monstersinthecosmos:

redversaillesrose:

Here’s the thing.

Armand dying his hair.

Please discuss, I need this.

Cutting Armand’s hair every night isn’t something new. He does it on his own sometimes, and he accommodates Daniel’s giddy, childish curiosity about it on those nights, too. It starts just with scissors, and then Daniel teaches him about electric clippers, and then it turns into crewcuts and flattops and elaborate patterns carved in. Daniel sometimes touches the tufts of hair that land in the sink and on the floor, and he rolls the strands between his fingers in rapt fascination.

“It doesn’t… feel like real hair,” he says one night. Mohawk tonight, and Armand runs a hand down his shorn scalp, just above the sideburn left behind, and even on a vampire it feels soft like peach fuzz. Daniel pulls a long lock from the sink and wraps it tight around his knuckle until his fingertip turns white.

“What do you mean, Daniel?”

“I don’t know, it feels…” unnatural. “Different.”

He shrugs and drops it, then touches the shaved side of Armand’s head, as well. He scratches behind Armand’s ear and it elicits a head tilt and a smile and soft purr.

“Hey, Armand?”

His eyes are closed and his head is still tilted towards Daniel’s hand, nuzzling the warmth in his palm. “Mmm?”

“Can we try to dye it? Do you think it would take?”

They start with a strip test. Daniel runs out and buys the bleach during the day so that they can try immediately when Armand wakes up. At first it’s just a streak that comes up from his forehead and curls around his face. It takes longer than it should on regular hair, but they’re not worried about the damage it might cause, and Armand doesn’t seem to feel it burning where it’s too low against his scalp. Hours later and it’s done and they can’t stop touching it. Daniel can’t stop combing his fingers through it and marveling at the way it twists in with the other curls.  Armand keeps it for three nights before he cuts it off and starts again.

Then it’s his whole head one night, and it takes hours for the auburn to burn down to a pale yellow, almost white. Daniel inspects it every night, curious to know if the Dark Gift will restore the stripped cells and pleased to learn that it does not. The hair still feels unnatural but doesn’t feel damaged the way human hair would. Several times, he catches Armand frozen in place, staring at himself in the mirror with his knuckles against his mouth, and it’s an expression he doesn’t know how to read.

“Can I straighten it?” he asks one night, and It takes hours and way too much hair spray because the curls keep creeping back into place, and eventually Daniel settles for snapping a quick Polaroid before they all pop back in, so that he can have this one memento of the ten minutes Armand had straight blonde hair. They try it again a few nights later with Aqua Net in an aerosol can and wind up with some approximation of Siousxie hair, and even though Daniel thinks it looks cute, Armand mumbles something about being too flammable and washes it out as soon as he can.

And finally there’s the trip to Manic Panic on St. Marks, and the cat hisses at them when they come in, and Armand stares at it coldly as his skin gleams in the ugly fluorescent light, and the girls behind the counter delight in advising them on all the best colors, and they’re nervous, they can feel something is off but can’t figure out what, but they’re still drawn to the danger, as seduced by it as Daniel is. He and Armand leave with one of every color.

Daniel tries a purple on himself, and his hair is light enough that it takes without bleach, and he’s stained the tops of his ears and the corner of his forehead. Armand goes with a dark green. The excess never permeates his skin, because nothing really ever does, and afterward Daniel can’t stop staring at the way it lights up the amber color of his eyes.

But Daniel’s fades after a few washes, and he stares at the way the color tints the shampoo bubbles, and the way it rinses and drips through his fingers. Stark and vivid against the white porcelain tub. And he sees the way it dissolves, night after night, from something lively and exciting to something dull, while Armand’s stays as bright and vital as ever.

And when he’s tired of it, Armand shaves his hair off so that it’ll grow back normal. And Daniel’s remains a fucking mess.