THAT ASK LIST!! IS BEAUTIFUL!!!
may i request some tousle or comb + volumes for operator dearest <3
Comb— comb fingers through hair
Volume—gaze in a way that says 'I love you'
Touch is strange in the way that a single action can be interpreted a thousand different times. A touch of a hand on a shoulder can be one of reassurance, or one of warning. A swat on the arm can be of joy, or of anger. Even a mere glance—where contact isn't made—can still touch in a way that can be easily mistaken.
He finds it hard to wrap his head around sometimes. When people touch him, he needs to think back about how the entire conversation or interaction has been going before he can determine if the touch is good, or if it's bad. Most of the time it's the latter—that's just something that comes with the job, he supposes.
But with you... with you, it's different. It doesn't quite feel like he needs to analyze every little interaction he has with you to know what your touch will mean, because truthfully... you have never reached out to him with ill-intent. In fact, you're probably one of the few people in this city who has shown him positivity in abundance. Maybe that's shaping his perspective of life. Probably not, but saying that you make waves for his existence sounds nice, doesn't it?
He thinks so, as he lets you run your fingers through his auburn curls again. You're working to untangle the way they've twisted and knotted with each other through the hours of hood-wearing and frustration-rustling he's endured. It was a long day. It was a frustrating day, and maybe you noticed it in his eyes, and that's why you reached out to him and—upon receiving his shy nod—drew him down to rest his head on your lap.
The small bedroom you're in is quiet, with the only sounds being your breathing and the low hum of a radiator in the corner. He doesn't have a lot of luxuries considering that he lives in the Under City, but he bought that radiator for you when you mentioned off-handedly you were cold one night. He also installed better lights for you, some rugs for your feet, your favorite foods in the fridge. He was trying to build a home for you with all that he had so he could repay you for the way you cared for him.
He sighs quietly as he feels your fingers comb through his hair again. Although he doesn't speak, he watches you as you work; watches the smile playing on your lips, the amusement in your gaze. He takes comfort in the familiar scent of you, of how your warmth seems to envelope him, your hands working to tame his stress along with those unruly curls. He watches you, and thinks how lucky he is to have you here. He watches you, and decides that he truly, truly loves you.
