She stares at him from her side of the table. He can't think of why she would look so mad. She just woke up. He was in the kitchen when she woke up. She's in her night clothing still, clutching a cup of coffee with a sour look on her face. Her hair is in a mild state of disarray and falling out of the pony tail but she pulls it off well, if she weren't so mad she'd be cute. The last time she gave him that look was when he had accidentally set her on fire because of a cooking accident.

She sips and coughs on her drink. She clears her throat and rubs her face. For a brief second she isn't scowling. But the face returns.

"Na-"

"Nye"

He looks down and drinks his own coffee in the resulting silence. She means business. He felt a bit like a storm was about to roll in. She was scowling but not aggressive in her movements. She was thinking, she didn't want her temper to get the best of her but he could tell whatever it was, spelled bad trouble for him.

"Tell me-"

He sits up straight and makes sure to look attentive.

She taps her nail on the table.

"Why did you feel the need to pull my hair, over and over again last night?"

Now he was lost.

Utterly lost. He hadn't pulled her hair at all, at least not while awake. He's rolled onto her hair before but she would wake him up when she couldn't move her head. She had started to put her hair into a low pony tail to avoid such problems. His confusion was apparent and she read his face.

"All night I felt someone pull my hair, even got poked a few times if I remember correctly. Since it is only the two of us..." somehow her frown deepens more. "I am going back to bed, alone."

She emphasizes the last word and pushes off from the table and briskly walks back to bed.

Well this was a bad situation no matter how he thought of it. He'd have to get to the bottom of this. He had to decide on if he would argue about it now, or later.

Now seemed as good of a time as any and he gets up from the table to leave his coffee half finished.

The door is open and he quietly walks in, to stop in mid step.

Winged fae folk were sitting on the bed next to Belarus's turned back. Tiny hands were gathering blonde strands of hair and with a giggle, a harsh tug.

Belarus let out a yelp and rolled over to see him standing in the door way.

He was able to quickly determine how this appeared to her and backed out of the room. The bedroom door made a tiny click when he closed it. He waited a moment more before running down the hall and he heard the door open and a string of swears directed at him.

…

They reached an understanding by that night. He promised to stop pulling her hair. She seemed content with this promise and their day went about as planned.

He pretended to sleep and waited for the sound of laughter. When he heard it he rolled over and lashed out at the tiny forms just as one was pulling Belarus's hair.

He didn't stop to think but rather he instinctively ran. Pillows and swearing followed him out the door.

He finds a safe place in the bathroom and sits down on the toilet lid.

His first matter of business was getting these two fae folk set straight. They were two youngsters, looking to make a mess for someone, but they picked the wrong person. After he was sure they had left for good he opened the bathroom door and looked out. Natalia hadn't followed him. There was a pillow in the hallway and he picked it up and held it out as a shield when he went inside the bed room.

She was lying on her side with her hair gathered into her hands. She saw him enter and she rolled over, still holding her hair.

He slowly nears and when he realizes she wasn't going to start to yell he lowered himself back onto the bed.

It's quiet for a bit.

But it's a restless quiet as they both waited for what was to happen next. If neither did anything and let the moment pass it would hang there between them, surely to come back and bite them in the proverbial butts later.

"-"

She says something but he didn't catch it. He leans over gently placing one hand on her arm.

"Why do you hate my hair?"

He lets out a bark of a laugh and he falls back.

"I don't hate your hair! I...I love your hair."

She hasn't turned over to look at him.

"But you kept pulling it...I...I know it gets in the way sometimes...but I like my hair this way and you just kept yanking and it hurts, you must hate it."

It was an essential part of Belarus, she had her hair the way it was for decades, it was something she took great care of. She wasn't an overly vain person, she knew she was pretty by many standards but she was level headed and practical above all else, but her hair was her Achilles heel. You didn't have it as long as that and not be vain about it, to value it and love it. By saying you hated her hair, it's hating her, something she loves and cherishes.

"No. Your hair is like moonlight, or the falling of snow...It's beautiful. The way it moves and the way it smells. It's a part of you and I love all of you."

She rolled over to face him.

"Then why did you-"

"It was some of the other folk. But they won't come back. I was able to take care of it."

For the most part she couldn't see the other folk. Out of the corner of her eyes sometimes she thought she saw tiny people or their shadows, she knew enough of the world to know that there were things beyond what she could see, and she'd rather not deal with them however. And in many situations she simply couldn't deal with them, being unable to see them. It was his job to handle such matters, and it appears that he had.

"I will hold you up to that." The look on her face promised dire consequences if little hands returned to the bedroom seeking her hair.

And he believed she could deliver on that promise.

She looped the hair band back around, making a neat new pony tail. The events of the evening had made a mess of her earlier one. They settled in and he watched as in her sleep a smile formed, she looked peaceful, nestled against his shoulder. He fell asleep to the smell of her hair, a clear scent that was like the mountain air. Yes, he liked her hair a whole lot and he was going to make sure no one did anything to make her think otherwise.

I wrote this a little while ago now, sometime last year. I think I write these two differently now but they have the same heart as they have here. I find it strange, to look back and realize how differently I write! I think over all this is still a really cute story and I hope you liked it.

Also, fun fact apparently Belarus can see some ghosts, she has something of a six sense. I didn't know this when I wrote this but it rather works out well. Ghosts and fairies are different but perhaps she can see ghosts easy and the others not as much?