Noonish (just a little past)

“Hey,” Abel slid back into his booth and put his hand out, palm up for Theo’s. “Didn’t see anyone out there like that.”

“I told you,” Theo put his hand in Abel’s and watched the way it disappeared as Abel’s fingers curled around it. The tattoos on his knuckles stood out boldly against his skin. Theo really liked looking at them, playing with them, seeing them against his body. He smiled at Abel. “I was just imagining things.”

Abel did not smile back. He was never really sure when Theo was imagining things and when he was experiencing or recalling actual events. Theo himself could not tell sometimes. So, it made sense for Abel to be a little put off by even the remote possibility that Theo saw one of Ken's associates this far away from where his circle of influence used to be.

“Not hungry anymore?” he asked.

Theo shook his head.

“Let’s get out of here, then.” Abel sat up straighter in his seat to catch the waiter's eye so he could get the check. “We can go and book a hotel room, then…” he glanced at Theo, “Do you want to dye your hair real quick before going to see your aunt? She said she would be home all afternoon.”

Theo touched the fluffy locks around his forehead. They were fluffy not because they were soft but because they were so brittle and damaged. The blue dye was also faded, and he knew his roots were coming in. Overall, it did not look great. It was probably not the impression he should make on his aunt after all these years.

“Okay.”

Abel paid the check, and they piled back into the car to go find a hotel room. Theo stood by his elbow as he spoke with the hotel concierge. The man asked for his ID and credit card, which Abel slid out of his wallet and across the counter. That was one good use for an ID, Theo supposed.

The room was small, occupied mainly by the king-sized bed, a dresser with a TV on top, and an attached bathroom. Abel went to the bathroom and flipped on the light to inspect its potential as a hair dyeing station. The plastic bag crinkled as he pulled the box out and peered at the directions on the side.

“Are we even allowed to dye my hair in here?” Theo asked.

Abel shrugged as though the question was unworthy of an answer and then pointed at the toilet seat. “Take off your shirt.”

Theo reached for his collar and slipped the shirt over his head. It was actually Abel’s shirt that he was borrowing. He stared at the soft fabric clutched between his hands, then carefully walked it into the bedroom and placed it on the end of the bed. When he went back into the bathroom, he said. “I can dye my own hair. I’ve done it lots of times.”

 “Too many times,” Abel groused as if Theo’s brittle hair were a personal affront. He pulled open the box and poked around inside the kit. “Just let me do it for you. I want to.”

Theo ignored the protests rearing in his mind about how he was not worthy of someone else doing something as menial and vain as dyeing his hair. Abel could be lying for some reason. The people in his life often seemed to want to do favors for him, but it was always for something in return—except for Abel, who thus far seemed content with just seeing Theo well-fed, safe, and happy. And when Abel took care of him, he felt safer than ever before. There was no threat of shadows or demons or even mental institutions. 

“Grab a towel,” Abel instructed. The towels that hung from the racks on the wall across from the toilet were all fluffy and bright white. Between Theo’s hands, they did not feel as fluffy as they looked, but he still balked at the idea of using one of the hotel’s white towels in conjunction with hair dye. At Ken’s he had an ancient towel with dye and bleach stains covering every inch so that he could no longer even remember what the original color was.

“We’ll get dye all over their white towel,” Theo protested.

“They are going to bleach it anyway,” Abel tucked one of the little tubes into his palm and set the box on the back of the toilet. Then he took the towel from Theo and draped it around his shoulders. Theo’s lips twitched because he enjoyed it when Abel just took command like that.

Ken always wanted Theo to make decisions, even though the outcome was usually already rigged, and it did not matter what he chose. Ken would get his way. Or he would find some fault with Theo’s choice no matter what. His questions were often traps, and Theo eventually grew wary and then weary of having his own opinions or doing anything without first being prompted by Ken.

He uncharacteristically trusted Abel not to harm him. Thus, when Abel took charge, and Theo did not have to face the inevitable frustration of making a wrong choice, it was a relief. He could not give into it fully, too often. Abel wanted him to be a person instead of a pet who needed everything taken care of for them. But in these moments, when Theo knew that Abel knew he was capable of dyeing his hair (albeit irresponsibly) and still insisted on doing it for him anyway, he allowed himself to indulge.

Abel stepped to the side and gestured toward the toilet seat. “Sit there.”

Theo sat with his hands tucked between his thighs. Abel pulled on the gloves provided in the kit and opened the little tube. He began to massage the pre-color serum into the ends of Theo’s hair, working his fingers gently through the locks without tugging. The soothing rhythmic motion lulled Theo’s eyes shut, and he lost track of time.

Eventually, a soft beeping invaded the fuzzy blankness. Theo pried his eyes open to see Abel struggling to turn off a timer with one of the knuckles on a hand that he had halfway pulled the plastic glove off. Apparently, Theo had just blanked out for the entire time it took for the dye to work.

“Would you be more comfortable lying back, or do you want to bend over the sink?” Abel asked, successfully turning off the time and then frowning at the faucet.

Theo bit his lip to prevent himself from saying something smart in response. He shuffled around until he could lean back and brace his shoulders against the edge of the counter so that his neck rested on the sink’s rim and his head hung over the bowl.

Perhaps purposefully or just because they were cheaper, the faucet head was not detachable and was too short for Theo’s head to fit beneath it. Abel seemed frozen by indecision for a moment, then went back out to the main room and grabbed one of the little plastic water cups provided by the hotel. He pulled the plastic off it with a rustle, then set it to the side.

It did not take long for the warm water, circular scritch of Abel’s gloved hands through his hair, and repetitive water pouring from the cup to lull Theo back into his relaxed trance. Except this time, he kept his eyes open to watch Abel looming above him. His lips were pressed together, and a shallow crease of concentration furrowed between his brows as he focused on not pouring water into Theo’s eyes. It was a nice view. Abel boxed him in completely against the sink, the scent of him mingling with the dye. If Theo could, he would purr, but instead of that, he hummed happily.

“Sit up,” Abel nudged his shoulder, then laughed when Theo groaned at the slight twinge in his back from laying at the awkward angle. He plucked the towel from Theo’s shoulders and dropped it over his head to rub him dry like you would a dog, rough and all over the place. Theo squawked in protest, but Abel just chuckled again. As soon as his hands left the towel, Theo dragged it off to glare at him.

Abel just looked amused as he pulled a final tube out of the dye kit and squeezed it over his gloved fingers. He worked the conditioner into Theo’s hair, then took a step back and cocked his head with his hands still held up in the air to either side.

“My work is finished,” he grinned. “The color matches your roots pretty well, too.”

“Yeah?” Theo stood and turned around to look at his reflection. His lips parted as his fingertips brushed against the dark mahogany locks. The lights highlighted the reddish tint when he turned his head from side to side. Abel noticed this as well.

“Your real hair has that red in it, too?” he asked.

“Mmhm,” Theo hummed. “That’s one of the reasons I had to bleach it to do anything.”

Abel snorted. Theo observed him gathering everything and dropping it into the little trash can with its impossibly thin plastic bag. Beside it, he dropped the towel that had far fewer drops of dye on it than it would have if Theo had been the one to dye his hair. He straightened up and glanced Theo over from his toes to the roots of his darkened hair.

“Ready to go?”

Theo sighed. “Let me put on a shirt.”