HOME | DD

Description
Summary: Whereas before you and Gilgamesh destroy some servant ass, you ask him whether or not he uses gel to fix his hair.
Author's Note: It was a sudden thought, I'm sorry.
Nasuverse: Whichever

After what seemed like forever, you finally found your other sock underneath a pile of unused clothing inside of your bedroom closet. You hurriedly put it on and dashed down the stairs. Gilgamesh was waiting for you by the front door, arms crossed and his hair ... combed down. You've never seen him like so, and you've never seen him wear casual clothes before. He was wearing a white t-shirt and light brown pants. You stared at his entire figure for a moment, unaware that he was staring right back at you.
"Taking in my glory yet again, mongrel?" he asked, a smirk forming on his lips.
"Of course," you said sarcastically. "I was just wondering why you're not in your ... armor."
He tapped his chin. "I thought it would have been a nice change of pace if I wore something that would make me blend in with other humans."
You sighed, putting your hands on your hips. "Well, you're definitely right. If anyone saw you walking around with your armor, questions would have been raised."
"Obviously," he said, arching an eyebrow. "Now, let us not tarry."
His hand was on the doorknob of the front door when you shouted for him to stop. He looked at you to meet your gaze, but your eyes were on his hair. You thought long and hard for a moment before leaving the room and returning with hair gel in your hand. He arched an eyebrow yet again, staring at the object in your right hand.
"What, pray tell, is that?" he asked, pointing at the container in your hand.
"Hair gel," you said, shrugging. "Gil, can I ask you something?"
"Gilgamesh," he clarified, frowning. "I do not want you to call me in an affectionate way."
"Alright, Gilgamesh," you said, emphasizing his name, "can I ask you something?"
"Go ahead, mongrel," he said, gesturing with his hand. "However, I must warn you that we do not have all day for your imbecilic shenanigans."
"Okay, okay," you said, walking up to him. "How do you style your hair?"
"What in the name of the world are you talking about?"
"Like, do you use your superpowers or do you manually use hair gel?"
"That is the stupidest question anyone has ever asked me! Have you finally lost your mind, mongrel?!"
You shrugged. "Maybe. We should sit down."
You took his hand in yours, dragging him to the living room. You told him to sit down on the couch, while you stand behind him with the hair gel in hand. You scooped up a handful before Gilgamesh abruptly stood up, looking at you as if you were crazy.
"What are you doing, you lowlife?!" he shouted.
"Come on, Gil!" you whined, beckoning him over. "I prefer your hair standing up and stuff..."
"Well, I do not," he said, hesitating about his answer before saying, "Actually, I do--but not today! We're on a mission, remember? You've finally lost it, Y/n."
You pouted. "If you don't want to do it, then I'll do it! Now come over here and sit down!"
He barred his teeth at you. "Who made you the boss of me, you filthy mutt?"
You breathed a heavy sigh. "Please? I'm your master, after all."
He crossed his arms and glared at you. You rolled your eyes, beckoning him over again.
"Come on, Gil," you said calmly. "I sacrificed all of my command seals for you. Can you at least return the favor, you command seals eater?"
He was about to retort my visible sarcasm when I raised my index finger at him before wagging it.
"You mocked me earlier, now it's my turn. Come over here."
He quietly sat back down, his back on you. You smiled and began putting hair gel on his golden hair. You can't help but blush when you remembered holding his hand earlier and now you get to touch his hair. It was surprisingly smooth, as if he'd just bought the best shampoo you could ever think of just down the street. It definitely did look like his hair was made out of gold. You were absentmindedly applying hair gel on his hair and it turned out wonky. You quickly fixed it, making sure Gilgamesh doesn't notice. You took your time, even humming a tune as you worked his hair.
"My patience is wearing thin, mongrel," he said in a deep voice, making you bite your lip.
You fixed his hair for a few seconds just for the sake of feeling him before letting him go. He stood up, touching his own hair. He gave off a disgusted look before rubbing his fingers to feel the hair gel you've applied on him. He smelled his fingers and sighed. You smiled as you wiped your hands with a towel.
"Strawberry," he said, as if to himself. "You're already my master and now you've ruined my hair."
And with a snap of his fingers, his hair was combed down again. Your jaw dropped, but it eventually pouted out of frustration.
"Can you at least appreciate my effort?" you asked, stomping towards the front door.
He followed behind you quietly. The moment you two finally stepped on the front porch, he called your name in a stern tone. You rolled your eyes and turned to him, noticing that he was a few feet away from you.
"Your efforts are appreciated," he said, his arms crossed. "However, I do not appreciate how mildly you think of me. For this I will never beg, but I do not want you to underestimate me. Keep your predicaments to yourself."
You blushed. "'Predicaments'?! Oh, you've done it!"
He hummed meaningfully. "Oh, what did I do to deserve being paired up with a pathetic master like you?"
"Man, can't really take a joke, huh?" You shook your head.
"Can we just go?" he asked, annoyed. "We've already wasted enough time with your hair gel fiasco. Let's get going."
He quickly walked up to you and grabbed you by tightly by the wrist, dragging you down the street. You whimpered at the slight stinging pain, but you eventually blushed, fist-pumping in the air.
It was the closest to him holding your hand, so it's okay.

Description
Summary: Whereas before you and Gilgamesh destroy some servant ass, you ask him whether or not he uses gel to fix his hair.
Author's Note: It was a sudden thought, I'm sorry.
Nasuverse: Whichever

After what seemed like forever, you finally found your other sock underneath a pile of unused clothing inside of your bedroom closet. You hurriedly put it on and dashed down the stairs. Gilgamesh was waiting for you by the front door, arms crossed and his hair ... combed down. You've never seen him like so, and you've never seen him wear casual clothes before. He was wearing a white t-shirt and light brown pants. You stared at his entire figure for a moment, unaware that he was staring right back at you.
"Taking in my glory yet again, mongrel?" he asked, a smirk forming on his lips.
"Of course," you said sarcastically. "I was just wondering why you're not in your ... armor."
He tapped his chin. "I thought it would have been a nice change of pace if I wore something that would make me blend in with other humans."
You sighed, putting your hands on your hips. "Well, you're definitely right. If anyone saw you walking around with your armor, questions would have been raised."
"Obviously," he said, arching an eyebrow. "Now, let us not tarry."
His hand was on the doorknob of the front door when you shouted for him to stop. He looked at you to meet your gaze, but your eyes were on his hair. You thought long and hard for a moment before leaving the room and returning with hair gel in your hand. He arched an eyebrow yet again, staring at the object in your right hand.
"What, pray tell, is that?" he asked, pointing at the container in your hand.
"Hair gel," you said, shrugging. "Gil, can I ask you something?"
"Gilgamesh," he clarified, frowning. "I do not want you to call me in an affectionate way."
"Alright, Gilgamesh," you said, emphasizing his name, "can I ask you something?"
"Go ahead, mongrel," he said, gesturing with his hand. "However, I must warn you that we do not have all day for your imbecilic shenanigans."
"Okay, okay," you said, walking up to him. "How do you style your hair?"
"What in the name of the world are you talking about?"
"Like, do you use your superpowers or do you manually use hair gel?"
"That is the stupidest question anyone has ever asked me! Have you finally lost your mind, mongrel?!"
You shrugged. "Maybe. We should sit down."
You took his hand in yours, dragging him to the living room. You told him to sit down on the couch, while you stand behind him with the hair gel in hand. You scooped up a handful before Gilgamesh abruptly stood up, looking at you as if you were crazy.
"What are you doing, you lowlife?!" he shouted.
"Come on, Gil!" you whined, beckoning him over. "I prefer your hair standing up and stuff..."
"Well, I do not," he said, hesitating about his answer before saying, "Actually, I do--but not today! We're on a mission, remember? You've finally lost it, Y/n."
You pouted. "If you don't want to do it, then I'll do it! Now come over here and sit down!"
He barred his teeth at you. "Who made you the boss of me, you filthy mutt?"
You breathed a heavy sigh. "Please? I'm your master, after all."
He crossed his arms and glared at you. You rolled your eyes, beckoning him over again.
"Come on, Gil," you said calmly. "I sacrificed all of my command seals for you. Can you at least return the favor, you command seals eater?"
He was about to retort my visible sarcasm when I raised my index finger at him before wagging it.
"You mocked me earlier, now it's my turn. Come over here."
He quietly sat back down, his back on you. You smiled and began putting hair gel on his golden hair. You can't help but blush when you remembered holding his hand earlier and now you get to touch his hair. It was surprisingly smooth, as if he'd just bought the best shampoo you could ever think of just down the street. It definitely did look like his hair was made out of gold. You were absentmindedly applying hair gel on his hair and it turned out wonky. You quickly fixed it, making sure Gilgamesh doesn't notice. You took your time, even humming a tune as you worked his hair.
"My patience is wearing thin, mongrel," he said in a deep voice, making you bite your lip.
You fixed his hair for a few seconds just for the sake of feeling him before letting him go. He stood up, touching his own hair. He gave off a disgusted look before rubbing his fingers to feel the hair gel you've applied on him. He smelled his fingers and sighed. You smiled as you wiped your hands with a towel.
"Strawberry," he said, as if to himself. "You're already my master and now you've ruined my hair."
And with a snap of his fingers, his hair was combed down again. Your jaw dropped, but it eventually pouted out of frustration.
"Can you at least appreciate my effort?" you asked, stomping towards the front door.
He followed behind you quietly. The moment you two finally stepped on the front porch, he called your name in a stern tone. You rolled your eyes and turned to him, noticing that he was a few feet away from you.
"Your efforts are appreciated," he said, his arms crossed. "However, I do not appreciate how mildly you think of me. For this I will never beg, but I do not want you to underestimate me. Keep your predicaments to yourself."
You blushed. "'Predicaments'?! Oh, you've done it!"
He hummed meaningfully. "Oh, what did I do to deserve being paired up with a pathetic master like you?"
"Man, can't really take a joke, huh?" You shook your head.
"Can we just go?" he asked, annoyed. "We've already wasted enough time with your hair gel fiasco. Let's get going."
He quickly walked up to you and grabbed you by tightly by the wrist, dragging you down the street. You whimpered at the slight stinging pain, but you eventually blushed, fist-pumping in the air.
It was the closest to him holding your hand, so it's okay.