It’d been a little thing Kunlun had said, a mere stray comment about how he wished he had a brush so he can handle that bird’s nest. But that had been enough for the stalker ghost king to wander off in search of a comb. It takes Kunlun a few moments when presented with it to remember how this had come about.
He takes it, well aware of how Wei lights up at his acceptance. This, more than the mountains or rivers he commands, feels like too much power at times. But it’s a sentiment that only grows the longer the ghost king stays around to play, and it’s not a feeling that Kunlun wishes to give up anytime soon.
“Why did you ask for this?” Wei asks.
“When did I ask for it?” Kunlun demands, and he’s teasing, messing with the little ghost king. Sure enough, Wei’s eyes drop, and he’s devastated in his own failure. He can’t imagine how he misheard Kunlun when he hangs on his every word. Kunlun tuts at him. “Well since I have this, come sit, and I’ll fix that mess you call for hair.”
Wei looks up and blinks at him, one hand rising up to touch his hair but aborting before he can. He doesn’t think much about it, only that sometimes it gets in the way when he’s eating or fighting. Wei glances at the braids in Kunlun’s hair then obediently goes to sit where Kunlun points.
He crosses his legs and sits practically in Kunlun’s lap, unaware and unashamed, merely enjoying the warmth of the mountain god. This is something he ought to ask for more but he doesn’t truly know how to put it into words.
Kunlun makes a noise again, disapproving of the mats and tangles he can see in Wei’s hair this close up. He sets the comb down and picks up a strand.
“How do you let it get this bad?” he admonishes.
“What is bad about it?” Wei asks, tilting his head back a little. He’s confused, innocently and adorably so, and Kunlun can’t help but dismay at him even as he smiles.
“Don’t hate me for what I’m about to do,” he intones and Wei trembles for a moment before he exclaims as Kunlun begins to untangle the first knot.
“It’s the first of a thousand so shut up and suffer for your foolishness,” Kunlun says. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or scold him. But Wei obediently settles down, tensing and wincing as Kunlun tugs at his hair, quiet the entire time.
When Kunlun isn’t wrestling with a knot it feels nice to have his fingers running against his scalp, and Wei could almost fall asleep like this; but then he finds another knot and the pain begins again. It’s worth it though, to have Kunlun here like this, even if it hurts a little.
Kunlun finds himself in a daze almost, focused on his task, and he completely forgets how pretty the little ghost king is. It’s in the back of his mind rather than in the forefront and it isn’t until he’s brushing out his long locks that he remembers again how much he enjoys this little terror.
“Did you want a braid?” Kunlun asks, running the comb through his hair for the sheer joy of it. There are no more tangles and it’s almost hypnotizing how the long, black strands flow through his fingers.
Wei is lost in bliss and Kunlun has to ask again before he can rouse himself to some sort of consciousness.
“Braid,” he repeats then he tilts his head back to look at Kunlun. His eyes are still hooded, the simple pleasure of being touched so kindly and gently intoxicating him.
“Next time,” Kunlun says. He forces himself to stop for a moment then continues doing as he pleases for hasn’t that always been his way? There’s no need to stop for this slip of a ghost. “Keep your hair like this and then I can continue.”
“Yes,” Wei says.
Neither of them make to move away and Kunlun picks up the comb again, warmth filling all the empty crevices of his soul at the little pleased sigh Wei gives.