59. Chrysalism
Date Written: May 21, 2019
Date Posted: November 6, 2020
Characters: Veneziano, Romano
Summary: Two brothers spend some time getting a haircut together while it rains outside.
Notes:
Veneziano pursed his lips while his hands methodically rubbed a worn towel atop his brother's head. It had been an uncharacteristically rainy day in Rome, which resulted in both Italians getting drenched by the downpour. They had been busy stocking up from one of the local markets and, as a result, their procured produce and their bodies had suffered from the rain. After a harried attempt to stock the kitchen and wipe the flooring, they managed to fish out a couple of spare towels from drawers filled with various linens.
After a brief fight, it was decided that Romano would get his hair dried first because of his seniority. That said, Romano had plopped himself onto a spare chair while Veneziano fussed over him from behind. Unfortunately for the older brother, Veneziano was all too impatient and uncomfortable with his own head of drenched hair, which led to him toweling Romano's head with a bit more enthusiasm than was necessary.
As was expected, his older brother did not take to such treatment lying down.
"Careful, you idiot!" Romano masterfully reached behind and smacked his brother upside the head. Veneziano, too used to such treatment, reacted in kind by using the butt end of his comb against the back of Romano's scalp. " You'll end up taking out half my roots!"
Veneziano hummed in affirmation before making his already brisk moments even more rough on his sibling.
"What the hell—"
Romano, trying to retain whatever he still had despite the growing mass of curls on his head, made as if to swipe at his brother with a fist, but Veneziano managed to dodge the blow, high pitched peals of laughter reverberating throughout the villa. Finally, after he had practically scrubbed his brother's scalp clean off, Veneziano let the damp towel fall onto the back of Romano's chair.
"Looks like you're all set to go, Romano!"
"Hmph."
As Romano stomped off towards the bathroom so that he could check the mirror, his younger brother chuckled a little at the aftermath. As much as he would have loved to play fair with his brother, it was just too fun teasing the southerner! His efforts had apparently paid off: Romano's cursing was more than enough evidence that his hair must have curled in ways that the both of them had nightmares about. It should be noted that on most days, both brothers opted to straighten their hair—a routine procedure that grew from centuries of being reprimanded for their unruly locks. Aside from that one particular curl that could never be tamed, their hair was usually straight and presentable.
And then Romano stepped out of the bathroom, his hair limp and curly as ever as they bounced over his head and slightly hiding the green of his eyes.
"Your hair is getting longer, Romano."
Romano rolled his shoulders back, wincing when he felt his joints pop. Once he had limbered up, he cast an unimpressed look at his brother who exaggeratedly floundered at his cold response. After a moment, Veneziano gathered his wits before him and pretended to look beseeching towards his brother.
"May I cut your—"
"No." Romano threw his towel over his shoulders before rising. He then gestured for his brother to occupy the space. Veneziano, not wanting to antagonize his brother on an already dismal day, followed suit—albeit, with a rude gesture that Romano managed to ignore.
For a moment, both Italians were lost in thought. Romano was focused on getting his brother's hair as dry as possible while Veneziano twiddled with his fingers. Once Romano deemed that the locks of hair had reached an acceptable level of note-quite-dry, the elder brother graciously left the towel hanging off his brother's head. To any odd observer, it looked Veneziano was a blushing bride to be.
"You're a jerk," Veneziano said as he snatched the towel off his head. His deep brown eyes took note of his brother's hair, still hanging limply in front of Romano's face. "And I still think I should give you a haircut."
Romano threw him a dirty look alongside a choice gesture. "I look good no matter what my hair looks like, Veneziano."
"And I can make you look better!"
Romano pursed his lips, already kneeling in defeat at his brother's pleading expression. With a sigh, the elder Italian practically collapsed onto a chair. All the while, he grumbled about making sure that his hair "better look damn good".
Veneziano tittered in joy as he rifled though some drawers and found the pair of shears that were meant for hair. Although it had been a couple decades since they had cut each other's hair (Romano was too paranoid that Veneziano would do something… unseemly to his head full of dark brown locks), Veneziano instantly knew what to do.
"One split end and I will murder you."
Veneziano smiled and began snipping the locks of hair to his desired length.
For a while, Romano relaxed as his younger brother massaged his scalp and began snipping his locks with all the precision and care of a seasoned barber. Strands of hair fell onto the ground, but both Italians didn't care. At that moment, Romano was too engrossed in the feeling of his brother's fingers threading through his hair, of the cool feeling of metal against the warmth of his skin and the blood coursing through his veins underneath.
Although Romano would never admit it, he had missed this feeling of vulnerability and contentment. It was rare for Nations to feel completely at ease, especially within the vicinity of another of their own kind. However, with Veneziano… it felt right.
Even the coolness of the shears, of the presence of what could be a weapon, never gave off the feeling that he was in danger. The shears were merely a tool to help groom his locks into something more adequate.
And so, as the rain from outside petered off into occasional raindrop, Romano allowed his head to fall back onto the soft surface of his brother's stomach. He closed his eyes and fell into a dreamless, trusting sleep.
All the while, Veneziano said nothing as he slowly finished his work.
When Veneziano finally combed back his brother's locks and cleaned up the hair from the floor, the sun had finally peeked out from the haze of an afternoon sky.
