Quiff: (n.) Tuft of hair brushed back from the forehead.
Characters: Danny
Genre: Friendship/Romance
Rating: K+
Pairing: Light D/S
Summary: He always did have a nervous habit of brushing his hair back with a hand.
Danny stood anxiously in front of the full length mirror, as it was leaning against a wall in his room.
He shifted his feet, murmuring to himself before striking a simple pose. Standing there for a moment, he shook his head, relaxing once more. Hair flying wildly.
'She's only coming over to work on a project. Its not a date. Not a date.'
Statements similar to these had been running through his mind for over an hour now, toying with his emotions. Danny slumped forward, turning his head to catch a glimpse of the clock.
'4:10. She'll be here in exactly five minutes.'
Sam was anything, if not punctual.
'It's only a simple English project, assigned by Mr. Lancer. Nothing to get anxious and nervous over. I'm not going to get nervous. Were just going to work and talk like normal. Just like friends.'
It occurred to him a split-second later that he didn't want to be just friends with Sam. Trying to ignore those particular thoughts, Danny continued with the task at hand. Inspecting his image.
Spying a few, well more than a few chunks of hair sticking every which way but loose, he grabbed a brush that looked never used.
'I prefer the bedhead look.'
Tentatively gliding it through his hair, he grinned. It felt strange for some reason, as he pulled his bangs away from his face. Taking a sparse glance at himself, Danny was surprised.
With his hair no longer blocking his face, it made him look so much older.
"Danny! You up there?"
He froze, mouth wide open, hair still slicked back.
Throwing the brush onto his bed, Danny quickly shook his head, hair now falling normally once again as Sam walked into the room, books clutched to her chest.
He smiled, cheeks tinted pink. She grinned brightly at him, but raised an eyebrow when he started to fiddle with his hair.
"Nervous, Danny?" Sam asked, smiling smugly as she sat down on the floor, spreading the books out.
He slowly pulled his hand away from his bangs and internally cringed. He always did have a nervous habit of brushing his hair back with a hand.