"OW," Connie said again, louder than was strictly necessary. "Why do I have to do this again?"
"Because," said Olive, attempting to push her glasses up her nose with a free arm, "it's ridiculous that someone so obsessed with their hair has never had braids."
"OWW," Connie repeated, yanking her head away. Olive decided that a bit of retaliation was in order. "Besides, Constance, they'll suit you. You'll look like a cute little angelic princess."
"I hate you. You told me they'd make me look like Wednesday Addams."
"If you don't stop yanking at your hair you'll look like Phil Spector. Now sit still."
Olive could practically sense Con's scowl, but she still enjoyed this, sitting close on the couch, twisting her thick black locks while Connie read through a textbook. It felt almost domestic.
"Do I get a reward?" Connie asked, after a full 20 seconds of patiently sitting still, secretly not hating Olive running her hands through her hair, humming to herself.
"Nothing that could ruin your hair," Olive said, immediately sensing where Connie was going with this.
Connie bet that she could change her mind if she could just turn around already. Seduction with her back to someone wasn't something she'd experienced but, even for her, it did not seem prone to success. She contented herself with making Olive laugh. She sighed deeply and said "Do you have a hairnet then?"
Olive snorted, and Connie could only imagine her nose wrinkling and her mouth breaking into a smile.
"We're not bringing hairnets into the bedroom. I have to draw the line somewhere right? All finished," she added, fastening butterfly clips to her hair and grinning. Connie gave her a scathing look that just made Olive laugh, and took them out.
Both of them got up to look in the full length mirror, Olive blushing and looking away when she realised she was staring a little. Connie looked impressed, twisting her braid around her finger.
"You know, if this whole IT thing doesn't work out..."
"You're suggesting Hampton's Hacker Hairdressers?"
"...No. We'd need to come up with a much less cheesy name. Thank god you'd have me on your team."
"Because you're an expert at law and business now?"
"Well, business law. Close enough, right? I can tell you that if you name your business "Hampton's Hacker Hairdressers you may get federally investigated, and, more importantly, kids are going to TP the shit out of your building."
"Damn. Another dream gone." Olive said dramatically.
"How about I help fulfil some other dreams?" she asked, lifting an eyebrow and coming closer.
"How about that braid took me half an hour."
"How about I'll be careful and it's not my fault if you can't keep your hands from grabbing at my hair?"
"Hey, I'm not the only one who –" Connie interrupted with a kiss.
An hour later, Connie was sleeping, arm flung out across Olive and head resting in the crook of her neck. Olive's hair always spread out like a soft sun, tendrils in every direction. And Connie always used it as a pillow. Unfortunately this also meant that Olive could barely move her head without tearing her hair out. She looked at Con, her braid largely intact but a small mist of hair surrounding her sleepy face. She winced as she leaned over to grab her phone and took a photo. Worth it. And not just in blackmail value.