My second Tamora Pierce fic. Takes place after Beka gives in to Rosto's romatic advances.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

***

"Rosto, I'm home!" I called as I entered our rooms. I had been out visiting my dust spinners all morning. There was no useful information today, but I had been glad to see them. I headed over to the washroom to clean myself up a bit as I listened for Rosto's replying call. It didn't come.

"Rosto?" I called over my shoulder as I entered the privy.

"Gah! Don't you know how to knock?!" he called from a completely different direction than I was expecting. There he was in front of me in the privy. However the sight of him made my jaw drop. I was speechless.

He was standing in front of the mirror mixing a paste together in a bowl, with a comb held between his teeth. In his hair was some of the paste from the bowl.

"What are you staring at?" He asked me grumpily.

"Wha – wa – What are you doing!?" I stuttered.

He looked as though he didn't want to tell me what he was doing.

"I'm – dying my hair." He replied slowly around the comb still lodged between his teeth.

"You dye your hair?"

"Of course I do!" He burst out as he took the comb from his mouth. "Just don't tell anybody okay? I would never hear the end of it."

I didn't even know what to say to that.

"Are you going to stand there and gape at me all day? Or would you help me out here, love?" He asked.

"Sure, I guess. What do you need me to do?" I asked as I moved closer. He placed the bowl of paste in my hand and dragged a chair over to us.

"I need you to apply all that paste to my hair, especially the roots," he said as he sat in the chair, his back to me. He handed me the comb.

"And what was stopping you from doing this by yourself?" I asked as I started to comb the paste through his hair.

"Well I don't know about you, but I don't have eyes on the back of my head, so I can't see if I've missed anything." He replied sarcastically.

"But surely you've been doing this for years by yourself?"

"Yeah," he conceded, "And every time I'm always scared I missed a major part of the back of my head and that I'll end up with a spot that's darker than the rest of it."

I started to laugh at the thought of it.

"Well if it makes you feel any better, I have never noticed any discoloured spots in your hair," I said with a grin. I could just tell he was rolling his eyes at me. "So what do you use?" I asked as I sniffed at the bowl in my hands. It smelled like tea.

"I use dried chamomile. It's the best for lightening hair. I tried loads of other things, and nothing worked quite like this did. I remember once my sister slipped cinnamon into the paste as a joke and it turned my hair bright red. I didn't speak to her for weeks." He smiled.

"So your sister knew you dyed your hair?"

"Yeah, she used to dye it for me when we were younger. But that was ages ago." He trailed off. I could tell he was drifting off into memories of Scanra.

I continued to comb the paste through his hair in silence. It was really quite relaxing, just being together in silence. It didn't happen often. There was usually somebody else around to ruin a moment.

"Alright I've got everything," I said handing placing the bowl on the counter, "Now what?"

"Now we wait for awhile. I have to let it set in before I rinse it out." He said as he wrapped a towel around his shoulders to catch any drips.

"So if you've been dying your hair since you were small, what exactly is your natural hair colour?" I asked as he stood up.

"It's actually a sandy blonde," He replied as he wrapped his arms around me.

"Really, I can't picture that. I definitely like the white haired look." I said as I reached up and kissed him on the cheek.

"It's not white, it's blonde!" he cried, mock-angrily shoving me away.

***

Later, after Rosto had rinsed the paste out of his hair, we sat together on our bed. I had my back to his, leaning against his chest as he ran his fingers through my hair.

"Beka, never dye your hair," Rosto simply stated.

"Why shouldn't I?" I replied lazily as I snuggled in closer to him.

"Because your hair is the perfect colour," he replied. He picked up a strand of my hair and examined it closely. "Yes. Definitely perfect."

"It's just strawberry blonde." I replied. There was nothing special about my hair colour.

"And it is gorgeous, darling. Don't you ever change it." He said. He leaned forward and rested his chin on my shoulder so our cheeks were touching. He really is a sweet guy underneath the hardened cove he shows the world. He wrapped his arms around me and I leaned back into him some more. I could smell his hair. It smelled so strongly of tea it made me want some.

"We'll I'm going to make a cup of tea, would you like one?" I asked as I climbed off the bed.

"Sure, what kind of tea are you making?" He asked.

"Chamomile," I said with a grin.

***

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