*Disclaimer* [This story is 100% inspired by Full of Stars by laudanum_and_wine on A03 . It converted me to a JessexDarling shipper, if you like the pairing, it's an awesome read.]
The doctor stared through his circular lenses at his reflection in the mirror.
"Damn it all." Darling cursed under his breath.
His white knuckles tightened on the edges of the sink as gelid light glistened off the droplets of water in his hair. The silver strands hung limply past his chin, still wet from rinsing out the splatter of Jesse's blood. She sustained a shallow wound, but It was his fault. It was all his fault. He could have prevented this.
Despite his best clouded efforts, how many times had he failed her? How many times had his lack of foresight endangered her? This morning was not the first time, but it took her innocent blood smacking him in the face for him to realize it.
Only months had passed since he returned to the Bureau- not that time is relevant when you ascend beyond the corporeal plane. Since then he'd been glued to Jesse's side. She allowed him to bask in her presence, welcomed his assistance. Despite this, he was unaware of what she dealt with when it came to physically engaging the enemy. He was not suited to combat, and when she came back to him unscathed, he didn't pry. Before the hiss, the director's position didn't entail fighting hostile resonance on a weekly basis or dodging bullets, furniture , and fatalities.
Darling locked eyes with himself, challenging his reflection for a static-filled minute. Did the ends justify his means? Casper glanced down to stare at the pooled water in the sink. He wished he could wash his failures down the drain. Linear time didn't work like that.
He had been at the bureau forever. "Head of research." It wasn't just a title to him, not that it was his title now. No, that mantle was passed to Emily, a worthy successor, someone who wouldn't repeat his mistakes. She would steer the bureau in the right direction. He didn't wield the service weapon, but his unquenchable curiosity led them into this tangled horror of resonance; Trench turned on the projector, but his unbridled hand might as well have opened the door to the Hiss. He was a wiser man now, wasn't he?—no longer blinded by his ego, or compelled by justifiable necessity.
He could feel the soothing hum of Polaris next door. Thanks to Polaris, thanks to Jesse, he could pause to think. His mind was freed from the pounding invasion of malevolence, no longer fractured from traveling beyond his dimension. His thoughts fell into human coherence. What would he have done without her? What would the bureau have done without her? Hedron gave them time, but Jesse turned the tides, her waves of resonance amplified peace. She brought him peace and so much more than he deserved. He didn't want to think of a world without Jesse. Without her, his world would be agonizing, empty noise. Maybe he deserved that.
Furrowing his brow, Darling pushed a lock of hair out of his eyes. The director continually threw herself in harm's way, to protect him, to protect everyone. OSHA didn't have say here at the FBC, at least not where the director was concerned. Safety was not a guarantee on the job application. Death was a possible outcome of said application. The Hiss outbreak had been dealt with. If he had acted differently, there would be no Hiss. Darling shook his head. The director was safe for now. That was all that mattered.
A sigh escaped Darling's mouth, momentarily levitating the silvers strands that had fallen back over his lips. He could change for the better. Atone for his sins. He'd witnessed so many possible timelines beyond the astral plane, so many deaths. He couldn't fix the past, but he could improve their future, indulge in less hubris. He could strive for less gruesome outcomes, strive to be a better man for her.
Darling combed a hand through his hair. Loose curls weighed heavily on his shoulders. The Bureau was an organization built upon rituals. Even with long days that blurred together in pursuit of research, Darling kept up his daily grooming rituals. He kept a spare toothbrush, razor, and toiletries in his top right office desk drawer. He might have had sleep-deprived bags under his eyes, but he'd be damned if his smile didn't sparkle. He wasn't a vain man: he had an appreciation for order, for cleanliness, and who knew when interdepartmental affairs would want another educational video? The professor in him would always want to share knowledge.
Casper straightened up from the sink and coerced his slightly damp hair into a makeshift bun. He left a hand to hold it in place as he examined his visage in the mirror. He tilted his head to various angles, noting the slope of his nose, the peak of his hairline, the small patch of silver whiskers that he missed in the shower, a few extra creases by his eyes, the added wisps of silver at his temples.
He delighted in his work. For a long time, his research was his life, but life was not without stress or cost. Or, maybe he hadn't realized just how much time had passed. Had he missed his birthday in his dimensional travels? How old was he now? Did it matter?
The doctor assessed himself. He wasn't a young man, but he still considered himself to be in his prime. Jesse seemed to agree. He didn't want to think about the age difference. He would enjoy all the time he was afforded with her. He was content simply to be where she was concerned.
Streaks of uneven silver and charcoal fell back over his shoulders as Darling let his hand rest at his side. He hadn't really touched his hair since before his return months ago. Each morning, or whatever time of day morning happened to be for him, he brushed it in place after showering and he left it. He hadn't thought much of his hair. He had other more pressing concerns: adjusting to having a physical body again, defending the bureau, keeping the HRAs functioning so no one else had to die. His hair was just there, like an appendage - a useless appendage. He hadn't thought of cutting it. Why would he? It wasn't unbecoming or in the way. It was just another part of him.
A grimace of loathing formed on Darling's lips. The thin window pane of his reality shattered again this morning, when he saw Jesse narrowly evade death. There was an emergency, a malfunction, some sort of an accident with the large scale HRA's. He hadn't read the reports yet. A pocket of Hiss shifted into the research sector. It was a blur to Darling. He remembered flashes of red, screaming, and Jesse's body pressed to his as she shielded them with debris. The shell of broken building pieces stopped most of the explosion of glass and projectiles. A shard managed to slice through, leaving a drawn-out gash across her right shoulder. She had taken his punishment, and he was bathed in her blood. Unfazed, Jesse disposed of the Hiss and brushed off the injury. It didn't hinder her movement and she had survived much worse. New bruises were added to her collection as she dealt with the intruders, results of his past mistakes, but the director wouldn't show weakness. Jesse was too strong for her own good, far stronger than him.
Once the hiss situation was dealt with and the house was secured, Darling would help her patch up the gash. He wasn't medically qualified, but he had assisted Trench with stiches and wound care over the years. She would tell Darling that it was nothing, that she was fine, and he need not worry. But Darling couldn't let it go, not with the metallic sting of her blood cutting his tongue, the weight of it soaking into his hair. The sight of her blood was now the wallpaper of his mind.
How many times had she toed that precarious line, while he was unaware? Today was too close. Had she been a fraction of a second slower—he couldn't bear the thought. He acknowledged that as the director, she would likely die before him, but he would not allow her death to be, because of him. He would do everything in his limited power to protect her, to be better for her.
Darling's eyes fixated on the long strands of silver hair silhouetting his face. It was clean, but he would never be able to wash out the stain of her precious blood from this hair. Now that silver felt denser than lead. Now he couldn't stand the sight of it; it was a heavy reminder of the man who sat by idly, of the oblivious man whose self-absorbed actions almost led to Jesse Faden's death. He raked his hands through his hair once more, his fingers seizing the strands, desperate to uproot them.
Darling stilled and collected his thoughts. Lifting his head with resolve, he pulled his lips into a wide, impulsive quirk of a smile. He came to an abrupt conclusion. He refused to be that man! He would not stare at those reprehensible strands of silver for another second. He needed Jesse's help.
Darling called out through the crack in the door, as he rummaged through the bathroom cabinet under the sink.
"Jesse! Can you lend me a couple hands? Ooch—found it!"
Jesse appeared in the doorway with a quizzical expression adorning her face.
"Found what? What are you up to now?" Jesse asked anticipating another one of his curious experiments, fully expecting him to launch into a long incomprehensible explanation. She'd developed a peculiar fondness for the doctor's lectures.
Darling grinned up at Jesse from his knees, head popping out of the cabinet, beard trimmer in hand. He motioned toward her, device in hand, assuming she would understand. She might not get all the science, but Jesse usually understands.
"My trimmer," Darling proffers.
Jesse stepped back confused, her mouth twitching as she stared blankly at the trimmer.
"…to cut my hair. Not my beard. My beard is fine. Not that my beard isn't hair, I can handle that, but my actual hair." Darling laughed awkwardly, shaking the silver tresses out of his line of vision. Jesse, inched closer, less put off by his stammering, trying to understand him. She wanted to understand.
Darling slowed enough to articulate, "I don't trust myself to do this without injury or without additional vantage points. I know I'll miss some patches, we only have one mirror here, and I don't want to wait," and, "I've given it a bit of thought, and I would rather you cut it" before gesturing with the trimmer again. Before Jesse can grab the damned thing, he yanks it back and pontificates.
Darling's words spew forth as he's thinking aloud. "I mean, if you're not opposed or particularly attached..." before trailing off to mentally berate himself for not considering her feelings. What if she isn't comfortable with this request? What if she was more fond of my hair than I realized . She still has to look at me . "If you are, I'll of course, reconsider —"
Almost inaudibly, Jesse interjects, "I'm..."
"I know you've never seen me with a crew cut and this could all seem like a midlife crisis to you, but – rest assured – I don't plan to buy any stupid convertibles. I seldom leave the House anyway, so what's the point of driv-?"
Jesse snatches the device from his hand and places a gentle finger to his lips. "Shut up, Darling."
His vulnerability hangs in the air between them. Casper looks up sheepishly with all the charm his flushed cheeks and dimples can muster. He can't help smiling when he looks at her.
"Not opposed was the end of that sentence, by the way" Jesse says, unsure, but willing. She hasn't given it much thought, but she doesn't want to say no when he's projecting the buoyant excitement of a firecracker about to explode. She's going to be caught in the blast. She might as well help. She raises her finger from his lips to trace the corner of his mouth to his cheekbone.
Of course, she'll help. He need only ask. He already feels lighter in her presence.
Darling's fingers brush tenderly over Jesse's wrist, briefly catching her pulse as she eases her free hand into his curls, her chewed fingernails slowly grazing his scalp.
"I haven't cut anyone's hair before, so it might be a bit of mess, but I'm willing to try. If that's what you want." Jesse pauses to find the right words, as he leans into her touch "I like your hair, Casper, but it's not the reason I like you, and I'll like you just as much with less of it."
Their eyes meet in understanding before Darling stands and swings his feet over to sit on the edge of the tub.
"Excellent!" He exclaims. He pushes the silver from his face once last time, and sets his glasses on the shelf beside them. "What would I do without you, Jesse?" He means it.
Jesse's finger hesitates on button on the trimmer. The director runs her fingers affectionately through his hair several times to sooth it into place, before she says goodbye. It has been such an integral part of him, since she's known him. She's tousled his hair as greeting, she's knit her fingers into those silver strands for comfort as they fell asleep on her office couch, she's gripped his hair as an anchor in the throngs of passion. Now that she stops to think, she can't imagine being thrust up against a wall without clutching her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck or burying her face into it in the morning, inhaling the scent of ozone and freshly brewed coffee. She doesn't know if she wants this, but it doesn't matter what she wants. It's about what he needs, because she needs him. If he wants this, she'll do her best. She'll find new mannerisms to convey her desire for his presence and his touch. She'll do it for him. She just needs confirmation. Needs to know he won't regret what's she's about to do.
"Are you sure?" She asks. She needs to be absolutely certain that he wants this.
"As sure as Schrödinger's cat is both dead and alive!" Casper beams with confident exuberance. He releases the tension from his shoulders. "Yes, Jesse." I trust you. I love you. I'm sorry. I can change for the better. I want this.
"You'll do fine, Jesse, better than I will, I assure you. You're the director of the FBC. I have the utmost confidence." And when he speaks with such assured conviction, the director doesn't question him a second time.
He glances back over his shoulder to her, with a tone of authority not unlike those used in his lectures, and says, "Take it all off."
"Ok," she breathes, unsure of her own hand, but his conviction is enough for the both of them.
Tilting the crown of his head forward, she flicks the switch on. The machine whirrs to life. "Just know you asked for this."
"I know. I asked for all of this," he smiles, thinking of all the wonderful moments he's shared with her. What wouldn't I give up for her?
Jesse presses the guard of the trimmer to the base of his neck.
"Here goes," she shudders, holding her breath.
Jesse exhales as slivers of Casper's hair gracefully fall down to his shoulders, retreating once the guard hits his occipital protuberance. She survives her first pass with the trimmer, The back is a safe place to start. She cautions herself. This is a first for her; she has to take her time. She doesn't want to fuck it up, let alone hurt him when he's placed his trust in her. The only ways she wants to hurt him take place in bed - and that's with mutual enjoyment. Her thoughts flit to their last impromptu rendezvous in the ashtray maze. Heat rises to her face. Now is not the time for that. Stay focused. she chides herself and readies her hand for a couple more neighboring passes.
Blue light filters to the base of his liberated nape. Compelled by the sight, Jesse caresses the boney process at the base of Casper's skull. She's checking for evenness, mostly; she's trying not to enjoy this. She is taking this job seriously.
He doesn't seem to mind her lingering touch. Darling hasn't said much since she started cutting, but silence is not an uncommon occurrence between them when they are working.
Casper stills himself. Merciful heavens! He did not think this through. He's doing his best to make this as easy as possible for her; it's the least he can do. He's trying not to make it weird. Since when is a trim this intimate? This not a complicated procedure, but her touch is undoing him, right now. To be in her presence is a gift. He tries not to squirm. Her hands on his sensitive, shorn skin, it's more than he can process. This is just a trim, he tells himself.
Jesse nudges his head to the left as she tries to get the area beside his left ear.
"Don't think of moving," She cautions him with a suggestive look, "or my hand might slip, and I would hate for you to lose an ear". He wouldn't want that. Then she would have to find another piece of his flesh to nibble on.
Still reeling, Darling swallows his witty comeback as Jesse sweeps the hair atop his head out of the way. She's not ready to cut that yet. Jesse strips him of a sideburn and presses further to the tip of his temple where he once parted his shorter hair in his video presentations. Another section of locks lands in his lap. Jesse stops to leave a kiss in their place.
Alternating from leisurely stroke of hand to deliberate stroke of trimmer, Jesse gingerly takes off the rest of the curls on the back of his head. Casper bites the inside of his lip. This is more than a trim. To be the object of her attention. He may be paranaturally altered from his exposure to Hedron, but he's no object of power. His heart, however, is bound to her. This is more than a haircut This is a sacrament, a rite of passage, her laying of hands, but Jesse need not proselytize; He is already her devotee. He knows he doesn't deserve her ministry. His transgressions are too many. He wants her to shear them away. He knows she can't do that, but this is a start.
"Jesse…" The faint praise of her name escapes his lips.
"You good? "Jesse responds. She can't see his expression, while clipping the back of his head, but she can see the tension coiling in his back and neck muscles. She attempts to lighten it with humor. "We're halfway there, and I haven't maimed you yet."
"Yes, never better," he laughs dryly, then when he feels her lift the trimmer, Darling cups his rosy face in his hands for a moment. He needs to regain his composure. "Just a bit sensitive. You're performing admirably. Please continue with the non-maiming activity." He pinches the bridge of his nose and turns his head to the right, so she can cut the right side. Keep it together, Casper.
Jesse gives his shoulder a squeeze. "Alright."
She cuts the remainder of hair around his right temple, and like the left, it takes her a few tries, but she trims all the hair near his right ear, too. It's an equally tricky spot. Casper sits patiently, seemingly unperturbed as Jesse navigates the outline of stubble behind his ear. She strokes the area, to feel for stragglers- It's mostly even now. An involuntary quiver shoots up Casper's spine. He is trying. He knows he's made an unconventional request, and he may be an unconventional man, but he does not want this to be uncomfortable for her.
Under closer inspection, Jess notices a sizable diagonal scar above his right ear. From the faintness of the tissue, it's not new; She just couldn't see it under his hair. She wonders if there's a good story behind that, if he blew something up for once. He pretended to give her shit when she demolished the last break room. She admits that her directorial duties have been a tad destructive, but it's hardly her fault, it's the Hiss. What else can she do? And it's not as if the House doesn't reset itself. Containing chaos sometimes requires a show of force. She'll have to ask him about the scar over dinner. She's too focused on the task at hand to appreciate it now, but she wants to know. She's shared most of her scars with him. She'll have a new one from guarding him this morning. It's only fair.
"That just leaves the top" Jesse thinks aloud, as she runs her fingers through the locks on the crown of his head.
"Can you turn around?" she motions, putting down the trimmer on the sink. She needs a break and wants to see his face.
Bunches of hair migrate like birds from his form to the floor as Darling stands in willing obedience. He folds his hands as if to pray, and looks at her lovingly, awaiting further instruction.
If he's going to make a mess of my bathroom, I'm going to have fun with this. She's decided, now that she has a sense of how to use his trimmer. Her ribs and shoulder still ache from her near death experience this morning. This is helping to take her mind off the pain. Being with him takes her mind off the pain.
With an instinctual flick of her wrist, the director taps into her parautilitarian gifts to levitate his hair on end. Jesse fluently tosses his attached bangs from right to left with minimal effort. Casper's eyes widen, but he doesn't move. She's gentle enough not to give him whiplash. He didn't expect that. Since when was she so precise with her abilities? He forgets what she's capable of. What else is she capable of? He almost falls into the tub.
Casper feels something else rise. "Your abilities I presume?"
Jessie looks back and smirks, "They make pills for that, genius."
She drops her wrist and the silver hair covers his eyes. She takes his distraction as an opportunity to straddle his lap, Jesse pushes his hair back away from his face. Casper swallows hard as Jesse tips his chin down, and dares him to look into her mischievously gleaming, blue eyes. He dares and the red glow on Casper's face spreads to the tips of his very visible ears. She is enjoying this.
Jesse is enjoying the hell out of this, the sway she holds over him. She's fairly sure he wouldn't let anyone else handle him this way. The proud and auspicious Doctor Casper Darling is soft, warm putty in her hands. He's forgotten about the blood; she has his full attention now.
The doctor places his hands around Jesse's abdomen to stabilize and avoid both of them tumbling over. Jesse hisses in pain. She took a hard hit to the spot where his hand is grasping.
"Sorry, Jesse." Casper recoils. Jesse leans back "You don't need to pretend to Hiss possessed." He quips.
"I'm so glad you have multiple PhD's, and none of them are in comedy."
Casper glowers.
"Or social etiquette."
He stammers.
"Or personal grooming, it seems."
"Are you going to finish what you started!?" Casper asks exasperatedly. Gesturing to both of his heads.
Jesse removes the hairband from her own hair, shaking it loose to form a ruby halo. Mesmerized, Casper stares at Jesse, mouth agape. He'd call her an angel if it wasn't so damn cliché, but she is arousungly beautiful. She gathers and ties Darlings remaining tresses into a tight, small ponytail. With one hand caressing the side of his face she twirls the pointy ends around her finger.
It's cute, she snickers.
Casper arches an eyebrow, smirking. He'll let her have her way with him if it brings her joy.
"I'm tempted to leave it like this," she muses, finger tapping his little ponytail. so, I have something to grab onto, to frame your face with, other than your glasses, so we can have a compromise...
Jesse casually stands and walks back over to the sink. The trimmer is back in her hand and she juggles it while Casper processes her words.
The knit of Darling's brows says, he's considering her request. So, she does have a preference! He wishes she would have said more initially; Jesse has a habit of hoarding her feelings. He likes his accolades, but he doesn't tend to care what others think of him. Jesse is an exception— her opinion, he values. He looks at the silver hairs strewn across his shirt.
This is surely enough of a change. He supposes he could leave his hair like this, now it has been purified by her hand. He already feels much lighter.
The mechanical hum snaps him out of his mental excursion, and before he can respond, Jesse, dismisses her objection.
"On second thought, I don't think you're hip enough to pull that off." She knows this is not what he wants, and she will honor his request. "I've seen you wear two sweater vests and a bow tie at the same time." Jesse teases. She doesn't care what he wears. She's felt the muscles he hides under those tacky, ill-fitting garments.
"I'll have you know I've pulled off much worse", he replies with mock indignation, scratching his beard. "With this face", he flashes a cheesy smile. "I could, make it work." His face is burning.
"Oh, I know you're responsible for hundreds of fashion atrocities over the last century. I've been to the records department. They have photos," She counters, waggling her finger in his face, "and I have top level clearance. I'm not going to be your accomplice with this one." The end result might be worse, but she's committed now. This is for him. She reminds herself.
"You're welcome to be my partner, in crime." He winks, and in a more sobering tone he concludes, "I leave it up to you." He surrenders himself to her.
Jesse mulls it over briefly before placing the trimmer to the corner of his forehead.
"Hold still, we're almost done". She says cordially.
Darling closes his eyes as Jesse shears off the remaining silver locks from the top his head. He is lost in the physical sensation of her touch. He opens his eyes as Jesse shears off the last strip in the middle. No mohawk styled atrocities for him. His little silver queue is laying in Jesse's left hand. She places it on the sink next to his glasses. She might harbor a slight compulsion to keep it.
With her free hand Jesse rubs the feathery stubble on the top of Darling's head, quietly delighting in the texture. With a twist of his neck, he leans into her petting. Darling wouldn't call it petting, but he is all but purring. It's downy soft, and it leaves her fingers prickling. Jesse's still not fully accustomed to the sensation, but she thinks she can get used to it. She kind of likes it. A few more passes to nip the strays on the edges of his hairline and she's done.
The director steps back to admire her work. She can add barber to growing list of executive duties now. For better or worse.
Darling almost sneezes from a stray hair up his nose. He apologizes. It can't be helped. Jesse tried to keep it contained, but her bathroom is now covered in his hair.
She dusts off some of the specks of hair from his face with a towel to avoid further sneezing
"Well, what do you think?" Casper finally speaks.
Jesse tilts her head and her hungry eyes roam over his facial features, stopping to drink in his coffee-colored eyes. It's a stark change, but she still finds him handsome. The hair was just a bonus. He's still hers to enjoy, and she plans to, once this mess is dealt with.
"I think I got most of it…" She kicks a couple clumps of locks into a pile with her sock. "I don't hate it. It's not bad, considering." She tells him as she unfolds his glasses and gingerly places them back on their rightful place atop the bridge of his nose.
Casper chuckles, picking a detached strand off his broad chest. "That's a relief" he sighs cheerfully, rubbing the little hairs on the back of his skull. It's a foreign sensation for him as well. He scrunches his nose as his hands and head reacquaint themselves. Has his hair ever been this short? If so, he doesn't remember. He's glad she doesn't hate it.
"It'll take some getting used to. I think I can learn to like it. See for yourself," she grins and points toward the mirror. "I hope you like it, because I can't put it back, unless there's an altered item that does that."
No. Casper shakes his head. "Not that I'm aware of."
Jesse laces her fingers behind his neck and presses a kiss to Casper's slightly open mouth. The kiss is reassuring. She's still willing to kiss him. He feels better. Does he look better? Probably not, but he is grateful nonetheless.
There are clumps of lifeless silver covering the shower floor, stuck on the bathroom rugs. It's a fucking mess.
"I'm afraid to look" he jokes, before turning to the mirror. Jesse leans on the doorway to observe his reaction. Arms crossed and eyes dancing with amusement. This was his idea. What does he have to say for himself?
Darling exchanges critical glances with his new reflection. He shifts his feet, and variable emotions play across his face, The little strands of a cool gray glint on his temples. He settles on a look of contentment. It's not as bad as he pictured. Definitely not his usual, but he supposes that's the point. He likes that.
"Ooof!" winces Casper, "you did get most of it. Well done. I don't even recognize myself." His charisma almost compensates for the lack of hair. Casper's eyes shine as he turns to Jesse to return her kiss. Cool air breezes over his scalp as he turns his head. He feels renewed. He could get used to that. He pulls back from her mouth, and places his hands on her cheeks. Their noses are practically touching, and he can scarcely contain his gratitude.
"Thank you, Jesse. It's perfect!" he gushes.
"Great. Happy to help," she responds, turning to surreptitiously pocket the sad, little ponytail from the sink. She wants the souvenir.
Casper hears her flop down on the couch.
"If you want to thank me, you can clean up and order dinner. You know where the vacuum is. How's Chinese sound? If you want to finish this, you won't clog my shower drain!" She yells back to him.
He's still grinning like a lovestruck idiot. He won't miss a single hair.
