Chapter Text
Samuel was getting down to the basement like every evening, dinner for two in his hands, ready to feed the nobleman that was living there.
John II of Liechtenstein has been hiding for two months now under King Solomon tavern. After some times, Samuel learned to be at ease around the intruder, learning about him every time he went to give him food or share some information that he started to collect to help him in his job of spy. Every evening became his favourite moment of the day that he was waiting for with impatience.
For Samuel, it was the first time that he felt that confident around someone other than his mame, which was a weird feeling. But not an unpleasant one. Not with John.
But, when he turned around at the bottom of the stairs, he froze.
The noble, who he always saw wearing his blue tunic and large hat that usually cover a large part of his head, was here in his usual clothes but with only a simple fine white shirt, and his hair were wet and held by a hair stick.
“Hello, Samuel!” said John, a grin on his face. “Sorry for my attire. Just now my hair bothered me so I washed it earlier than normally. I hope it will not bother you? Besides, I think that you usually come here a little later, don’t you?”
Samuel started to move again, but he was burning from his torso to the tip of his ears. Now that he thinks about it, maybe he went down sooner than expected.
“Hum, maybe. Sorry. Here is your food.”
“Thank you! Come, sit down. I have a lot to tell you today!”
“I’m sure that’s a lie. It’s been two days since the last letter.”
“Maybe. But it doesn’t mean that I don’t have to talk with you.”
They started to eat, and John was clearly bored, because he couldn’t stop talking. He hasn’t been out of this basement since multiple weeks, so obviously he would take every chance he could to talk with someone. Not that Samuel was complaining about it.
But the youngest was only listening half of what the other man said, his eyes fixed more often than necessary on the noble’s hair, unable to look away. Even more when a loose strand of hair fell in front of John’s eyes, and he let it hang there carelessly.
Obviously, John saw the distraction on Samuel’s face since he arrived, and finally decided to talk about it.
“What’s going on, Sam? You seem disturbed.” He was grinning, looking into the other man eyes.
“Well…” Samuel was not sure if it was rude or not to ask about it. He still did anyway. “Did you always have hair this long?”
“Oh, well, not really. When I was younger, something like 10 years old, I think it was longer, actually. But since then, I always had shorter hair. But it’s true that I haven’t cut it since I’m here. It grew pretty fast.”
Because he always insists to wear his stupid noble hat (I’m sorry but for Samuel and the author of this fic it’s really a stupid hat), Samuel haven’t really seen until now how long they were. It’s true that sometimes his eyes would stay too long on a wild wavy strand that would fall next to his eye when he was not looking, but it was really accentuated without the hat.
“Why don’t you cut them? You have scissors here I recall?”
“Yes, it’s true. But have you tried cutting your own hair? It can very quickly become ridiculous. And besides, I think it suits me more.” By saying that, he tucked his hair behind his ear and his eyes gauged the reaction of Samuel, who himself looked away and cleared his throat.
“Hm.” Was all he could answer at that, not wanting to say clearly that he agrees with him.
But now that they have launched into the subject, John didn’t want to let it die here.
“Have you ever had long hair, Sam?”
“No, never. It’s forbidden for men.”
“Oh, that’s a shame.”
“Well, I don’t think it would look good on me as much as it does on you, anyway.”
“See, I knew you thought it suits me!” John was smiling widely, clearly happy to have heard this compliment.
Samuel, on the other hand, was even more embarrassed to have let it slide out of his mouth like that. His cheeks were once again really hot. The embarrassment cut his appetite.
“Anyway, how come you have a hair stick? Where did you find it?”
“Oh, it’s you mom that gave it to me.”
“Mame?”
“Yes! She’s such a sweetheart! I told her that it was bothering me a bit that I couldn’t really attach my hair, and instead of offering me to cut it, she gave me the stick.” By saying that, he tried to adjust his small bun by putting back some loose strands. But it only made it worse, so he decided to remove it completely to redo it again.
When his hair fell out freely on his shoulders, still a bit damp, Samuel averted his eyes quickly, his sudden movement almost letting his wine goblet falling on the papers in the table. It’s incredible how just some hair could make him completely flustered.
Not that John was blind of it.
On the contrary.
He was very conscious of it.
Still, he was not sure if he should make a move. Of course, Samuel was a very attractive man, and he was clearly interested in him. The redness of his cheeks could not fool even a blind. He had enough acquaintance with similar men in his life to understand easily the signs.
But, at the same time, he didn’t want the other to feel pushed into it. After all, he was still his host, and he didn’t know enough about how the subject was handled in Judaism to risk it all right now.
“Maybe…” Samuel had his gaze focused on his half-emptied plate. “Maybe I could cut them? For you? If you want, that’s it.”
“You want to cut my hair?” Seems like John don’t have to do anything to go further, actually. “It’s not your duty, you know. You already do too much for me anyway.”
Samuel eyes came back into the ones of the noble.
“I know. But it’s not about duty. I just want to help, that’s all. It should not be too different as cutting wool from a sheep.”
“As long as you don’t hold be like one! And I would like to still have a bit of length, thank you very much! But still, I will accept your offer. Thank you.” The cheeks of the lord were red, too.
Once they finished to eat, Samuel got to his room to go fetch a towel, then came back also with a broom and a dustpan.
“How do you want to do it?” John was playing with his hair, his hair stick on the table, and was still drinking wine. He had put the scissors there too.
“I guess you can just… sit there, you will have this towel on your shoulders, and I will stand behind you. We will simply sweep after. That’s how we used to do with mame when I was younger.”
“Alright then.”
John sat on the chair, and Samuel put the towel on his shoulders, letting his fingers lingering a second too long there. John was slightly tense, and the tip of his ears were red. Probably because of the wine. Then he got the scissors, and assessed the situation.
“So, what would you like to remove exactly?”
“My, I got a professional barber here! Just a little bit, like three centimeters? I like having them longer.”
“Alright. Let’s go.”
Samuel passed his left hand on the other’s hair, holding it delicately. He then caressed a bit more against the scalp, still a bit damp, like he was searching something. When he pulled slightly a strand of hair to stretch it, ready to cut it, John let out a very small whine, and to Samuel it sounded angelic. He was probably just relaxing a bit, nothing more. He smelled of lavender.
The experimental barber concentrated, wanting to do a nice job, even if he was distracted from time to time, especially by the way the hair felt on his fingers and the way John let himself go in the hands of the other man. They continued like that for a while, until the work was done.
When Samuel went in front of the other to see if he did a good job, stretching strands on both sides of the other’s face, realisation came into him: he was standing very close to the noble’s face, and the man was looking at him intensely, particularly on his lips. Something moved in his guts, and Samuel returned quickly behind John.
“Alright, done.” Samuel let his free hand playing a bit with the newly cut hair, his other hand still holding the scissors.
“Now that it’s done, will you cut my beard too?” John was looking up towards Samuel who was still standing behind him, his grin still on his lips, his eyes fixed on the one of the other.
Delicately, Samuel’s free hand moved down from the top of his head, along his temple, then the cheek, until stopping at the edge of the chin of the other man.
“Well, it’s a shame, but you have already shaved properly there. I don’t think I could do more than that.”
John’s face leaned a little more on Samuel’s hand.
“It’s a shame, indeed.”
They stayed like that for a couple of seconds, not moving. Samuel was studying carefully every part of the noble face, as if he was trying to decipher a (actually very simple) riddle. Then, as if he got a resolve, he caress quickly the other’s corner of his mouth with his thumb and removed his hand, stepping outside of this trance they were in. He removed the towel, put it and the scissor away on the table, took the broom and started to sweep. John took his time to stand up, move out the chair out of Samuel’s reach to help him tidy up the place, and then just stand there on the side, one of his shoulders leaning against a beam, passing his hands on his newly cut hair.
“Thank you, Sam.”
“Hm. It’s nothing.” he gathered the hairs on the dustpan.
“No, it’s not nothing.” softer. “Really, thank you.”
The cut hair was then thrown away in the trash efficiently, and Samuel put the equipment aside. He turned towards the noble that was fixing him intensely. He returned his gaze in the same intensity.
“Do I look better, now?”
“Not necessarily. But I hope they will bother you less.”
“You mean that longer hair suits me better?”
“I didn’t say that. Any length goes well on you, I think.”
“Good to know that I still have all of my charm.” He grinned once more.
“Hm.” Samuel’s cheeks were again fully red, and he shifted closer to John, his eyes now fixed on something on the noble’s torso. “You still have some cut hair, here…” He gestured towards the other’s collarbone, and John feigned blindness. Maybe he could make it work.
“Oh, where?” He tapped lightly his torso, making it the worse way to remove anything, not a single strand falling off of him.
“Here, let me just…” Samuel stepped even closer, faster than expected, and removed delicately the hair off the other’s clothes. “There.” He smiled timidly.
“Thank you, Samuel.” John looked at the other’s face, way closer than he was before (no shit sherlock) (shut up Watson).
“Oh, you still have, um, on your cheek…”
“Uh? Where exactly?”
“I will…” Samuel removed the last wavy strand off the other’s face, but let his hand there, on his cheekbone. “Here, better.” His voice was the lowest he ever heard from him since they met.
“Thank you, Sam.” John’s voice was not louder than a whisper, now.
None of them tried to do more. For a moment, they were like two pillars of salt, just gaping at the other face, searching into each other eyes something that will make them move. Maybe John could have done something. Maybe not.
Either way, the spell broke once something crashed on the tavern upstairs, and Samuel abruptly stap back from the noble, clearly annoyed about whatever was happening above them. There was some loud shouting.
“I… I should…”
“Yes, of course. Go on, Sam.”
Quickly, Samuel headed towards the top of the stairs, not looking back at John. But his ears were still redder than the dress of a cardinal.