Jake has Avatar on for the thirtieth time this week, but you're a bit preoccupied with his fingers in your hair. This is the first he let his hands wonder through the golden strands of your scalp and if it were anyone else you tell them to move their hand before they lose it. He trails his fingers with the perfect amount of pressure though and the tv seems like nothing more than white noise. Your consciousness loses its footing a couple of times, but you cling to lucidity because you don't know when he'll get up the courage to do this again. It feels weird to ask him to do it, especially if there isn't a movie to distract him.
"Your hair's so soft." He sounds like he's smiling, when did you close your eyes? When your heavy eyelids lift you realize that your shades are gone, and he's smiling at you. "Is it okay if I keep playing with your hair?" He seems shy, it's cute.
You nod, "Only if I can use your lap as a pillow." He gives you a charming bucktoothed grin and agrees. As you lay your head on his warm lap, the gentle rubbing of his fingers lulls you into a slumber.
"Dirk?" Jake whispers when the movie ends. His boyfriend completely immobile on his legs, his form more relaxed than Jake had ever seen before. Jake turned to the cable, a marathon of Indiana Jones coaxed him to remain seated, both hands now in his paramour's hair. It's surprisingly fluffy and wonderfully silky in his fingers, completely unexpected, given Dirk's signature do. The blonde makes soft noises in his sleep, like he's talking to someone, but just can't get the words out. Jake smiles, there's a serene stillness to the world, as if they are in a protective bubble, where no can touch them. The whole world is nothing more than the soft fluff ball that is Dirk's hair.