stiles pounced on him, tickling his ribs. Scott broke out into a fit of laughter before kicking him off, Stiles falling onto the floor with a loud thump.
"I hate you."
"You don't."
"I don't."