A/N: Day 5 of smut week without really any smut! I'm not sure if this is rated properly but whatever I can change it.
Disclaimer: I don't own.
Her hair isn't silky. It doesn't glide easily through his fingers and it doesn't smell like flowers. Most of the time it does smell like some kind of fruit that he can never place.
It's always tangled. He originally thought it was just from bending. But after a day where they've done nothing other than eat her hair is still a mess. She jokes that this is why she keeps her hair in her wolf tail: her mother gave up on braids that became a mess within minutes of being tied. Her father was the one who finally put it in her style.
She has his hair but in her mother's color, she tells him.
It's nothing like Asami's or even his. Both their hair is soft and Asami's has a shine that catches the light. Her hair was always perfect, even if he'd tangled his fingers in it.
There are times when he likes her hair. When its splayed on his pillow in the morning, catching the light just right to remind him that yes, it is brown and tricks him into thinking it's as soft as down. He likes it when it tickles his nose as she's lying on his chest. He likes it when she's riding him and her hair just barely reaches her nipples. He likes it as brushes his stomach as she trails kisses down before she engulfs his length in her mouth.
"Do you ever think about things you'd want to change about me?" She asks one night as his fingers yet again get caught in her tangles.
He knows the right answer because he's not that much of idiot. He should laugh and say nothing because she's perfect. That doesn't mean his mouth actually listens to his brain. "Maybe your hair," he mumbles.
"Because your turtleduck hair is so much better?" She teases.
"Maybe," he admits.
She sits up and the sheet covering her falls and he's momentarily distracted by her breasts. "You really want me to start using fancy shampoo and styling it? It's just hair Mako," she tries to joke. But she looks away and it hits him that this actually hurts her. "I can do that, I really can try if you want me to," she says softly.
He pulls her down, fingers in her hair, before kissing her. He's slow and gentle but he nips her bottom lip promising more. "You don't have to change anything," he tells her.
"Really?"
"Mm," he nods, "but I reserve the right to change my mind."
"Back at you City Boy."
In the morning his finger gets caught in a tangle and she laughs as she offers to cut it short. Instead as soon as his finger is free he tackles her back to bed, happy to be the one who gets her hair that messy.
Because in reality he loves it almost as much as he loves her.
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