Authors notes: Just a quick ficlet. Can be read either as Sanders/Hodges friendship or light slash.
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"Hodges… your hair is curly."
Hodges glanced up from his microscope, shooting a cynical death glare in Greg's direction. "Is it? I suppose I never would have known that if you hadn't, in your endless supply of goodwill towards man, pointed out this obvious fact." He gave the patent Hodges sneer.
"Yeah, but it's all curly and stuff."
"Brilliant, now perhaps we can move beyond this lull in conversation. Oh! I'm sorry, the thought of even having a conversation with you, it's laughable." He shook his head and began to turn back to the trace he had previously been examining.
"Dude, it's like a little afro." Greg reached forward and ruffled Hodges' hair lightly. "How do you get it to do that?"
Hodges leaned away, "Sanders, don't touch my hair. Despite its incessant awesomeness from association with me, you still do not get to feel up my hair." He ran his own fingers through his hair to straighten it back out.
"Sure," Greg hooked his thumbs through his jeans belt loops. "But honestly, I wish my hair did that. How do you get such bounce?"
Hodges took a breath, lightly clicking his tounge. "My hair is natural, unlike some people's who will remain nameless." He indicated Greg's own wild hair with his eyes and raised brows.
"Your hair does that naturally?" Greg began digging in his pocket, searching for something. "But it's never like that."
"Clearly. However, I don't doubt that even if it was, you would insist on making inane comments about the state of my hairstyle, or lack thereof."
"It's longer, too." Greg finally seemed to find what he was looking for, a cell phone. He flipped open and began to feverishly push buttons.
"That would be why it appears curly, Sanders. Normally it's short enough to hide the curl." Somehow Hodges managed to sound sarcastic even when explaining things to Greg. "And what do you think you're doing with that phone?"
"Taking a picture." Greg said, even as the camera flashed and he re-pocketed it. "Worth a thousand words or maybe ten thousand of your words."
"Hilarious." He crossed his arms, leaning against the counter and adopting a bored posture. "You will, of course, delete the picture."
"Ha, no." He smirked evilly. "Well, I may consider it if you answer some questions I have for you."
"I had nothing to do with that Idaho incident."
"What?"
"Never mind. I suppose I can suffer through a few of your childish wonderings."
"You just don't want this all over the internet." Greg patted his pocket and smirked. "Okay, first question. For the past week or so that your hair has been getting longer, what did you do to keep it straight."
"I straightened it," he said, as if was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Well, yeah, but with what?"
"A hair straightener."
"You own one?" Greg's mouth twitched in a pathetic attempt at hiding a smile.
"No. My roommate does."
Greg jumped, startled, "You have a roommate? Who?"
"That is something for me to know and kill you over if you ever find out." Hodges continued to smile his congenial smile.
"Sure… okay, next. Why become a trace tech? Isn't that one of the most boring jobs in the universe?"
Hodges bent his head, scratching the base of his skull where his newly acquired 'fro met his neck. "It isn't boring. And anyway, it helps me in my never-ending quest to destroy capitalism."
"Uh…"
"It ties in with the Idaho thing I had nothing to do with."
"Sure. Okay, one more question, but I have to check something first."
"Take your time, it isn't as if I don't have better things to do with my day than—" Hodges quite suddenly found himself at a loss for words as Greg reached forward, grabbing his neck and pulling him forward. Then Greg did the strangest thing.
He smelled his hair.
"Yep, Sea Breeze."
"Excuse me; did I not already cover the no hair touching aspect?" Hodges made an incredulous sound as Greg finally released him.
"I didn't touch your hair, I smelled it." Greg said matter of factly.
"They are all kind of inter-connected."
"Last question!" Greg clapped his hands together gleefully, like a small child, which is what he was.
Hodges sighed, "Shoot."
"Okay, will you go to breakfast with me? See, now I know we have at least three avenues of conversation to explore." Greg rocked back onto his heels giddily.
Hodges paused, "I count one, where do you get three?" He artfully avoided the question.
"Work," Greg began to count off his fingers.
"Well, obviously."
"Shush, okay, work, your own self, which you never seem to be able to drop, and now, hair products." He smiled, apparently proud of himself.
"I don't use hair products. My hair attacks itself naturally; I was born with the deformity, unlike you."
"Nope, you smell like Sea Breeze, which is a high end product. Very good stuff, that, made my hair stand straight up for a week."
Hodges wrinkled his nose, "You didn't wash your hair for a week?"
"Washed it every day."
A look of horror played across Hodges' face. He raised a hand to his hair, "It's going to be like this forever!"
"Ha! Proof that you used it!" Greg pointed at him jovially. After a second he frowned, "Hey, you distracted me. Are you coming to breakfast or not?"
"Despite the fact that it defies the definition of 'breaking a fast' I suppose yes, if it will get you to leave me alone long enough to finish my work."
"Sure." Greg turned around immediately and began to stroll out the door.
"Whoa, hold up Sanders, you said you would delete that picture."
"Said I would consider deleting it. And anyway, do you really think that Catherine hasn't already taken it and spread it around the internet?" He paused to laugh, clutching his stomach. "You'll be seeing that and hearing about it until you're old and grayer."
Finally Greg left Hodges in peace.
Hodges grumbled, turning back to his microscope with disdain. He got a fraction of the way through the slide before he jolted up; he turned to the empty doorframe.
"I am not going gray!"
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End
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Authors notes: Kudos to anyone who knows what Sea Breeze really is.