as free as [his] hair
so I had to fix it: let’s give him MORE HAIR (but not, like, hirsuteness or anything crazy). 1.3k of unbeta’d fluff (almost literally) [title from “Hair” by Lady Gaga]
She didn’t notice it at first—not until the day she was trying to tell her mom about Killian’s elf ears.
“Just look at them!” Emma exclaimed, pointing across Granny’s to where he stood at the counter fetching drinks. But his hair covered up the pointed tips, and that’s when she realized that it was longer than it had been in a long time; probably not since their return from the Underworld.
Her mother told her she believed her, but Emma spent the rest of the meal wondering at Killian’s choice of hairstyle. She’d never tell him how to wear it, of course, but she wondered if it hinted at anything emotionally, though he hadn’t been acting out of the ordinary.
It became something she kept on silent observation, figuring commentary might make him self-conscious. But it was definitely getting longer, and it almost felt thicker whenever her fingers inevitably found their way into it at more intimate times. (And, if she wasn’t wrong, so did his chest hair. There wasn’t more of it, necessarily—it still decorated his pecs in the same way, trailing down just the center of his stomach—but he just seemed extra…huggable lately. Like a teddy bear. But she’d absolutely NEVER tell him that.)
She did finally have to say something after hearing him huff for the umpteenth time when having to pushing his fringe from his face while prepping dinner.
“You know, I have probably have a headband somewhere you could borrow…or a hair tie,” she suggested, pushing his locks from his face and running her hand back through his coif, to where it ended near the base of his neck.
“Are you suggesting we share hair accessories in addition to the kohl we already both use?” he proposed in reply, a smirk playing on his lips.
“Wait—you’re the reason I keep running out of eyeliner?” His wink was the only answer she received but it was enough to distract her from her initial comment—until a few days later, when he asked for her help in pulling his hair back into a ponytail. (She didn’t say anything, but may have taken to playing with the little nub of hair whenever the opportunity presented itself.)
She figured, at some point, he’d want to get it cut, but still it grew. And she knew it wasn’t the first time he’d worn his hair pulled back—she’d seen the ribbons on his ship—but figured that he might get tired of having to have her put it up every day. Of course, she didn’t mind doing it, seeing as it wasn’t often she got the chance to pamper him when he did so much for her, but still—it was a little surprising.
(Though not as surprising as seeing her dad’s full head of curls that he probably hadn’t sported since he was a kid.)
So she continued to be merely amused by it, until the day she was searching for an extra bottle of body wash in the bathroom cupboard and found an odd, old-fashioned bottle hiding with the shaving cream. It definitely wasn’t hers, and given the nature of liquids in weird vials in this town, she grew worried.
“Killian, is this yours?” she asked him as she went downstairs, interrupting him reading. She didn’t think it was his, but figured she should cover her bases before calling Regina—though her thumb was already hovering over the mayor’s name on her phone.
Killian looked up from his book and then, to her shock, blanched when he saw what she held. He swallowed thickly before replying, “Oh, you found that.”