"Don't. You. Dare."
He set the hair brush down, behind his back.
"D'aww, come on Roxas." He pushed his arm forward, fluently speaking with hand motions.
Roxas crossed his arms stubbornly. "Don't even think about touching me- with that."
Did the boy never brush his hair. Or what? It was so... messy. But strangely adorable, sticking out in all directions, the original bed-head.
"Why don't you do it?" Roxas asked, turning on his attacker.
Axel's upper body jumped. "Moi?"
Roxas lowered his chin. "Yeah, you. Have you ever brushed your hair?"
That boy was psychic.
"You can't brush hair like this. No one can tame this mane, see." Axel stuck out his upper lip. Defiance, the definition of cool.
Roxas raised one side of his mouth. "Reeeaaallly?" He asked.
The red head saw where this was going. He played along, innocently. It was a technique known as flirting. He used it often. He couldn't say the same for his friend.
There was a shift in the air, imbalance. Roxas lunged, screaming giddily. They toppled over onto a soft cushion, the couch. Axel held the brush in the air, above Roxas' head. Roxas moved up and down on Axel's stomach, grabbing for the brush.
"Hehuu," Axel laughed, Axel mocked. "You can't reach."
Roxas was bound to get the brush at this pace. Axel slowed him down by tickling him with his free hand. Roxas froze then shook, wiggled, squirmed on top of Axel. He giggled and snorted, falling off of the sofa and landing on his side. Axel sat up.
"I win," the red head proclaimed with admiration. Roxas' laugh sounded so care free, he couldn't help but grin.
"No you don't. My hair is even messier now," Roxas smiled, lowering his face.
Axel spread out on the couch, on his stomach. He dropped the brush in his friend's lap. He put his fingers through Roxas' hair, smoothing it down. It became normal again.
"There."
Roxas didn't move. It was strange; touch felt good.
Do it again.
xxx
Have you ever played this game with your friends? I know I have.
Characters are not mine. Or they would always be doing this.