Disclaimer: I own Chrono, yes I do! I'm a liar, how 'bout you!
Author's Note: See chapter one or chapter seven.
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Ticks of the Clock
Beautiful
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"Let me do yours."
Rosette, her fingers still entangled in her demon's violet tresses, paused; surprised that the comfortable silence had been so casually broken. So surprised, in fact, that the yellow ribbon she had held tightly in her hands fell onto the mattress beside her, unnoticed when Chrono turned his head and fixed his ruby colored eyes upon her, quiet and hopeful.
"W—what?" she stammered, still in a state of semi-shock. Sunlight filtered though the convent windows, forcing the early morning darkness further and further into the corners. "What are you talking about?"
"Your hair," the devil responded, attempting to sound nonchalant. But a hint of nervousness was easily detectible in his soft, child-like voice. "You do mine every day. Let me do yours for a change."
"I don't like change," Rosette muttered stubbornly in reply, tying off the end of the purple plait with the quickly re-snatched yellow strip. "Besides, I can do my hair myself. It's not as long or unmanageable as yours." To prove her point, the nun pushed a few blonde strands behind her ear. . . but they slipped back into her face almost instantly, the golden wisps too thick to be restrained. Chrono chuckled, twisting away as his Contractor hesitantly removed her hold on his completed braid.
"I'm not asking for you to stop helping me in the mornings," he grinned, amused; taking the brush from Rosette's tight grasp, "I just want to help you. If you don't like the word 'change,' though, how about I say, instead, 'to thank you for doing mine'?"
". . ." She considered for half a moment, cheeks pinking and body glowing in the light of the rising sun. "Um. . . well. . . okay. I guess." After all, where would saying "no" get her? Nowhere: she'd have hurt his feelings and then had to do the work herself.
And so she relented; seating herself on the edge of her mattress and allowing Chrono to kneel behind her, close enough to whisper in her ear. The thought alone was enough to make her blush darken—without the help of his skillful fingers combing through her tangled locks, working out the largest snarls before loosening the smaller ones with the comb. But that's what he began doing. . . and part of her never wanted him to stop.
His sudden, gentle laugh caused her to reopen the eyes she hadn't realized she'd closed. "Feel that good?" he murmured questioningly near the nape of her neck. A shiver raced down her spine before she could tell it not to. This was Chrono, after all. . .
. . . Or maybe that was why she felt so warm.
"Yeah," Rosette breathed, leaning back a bit on her hands. "It does, actually. Heh. . . I'd forgotten what it felt like to have your hair played with. . . Sarah and Nelly used to do mine all the time. That's how I learned to braid yours, actually."
"Mmm. . ." he hummed to show he was listening. The exorcist vaguely noticed the snapping sound of pony-tail holders over his voice, more in tune with the feel of her glossy tresses shifting between his fingers. "Is that why you cut your hair when we left? Because I would have braided it for you, if you'd have shown me how."
'But then you would have been able to do your own hair, as well.' "Nah," she sighed, keeping her musings to herself. "I had. . . other reasons, then." The young woman didn't elaborate, so her friend didn't ask; only nodded to show his consent and finished her second pigtail.
"Well," he then smiled, patting the top of his tamer's head and startling her out of her relaxed trance, "in any case, I'm glad you grew it back. You look. . . cute with long hair."
"--!" Rosette instantly flushed, but hid it as she quickly stood (or, more accurately, leapt to her feet). "I'm not cute," she snorted, determinedly avoiding eye contact with the demon. "Little kids are cute—and I'm not little anymore."
"I know that," Chrono retorted—so calm that the girl simply had to glance his way; take in his cheerful beam and red face. "But. . . if I'd have called you beautiful, like I'd wanted. . . you would have hit me."
". . ." Her entire body turned magenta.
Then she smacked him.
But a grin never once left her face for the entire course of the day. And the next morning—and every morning after—Chrono could be found fixing Rosette's hair. . .
Though not before he'd had his own done, first, of course.