A/N: This was totally inspired by a Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles (KuroFai) fic of the same name...
=.=
But I feel like a copycat, in that sense, but really love this idea, so I also feel like an advertisement, in another sense.
...Whatever.
This was originally a oneshot I wrote on my livejournal (hyuuganeji11, if anyone wants to check it out), but I decided to put it here.
So enjoy~! Salone de Varia~
"Welcome to Salone Varia! How may we be of-"
"Haircut. Now."
Belphegor stared intently at the customer through his bangs. The man exuded an air of importance and threat, even without his imposing height, the collage of scars that marred his face, and the mangled black hair that trailed way past his shoulders.
"Will that be-"
"Shut up," the customer growled rudely, blood red eyes glowering at Bel. The teen barely flinched.
"But, customer, we-"
Bel was once again interrupted, this time by the wad of cash slammed harshly onto the counter. Behind the golden fringe, dark eyes widened in surprise.
"I just want a haircut," the man snarled lowly, face inches away from Bel's. The blond could smell the unmistakable scent of wine in his breath. "Or is that too much to ask from the 'best salon in Italy'?"
Bel didn't dare answer with the man at such proximity. He had the feeling that if he answered wrongly, he'd be a smoldering pile of prince in a dark alley somewhere. But if he answered right, he'd still be in a pile; just a pile of sliced up pieces of him on a platter.
"Of course, Sir Vongola," a voice answered for him. If Bel wasn't a prince, he would've sighed in relief. Instead, he just grinned and stepped back, letting Mammon take care of the situation. "Anything you wish."
"Greedy Mammon~" the blond snickered once the irritable customer had settled back, the wad of cash left on the counter swept up instantly by the waiting hands of the infant. "You just wanted the money~"
"Bel should show our customer his seat," Mammon replied mildly. "Before our boss comes out and slice him to pieces."
"I'm not afraid of sharkbait," Bel lied easily, lounging back in the swivel-chair he kept behind his counter.
"Maybe not, but you are afraid of his sword."
Before the prince could retort, a lofty voice floated out from the back of the salon. "Now now, the two of you, don't keep our important customer waiting!"
Lussuria swept out in all his transsexual-pride, prancing towards the "important customer" and offering a hand. The man barely looked at him. "I'm Lussuria~! I'll be your hairdresser this eve-"
"No," the customer refused bluntly, not even giving Lussuria the chance to finish. Bel knew all too well the experience of being cut off by this man, and sniggered at Lussuria's expense. "Not you."
"Well why nooooot??" The hairdresser actually managed to sound offended.
"Not you," the man repeated, glaring for the man behind him to stand forward, which he did without a second thought.
"Do not question Master Xanxus," the bodyguard with the weird hair and mustache warned, and stepped back in his place. He wasn't anywhere as intimidating as "Master Xanxus", but he served his purpose as a parrot to voice Xanxus's orders.
"We don't have any other hairdressers in the store at the moment," Mammon explained. "If you wish for someone else, you'd have to-"
"I don't care," Xanxus cut in, kicking over a chair in the reception area. Bel hopped to his feet, wanting a quick exit if the powerful customer was to snap. "Just get me someone to cut my hair for me this instant, or I'll-"
"VOOOOOOOOOIIIII!! WHAT THE HELL IS ALL THE NOISE DOWN THERE?!?!?!"
"And the noisy one arrives, ushishishi~"
Xanxus followed the blond's hidden gaze up the spiraling chrome staircases that led to the upper floor of the salon. Boot-clad feet stomped down the steps, and a man with long white hair appeared, scowling death at all his workers. At the silence that greeted him, the man yelled, "Well?! Answer me!"
"There's a customer, Squ-chan!" Lussuria simpered. "He doesn't want me to be his hairdresser, but there are no others to do it!"
"I don't care!" the owner snapped. He turned towards Xanxus. "Look, customer, he's the only one left, so take him or get out."
Bel was surprised he didn't get cut off. But by the appreciative glint in those red eyes as the Vongola looked his boss up and down, the prince knew why.
"Is that a threat?" Xanxus questioned, his words a threat in itself. The white-haired man refused to back off.
"No, it's an ultimatum. Look, if you just not look at him in the mirror, it'd be just the same as-"
"No, trash." (Finally, Bel thought.) "I refuse. I want my hair cut this instant, and I don't want that faggot doing it for me. So what else have you got, Squ-chan?"
Whatever patience the man specially reserved for customers was definitely lost on the young master of the Vongola family.
"Voooiii! That's not my name, dammit!! It's Squalo! Superbi Squalo!"
"Like I give a fuck what your name is," Xanxus scoffed. He stood up, and, in an instant, was beside Superbi Squalo. "Aren't you supposed to be the boss of this place? Don't you know how to cut hair?" A large hand came up behind Squalo and grabbed a fistful of the white tresses before pulling back, so Squalo had to look up into Xanxus's face. "So do it for me."
Bel had thought the world was going to end, with the way the Vongola had left Squalo's left hand free to grab his sword and slice apart everything in existence. But to his most definite surprise, his boss's left hand didn't even twitch once; instead, a dangerous smile appeared on his lips.
"Alright, customer, me it is," he agreed readily, yanking his hair free from Xanxus's grip. A collective gasp sounded from the workers of Salone Varia, and Squalo treated them to a customary scowl. "Shut up, all of you!"
"You've never cut hair in front of us before," Lussuria said excitedly. "Let us watch!"
"Shishi~ The prince is slightly interested," Bel added.
"I want to watch, but I won't pay you," Mammon offered.
"VOOOOOIIIII! ALL OF YOU IDIOTS, GET BACK TO WORK!!"
"Stop yelling, trash! Your voice is giving me a headache!"
--
Squalo led Xanxus to a seat by the hair-washing room, so he wouldn't have to move much when Squalo was done. He then performed all the standard procedures of getting ready - towel, apron, push-tray of instruments - and sat down beside the Vongola.
"How do you want your hair cut?"
"...Chop it all off," Xanxus answered, glowering at the mirror, as if he did it intently enough, the glass will crack and his reflection will shatter. Squalo quirked an eyebrow.
"Are you sure? You must've spent a long time growing i-"
"I said chop it all off, dammit!" Xanxus roared, fingers finding their way into white strands of hair again and pulling Squalo forward. "And hurry up about it!"
"...Yes, customer." Despite his agreement, Squalo still looked reluctant to "chop it all off". Nonetheless, a pale hand still picked up the scissors, and laid them flat against black hair.
"Don't you dare ask me again if I'm sure, trash," Xanxus warned, sensing his hairdresser's hesitation. Squalo sighed at this.
"It's such a waste..." he murmured, before lining the carefully sharpened blades alongside the hair, and cutting.
Xanxus watched Squalo in the mirror. While he worked, the long-haired man seemed like a completely different person. No wide, proud smirk or frown was on his lips, and his eyes were focused sharply on his work. It was as if he saw nothing else but the hair in front of him.
And he probably didn't, seeing that blond attendant, the strange greedy infant, and the other flamboyantly gay hairdresser stood right around them, and Squalo wasn't yelling at them to get back to work. The more Xanxus watched, the more he understood the awe in everyone's expressions. Squalo's cuts were clean and confident, like the way he walked and talked. The Vongola could read no hesitation, nor any excessive planning. It was as if Squalo knew what he was doing, but at the same time, also didn't. This instinctive way of doing things reminded Xanxus of himself, and his power-hungry battles with everyone that got in his way (and some that didn't). It was disconcerting, in the least, to have someone so similar to him, yet at the same time... completely different.
Superbi Squalo didn't have Xanxus's darkness. It's obvious that he was far from pure, but he didn't experience anything like what Xanxus had been through. Their similarity, and their difference made Xanxus's blood boil.
Yet at the same time intrigued him to no end.
--
"It's done."
Xanxus opened his eyes at the announcement, and the first sight that greeted him was his reflection. His hair was a hell of a lot shorter now, but the bangs were left to cover his eyes (for some reason, the weird hairdresser left those alone against his orders). He had to admit, the shark was skilled. The normal hairdo, done under those flitting white hands, looked spectacular on Xanxus's scalp.
"Wow~ Sharkie is surprisingly skilled," Bel commented from the side. Sometime during the haircut, he had wandered from behind Squalo to the seat besides Xanxus, and now hung off the back, grinning in his boss's general direction. "The prince didn't think he had it in him~"
"It's not fair though..." Lussuria whined, wriggling on the spot a bit. Squalo glared at him through the reflection of the mriror. "Why does Squ-chan get to do it? I can cut hair too..."
"Because Sir Vongola paid a hell of a lot," Mammon answered from the side. He looked up meaningfully at Squalo. "Four hundred Euros. The haircut only costed seventy."
"What the hell are you all doing hanging around?" Squalo growled, managing to redirect his glower to all three of his workers simultaneously. "Get going!"
"The sharkie's starting to bi-"
"Finish that sentence, Bel, and I'll murder you on the spot!" The blond grinned in reply.
"The prince would like to see you try~"
Before Squalo could honestly jump the teen, Xanxus growled, low in his throat. His meaning was instantly gotten throughout the room, and everyone was gone faster than they had appeared. Only the hairdresser remained.
"Since you paid so much, I'll wash your hair for you too," Squalo offered, sliding his trusty scissors back into his waist-pouch. "How about it?"
Xanxus didn't reply verbally; just got up and sat back down at the seat before the sink specially designed for the purpose of Squalo's offer. Out of the corner of his eyes, the Vongola saw the young hairdresser shrug, and walk out of his line of sight. Soon, those same hands that held those silver scissors almost sacredly were on his scalp, pulling and massaging before the wash started. Unknowingly, Xanxus relaxed by the touch, and settled into the black leather seat, waiting for the service he was promised.
"Is this hot enough?" Squalo asked once the water trickled against Xanxus's scalp. His other hand pressed at his customer's temple, rubbing in soothing circles.
"...Too cold," was Xanxus's reply. Squalo wordlessly turned the hot water higher, until the heat singed his hand, until the furrow between Xanxus's brows disappeared. With that, the hairdresser began to wash, massaging Xanxus's scalp with shampoo-lathered and callouse-covered hands, eyes focused on the customer's face for any sign of discomfort.
Squalo found none.
Without realizing, Xanxus had drifted into a subconscious dream, relaxing so entirely into Squalo's hands and the steaming water. This comfort was something he hadn't felt in such a long time... Eight years, he believed, trapped in coma from an avalanche. That's when his hair had grown to such a surprising length (though nowhere near as long as the hairdresser's). Muscles pulled taut from repeating dreams of being buried in the suffocating snow lapsed in their strength as surprisingly gentle fingertips pushed at his scalp. It was as if Xanxus was a puppet, reacting to every small action his puppeteer, Squalo, offered. Squalo, his hairdresser. Squalo, his puppeteer...
"Yes?"
Xanxus's eyes snapped open at Squalo's... reply? He had spoken in his dreams, had whispered that one name that kept stomping around in his mind. He had lost control because of this gorgeous, souped-up model of a hairdresser had washed his fucking hair. Either Xanxus had really lost whatever was left of his sanity, or Squalo had some strange powers.
He was willing to bet on the strange powers. It wasn't as if he didn't have enough money to spare, anyways.
Nonetheless, Xanxus was affected by whatever magic the hairdresser held, and that was an all-time low for him. The Vongola hated anyone who had witnessed any moment of his weakness, and worked harder than anything to make sure no one did. Yet this man... This Superbi Squalo had managed to break past all his defenses with a pair of skilled white hands and see him at his weakest... This man he knew for barely half an hour. Xanxus knew he had two options. One, Squalo could die, or two...
Squalo could become his.
...He'd just have to see exactly how skilled those white hands were.
"You owe me," Xanxus answered the one worded question. He watched Squalo blink a couple of times, as if to get those words through his head, but failed to do so, if the confused expression on his face was any factor. The Vongola stood up from his seat, water dripping off his hair and drawing burning lines down his back.
"Excuse me? I owe you??" Squalo asked incredulously.
Xanxus nodded. "For treating me. You owe me."
"Oh really?" The hairdresser finally caught on to what the Vongola was saying. His voice was now more skeptical than surprised. "And exactly how much do I owe you for doing you a favor??"
"Are you suggesting I have a price?" Xanxus growled, slamming a hand into the cabinet behind Squalo's head. The man stepped back in caution, but the Vongola kept stepping forward until he had Squalo pressed flush against the wall. By now, Squalo had fully caught up.
"How do I pay you, then, Xanxus-sama...?" the hairdresser breathed, half-lidded eyes gazing lustily at the pair of lips hair's breath away from his own.
"Depends," Xanxus replied, right hand pressing into Squalo's side, pulling his hips close. Without warning, he grinded. Squalo gasped at the sudden contact, and Xanxus took the opportunity to close his mouth over the shark's. A passionate sort of make-out followed, if biting and chewing at lips and gums were acts of passion. Finally, Xanxus pulled away from the bloodied lips of Squalo, hard breaths mingling with the other's, licking his own lips free of the crimson liquid.
"Do you have a bed upstairs, or do I have to rent a motel?"
A/N: Grrrrrr...
I hate 'em pointless oneshots...
But apparently, my muse enjoys writing htem hell of a lot...
...Well, I don't really hate them, per say. I love it when other people write them.
...Me, on the other hand...
Review? And I'll keep this going~!!!