The room was silent, except for the soft noise of the brush passing through the hair. You were sitting on the edge of the bed, undoing the stubborn knots that always appeared after a hectic night. Johnny was dropped on his side, wearing only sweatpants, arms behind his head, watching in silence with that mischievous little smile that revealed exactly what he was thinking.

"That was my fault, wasn't it?" - he broke the silence, with a low voice, loaded with fun.

You raised your eyes at him, half-closing them. - "Do you have the courage to admit this?"

Johnny shrugged, laughing softly. - "Maybe I pulled a little too much..." - his expression became softer, more sincere. - "Let me help."

Before you could refuse, he got up and took the brush from your hands. He positioned himself behind you, with his legs open to accommodate his body between his. The touch was surprisingly delicate, nothing like the raw way he used to have on the field or on a daily basis.

"See?" - he murmured, concentrated, separating strand by strand with his fingers before passing the brush. - "I can be your professional hairdresser."

You let out a chuckle, relaxing against his chest. - "I think you would do well."

Johnny leaned his chin on the curve of his shoulder, blowing a laugh against his skin. - "Just because it's you, love." - And then he undid the knots again, every slow, attentive movement, as if he wanted to compensate for every mark he had left earlier.

At the end, he rested the brush on the nightstand and ran his fingers through the loose wires. —"Now yes. Ready to sleep without cursing against me."

You turned your head, staring at him closely. - "Maybe I'll still curse a little bit."

Johnny smiled crookedly, leaning over to steal a quick kiss. —"I can handle it."