Requested by: @USMCRules
Travis stood in front of the bathroom mirror, running his hands through the longer-than-usual strands of hair that were now curling awkwardly around his ears and at the nape of his neck. His brow furrowed as he leaned closer to the mirror, examining his reflection.
"Where is it?" he muttered under his breath, opening drawer after drawer. His razor was missing—again.
He huffed in frustration. He'd been planning on trimming it down for weeks, but every time he tried, something always came up. Now, it was clear that something was more intentional. A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth as he stepped back, hands on his hips. He knew exactly who the culprit was.
"Taylor!" Travis called out, his voice booming through the house as he headed out of the bathroom and down the hallway. "Where'd you put it this time?"
There was no response, just the faint sound of music playing from the kitchen. He followed the noise, his frustration tempered by a bit of amusement. When he reached the kitchen, there she was—Taylor Swift, standing at the counter, humming along to the tune of one of her own songs, and completely ignoring him.
"Hey," he said again, this time louder, as he leaned against the doorframe with a raised eyebrow. "Don't pretend you didn't hear me."
Taylor glanced over her shoulder, her eyes twinkling with mischief. She set down the bowl she was stirring and wiped her hands on a kitchen towel. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said innocently, though the smile on her face betrayed her.
"Uh-huh." Travis crossed his arms over his chest, leaning forward slightly. "My razor, Tay. It's gone. Again."
"Oh, that." Taylor waved her hand dismissively and turned back to the counter, feigning nonchalance. "I might've... misplaced it."
Travis let out a laugh, shaking his head. "Misplaced it? Right. You know I need to trim this mop," he said, tugging at his hair.
Taylor turned around, biting her lip to hide a smile as she took in the sight of his messy hair. "Or," she said slowly, drawing out the word, "you could just let it grow out a little longer. I think it looks kinda cute."
Travis blinked, momentarily stunned by her comment. "Cute? Tay, I look like I'm one step away from a mullet. I'm a football player, not a rock star."
She giggled, stepping closer to him. "You could be both," she teased, running her fingers through his hair. "Besides, I like it longer. It suits you."
He raised an eyebrow, not fully convinced. "You really want me to look like this?"
Taylor stood on her tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Absolutely. I think you'd look even better with it a bit longer."
Travis rolled his eyes playfully but couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. "So, that's why you've been hiding my razor? To force me into growing my hair out?"
Taylor grinned up at him, not even trying to deny it. "Maybe."
He let out a deep sigh, shaking his head as he looked down at her. "You're impossible, you know that?"
"I prefer to think of it as 'persuasive.'"
"Uh-huh, persuasive," he repeated with a smirk. "Well, what am I supposed to do now? This," he gestured to his head, "is not manageable."
Taylor tilted her head, surveying his hair with a critical eye before stepping back. "Okay, fine. I'll help you out."
Travis raised his eyebrows, both intrigued and slightly wary. "Help me out how?"
"Let me style it for you," she said, her eyes bright with excitement. "I used to style my brother's hair all the time when we were younger."
Travis stared at her, unsure whether to laugh or run in the opposite direction. "You're kidding, right?"
"Nope." She crossed her arms, giving him a pointed look. "Come on, it'll be fun."
"Fun for you, maybe." He chuckled but sighed in defeat. "Fine. But if I end up looking ridiculous, you're never hearing the end of it."
Taylor grinned triumphantly. "Deal."
She grabbed his hand and led him back to the bathroom, where she rummaged through a drawer, pulling out a few hair products and a comb. Travis sat on the edge of the counter, watching her with amusement as she set everything up with precision, like a stylist about to work on a masterpiece.
"Okay," she said, turning to him with a look of determination. "Let's do this."
Travis sat still, doing his best to keep a straight face as Taylor ran the comb through his hair, parting it this way and that. She applied some styling cream, scrunching the ends of his hair to add texture. Her tongue poked out slightly as she concentrated, and Travis found himself watching her more than paying attention to whatever was happening to his hair.
"You're really into this, huh?" he teased.
Taylor shot him a mock glare. "Hush, I'm creating art here."
He chuckled but obliged, letting her continue. After a few more minutes of tugging, twisting, and fluffing, Taylor stepped back to admire her work.
"Okay," she said, sounding pleased with herself. "Take a look."
Travis hopped off the counter and turned to the mirror. To his surprise, his hair didn't look half bad. It was still longer than he was used to, but Taylor had managed to tame it into something that actually looked... good. Stylish, even.
"Well, I'll be damned," he muttered, turning his head from side to side. "You might've just saved me from the mullet after all."
Taylor beamed, crossing her arms proudly. "Told you I knew what I was doing."
He grinned and turned to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "I guess I'll let you hide my razor for a little longer, then."
She laughed, leaning into his embrace. "See? You trust me."
Travis shook his head, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I do. But don't push your luck, Swift. You make me grow it out too long, and I might just start wearing headbands."
Taylor pulled back slightly, giving him a teasing smirk. "Honestly, I think you could pull off a headband look. Very '90s heartthrob."
Travis groaned. "Now you're just torturing me."
She giggled, rising on her tiptoes to kiss him again. "Just let me know when you want another styling session. I think we could go for something more dramatic next time."
"Not a chance," he said, but the smile on his face told her otherwise.
As they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, Travis couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, growing his hair out wasn't the worst idea in the world. Not if it meant more moments like this with Taylor.
But still, he made a mental note to start searching for that razor—just in case.
Requests ~~~~~~>
