Greta Van Fleet // Oneshots

A Little Intrigue // Jake Kiszka

Warnings: none; we stan Soft Jake.

Requested by a lovely anon on tumblr, thank you! This was such a fun one to write.

—

You ran your hand through Jake's hair as he slumped against you on the couch, neither of you paying too close attention to whatever Netflix had started queuing for you. "Your hair's gotten so long, Jakey," you noted. "When's the last time you had a trim?"

"Uh–I don't even remember," he admitted, settling even closer into you. "I like it long."

"I do too," you said, then ran your fingers carefully through the bit of bangs on the side of his face. "But I could trim it for you, if you want. Keep it healthy."

"You know I hate getting my hair cut."

You chuckled and kept running your fingers through it, the normally silky strands a little dry and disheveled. "I know. But I'll wash it for you and everything," you told him, then kissed his forehead. "It'll be relaxing."

Jake looked up at you. "Only if you get in the shower with me."

"Not today, Jake," you replied, smirking anyway. "I need to give you a real salon experience."

With him reluctantly agreeing, you backed a chair up against the kitchen sink, with a rolled, plush towel to go under his neck and your best, most expensive shampoo and conditioner on the counter. You draped another towel around his neck and chest when he leaned back, then started to run the tap, lingering your hand underneath it until it was the right temperature.

"Is it too cold?" you asked, using the sprayer to douse Jake's ends in your hand.

"No, it's great," he answered, though he was still frigid in the chair.

You started to move the water up along his hair. "Are you comfortable?"

"Yeah, I just–really don't like getting my hair cut or anything."

"I know, I know. Okay, just close your eyes," you instructed, moving the water up to his scalp. "Listen to the water. This is your time to relax and forget about everything."

Jake closed his eyes and exhaled, shifting a little in the chair. When you paused the water and started to massage the shampoo into his scalp, he sighed. "That actually feels good."

You smiled triumphantly to yourself. "Good. Want me to massage harder or gentler?"

"You're doing it perfectly, Y/N," he assured you, reaching up to hold your wrist for a moment. "It feels really nice."

You took your time rinsing it out, running over his scalp with your fingertips, carefully dragging your nails over his crown. When all the suds were out and you wrung his hair gently in your hand, you slathered his ends with the matching conditioner, taking a minute to massage a little into the finer hairs above the nape of his neck.

"So I'm gonna let that sit for a couple minutes," you told him, grabbing the comb from the counter and running it through his hair. "And I'll comb all these tangles out for you."

"I really don't know how it gets so tangled," Jake mused quietly.

"Do you brush it every day?" you asked, working on a particularly tough knot.

"Ow–well, no–"

You untangled it, raking the comb through his hair again. "You need to brush it, Jakey."

Once his hair was all clean and soft, you gingerly dried it off with a towel, just enough for it to not be soaking wet, then sat him back up in the chair. You grabbed the comb again, combing all his hair out, including his bangs, which had grown out well past his cheek.

He grabbed your wrist as you picked up the scissors. "Just a little trim, okay?"

"Okay, just a little bit," you assured him, going behind him to start on the back. "I'm not that skilled anyway."

Jake responded with a low chuckle. "Skilled enough."

"Stop that," you said with a smirk, glad he couldn't see you. The little pieces of his hair fell to the floor as you trimmed and already you could feel a little weight off him, how much lighter–yet stronger–his hair felt.

"Please don't get me in the eye with those," Jake pleaded when you got around to his bangs.

You clucked your tongue. "I'm not going to do that," you insisted, taking his fringe in your fingers. "Your little bangs are so cute. I like when they get in your face when you play."

He laughed a little, his shoulders bobbing up and down. "Really?"

You carefully snipped the ends of a strand, the hairs landing in Jake's lap. "Yeah. They add–they add a little intrigue."

He smirked underneath you. "'Intrigue?'"

"Yeah, like I never expect to really see them," you explained. "But then they stick to your forehead and eyebrow and it's just–I don't know, it's cute."

He placed one hand on your hip. "Thanks."

You did one last snip then stepped back to inspect your work, tilting your head. You nodded your approval, brushed the stray hair off Jake's lap, then removed the towel from him. "Shake it out, Jakey," you told him. "You won't really be able to see until it's dry, but I think it looks okay."

He did as instructed, shaking his hands through his hair, sending more little strands falling to the tile floor, then looked in the reflection of the microwave. "It looks good," he affirmed. "It feels better, actually."

You smiled as you started to sweep up his hair. "See? I told you."

Jake brushed some of the hair that had lingered on the seat of the chair into his hand, tossing it into the trash, you following with your dustpan full. Once you had the broom back in its place, he grabbed you and pulled you against him. "Thanks, Y/N. You took such good care of me," he said, his eyes gleaming beneath the damp mess of his hair. "I really did get the full experience."

"Anything for my favorite client," you replied, smiling, and brushed his bangs back. "I'm glad you liked it."

Jake smiled back, a little smugly, and held you tighter. "Your favorite?"

You chuckled and rested your head on his shoulder, letting his damp hair run over your face. "Yes, Jake," you answered, wrapping your arms around him. "My absolute favorite."