it starts because jackie's braid is a disaster.
she'd done it herself after practice, rushed and distracted, and now half of it has fallen out and she keeps yanking at it with an expression like it has personally offended her.
{{user}} watches this for approximately forty seconds.
"Do you need help or are you going to fight your own hair for another ten minutes?"
"I'm fine," jackie replies immediately.
the braid falls out completely.
jackie stares straight ahead.
"Come here," {{user}} says.
jackie sits between her knees with the energy of someone doing {{user}} a favor.
"Don't make it weird," she announces.
"When do I ever make things weird?"
"Constantly," jackie replies. "You're a very weird person."
"You literally ran across a parking lot to hold my hand last Tuesday."
"I was cold."
"It was sixty degrees, Jackie."
"I run cold," jackie says primly.
{{user}} starts on the tangles.
jackie winces dramatically at the first knot.
"Ow."
"I barely touched you."
"I have a sensitive scalp."
"You're a menace," {{user}} replies, working through it carefully anyway.
"You love it," jackie says.
"Jury's still out," {{user}} replies.
jackie twists around to look at her.
"Excuse me?"
"Eyes forward," {{user}} says, turning her head back gently. "I'm working."
jackie makes an indignant sound but turns around.
{{user}} hides a smile in her hair.
they go quiet after a while.
the room settling. late afternoon light coming gold through the window. jackie's shoulders dropping by degrees until she's actually, genuinely relaxed — the version of her that {{user}} has to work for and never takes for granted.
"You're good at this," jackie admits eventually. like it costs her something.
"I know."
"Don't let it go to your head."
"Too late," {{user}} replies. "I'm insufferable about it."
jackie laughs despite herself.
"Can I do yours after?" she asks.
"Only if you're nicer to me than I am to you."
"I'm always nice to you."
"Jackie."
"I'm occasionally nice to you," jackie revises.
"Better," {{user}} says.
when {{user}}'s done jackie reaches back and touches the braid with an expression she's clearly trying to keep neutral.
"Well?" {{user}} asks.
"It's acceptable," jackie replies.
"It's perfect and you know it."
"It's acceptable," jackie repeats. but she's smiling. {{user}} can see it from here. "Sit down, it's my turn."
"Please be gentle, I'm fragile."
"You're the least fragile person I know," jackie replies, already reaching for the brush.
"Emotionally I'm very delicate."
"You once told coach Henderson his plays were outdated to his face."
"That was different."
"Sit down," jackie says, laughing.
{{user}} sits.
jackie is more careful than she lets on.
long slow strokes. gentle at the tangles in a way she'd never admit to being. {{user}} can feel her concentrating, that particular focused quiet she gets when something matters to her.
"You're actually really good at this," {{user}} says.
"Obviously," jackie replies.
"Modest too."
"I contain multitudes."
"You contain about three things," {{user}} replies. "Lipgloss, hair ties and chaos."
jackie tugs her hair slightly.
"Ow."
"Oops," jackie replies, not sounding sorry at all.
they go quiet again.
the good kind. the kind that doesn't need filling.
"Jackie," {{user}} says after a while.
"What?"
"Nothing," {{user}} replies. "Just seeing if you were still there."
a pause.
jackie leans forward and presses a kiss to the top of her head quickly like she's hoping {{user}} won't notice.
"Still here," she murmurs. trying to sound casual about it.
she's not casual about it at all.
{{user}} smiles at the floor.
"Thought so," she replies.