(A/N: An AUL crossover fic, family fluff edition! FL Man and Player are cousins, and I see FL Man's real name as Emilio. Player is still in his sad transmasc egg phase where he doesn't use any "real" name yet because he detests his birth name but hasn't chosen a name yet. They still refer to each other by their nicknames IRL sometimes, though.)
"Do you think the Earth would spin faster if the moon were replaced with an equivalent-sized banana?" Florida Man stated his question, leaning forward in a sitting position with a PSP in his hands.
"I don't know enough about planets to answer that question, bro." Player lied down on his side, voice quieter and more monotone than it usually was.
"Come on, I need to win a bet! I need the popular vote to get that five dollars." Florida Man ended his statement with a little "hmph," mashing buttons on his handheld while doing so.
"You have such a competitive streak." Player ran his hands against the couch fabric repeatedly.
"Says you!" Florida Man playfully bonked Player on the shoulder in response.
"Well, you're on a completely different level from the average person, Emi."
"I am quite the extraordinary man, yeah! Being a guy fucking slaps!" Florida Man leaned back in his seat, putting down his handheld.
"I think it would, too. Not sure how I'd really go about knowing, though," Player started to feel the uncomfortable emotions seeping back in, and tried to stim nervously with his hair to relieve them. However, his fingers got caught in his hair, blocked by the knots and tangles from lack of washing or combing.
"Bestie, there's no twirling those neglected locks of yours," Florida Man jibed, ending his statement with a hearty chortle.
Player bit down on the inside of his cheeks and sat up. He positioned himself to say something back, but any words fizzled out by the time they reached the front of his mind, leaving him with an open mouth and no retort. He brought his left knee to his chest and hugged it, resting his chin on it for support.
"You good, man? Like, for real?" Florida Man's expression softened, and he leaned nearer to Player.
"No." Player was surprised at himself even being able to get that out. "Why do you even... care."
"Because it is really damaged, I won't lie to ya." Florida Man kneeled closer to Player to run a diagnostic on his frayed brown mane. "How did it even get to this, really?"
"I just never... properly washed it. Too much effort."
Florida Man tilted his head a bit to the right, pouting. "I'll fix it for you, free of charge."
"Don't bother with me. Aren't you supposed to be completing your stupid physics data right now, anyway?" Player looked to the wall and crossed his arms.
"That booklet of sorrow need not be in sight until Monday, my liege." Florida Man gave his cousin an affectionate pat on the shoulder.
Player loosened the tension in his still-crossed arms and looked to Florida Man. "Okay, then. How exactly do we go about this?"
"I'll try fixing it here first." Florida Man attempted to do so, and a few yelps from Player's end and unsuccessful detangling attempts later, he came to a conclusion. "From my observations just moments ago, your hair is way too damaged to suffice with just some combing and washing. You're gonna need to trim it if you want healthier hair." Florida Man punctuated his expressive, fast-moving speech with equally attention-grabbing hand movements.
"The expert has spoken," Player said. "I'm getting this thing chopped up. May as well make it easier to wash when the time comes."
"Wanna go to the hairdresser?"
"Fuck no. I don't want them to see me!"
"Hm, alternate solutions, then. Do you wanna ask Jessica to cut it? Your dad, or I guess my uncle, is still at work, and I doubt he'd be the best hairstylist in town." Florida Man laughed at his own comment.
"She's got a lot of plans, and I don't wanna disturb her." Player continued thinking. "I'm not cutting it myself, by the way!"
"By process of elimination, I'm your only option! I think I give myself a very swaggy self-done cut, anyway." Florida Man tried flipping his barely-past-chin-length hair.
"You're one of the few people I know who can pull off a mullet. I trust whatever screwed-up experiment you're running on me."
"Deal's a deal, then!" Florida Man smiled. "Sit on that chair. I'll get the goods."
Player pulled himself off the couch and trudged over to the nearby chair. Florida Man came back with a towel to cover his shoulders and some scissors. "Beware, these aren't hair scissors! It's gonna turn out a little funky."
"In the art world, we call that avant-garde," Player deadpanned as Florida Man ran a detangler through his hair.
Florida Man laughed. "True! Man, people at art colleges are eccentric as hell, and I mean that in the most spectacular of ways."
"Art school is one of the only things I can actually dream about," Player admitted, staring off into the distance as his hair was sectioned off.
Florida Man frowned. "I think you could do great things with yourself if you worked to solve your issues, ya'know. Or maybe you just need to find your path first. You've still got like, what, a year and a half left of high school?"
"Yeah, I do. How do you even get into art school, though?"
"I wouldn't know! I've certainly considered it before, but I never submitted an application or anything."
They continued to make rapidly-moving, topic-jumping conversation, Player slowly feeling happiness falling back in again.
"And now that I think about it, I think replacing Earth with an equivalent-sized orange would work as a better experiment. Same shape, you know?" Florida Man ecstatically rambled about everything aboard his thought train.
The haircut finished, and Player went to look at himself in the mirror. Disorientation still crept in while staring back at the reflection of the strange lady he knew he really wasn't, but Player felt a little better seeing himself cleaned up, even if only in one aspect.
He went back out to give a rating. "Looks pretty good. Definitely an improvement from before."
"I think you'd look awesome with some extra styling! You'd absolutely slay with some layers, and–"
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, haha." Player sheepishly grinned as he laughed. "I'm a simple person. Just need to look half-decent to blend in."
"Aww, and I was so looking forward to clothes shopping with you in the future!" Florida Man made an exaggerated, obviously fake angry pout.
"Another white undershirt to add to my collection, then check-out. How about that?" Player slapped Florida Man on the back.
"I respect the practicality. On the other hand, you will never take my myriad of tacky band shirts away from me. Never."
"Myriad, nice." Player exaggerated the praising tone for comedic effect.
They continued topic-jumping until evening, when they went to the kitchen to see what they could microwave and wouldn't likely have been saved by someone else for later.
"I'll get you some water, too. Sit down. Food preparation is my duty for this segment." Florida Man flashed a thumbs up and confident grin.
The corners of Player's mouth turned up slightly, and his lower eyelids subtly rose to form the best tired, but satisfied smile he could make. "Thanks, Emi."
