Barnaby doesn't like it when people touch his hair.

At least, that's what he thought, until Kotetsu's fingers buried their way into it in the shower, working their way down to his scalp. He's been fairly certain up until this point that no one is capable of washing it properly outside of a professional, or outside of his own, practiced touch, but Kotetsu's content on proving him wrong and making him like it, from the way his fingers work through it, kneading, scrubbing, massaging shampoo through it and coaxing him to tip his head back afterwards to wash it clean.

It's nice. It makes his legs feel like jelly, makes him sink back against the other man's chest and sigh, shut his eyes, breathe in deeply and think for a moment that maybe he'll fall asleep in the shower right then and there. Kotetsu's chuckle is low and warm against his skin as he methodically works in conditioner next, plucking at all of Barnaby's curls, wet and limp from the shower, and even thatfeels sort of nice.

"Bunny. Hey, Bunny. You're heavy, don't fall asleep on me."

"It's rude to tell people they're heavy," Barnaby grumbles at him, but rights himself enough so that he doesn't doze off on his feet and collapse ungracefully in the shower.

"Is it rude to tell people they have nice hair? Yours is so soft."

There's a little flush of pleasure that starts at his cheeks and works its way down to his neck – the same thing that shows up any time that Kotetsu gives him a compliment that's so simple, so offhanded that it should mean little (yet it's theworld).

"… No, that's fine."

Maybe he'll let Kotetsu deal with his hair more often.