[fic] Watchmen; Crowning Glory
Title: Crowning Glory
Rating: G
Pairing: Light Danielle/Laurie/Wanda
Warnings: None
Summary: Written for the prompt: Someone is very fascinated with Laurie's hair, and derives a lot of enjoyment out of touching and brushing and braiding it. 63!fic, post-Karnak.
It took three years until her hair was finally long again. Wanda's been watching in the way she watches anything that's too good: out of the corner of her eye, too quick to ever be caught. Laurie only ever kept it short and blonde for six months. By then she and Danielle were tired of running, whispering heatedly in front of the pacifying glare of the television: so what if we get caught, so what. Wanda has never had the heart to tell them that they are nothing more than ants scurrying over Veidt's boot, and matter even less to the authorities. They matter least of all to civilians, so desperate to move on and glad to forget all the old faces.
So they tire of the masquerade and throw off their shells while she learns to live in the only shell she has left; she becomes Wanda again, remembers how to use her hands for useful things instead of terrible, necessary things. She learns how to cook and sleep and listen to women's voices and watch them from the corners of her eyes.
Wanda notices when Laurie starts going longer between trims (administered by Danielle, the two of them standing close in the bathroom, Danielle squinting in concentration and the both of them somehow unashamed to be half-dressed). She notices when Laurie's hair grows long enough to hide the little mole on her neck which used to show.
All of her attempts to dye it back to her original color have ended up darker instead. Laurie thinks it looks macabre and makes silly ghost noises at them, but Wanda looks at the darkness of it sliding against her face and feels an unsettling satisfaction.
When Laurie's hair reaches the tops of her shoulders, Wanda is sure she's letting it grow again. She could never ask if it's on purpose, because sometimes people take what she means the wrong way and Laurie might cut it. So she only observes for a half-second every now and then, marking its slow progress, coveting a beautiful thing.
Today it's just past the tips of her shoulder blades and Laurie's brushing it out in front of the big bedroom mirror. Wanda is reading her book in the corner. She is not vigilantly keeping one eye on Laurie and one ear on the distant hiss of water which is Danielle in the shower. It would be ludicrous to think either of them would want her protection she does not think it at all.
The two of them are going out somewhere, and it's likely they will attempt to make Wanda join them. Her defense is already formulating itself in her brain. Too tired. Want to read. Will be fine, Danielle. Am sure.
Laurie keeps trying endless permutations of what looks like the same upswept hairstyle, but she must be able to see something Wanda cannot because she's making frustrated little huffs of breath as long loops of hair fall from between her fingers.
"God, sometimes I wonder why I don't chop this all off again."
The mirror makes Laurie into a perfect double-image when Wanda jerks her head up. "No," she says a little too loudly, her hand fisting against the page.
Laurie just raises an eyebrow and twitches the corner of her mouth, amused as she always is when she manages to surprise Wanda. She smiles like she knows a secret.
"All right then. Help me out here."
Wanda recoils with the immediate distrust of someone being freely given a shameful thing they've wanted for a very long time.
"Not good at that, Laurel." That much should be obvious from her own hair: a wiry, coarse nuisance.
Laurie's reflection turns her back; she's already noticed that Wanda's book is mostly closed. "Come on, you work with your hands for a living. You can't be that bad."
Her head bobs heavily against her will. Her breath feels shallow as she rises and crosses the room. She did not put up enough of an argument and should have said no at least twice more. She could still say no, but she knows she won't. It's just like those times when she knows she's about to eat too much or shirk her duties or touch herself and a horrible, small part of her looks forward to it so intensely that the rest of her can't stop it.
Laurie's already handing her the hairbrush and the clean smell of her shampoo is strong this close. Wanda holds the bristles against her palm, not long enough for Laurie to notice, but maybe it makes up for how much she wants this.
It looks so smooth, so straight. No wonder Laurie was having trouble; Wanda has noticed it always slipping defiantly out of hairbands or clips, struggling to return to its natural state. It parts between the bristles and rejoins itself as Wanda pulls the brush down slowly, carefully. She never meant to touch it but it's so long and she must support it by handfuls to keep the motions from pulling at Laurie's scalp. It is warmest at the base of her neck, still only a little damp from her own shower. She has to reach since Laurie's taller and her arms ache a little as she works through every section of hair, but she hardly notices.
Her hair looks so dark in the low light, black strands moving like water between Wanda's pale fingers, mesmerizing. She can't help but stroke it again to watch the patterns it makes, coming apart, sliding together, and the silk against her palm. She will not dare to think how it would feel against her cheek.
A movement in the mirror distracts her, pricks her old instincts. Danielle is leaning in the doorway, too quiet to disturb them, her lips parted and pinkness riding up on her cheeks. Laurie's head is tilted back, her eyes closed.
Wands feels momentarily frozen, caught in something beyond her understanding.
"It's okay," Danielle murmurs, soothing by default as she always is. She knows Wanda too well.
"It's only hair," Laurie adds, but she's opened her eyes to look at Wanda in the mirror and it's the kind of look which pins her through to the inside, a twin to the predatory look Danielle only thinks she hides behind affable charm. Maybe they all know each other too well.
It is easy to finish; Wanda knows how to braid rope and hair is the same, even sleek hair. once the end is tied off she presses her hands hard against her own thighs because there is no need to touch it again.
"So, how do I look?" Laurie turns to both of them, grinning, and doesn't even check to make sure Wanda made the braid straight. It's hard to understand that kind of trust.
"Great, Laurie. Really great. Good job, Wanda." Danielle's close enough now that Wanda can see she keeps catching her bottom lip between her teeth, as if she wants to bite it but remembers she shouldn't. Laurie's grin seems to be infectious. "You both ready to go?"
She should say no, but she knows she won't.
Rating: G
Pairing: Light Danielle/Laurie/Wanda
Warnings: None
Summary: Written for the prompt: Someone is very fascinated with Laurie's hair, and derives a lot of enjoyment out of touching and brushing and braiding it. 63!fic, post-Karnak.
It took three years until her hair was finally long again. Wanda's been watching in the way she watches anything that's too good: out of the corner of her eye, too quick to ever be caught. Laurie only ever kept it short and blonde for six months. By then she and Danielle were tired of running, whispering heatedly in front of the pacifying glare of the television: so what if we get caught, so what. Wanda has never had the heart to tell them that they are nothing more than ants scurrying over Veidt's boot, and matter even less to the authorities. They matter least of all to civilians, so desperate to move on and glad to forget all the old faces.
So they tire of the masquerade and throw off their shells while she learns to live in the only shell she has left; she becomes Wanda again, remembers how to use her hands for useful things instead of terrible, necessary things. She learns how to cook and sleep and listen to women's voices and watch them from the corners of her eyes.
Wanda notices when Laurie starts going longer between trims (administered by Danielle, the two of them standing close in the bathroom, Danielle squinting in concentration and the both of them somehow unashamed to be half-dressed). She notices when Laurie's hair grows long enough to hide the little mole on her neck which used to show.
All of her attempts to dye it back to her original color have ended up darker instead. Laurie thinks it looks macabre and makes silly ghost noises at them, but Wanda looks at the darkness of it sliding against her face and feels an unsettling satisfaction.
When Laurie's hair reaches the tops of her shoulders, Wanda is sure she's letting it grow again. She could never ask if it's on purpose, because sometimes people take what she means the wrong way and Laurie might cut it. So she only observes for a half-second every now and then, marking its slow progress, coveting a beautiful thing.
Today it's just past the tips of her shoulder blades and Laurie's brushing it out in front of the big bedroom mirror. Wanda is reading her book in the corner. She is not vigilantly keeping one eye on Laurie and one ear on the distant hiss of water which is Danielle in the shower. It would be ludicrous to think either of them would want her protection she does not think it at all.
The two of them are going out somewhere, and it's likely they will attempt to make Wanda join them. Her defense is already formulating itself in her brain. Too tired. Want to read. Will be fine, Danielle. Am sure.
Laurie keeps trying endless permutations of what looks like the same upswept hairstyle, but she must be able to see something Wanda cannot because she's making frustrated little huffs of breath as long loops of hair fall from between her fingers.
"God, sometimes I wonder why I don't chop this all off again."
The mirror makes Laurie into a perfect double-image when Wanda jerks her head up. "No," she says a little too loudly, her hand fisting against the page.
Laurie just raises an eyebrow and twitches the corner of her mouth, amused as she always is when she manages to surprise Wanda. She smiles like she knows a secret.
"All right then. Help me out here."
Wanda recoils with the immediate distrust of someone being freely given a shameful thing they've wanted for a very long time.
"Not good at that, Laurel." That much should be obvious from her own hair: a wiry, coarse nuisance.
Laurie's reflection turns her back; she's already noticed that Wanda's book is mostly closed. "Come on, you work with your hands for a living. You can't be that bad."
Her head bobs heavily against her will. Her breath feels shallow as she rises and crosses the room. She did not put up enough of an argument and should have said no at least twice more. She could still say no, but she knows she won't. It's just like those times when she knows she's about to eat too much or shirk her duties or touch herself and a horrible, small part of her looks forward to it so intensely that the rest of her can't stop it.
Laurie's already handing her the hairbrush and the clean smell of her shampoo is strong this close. Wanda holds the bristles against her palm, not long enough for Laurie to notice, but maybe it makes up for how much she wants this.
It looks so smooth, so straight. No wonder Laurie was having trouble; Wanda has noticed it always slipping defiantly out of hairbands or clips, struggling to return to its natural state. It parts between the bristles and rejoins itself as Wanda pulls the brush down slowly, carefully. She never meant to touch it but it's so long and she must support it by handfuls to keep the motions from pulling at Laurie's scalp. It is warmest at the base of her neck, still only a little damp from her own shower. She has to reach since Laurie's taller and her arms ache a little as she works through every section of hair, but she hardly notices.
Her hair looks so dark in the low light, black strands moving like water between Wanda's pale fingers, mesmerizing. She can't help but stroke it again to watch the patterns it makes, coming apart, sliding together, and the silk against her palm. She will not dare to think how it would feel against her cheek.
A movement in the mirror distracts her, pricks her old instincts. Danielle is leaning in the doorway, too quiet to disturb them, her lips parted and pinkness riding up on her cheeks. Laurie's head is tilted back, her eyes closed.
Wands feels momentarily frozen, caught in something beyond her understanding.
"It's okay," Danielle murmurs, soothing by default as she always is. She knows Wanda too well.
"It's only hair," Laurie adds, but she's opened her eyes to look at Wanda in the mirror and it's the kind of look which pins her through to the inside, a twin to the predatory look Danielle only thinks she hides behind affable charm. Maybe they all know each other too well.
It is easy to finish; Wanda knows how to braid rope and hair is the same, even sleek hair. once the end is tied off she presses her hands hard against her own thighs because there is no need to touch it again.
"So, how do I look?" Laurie turns to both of them, grinning, and doesn't even check to make sure Wanda made the braid straight. It's hard to understand that kind of trust.
"Great, Laurie. Really great. Good job, Wanda." Danielle's close enough now that Wanda can see she keeps catching her bottom lip between her teeth, as if she wants to bite it but remembers she shouldn't. Laurie's grin seems to be infectious. "You both ready to go?"
She should say no, but she knows she won't.