Work Text:
For all of Trinity’s life, Jack’s been the parent that’s done her hair. Braids, primarily. But he can also do ponytails, pigtails, buns, really anything.
Trinity was around two or three when her hair got long enough that it started bothering her and getting tangled. At first, they’d both do her hair. But Robby proved to be too sloppy and inattentive. He was too rough when detangling her hair and he’d make mistakes when braiding that left Trinity with lopsided, uneven braids, and often in tears.
Jack was steadfastly determined to learn how to braid well. He’d watch YouTube tutorials during breaks at work, after shifts. He’d practice on pieces of kitchen twine. And eventually, he got quite good at it.
Robby found his niche in making lunches. Making sandwiches with fun faces. Managing to keep chicken nuggets from getting soggy in a Thermos. But hair was Jack’s thing.
It became ingrained in the rhythm of their home. Jack would braid her hair in the mornings when he got home from work. She’d babble to him about whatever was on her young mind; what she dreamed about the night before, what games she was going to play at preschool that day. And he’d listen. It was gentle, loving, and certainly one of Jack’s favorite parts of the day for years.
He doesn’t cry often, but every once in a while Robby catches him sitting in bed looking through keepsakes and getting teary-eyed.
One of those kindergarten worksheets about your parents with fill in the blanks, where Trinity wrote, “I love my Daddy because he braids my hair really pretty.”
A photo of the two of them at Jack’s desk in the ER; Trinity sitting on his lap while he braided her hair.
Robby always chuckles at him, but really does find it endearing.
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Now that Trinity’s sixteen, she doesn’t really ask for Jack to do her hair anymore. It slowly faded out of their routine as she got older and learned to do most hairstyles herself.
It’s a pretty average morning for Jack. He kissed Robby goodbye at handoffs, and drove home.
Now he’s watching the warm sun beams shine through the window in the kitchen while he cooks breakfast for when Trinity wakes up. He’s playing his favorite CD that Robby burned for him. It’s all so tranquil, usual.
“Dad?”
He speaks as he turns around to face her, “Good mornin’, honey. I’m making breakfast right–”
“Will you braid my hair? Please?” She has her hairbrush and two hair ties in her hands, holding them out like an offering.
“Yes. Always.” He nods. He tries to feign a composed appearance, hoping she doesn’t notice the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
He gestures towards the kitchen table as he walks over to it, pulling out a chair. He spins it around and straddles the seat, allowing him to lean on the back. She follows and pulls out the chair next to his, facing away from him.
He guides her hair to lay behind her back before grabbing the brush and slowly running it through the mild tangles and knots. He’s reminded of how much longer it’s gotten since he last braided it.
“So. Some kind of special occasion?” He asks quietly as he runs his thumbnail along the back of her head to part it in two.
“Not really.” She feels the gentle pull of him sectioning one side into three.
He hums as he begins layering the strands into a neat braid. He’s not going to pressure her to talk, he’s content even if they sit in silence.
“I have a test in AP Computer Science today.” She admits.
“Ah. There’s a dress code for those nowadays?” He chuckles.
“Well, no. I just thought that– I thought this would make me feel more prepared.” She twiddles with her fingers in her lap. “Smart, I guess.”
“Stylish hair can’t hurt, I’m sure. But you’re always smart, honey.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhm. Smartest girl I know.” He says as he begins the second braid.
This soothes her. She takes a deep breath in with more assurance.
“This feels familiar. I guess some things never change, huh?” Robby’s voice comes from the kitchen doorway. He’s standing in the threshold, leaning against the frame observantly with his bag in his hand.
“Abba! What are you doing home?”
“Forgot my phone. Don’t know how it took me so long to notice.” He says as he walks over and grabs it off the counter.
“Most forgetful man on Earth.” Jack shakes his head as he turns his focus back to the braid. Trinity snickers along with him.
“Most ritualistic two people on Earth.” Robby fires back playfully as he lifts his phone camera up to snap a photo.
“Ew, Abba. We don’t need to take pictures. Go back to work.”
“I’m going, I’m going!” He retorts as he exits the kitchen.
They sit peacefully for a few more moments while Jack finishes the braid. Finally, he pats her left shoulder to signal that he’s done. She stands from her chair and turns to face him.
“Beautiful.” He whispers as he stands and moves toward the stove.
“I’ve heard that eating breakfast also makes people feel prepared and smart.” He says as he scoops warm oatmeal into a bowl.
“Thanks Dad.” She smiles as she grabs the bowl.
“I’m gonna go shower now, but have a good day at school and good luck on your test, baby.”
“Okay. Love you, bye!” She waves him off as she looks down at her phone at the table.
“Love you too.” He says as he starts upstairs. His phone dings and he pulls it out of his pocket.
“Robby sent an image.” It reads. He clicks the file and grins at what he sees.
Trinity looking forward, smiling as she talks to Jack, with strands of her hair in his hand, hyperfocused on getting the perfect braid. The sunbeams from the window give the whole photo a warm glow reminiscent of the digital camera photos they would take of Trinity when she was younger.
He sits on the edge of the bed and smiles at the photo nostalgically. It’s like a perfect mirror of that same photo from thirteen years ago.
Robby texts again.
Robby: Crying yet?
Jack: No.
Robby: Lol we’ll see how long you last. See you tonight <3