The room was quiet, the only sound the soft swish of the brush gliding through hair. You sat at the edge of the bed, fingers gently tugging at the stubborn knots that always appeared after a chaotic night. The faint morning light spilled across the sheets, highlighting the curve of your shoulders, the way your hair caught it in strands.

Johnny lay on their side, clad only in sweatpants, arms propped behind their head, eyes fixed on you with that mischievous little smile that always betrayed exactly what they were thinking. There was a playful ease in the way they lounged, a calm confidence that contrasted with the careful attention in your hands.

“That was my fault, wasn’t it?” Their voice broke the silence, low and teasing, carrying a note of amusement that made you pause mid-brush.

You tilted your head, eyes half-lidded. “Do you have the courage to admit it?”

Johnny shrugged, chuckling softly. “Maybe I pulled a little too much…” Their expression softened, becoming warmer, more genuine. “Let me help.”

Before you could protest, they were on their feet, gently taking the brush from your hands. With careful movements, they settled behind you, straddling the space between your thighs so they could reach your hair comfortably. The touch was unexpectedly tender, nothing like the rough, confident way they were on the field or in their daily routines.

“See?” they murmured, focused, separating strands with nimble fingers before following with the brush. “I could be a professional hairdresser if I wanted.”

You let out a quiet laugh, leaning back against their chest, feeling the warmth of them behind you. “I think you’d be excellent at it.”

Johnny rested their chin lightly on your shoulder, letting out a soft chuckle against your skin. “Only because it’s you, love.” Their hands moved with meticulous care, undoing every knot, every tangle, as though trying to erase each trace of roughness left earlier. Every touch was deliberate, slow, and attentive.

Finally, they set the brush on the nightstand and ran their fingers through your freshly loosened hair. “There. Ready to sleep without cursing me?”

You turned slightly, catching their gaze. “Maybe I’ll still curse a little.”

A crooked smile appeared on Johnny’s face as they leaned forward and pressed a brief, teasing kiss to your lips. “I can handle it.”

For a few more moments, you sat there, the quiet intimacy wrapping around you both like a warm blanket, the soft morning light filtering in, and the brush now forgotten on the nightstand, a silent witness to the slow, careful reconnection between you.