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What was he doing.
After the unfortunate predicament of his hair falling loose mid-monologue- which to be fair looked quite cool- he was now left with the problem of hair getting in his eyes every second.
And he had no clue how to do it himself.
Louis had always done it for him. Gentle hands brushing and scrubbing his dirtied and tatted hair, separating the brown strands into three and looping them together. But he couldn't do that anymore.
At first he has attempted to find Shelby, yet with no luck of finding the younger, he had one option left. He didn't trust Pyro at all near his hair- and he refused to even consider Apokuna as an option. And so he was left with Scott.
As much as he hated to admit it, the man has exquisite fashion sense. Surely he'd know how to braid hair, right?
‧˚𓂃 ࣪˖ ִ 🍷˖ ִֶָ‧
Scott knew Owen was coming. Even if his footsteps were silent, he knew. Perhaps it was an elder vampire thing?
He was laying in his tomb, comfortable against the silk bedding he had recently replaced. His arms were folded across his chest, lid pulled tight.
Vampires couldn't sleep, obviously, but he occasionally liked to pretend. It was the closest thing to relaxation he could get recently- tucked away with only his thoughts in the darkness of the coffin.
He pressed his hands against the cold of the stone, pushing it off to the side. The stone made an unflattering noise as it scraped together, yet Scott peservered. Maybe he should switch it to wood.
Sitting up, he ran a hand through his hair, turning to face the balcony, knees tucked below him as he watched. Waiting. For Owen.
‧˚𓂃 ࣪˖ ִ 🍷˖ ִֶָ‧—
Owen nearly jumped out of his skin as he peered over the stone ledge and was met with the sight of Scott staring at him.
"Holy shhh.." He trailed off, placing a hand against his unbeating heart.
"Owen." Scott hummed.
Had Scott been waiting for him? How did he even know he was here?
"Scott. I need to ask a...favour."
"Well, come down then! I'm craning my neck looking up at you." The elder grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck.
Owen let out a quiet scoff, leaping over the edge of the half wall and jumping down with the grace of a wet cat, stumbling a bit at his landing.
He had never been a graceful thing.
(A/N: yes that's a v!legundo reference)
"Soooo, what favour do you need from me?" Scott draped himself over the edge of the coffin, cheek resting on his forearm.
"I..need you to tie my hair up. It's getting in the way."
"Oh~! Can do! Come here." Scott sat up, shuffling back to free some space up in front of him. "Shoes off. This is my bed, after all!"
Owen hesitated- before reluctantly shuffling forwards. He kicked his shoes off, leaving them by the side of the coffin, before stepping in. He jolted as the mattress sank below his weight, grabbing the ledge as support as he lowered himself down, crossing his legs with his back to Scott.
This was weird. He hated this. He hated Scott. Why did he do this.
"Soo~ what we thinking?" Scott hummed, reaching into his inventory to pull out a brush. He looked up at Owens hair, assessing the damage. The elder let out a sigh, not even attempting at hiding the disgust in his tone.
"With all the dirt im about to brush out, I may aswell change my bedsheets after this."
Owen furrowed his eyebrows, clutching at his shirt awkwardly.
"Yeah, whatever, I could care less about your fancy little bed. Just..put it in a braid."
"Where's my please~?"
Silence.
"Please."
"There we go!" Scott hummed, his grin evident through his voice. "Don't whine if I hurt you."
And so he begun, raising the hairbrush to comb through his hair. The more he brushed, the more dirt fell out.
Owen winced as he tugged at a particularly rough knot, letting out a hiss of pain. “Can’t you be any more gentle? It feels like you’re hurting me on purpose-“ He let out another hiss.
”Beauty is pain, dearie. Suck it up.” Scott continued tugging until his hair was smooth enough to work with. It obviously was begging for a proper wash and a trim, but he didn’t have the patience nor motivation to do it. As if Owen would accept, anyway.
”So, just a braid? Or maybe a French braid? Fish tail? Dutch? Waterfall?” The elder listed of a few options, clawed fingers ruining through the white strands.
Owen’s mind went blank.
What did he just say?
”Just...a normal braid???”
Scott let out an exasperated sigh.
”Fine, fine.” Scott hummed, fingers sliding through his hair, sectioning it into three parts.
His hands work with practiced ease- one part over the next. Over and over.
Owen closed his eyes, the rhythmic feeling of gentle hands in his hair bringing back warm memories, and for once, he allowed himself to let out a low purr.
Scott paused in his actions temporarily, only to let out a soft chuckle, continuing.
Truth be told, Scott had undone and redone the braid a few times now, unwilling to let the rare moment between them slip. Moments like these were sacred- moments when one was willing enough to let themselves grow vulnerable in the company of the other. Moments when two elder vampires, both curses of the town they called home, allowed themselves to lower their guard and just be.
But the moment was short lived, for Owen caught himself. The hands of Scott that once brought warmth soon reminded him of his lover. His lovers hands who were oh so gentle- caressing him with such love his heart ached.
Owen let out a chocked sob before he could stop himself, brow furrowing in misery as he clutched the fabric covering his heart.
Caught off guard, Scott quickly lifted his hands away.
”Owen??”
Tears streamed down the youngers face as he doubled over, sobs rattling his body.
Scotts hand hovered. He did not know how to comfort people. Sure he was good at making people cry, but when they started crying for their own personal reasons?
He lowered his hands delicately and hesitantly on Owens shoulders, pulling the younger back slightly until Owen fell into Scott’s embrace.
He lay with his back pressed against the elders chest, not even bothering to think about how this would ruin his reputation. For now he was no longer Oakhursts curse. For now he was Owen, a lumberjack, who had lost his lover.
Scott ran a clawed hand through the others hair, murmuring quiet reassurance.
Owens wails eventually softened into sniffles, sitting upright. Scott let him go, staring at the back of his head, considering what to do.
And then, his hands came back up to his hair again. He sectioned the hair into three, looping the parts over each other until a formal braid was the formed.
Owen sat still, occasionally letting out a sniffle or wiping his eyes with his sleeve.
"Done." Scott hummed, tying the braid off with a black ribbon.
"...thank you." The youngers voice wavered, quickly clearing his throat.
"..owen if you-" Scott started.
"No one needs to know about this. I think it's best you keep your mouth shut." His voice was stronger, yet still held sadness.
Scott scoffed- he could not have a member of his coven breaking down crying. He needed his fledglings as strong as possible- both physically and emotionally. So if Owen were to cry in the eyes of the townsfolk would be drastic. Think of his reputation!
But it was clear Owen was too stubborn. Perhaps he should try again later- when Owen wasn't as... sensitive.
"Fine, whatever." Scott hummed. "Off with you now. I have bedsheets to wash."
The elder caught the way his fists clenched at his side, yet he made no comment as he left, disappearing into the shadows he once came from.
God that man needed therapy.