Disclaimer: I do not own School of Rock. Duh.
Author's Notes: This is a sort of branch out from the Power to the Pout story. I was writing the eighth chapter, and somehow, this just came out. Oh well.
A Very Hairy Piece
Freddy always thought the act of combing was a particularly girly thing to do; he himself having preferred to just run his wet hair with a jar of gel (extra-hold) making it stick up on his head rather devilishly. Of course, the practice only started when he realized Keith Moon did not have his hair combed to the side in a very preppy manner.
Combing Katie's hair however was a different matter altogether. He never realized the act could actually be an art. An art so intimate and, although he'd never say it out loud, pleasant. He held the wide toothed yellow comb in his left hand while his right was tenderly wrapped around a lock of her polished brown hair. It smelled just clean today, instead of apple scent he's gotten quite used to. He couldn't make up his mind as to which one he liked better. But who cares anyway, he's brushing her hair and he can't help but feel elicited.
His hand slid the comb from the top of her hairline down to the very last tip, grazing his hand smoothly on the way. He did the same to several other locks. When he was satisfied, he put down the comb on her vanity. He ran his fingers through her long hair, they were as fine as threads of silk and he glided through them with ease. He buried his nose in them, smelling them, and her.
"Had enough yet, freak?" Katie asked, her brown eyes looking back at him from the mirror in front of them. She sat on the chair that came with her vanity while he on her study chair, his legs on either side of her.
"No, I still plan to cut your fingernails and place them in a matchbox decorated with pink glitters. I'm going to place them right next to my collection of your underwear in my Katie altar in our basement. Also, I would like to shampoo your hair after this," he ragged with his nose still buried in her hair, inhaling the sweet scent that is Katie.
"See, I knew you were stalker material from the very start, that moment you insisted Billy put my ID picture on his Barbie models," she teased.
Freddy pulled back abruptly. "I'd rather not be reminded of that incident."
She threw her head back, falling into the nook of his shoulder and laughed heartily.
"Man, you two freaked me out when I saw you playing with the 'Katie' dolls behind Dewey's desk. I wanted to transfer schools," she said in between snorts.
"I wasn't entirely myself that day, to be fair. It was that day we were to try out for battle of the bands, I may have accidentally inhaled some crack from those guys I took off with," he said with a stony face.
"Yeah right," she said, still not as recovered from the earlier giggle fits.
"That's my story and I'm sticking with it," he said determinedly.
"Ahh, those were the days," she said, sighing into his shoulder. Her breath tickled his neck.
"I miss them too," he agreed.
He wrapped his arms around her and gazed at their reflections on the mirror. They make quite a handsome pair, he thought. She was watching the mirror too, except she was not looking at them, just at him. She scrunched up her nose and tilted her head to the side as she did whenever in thought. She turned to face him, her cinnamon eyes creating a static with his deep blue ones. He could smell the intoxicating strawberry on her lips.
"You know what I miss most?" she asked him a small smile played on the corners of her mouth.
"What?" he replied with a confused tone.
In answer, she turned away briefly from him to reach for the glass of water on the table, pouring a small amount on her palms. She looked at him once more and applied her hands on his hair. Her hands tamed his spiky locks, pushing them down and parting them to the side. When she was finished, his hair looked exactly like it was when they were in fifth grade, pre-Dewey age.
"You missed my lame hair-do?" he asked bewildered.
"It isn't lame. It's cute. There's something so innocent about it, and it's rather sexy," she blushed furiously at this admittance.
He raised an eyebrow. "Sexy?"
She grinned. "Sexy."
He reconsidered the change in hairstyle for the first time in six years. "You want me to wear my hair this way again?"
"It all depends really on whether or not you want to keep me fawning over you," she said with mock disinterest.
"I think I'll keep my hair like this," he decided.
She laughed at this and rewarded him with a kiss, her strawberry lip balm coating his lips now, as well. "You're a good boyfriend."
"I am, aren't I?" he appraised himself.
"Yes, you are."
"And you know what would make you a good girlfriend?" he chided as he kissed her ear lightly.
Katie looked at him suspiciously.
"Well..."
The End
Author's Notes: This is a sort of branch out from the Power to the Pout story. I was writing the eighth chapter, and somehow, this just came out. Oh well.
A Very Hairy Piece
Freddy always thought the act of combing was a particularly girly thing to do; he himself having preferred to just run his wet hair with a jar of gel (extra-hold) making it stick up on his head rather devilishly. Of course, the practice only started when he realized Keith Moon did not have his hair combed to the side in a very preppy manner.
Combing Katie's hair however was a different matter altogether. He never realized the act could actually be an art. An art so intimate and, although he'd never say it out loud, pleasant. He held the wide toothed yellow comb in his left hand while his right was tenderly wrapped around a lock of her polished brown hair. It smelled just clean today, instead of apple scent he's gotten quite used to. He couldn't make up his mind as to which one he liked better. But who cares anyway, he's brushing her hair and he can't help but feel elicited.
His hand slid the comb from the top of her hairline down to the very last tip, grazing his hand smoothly on the way. He did the same to several other locks. When he was satisfied, he put down the comb on her vanity. He ran his fingers through her long hair, they were as fine as threads of silk and he glided through them with ease. He buried his nose in them, smelling them, and her.
"Had enough yet, freak?" Katie asked, her brown eyes looking back at him from the mirror in front of them. She sat on the chair that came with her vanity while he on her study chair, his legs on either side of her.
"No, I still plan to cut your fingernails and place them in a matchbox decorated with pink glitters. I'm going to place them right next to my collection of your underwear in my Katie altar in our basement. Also, I would like to shampoo your hair after this," he ragged with his nose still buried in her hair, inhaling the sweet scent that is Katie.
"See, I knew you were stalker material from the very start, that moment you insisted Billy put my ID picture on his Barbie models," she teased.
Freddy pulled back abruptly. "I'd rather not be reminded of that incident."
She threw her head back, falling into the nook of his shoulder and laughed heartily.
"Man, you two freaked me out when I saw you playing with the 'Katie' dolls behind Dewey's desk. I wanted to transfer schools," she said in between snorts.
"I wasn't entirely myself that day, to be fair. It was that day we were to try out for battle of the bands, I may have accidentally inhaled some crack from those guys I took off with," he said with a stony face.
"Yeah right," she said, still not as recovered from the earlier giggle fits.
"That's my story and I'm sticking with it," he said determinedly.
"Ahh, those were the days," she said, sighing into his shoulder. Her breath tickled his neck.
"I miss them too," he agreed.
He wrapped his arms around her and gazed at their reflections on the mirror. They make quite a handsome pair, he thought. She was watching the mirror too, except she was not looking at them, just at him. She scrunched up her nose and tilted her head to the side as she did whenever in thought. She turned to face him, her cinnamon eyes creating a static with his deep blue ones. He could smell the intoxicating strawberry on her lips.
"You know what I miss most?" she asked him a small smile played on the corners of her mouth.
"What?" he replied with a confused tone.
In answer, she turned away briefly from him to reach for the glass of water on the table, pouring a small amount on her palms. She looked at him once more and applied her hands on his hair. Her hands tamed his spiky locks, pushing them down and parting them to the side. When she was finished, his hair looked exactly like it was when they were in fifth grade, pre-Dewey age.
"You missed my lame hair-do?" he asked bewildered.
"It isn't lame. It's cute. There's something so innocent about it, and it's rather sexy," she blushed furiously at this admittance.
He raised an eyebrow. "Sexy?"
She grinned. "Sexy."
He reconsidered the change in hairstyle for the first time in six years. "You want me to wear my hair this way again?"
"It all depends really on whether or not you want to keep me fawning over you," she said with mock disinterest.
"I think I'll keep my hair like this," he decided.
She laughed at this and rewarded him with a kiss, her strawberry lip balm coating his lips now, as well. "You're a good boyfriend."
"I am, aren't I?" he appraised himself.
"Yes, you are."
"And you know what would make you a good girlfriend?" he chided as he kissed her ear lightly.
Katie looked at him suspiciously.
"Well..."
The End