(djo’s version)

“Steve?” you call as you enter the house, grocery bags weighing down your arms as you shuffle into the kitchen.

You’re attempting to blow your own hair out of your face as you stack the bags onto the island in front of you.

“In here!” you hear him call out to you from the direction of your bedroom. You pass a woeful look at the items awaiting to be packed before you sigh and make your way to the bathroom.

“Hey, so you know how you love me? The groceries need to be—what are you doing?” your amused voice echoes slightly over the bathroom walls as Steve pauses in his movements.

To his credit, he only looks slightly embarrassed that you’ve caught him in his current predicament.

“Is that hair dye?” you frown confusedly, approaching him slowly as you grab the box in front of him to examine.

“L’oreal? Champagne Blonde?” you squint at Steve suspiciously who avoids eye contact with you as he brushes the bleach through his hair.

Steve sticks out his tongue slightly, trying to reach the ends of his hair near his crown but can’t seem to see it clearly enough in the mirror.

You sigh, “You look like an idiot, gimme the brush.” You hold out your hand, staring Steve down until he relents and hands over the bowl and brush with a small huff.

You force him to sit down on the edge of the bathtub as you rake your hands through his dry hair, trying not to touch the bleached parts.

You tsk softly, “You should’ve waited for me, it’s uneven in the back.” You chide softly.

He rolls his eyes, “I thought I’d have it done before you got back.” He huffs.

You flick his ear fondly, “Yeah and you’d end up looking like a botched Ken. It’s like you don’t even know me—you don’t think I would’ve wanted to help?” you ask him incredulously.

He shrugs, mumbling something under his breath before you tug softly at one of his stray curls.

“I thought you’d think it was silly.” He says it so softly you barely hear it, but it makes you want to sob.

“Oh,” you say softly.

“I didn’t say that to make you feel bad!” he says panicked, and it’s so Steve that you can’t help but soften.

“It’s alright,” you reassure him, tilting his head back softly and pressing a soft kiss onto his forehead.

“I think it’ll suit you,”  you say, picking up the bowl and dye brush and setting back into combing it over the strands of hair.

Steve lights up, looking up at you with a sparkle in his eye, “You think so?”

You hum, biting your lip softly as your smile spreads.

“I think that I’m gonna have to keep you at home all summer,” you frown, shaking your head morosely.

Steve rolls his eyes but buys into your teasing nonetheless, “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

You sigh forlornly, biting back a laugh, “Well I just wouldn’t want the other girls in the neighbourhood thinking they had a chance with you that’s all.”

Steve’s laugh shakes his shoulders, so you’re forced to pull the brush away.

“You’re so dumb.” He snorts.

You gasp, nudging him playfully. “I’m being serious!” you insist with a laugh.

“You haven’t been noticing Mrs. Kelly starts watering her plants around the same time you get home? I’m telling you—she’s just waiting for you to start saying you feel lonely before she starts seducing you—”

Steve cuts you off with a hand over your mouth and a wide, amused smile on his lips.

“Please stop talking about our 60 year old neighbour trying to seduce me.” He grimaces.

You lick the palm of his hand in retaliation which has him yelping and tugging it back in disgust. He wipes it off on his jeans before looking at you with an exasperated expression.

You shrug softly, “Look back down or your highlights are gonna turn out different shades because they’re underdeveloped!” you hiss at him.

“Underdeveloped? How can they be—”

“You’re distracting me!”

˖⋆࿐໋₊ ☆

Considering your lacklustre hairstyling abilities, you would say you’d done a pretty good job with Steve’s hair.

You hadn’t let the bleach sit for too long in fear of it looking patchy but instead Steve’s highlights frame the darker pieces of his hair like a golden string.

He looks handsome, and that you’ve told him countless times.

He’d been a bit afraid before getting his hair toned but he’d been running his hands through it and styling it in front of the mirror since you’d finished blow drying it.

“Good?” you check in on him, scrubbing your own hands of the mix of dye, conditioner and toner as you watch him poke and prod at himself.

It makes you feel warm inside, like you’re witnessing some version of Steve that’s living out all his childhood whimsy and impulsivity now because he never had the chance to when he was younger.

“Good.” He beams, looking at you with a smile.

When you’re done washing your hands, you make your way to the bed, climbing up and sitting against the pillows as you watch him softly.

“Okay, c’mere I wanna see it up close.” You hold your hands out in a ‘gimme’ motion, gesturing him to come closer.

He shuffles to lie on his stomach in front of you, his head resting on his arms as he looks up at you.

You cup his face softly, toying with the stray curls as you run your hands through his hair.

His eyes flutter closed softly as he hums, you do some quick checks but it’s clear that having Steve come lie down was mostly for your own enjoyment.

“You look so pretty baby.” You whisper softly, watching as his face scrunches up shyly and a reddish hue bloom across the tips of his ears and nose.

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face, “My pretty boy,” you tease.

Steve groans, muffling the sound into his arms as he hides his face from view.

“Stop cooing at me like a dog.” He whines, his voice muffled by the mattress and his arms.

You tsk, “But I thought you liked when I compliment you?” you frown.

Steve meets your gaze with just his eyes, glaring softly but amused nonetheless, “Not if the next words out of you mouth are ‘good boy’”

You smirk, opening your mouth to speak before you’re tackled by Steve as he launches himself up and towards you.