Smoothing the Seaweed

[This was inspired by the scene where Break touches young Gilbert's hair. Fluff! Imagine a time a few years prior to present, right after Gil got his new apartment in Reveille…]

"Nice apartment you have here, Gil," said Break, walking though his new place in the capitol. "You keep it nice, I see…no cobwebs or dust any where. And the kitchen is spotless!" Break ran his finger along the counter and then hopped up onto it.

"Break!" said Gilbert, taken aback. "Get your butt off the counter!"

"Ohw?" said Break, sliding down onto his feet. "So sorry."

Break apologized? Gil was surprised but said nothing. He was a man of few words.

"If only you took care of your body the way you take care of your home," said the white-haired man, gently taking a piece of Gil's hair between his fingers.

"What do you mean?" sputtered Gil.

"When did you last wash and comb your hair?" asked Break, a look of concern on his face. "It looks like…seaweed or something."

Gil blushed, as much from the unexpectedly kind expression on Break's face as from the embarrassment of being called out on his poor grooming habits.

"Every now and then," said Gil, pulling away.

"Time for waaaaashiing!" sang Break. "I'll help you, Gilbert-kun."

A few minutes later, Gil had his head in the kitchen sink, and Break was massaging his soapy hair with his hands. That feels kind of nice, admitted Gil to himself, while the other man's fingers caressed his scalp. Next it was time for a warm water rinse and towel dry, and Break took care of every step with accomplished ease.

"And now…where is your comb, Gilbert-kun?"

"I…uh…don't have one."

"Oh? Well, that's okay, I can use mine on you," said Break, producing a silver comb from his pocket.

Gil sat down on the sofa, while Break stood behind him, pulling a comb through his unruly tresses.

Gil steeled himself for the pain, since his last memory of having his hair combed was when Vincent used to do it for him, and Vincent's manner of combing was similar to how he handled his stuffed animals.

To his surprise, Break was benevolent in his use of the comb, and Gil barely felt any discomfort.

"Relax, Gilbert-kun. Lean your head back."

Gil leaned back and closed his eyes, letting the other man's hands smooth down his hair and tease through the knots. A sense of peace drifted over him, and he imagined the kind hands on his head, soothing his worries along with his hair.

"All done! My, what a difference," announced Break, after many minutes. "Gil?"

But Gil was fast asleep and dreaming of drifting in the ocean, his body rising and falling with the swells.