Ace was lying on his stomach on the wooden floor of the shack, his head and shoulders propped up by his arms. It was hard and uncomfortable, and he swore he'd gotten a splinter in his elbow. But he couldn't move, because Arturo would scold him.
Arturo stood to the side, swiftly running his beloved comb through Ace's long greasy hair.
"You need to take better care of yourself, mi amor," he was tutting.
"Why? I like havin' ya do my hair." Ace said. It was true, except for how he had to lie on the floor, supporting himself up with his arms, so that Arturo could reach properly.
Arturo smiled, his pea-green cheeks flushing bright red. Ace smiled back at him, watching out the corner of his eye as his small, deft hands worked on his hair, quick from practise.
All of a sudden, something yanked hard on his scalp and he let out a yell of pain.
"Sorry," Arturo said, flashing him a glance. "It was just a knot. I told you you should take better care of yourself."
Ace rolled his eyes, and was about to retort when his scalp ached once more with white-hot pain.
"Another knot."
"No kiddin'."
"I'm not hurting you too much, am I?"
Ace waved his hand in denial. "No, Arturo, it's fine. Like ya said, I should be takin' better care of myself. But, you'll still brush my hair, won't ya?"
Arturo gently patted the top of Ace's head. "Por supuesto, mi amor."