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2024-08-21
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1/1
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Getting Shaggy

Summary:


“He’s in sickbay. It’s nothing serious,” Tucker hastened to add. “Phlox had a minute to spare and thought Cap was overdue for a trim.” He ran a hand through his blonde hair, and chuckled. “He was lookin’ kinda unkempt. Hard to work out an appointment, I guess.”

Shran’s antennae curled in a frown. “Doctor Phlox is also your barber?”

“He’s got a degree in it, y’know. Or actually, it’s in pet grooming, but—”

“This, I have to see.” With a swift pivot, Shran turned and headed down the corridor towards the turbolifts, leaving Trip and Talas behind.

 

Shran barges in, and gets more than he bargained for.

 

Kink bingo fill for @anyfandomkinkbingo on tumblr (square filled: Hair pulling)

Notes:

Started writing this one at 2.30 am at the airport (and that probably shows) as a fill for the square “hair pulling” on my kink bingo card. Inspiration came largely from Debt, Guilt and Frustration by rivendellrose, and pandame (wasted_wallflower)’s Got Your Chemicals All in My Veins (You're To Blame), plus Wikipedia's article about the barber surgeons of the Middle Ages. Many thanks to Ciuro for the beta!

Work Text:

“Welcome aboard,” Commander Tucker greeted Shran and Talas when they materialized on the transporter pad. "You folks are ahead of schedule."

“The Andorian fleet isn’t known for dragging its heels, Commander.” Shran looked around, searching. ”Where’s Archer? We need to go over the details of this mission.”

“Cap's in the middle of something,” Tucker replied, fiddling with the controls to power down the transporter.

“Really? And what might that be?”

“He’s in sickbay. It’s nothing serious,” Tucker hastened to add. “Phlox had a minute to spare and thought Cap was overdue for a trim.” He ran a hand through his blonde hair, and chuckled. “He was lookin’ kinda unkempt. Hard to work out an appointment, I guess.”

Shran’s antennae curled in a frown. “Doctor Phlox is also your barber?”

“He’s got a degree in it, y’know. Or actually, it’s in pet grooming, but—”

“This, I have to see.” With a swift pivot, Shran turned and headed down the corridor towards the turbolifts, leaving Trip and Talas behind.

Trip scratched the back of his head, and shrugged. “Well, I s'pose he can find his way on his own.”

Talas lingered for a moment, her gaze following Shran, before she glanced over to Trip. “So,” she began, leaning her hip against the transporter console, “has Lieutenant Reed had dinner already?”



When Shran stepped into sickbay, it was empty, save for the Doctor’s squawking, gawking animals. However, the muffled sound of Phlox's cheerful chattering, accompanied by the metallic snicking of scissors, drew him towards the doctor's office door.

“-and Feezal thinks if she adds some goopra berries…Well look who's here, Captain!” Phlox paused his work when the door hissed open to let Shran in.

“Shran!” The plastic drape around Archer’s shoulders rustled as he sat forward on the simple cafeteria chair, eyes bright with surprise. “I thought you weren't coming until tonight?”

Shran smirked. “Captain Archer,” he drawled, and looked him over. “You didn't have to clean up just for me.”

Archer smiled and shuffled his feet, a few hairstrands falling into his face as he looked down. “I figured you'd appreciate me not looking like the Cookie Monster when we meet the Qut'ashi.”

Nodding, Shran tipped his chin in approval. ”I do.”

Phlox waved his scissors towards an empty chair by the door. “Take a seat, Commander. We won’t be done for a while yet, as you can see.” To emphasize his point, he brushed a hand through Archer's disheveled hair, dusting out loose clippings.

Shran swallowed hard, suddenly feeling uncomfortably hot under the collar in a way that had nothing to do with the Enterprise 's climate settings. For Andorians, the scalp was a very sensitive zone, rich with nerves connected to their antennae. Touching it was an intimate act, reserved for lovers or close family, and commonly a prelude to…things Shran really preferred not to picture Doctor Phlox doing.

Especially not with one Jonathan Archer.

Humming in concentration, Phlox swept another gold-brown lock between his fingers and started snipping at it. Shran could almost feel its softness under his palms, and his fists clenched as Archer leaned back against the chair with a quiet sigh. Shran knew what a barber was, he'd thought he could handle this, but to actually watch someone else touching his human like that —

Archer peered at Shran, a wrinkle of concern between his raised eyebrows. “...Is there some crisis I should know about, or can we finish up here?”

Shran realized he'd been staring. Possibly, glaring. He willed his shoulders and antennae to relax, and waved a hand in dismissal.

“Carry on,” he huffed, and dropped onto the chair he’d been offered. “Just don't trim too much, Doctor. Wouldn't want to lose that rugged charm.”

Archer's eyes crinkled in amusement. “Don't worry, Phlox has-”

“- a degree in pet grooming, yes, I’m aware.” Shran met Phlox's ever serene gaze over Archer's head. “As long as he doesn’t give you and Porthos matching haircuts, I guess.”

As usual, Phlox simply grinned from ear to ear, and tugged lightly at a few strands of Archer’s hair to align them. “Now, Captain, let’s get this part even.”

The touch was purely professional, but it fired up Shran's jealousy anew. To have Archer all pliant and content under his hands, those relaxed, trusting eyes looking up at him… The fact the other two were so casual about the whole situation almost made it worse, as Shran had to stew in this alone, galled by his irrational jealousy yet unable to swallow it.

”So, what have you been up to lately?” Archer asked in a conversational tone.

Shran forced a smile, though his eyes remained dark with restraint. “That’s classified.”

“Classified, huh?” Archer’s eyelids were beginning to droop, Shran noted, and his jaw tightened. “Sounds like it must’ve been pretty exciting.”

“That’s one word for it.” Shran's voice was clipped as he watched Phlox work, fingers deftly combing through Archer’s hair, the scissors snipping with easy precision.

Archer gave him a thoughtful sidelong look, and smiled softly. “All right, I won't pry.” He stretched his legs out and sank even further back against the chair. “Phlox, why don’t you bring Shran up to speed on Feezal's latest project?”

“Oh yes! She's found some interesting old family recipes that she's trying out,” Phlox explained, gesturing with the scissors again, but Shran barely listened. He sat quiet as the Doctor launched into a detailed description of his wife's culinary experiments, while his mind raced with inappropriate thoughts.

Thoughts of a fistful of silky strands wrapped around his fingers as he tugged Archer's head back, exposing his throat. Of dragging his teeth along it, of the gasps and shivers that might provoke. It made Shran's heart pound, his antennae twitching with want and frustration.

After what felt like an eternity, Phlox stepped back, brushed away loose hair from Archer’s shoulders and pulled the sheet away. “All done, Captain.”

Archer stood and ran a hand through his freshly cut hair. “Thanks, Phlox. Looks good.” He turned to Shran, who was already stepping forward with barely contained urgency. “Ready to catch up?”

Shran grabbed Archer by the arm, almost dragging him out of sickbay. “Your quarters. Now,” he all but growled.

“Eh, sure.” Though bemused by Shran's behavior, Archer didn’t resist as Shran pulled him along. “I guess Phlox will be happy to have us out of his hair,” he added with a wink.

Shran rolled his eyes at the pinkskin sense of humor. Not as happy as I am to have him out of yours , he thought to himself.

“Phlox is always happy,” he grumbled, loudly, but held Archer's arm just a little tighter yet.

 

FIN