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Shadow Milk never received or reciprocated much love in his life.
Platonic? Sure, maybe a few times as the ol' Fount of Knowledge with Sugar of Happiness or Flour of Volition, rarely with Herald of Change. (We don't talk about Salt of Solidarity.)
...romantically was a different story.
Shadow Milk Cookie doesn't expect Pure Vanilla to be so gentle with him, let alone so casually.
Actually — scrap that — he never expected him to be so lovingly touched by him, so, so gently.
It started small.
The now-ex beast had only been in the Vanilla Kingdom for about seven months by then; reluctantly accepting his other half's conversations and offers over time. Still, he wasn't anywhere near a full redemption just yet.
Conversations had grown normal, occurring during the night once Pure Vanilla finished his meetings. They usually shared dinner and tea during them either in the gardens or dining hall.
To be entirely clear, they both equally respected boundaries past this point in time. If Shadow Milk ever needed something, Pure Vanilla would do his best to attend to his needs. If Pure Vanilla requested something from the latter, he'd do it.
...
It was all green-flags as far as Shadow Milk was concerned. If he wasn't up for a talk with Pure Vanilla after slipping up on his redeemed reputation, the Ancient wouldn't force the jester to talk until he was ready.
He was a little shocked just how much the Saint-like figure respected his space. Especially touch wise.
Near the beginning of Shadow Milk's redemption, he'd accidentally caught himself in a fight with some of the other townsfolk. Pure Vanilla was mad, furious, actually. He probably just contained it during his one-on-one with Shadow Milk after the fight.
Pure Vanilla had only grabbed the jester's arm to restrain him.
It left the Ancient with a bruise from a hand that aggressively pushed him away after his misstep.
That was the day Pure Vanilla learned just how much the Silver Tree truly did hurt Shadow Milk. Probably the other Beasts, too.
...
Being high in the sky meant the Vanilla Kingdom was mostly sunny year-round. The only times it rained or snowed were around mid-December and early spring. The sun meant it was awfully hot around the summer months of the year.
Shadow Milk — the illustrious, magnificent, cunning Master of Deceit — hated, no, despised the summer. He was mainly made of milk, which meant all the more melting feeling along his dough during the hottest days of the year.
His hair refused to cooperate with him, though. It was the reason why they jester never had his hair up much. Most of the summers after he escaped the Silver Tree were spent inside the Spire, nice and cool. The worst it got was humid. If it ever reached that temperature, Candy Apple was the one to help tie his orchestrated hair up.
The eyes, these damned eyes in his hair always hated being constrained. They liked to fly around, to be lively creatures. It hated to be chained, tied by a hairband like a ravid beast — just like Shadow Milk.
During one of the hot days in the kingdom, the ex-beast found himself dripping in sweat from the moment he woke up. Immediately throwing the covers he had on himself from the cool night before, Shadow Milk sat up from his bed to find the floor of his bedroom not even cool. It was wood, too.
He sat up, taking off his nightclothes and quickly exchanging them for shorts and a black tank top he luckily had laying around. The ex-beast didn't care it was black. At least it would cool him down.
Witches, his hair, his stupid hair. It was sticking to his dough like algae to a sunken ship, and it needed to either be washed or tied up fast.
Well, he just woke up, he wasn't in the mood to put in effort for a shower.
...witches. The worst decision he could've picked. Tying up his hair felt impossible.
Grabbing a hair tie off his vanity in the corner, Shadow Milk sat on the seat before it and pulled his hair over his shoulder. Even as he raked a hand through it, it seemed to always know what time it was.
Trying once, twice, three... stupid... twenty times now to tie up his hair, he angrily pulled the hair tie down onto his wrist and stormed out of the room. The door thudded once against the frame before closing.
He didn't have his minions to do it for him. Witches know how much the staff hates putting up with Shadow Milk's actions.
There was one other Cookie to ask.
...
"Vanilla, open up. Kinda a damsel in distress here!!" Shadow Milk yowled, knocking thrice on Pure Vanilla's door as he tapped his foot impatiently.
After knocking two more times, the Ancient opened the door in a very similar outfit to Shadow Milk's own. His top was swapped white instead of black, a ankle-length skirt also paired with it. To Shadow Milk's surprise, his floor-length hair was tamed, braided neatly behind him.
"...oh. Yes, Shadow Milk, what did you need?"
The jester held out the hair tie, pulling his hair in front of him again.
"My hair hates me."
"Mine does sometimes, too. It's alright, but are you sure I can..? After last time, you made it awfully clear I shouldn't touch you. I'd prefer to respect—"
"'Nilla, it's fine," Shadow Milk cut his other half off. "I can handle it as long as it isn't completely unexpected."
"Alright then. Come in."
Following the Ancient in, Shadow Milk realizes the freckles adorned across his shoulders that he'd never noticed before, even when Pure Vanilla wore under robes that showed his shoulders. He looked.. neat. There were other words, but Shadow Milk couldn't bring himself to use them.
Shaking his head, he noticed Pure Vanilla leaving a spot open beside him on his bed. The jester reluctantly sat beside him, turning his back to the healer that now held the hair tie the latter had tried to use earlier.
"...is it because of the eyes, dear? Do they not like it?"
"Bravo, gold star for you, Nilly!" Shadow Milk sarcastically teased, the Ancient simply smiling softly in response.
Pure Vanilla nodded, titling his head slightly to the side. "I see. I will be gentle, then."
Shadow Milk forced a flinch down as Pure Vanilla lightly grazed the edges of his hair, running his fingertips through it softly before beginning to gather the hair underneath. The ex-beast shivered, even from the heat of the outside world seeping into the castle through ventilation systems. He didn't know something so gentle could feel so strange.
As Pure Vanilla gathered the hair by his nape, Shadow Milk preened into the touch of his nails lightly scratching against the roots there. It felt so good, he nearly forgot about how hot it was at the moment.
...
...He didn't expect the Ancient to get the memo.
Vanilla lightly scratched against his nape again, this time on purpose. It forced Shadow Milk to freeze, breath lightly hitching as another shiver was forced down his spine.
"Is this okay?"
"...perfectly fine.."
"Mhm."
After scratching his nape for another minute or so, the healer began to collect his hair that seemed to preen into the gentle hands that caressed the locks. It listened to him, unlike the owner of the hair itself.
Pure Vanilla looped the hair through the hair tie once, making sure everything was neatly tucked in before looping it through again. Grabbing a brush off his bedside table, he ran through the tied hair one more time before letting the locks sway.
"There. All better."
"..."
Shadow Milk was frozen. He couldn't bring himself to interact with Pure Vanilla after that.
"Shadow Milk?"
"..."
Pure Vanilla moved his hand from his lap to run through Shadow Milk's hair again, slowly moving to his shoulder as he scooted closer to the still body of the jester. He settled his head atop Shadow Milk's own, right above the natural blue roots and white tufts sprouting out of his scalp.
The ex-beast tried not to make a noise, glancing up at Pure Vanilla with his chin atop his head.
"Is this alright?"
"...f-fine. Just fine..."
"Of course."
Pure Vanilla couldn't help but sniff his hair lightly, catching the scent of blueberry and lavender — one of which possibly being from the shampoo he'd lent Shadow Milk.
"You smell nice, dear."
"...w-what?"
"The shampoo. Smells nice with your blueberry."
"O-oh."
Pure Vanilla sighed, running his hand through Shadow Milk's blue locks before taking his head off the latter's.
"All better?"
"Sure. T-thanks."
"Mhm," Pure Vanilla cooed, moving away to run a hand over his braided blonde hair. Shadow Milk finally moved, sitting on the edge of the bed and catching a glimpse at the Ancient's shoulder freckles. They looked stunning with his facial ones...
Seeing as that Pure Vanilla could initiate touch...
...he wouldn't mind.
Right..?
The jester moved closer to where Pure Vanilla was now sitting, glancing at his shoulder before lightly resting a cheek against the dough. It felt... really nice. Warm, but cool in a sense.
"Comfortable, dear?"
Shadow Milk nodded, nuzzling closer to the Ancient's neck.
"You're welcome."
"...yeah. Thanks, 'Nilla."
"Anytime, bluebird."