Fics like Samson

"I thought you always cut your own hair, big man," he quips with faux ignorance, preserves the air of almost-irritation at being asked for a favor while simultaneously moving to grab the scissors. "And now you want me to do it?" "I know it's probably been a while since you cut hair, Doc," Brock retorts lazily, leaving Rusty bristling. Admittedly, he set himself up for that one. "but it's easier when someone else does it. Someone who can actually see the back of your head." He studies the bodyguard's face in the mirror, beset by the cool steely tones of their bathroom. The blues bring out his eyes. They're both more than aware that Brock has cut his own hair with ease a million times over, with far cruder implements than a neat pair of scissors, in far less favorable situations than an air-conditioned bathroom in a penthouse suite. "I have a beard, you know," he mumbles frostily, combing his fingers through still-damp blond hair, feeling an inevitable pang of jealousy at how thick it is. He swears Brock's hairline hasn't receded a tenth of an inch since they met. — Rusty cuts Brock's hair for the first time.

Fics like Samson

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