“Hold still, Izzy.”

“I am holding still,” he mutters, even though he’s definitely not.

You sigh, trying to gather his messy, unruly hair into a half-decent bun while he lazily sits on the couch, arms crossed, looking like he’s tolerating this at best.

“Why do you even wanna do this?” he grumbles.

“Because you’re always complaining about your hair being in your face, and I wanna see if you’d look hot with a man bun.”

That makes him smirk a little. “Like I don’t already?”

You flick the back of his head. “Shut up and let me finish.”

It takes a few more attempts—mostly because he keeps moving—but finally, you manage to twist his hair into something resembling a bun. Stepping back, you admire your work.

“Well?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You tilt your head. “You actually pull it off.”

He snorts, reaching up to ruffle it out immediately. “Yeah, no. Not happening.”

You groan. “Izzy!”

But he just grins, shaking his hair loose like he never had it up in the first place. “Nice try, babe.”