Gelled Perfection
Slogan and recipient courtesy of darkinuyasha, her review of Chapter 68.
'I only use a small amount of hair gel. You need a whole store.'
Tristan snorted. "Who is Yami kidding? That mop of his requires more hair gel than I could ever use."
Duke frowned. "I thought you didn't use gel?"
Shrugging, Tristan replied, "I don't. But just like no one believes that Yami and Yugi's hair manages to stay up in those spikes without help, no one believes that mine does, either."
Brow furrowing in a thoughtful frown, Duke asked, "You mean they don't use hair gel?" He shook his head, an expression of disbelief plastered on his face. "I find that hard to believe."
Tristan snickered. "Exactly. None of us use hair gel."
Considering his boyfriend – or rather, his boyfriend's hair – for a moment, Duke finally said, "Although maybe it would help if you did."
Tristan quirked a brow in silent inquiry.
"You might get that extreme cowlick of yours to stay down." Duke chuckled as he petted the soft spike with two fingers.
Tristan grimaced. "And here I thought you loved me despite my freaky hair genes." He shredded the insult-bearing note in his hands with a sense of melancholy malaise instead of malicious glee. No matter what, he couldn't escape his hair.
He was starting to think a buzz cut would be a good idea.
"I do love you," Duke agreed with alacrity. "Very much so," he added quietly, a soft blush tingeing his cheeks.
Tristan perked up. A small smile spread across his face. "You do?" he asked before he could stop himself.
Duke smiled back. "I do. In fact…" He wrapped his arms around Tristan's neck and snuggled down onto his lap. "I think you're perfect." He grinned slowly. "Perfect for me." And he sealed his declaration with a kiss.