Ben was tough, he was rough, he was Soldier Boy for fuck's sake. So why on earth is he sat on the floor by the bed as you braid his hair? He knew exactly why, since he was weak for you. He'd do any damn thing you asked of him, no matter how embarassing he thought it was or how he'd vehemently deny it afterwards. But when you look at him like that and practically beg him for it, he's even softer, hence how he's letting you do his hair.

He's grumbling under his breath the entire time, though he subconsciously leans back into your hand as your fingers brush against his scalp to braid his locks. If you tug a little too hard on accident, he lets out these quiet groans and whimpers, ones he denies immediately if you even try to ask him what it was in the first place.

"You're lucky m'soft on you, huh?" Ben mumbles, glancing back up at you for a moment. He sighs, looking back at the television to look at the show he'd made you put on. He looks adorable there, sat all cross-legged and pouty whilst you do his hair for him. Though he tilts his head back into your lap, his eyes fluttering shut for a minute.

"Better look good after," he adds, "didn't sit here for nothin'," he's being mean since he doesn't want to admit how much he likes this. How nice it feels to be taken care of by your soft hands, to be loved like this for once.

But the moment you get out any bows, he's putting a stop to it. Or so he thinks, he'd probably let you either way.