"I wish I had your hair, Marth…" Ike murmured, combing his fingers through the young prince's cerulean, smooth hair. The two were in Marth's fancy room, laying on the comfortable and almost cloud-like bed.

"Why?" Marth replied, confused. He looked back at his boyfriend. "Your hair is just as nice. It's so spiky, it's perfect for you."

Ike sighed, falling back on the bed the two were sitting on. "Yeah, but it's hard to control. Yours is perfect and naturally straight. Mine's so unruly and messy…"

"Nuh-uh. If you asked me, it's perfectly scruffy." Marth replied, bursting into a giggle fit.

"Scruffy? Why I oughtta…" Ike said in mock anger, leaping to the side of the bed where Marth was sitting. He knocked Marth down, and began to rustle his fist on the top of Marth's head, messing up his 'do' as they both laughed.

"Hey, I said it looked good on you, didn't I?" Marth replied as he playfully pushed on Ike's muscular chest. Ike released his grip and sat up, smiling.

"Okay, you win." He said in defeat. "But your hair's better, Marth."