bakerstreet | Let's braid each other's hair

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[meme] shipping

Let's braid each other's hair

The Personal Hygiene Shipping Meme

Personal hygiene is just that - personal. By the time we've come to a point in our lives where we notice that the concept exists and we should be prudent about it, we can take care of ourselves. There are also many practical reasons why we don't involve other people in this process. We're not too keen on showing off parts to be cleaned that are private in most contexts, and there's definitely an ingrained aversion to showing so much soft, fleshy skin. Hot water or a sharp razor could spell dangerous with a capital D should they come into the hands of someone with a vendetta against you. No need to be extra vulnerable.

So, if you're involving another person in your cleansing routines, it must be someone you trust. Not only that, but it's most likely someone you're comfortable with and likely at least somewhat open to being intimate with. You may not be dropping all your clothing in front of them, but it's still you opening yourself up to touching and closeness unparalleled in more "usual" moments.

Established and burgeoning couples (or not-so-couples) can bond through this showing of care and good faith. Will you like being pampered and find the attention endearing? Or will things go terribly, terribly wrong?

...you never should have let them near that shaving cream.

Comment with your character and preferences.
Smut is not required. Mention if you want/don't want it.
Reply to others and use the RNG.

Comfort: You've decided to pitch in a helping hand to get your partner to unwind, and warm water or suds may do the trick.
Romantic: The sole purpose of this endeavor is to set a lovey-dovey mood. No shame here!
It Started Out Platonic...: What a good pal you are, volunteering to give your friend a good scrub. Of course, you didn't count on the cute way she squirms as you scrub her back or how he blushes when you shampoo his scalp.
No Choice: Currently, you're unable to clean yourself up. That means that you need assistance, and it might as well be the person you lov- tolerate the most.
Open: You have trust issues. Actually, you have backlogs of trust issues. Still, you want to show the person you love that you're willing and trying to change for them, and what better way than letting down your walls and having the assist in your grooming?
Shave: Whether it's your face, your legs, or...your other places you've decided to shave, there's a certain intimacy involved in letting your lover do it for you. Let's hope they won't leave you looking like you got into a battle with a book with the paper cuts to prove it.
Reluctant: They want to get you clean. You don't want to show off your body at all. It's injured, it looks weird, what if they don't like it...
Forced: You love them, you really do, but you won't kiss them if they continue to look like an unwashed hobo clown. You have to draw the line somewhere, and if they won't take action, you will.
Beat Up: You've been trampled in a fight. Your partner isn't about to let you wallow around in your own mud and blood.
Hair: Some find that there's nothing quite as soothing as getting their hair washed or brushed. Of course, those with more luxurious locks may find any hair care a burden, so the assistance is appreciated.
Make Up: They think you're beautiful already. See how they'll paint you up when they get the chance.
Unique: If you're not human, you probably have your own proceeders you have to do to keep all spiffied up. There are wings with stray feathers to pluck, horns on heads to polish, scales to shave down, all sorts of tasks! Introduce your ignorant (and most likely human) boyfriend or girlfriend to your world...and your pain.
Accommodations: Those with disabilities or prosthetics may also have their own routines, and anyone who wants to be with them should learn how to pitch in.
Sponge Bath: You don't have enough water to do this right or you just want to give them a nice rub and scrub with a gentle sponge or wash cloth.
Wound Care: In order for wounds to heal, proper care must be taken. Bandages have to be changed and cuts cleaned out. It's certainly easier when you don't have to do it all by yourself.
Together: You're both cleaning up, taking a bath, splish splash, in the same tub because there's no where else to go. This is the most likely smut option, even if, again, it starts off "platonic."
Clothing: Don't forget that clean clothes are an important part of personal hygiene. Always make sure your partner has a nice, fresh outfit, even if it's to your taste and not theirs.
I've Made a Terrible Mistake: Somehow, everything's now shit. This little experiment went haywire and you may be sporting anything from the worst hairdo of your life to a Columbian necktie.
FREE SPACE

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"Good as new." He replied, dropping the cloth in the sink and canting forward to where the other man could see, "And if I'd had any more warning I would have passed it on." He shook his head a little, "As it was I had only enough to know what was coming, not enough to actually avoid it or I most certainly would have."

After all, just because he healed didn't mean it didn't hurt in the process.

"Though I do apologize, this isn't exactly how the night was supposed to end." He sounded sincere enough, which likely meant that the apology was genuine.

He still strokes a thumb over Nicky's lip, marveling a bit at how quickly the skin has knit itself together. What Ganymede wouldn't give for some of the same ability. "Should I ask how exactly you wanted it to end?" he asked with a little tilted smile, stepping towards the shower to pull back the curtain.

"Unless I'm much mistaken it likely wasn't the same way I wanted mine to go." Nicky may or may not have seen Ganymede flirting at the bar; he certainly wasn't looking for a relationship to start, but getting laid would have been nice. Nicer than their current situation, anyway. "Or were you looking forward to helping me get gin and glass bits out of my hair?"

One never knows.

"Much more pleasantly." He replied easily, though his brow creased at the follow-up question, "Is there glass? That's not good close to the scalp." Mostly because even superficial head injuries bled like crazy, "If so I feel it's somehow my responsibility, and yes I should help remove them."

That and he wouldn't mind getting his hands in the other man's hair in general, it wouldn't be the same as Joe's mass of curls, but that hardly mattered, the principle was the same and as soothing as most people found having their hair stroked, Nicky often found the same comfort in doing the stroking.

"There is," he said lightly; he could feel the sharp little bits that pricked his scalp when he moved his head. "But most should come out with the aid of a comb. I'd hate for you to prick your fingers."

Just his luck, the one time he probably should have worn his hair loose to let things fall out of it. But it's been a habit for years now to keep it out of his way. "Or end up in a compromising position." Ganymede would tease happily for years, would flirt with very little intention of it going any further, as one did with friends. But Nicky had a partner (boyfriend, whatever they wanted to be called) and Ganymede wouldn't get in the middle of that without invitation, nor tempt anyone to anything untoward. He knew he could, he'd done that thousands of times over by now.

"Hardly so compromising if I've put myself there, don't you think?" He asked, head tilting. It was something like an invitation, not an explicit one, but mostly that was because he was determining just how explicit he was going to have to be. Certainly he and Joe were still utterly, completely and even disgustingly in love after all this time, but mostly that meant that no matter what happened while they were apart, they knew they would be together again at the end of it.

Though Nicky shook his head a moment later, almost as if shaking off a thought, "But yes, comb first, I'll make sure there aren't any residual stubborn pieces, if you like. I'd hate for you to end up jabbed because one of them shifted and reappeared while you were asleep."

"Depends a bit on what you're compromising," Ganymede said softly, watching Nicky's face (and his lips) carefully; they were still close from where they'd been cleaning each other up, until Ganymede leaned back, reaching carefully to undo the ribbon that held his hair into a long braid down his spine. When it unraveled--mostly, though Nicky was free to help it along--he reached for his comb to pull it through the ends, working his way up.

"Not the first time I've been jabbed by something while asleep," he murmured, listening to the musical noise of glass bits hitting the ceramic floor. "I'd appreciate your help. Despite what my children have told me I don't actually have eyes in the back of my head."

"Mm, hasn't that happened to us all?" He replied quietly to the first, either the comment on compromise or on being jabbed while asleep, maybe both, his smile just flashing into place as it was prone to doing.

He did nod at the rest however, "Nor I. Just a better sense of spatial awareness than most, though that really just comes from time and practice." He did reach over to help, gently, fingers nimble enough with the unweaving of the braid, letting the other man make a few initial sweeps before tapping the back of Ganymede's hand -the one holding the comb- lightly with his fingers, "Give it here, let's see what can be done."

"Hopefully only in the enjoyable ways." Nicky's smile was contagious, however brief it was, and Ganymede let himself relax for the first time since the fight had gotten started, shoulders falling as he turned his back to the man.

He passed the wooden comb back over his shoulder, shifting to make it more comfortable to breath despite the pinch in his side. It wasn't stabbing, so likely the rib wasn't broken, and he wasn't coughing up anything untoward, like blood. It would just be stiff for a day or two. "You're comfortable with long hair," Ganymede remarked, tilting his head back when Nicky hit a snag of sticky glass bits. "Have you always worn yours so short?"

"No, not always. Mostly just follow the trend, or whichever trend is the most comfortable, so as not to draw too much attention. We've all worn our hair long at various times." He explained, working in careful sections, shaking loose a few more shards as he as he did so, keeping track of where they were on the floor so they could be swept up.

Having noticed the hitched breath and the careful positioning he asked: "Ribs? Cracked or just bruised, do you think?" There wasn't much to be done either way except be careful and wait it out, but he'd do his best to keep his newfound companion comfortable and entertained in the interim.

"I don't think I've really cut it short since the forties," he added, though he purposefully did not elaborate on why. He'd had it shaved for a while. It was unpleasant.

"Oh, either a bad bruise, or a moderate crack, hard to tell which. Not much to do about it other than suck it up," Ganymede said with a soft snort of amusement. "Worried about me already?" he asked with the tiniest of teasing smiles playing around the edges of his mouth and his voice. "You're liable to make me feel old, doing that."

He gave a soft, warm laugh in return, shaking his head, "Maybe a little" A shrug, shaking the last section of hair lightly to dislodge the shard he could see still clinging there, "It's been three weeks and you've not gotten tired of me yet." He added as he started working the comb through gently, "I just needed to know how much more careful I'll have to be with you for the next few days, that's all."

Finishing with that last section of hair he handed the comb back, "There, I would suggest a shower just to be sure, but I entirely understand not wanting to move any more than you've done already."

As uncomfortable as laughing was, the comment deserved it, and Ganymede reached back to playfully swat at Nicky. "There's not much to get tired of," he said. "You're likeable. It's cute," he cooed, aiming to tease thoroughly once begun, as he stood up.

For feeling so stiff only a moment earlier the movement was surprisingly fluid, and the bruised rib and surrounding skin were already beginning to turn a vibrant if sickening rainbow of colorsas he unbuttoned his shirt. "Oh, no, I've gotten far too used to cleanliness to abandon it now. Indoor showers are truly a miracle."

A momentary silence, then, and Ganymede chuckles gently. "Besides, I'd hate to get too stiff to do anything more fun later." They've already shared drinks and a barfight, what else might be in store?

"Most things that are now indoors are small miracles that I'm still not entirely used to." He agreed, even though his brow had arched, smile already in place tilting just a little at the suggestion that had come before that statement.

It wasn't exactly an invitation, but it wasn't at all a shut-down, either. He'd been considering it for a while as it was, but hadn't yet come to a decision.

"Let me know when you've finished, I should probably have a quickie myself." It was offhand, matter-of fact, difficult to say whether it was innuendo or just unfamiliarity with the slang, though considering the era of slang he used most comfortably, it was probably meant exactly the way it would have been from anyone else, as something like a proposition.

Ganymede had to laugh, pausing in stripping off the shirt for a moment. "You could always join me," he said lightly. "Depending of course on how quick you tend to be."

Oh, two can play that innuendo game very well, Nicky. "I assume you don't mind it hot." He meant the shower, moving to slip past Nicky with only a twitch of discomfort as he turned on the tap, thumb resting on the button of his jeans.

The laugh was what he'd been aiming for, really, but that twinge was enough to have him tapping the brakes, at least a little, "I'm hardly some heathen who enjoys cold showers."

He clasped Ganymede's elbow lightly, "But one by each, I'm afraid, for now. Easier to take time and make sure there's been no lasting damage done if we're both clean first." And that tilt of his head that was often the same as a shrug, "Especially when much of the blood in question doesn't even belong to us."

"I'd be worried about you if you were," Ganymede replied, taking the hand on his elbow and the hesitation in good grace. He hummed softly, straightening up with a little smile as he pulled back the shower curtain. "I'll be sure you aren't relegated to one, then."

Actually getting clean didn't take over long: he emerged in a bit less than twenty minutes with a towel slung low around his hips and his hair combed and clean, wound into a knot at the back of his neck to dry. The bruise around his rib was vividly black-and-blue, already beginning to turn yellowy green at the edges. "All yours," he said lightly; with his face bare of ornament he looked younger than usual as he padded out of the bath.

Nicky had taken the time to both sweep up the shards of glass that had fallen from Ganymede's hair, but also to make sure he wasn't sporting any, or any stray splinters. They would work themselves out eventually if he was, he knew that, but waiting for them to do so was always uncomfortable, because healing itched that was, ultimately, how a person knew it was happening, but healing as quickly as Nicky did made those small pieces being ejected all the more uncomfortable.

At the voice he glanced up from where he'd been sorting out clean clothes from his bag, brow creasing at the state of the bruise, because while it was obviously healing faster than it would in a regular human, it definitely didn't look comfortable, "Are you sure you'll be alright?"

"I've lived with worse," Ganymede answered, looking down at the bruise and gently prodding it with his fingertips. "Hurts less than being hanged. Slightly more than being unhorsed," he murmured lightly, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I promise, it will heal just fine by morning. Tomorrow afternoon by the latest," he sighed. "Unfortunately my immortality was never designed to keep me from sustaining harm. Just enough to keep me from dying from it, and thus of being no further use. Broken toys aren't nearly as fun to play with."

He nodded once, willing to accept the answer, though he would likely be keeping track of the injury himself, just in case. If nothing else it would give him a better incentive in future to actually pay attention to when things were going to erupt and get them both out of the way before they did.

Another nod was given as he straightened, "Alright, I won't be long." A nod towards the backpack he used as a day-bag -versus the duffel he used for everything- as he said, "There's a bottle of ouzo if you think it will help."

True to his word, he didn't take long in the shower, really just long enough to make sure the water ran clear and there wasn't any dried blood left in his hair or anywhere unexpected. When he emerged it was with the other bath towel around his waist, rubbing one of he hand towels across his hair to dry it, sending it into the downy disarray of a baby bird's feathers.

When Nicky came out again, he'd find Ganymede in a slightly more dressed state; he'd pulled on sleep pants as he was reorganizing his bag, a two-foot length of something wrapped in leather laid on the bed beside him. The offered ouzo was still in the bag--though lessened by a swallow or two.

He had to laugh at the way Nicky's hair behaved after being toweled off, hands stilling as he watched. "You look like you stuck a fork in a live socket," he chuckled, unable to not find the look disarmingly cute. "Let me comb it for you before it sticks like that." It hadn't been intended as a question, but the lilted offer was genuine. "You could have taken longer if you wanted."

"Could have." He agreed with a nod, turning to sling the hand towel back into the bathroom, "No reason to though." His brow arched just a little at the offer, however, and at what he assumed to be a weapon on the bed, though for the time being he could leave that be.

"Alright, you may, but only if you'll allow me to plait yours before it all dries with a loop in it." The knot was fine for keeping it together and out of the way, but it would definitely leave an odd bend if it was allowed to fully dry that way.

"It's a sword," he answered that look, picking it up and showing the handle end before sticking it securely down the side of his bag, where it wouldn't take up much room and could still be accessed. "But it's easier to repack without it getting in the way."

Ganymede scooted back, making enough room for Nicky to sit in front of him. "You can plait it if you like," he said more quietly, picking up the comb to work out the little twists and tangles that would inevitably come from rubbing cotton terrycloth on one's head. He liked being able to take care of people, though, hands and motions gentle as he tilted Nicky's head back a bit. "Yours is rather adorable all fluffed up, though."

"Ah, I'd thought that or a bow, though it would be quite compact if it were the latter." Quynh had always managed to stash hers in smaller spaces than Nicky would have thought, so he wouldn't have been much surprised either way.

Lounge pants were pulled on and the towel tossed at least towards the bathroom before he settled, letting his head tilt easily into the other man's apparently talented fingers. Though he couldn't help the soft laugh at the statement, "Adorable, is it? I believe that may be the first time I've been called so."

"It's short, only seventeen inches or so cutting length. But it's fast and cuts deep when I need it to." He shrugged. "You can take it out if you'd like, but it's hardly all that impressive." That was the major reason why Ganymede liked it so much; it was easy to underestimate a weapon that was barely two feet long, and held by someone like him. Invariably that was a poor decision on his opponent's part.

"If someone hasn't called you adorable yet, I absolutely refuse to believe it's for anything other than lack of trying," Ganymede answered. "I like it, the fluff suits you. Like a baby chick." (He was firm on the notion that anyone who though chickens were cute birds had a mental defect.) "Though I would be delighted to be your first."

He had settled easily enough, one hand light on Ganymede's calf, comfortable, just resting there for the moment though given as how hands in his hair were a surefire way to make him melt a little, it wouldn't be long before he was petting in return, "Ah, that may be what Joe actually means when he says I look like a misplaced duckling."

He turned his head just far enough to actually meet the other man's yes, just for a moment, brow quirking before he settled again to let the combing continue, "You say that as if you've not been my first in other ways already." One way, at any rate, but an important one.

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may be taking the 'braid my hair' a bit seriously but /shrug

yes good /Stitch clapping gif goes here

hee hee

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