Very random little oneshot because I got my hair cut this morning. Personally, I think Tesla does an excellent job :D
Tesla looked very much like a tourist who had accidentally stepped into the bull ring wearing bright red as he nervously placed the towel around Nnoitra's shoulders. Why was he doing this again?
"N-Nnoitra-sama?" he ventured nervously. "A-are you sure you want me to do this? Szayel Aporro-sa-"
"No," Nnoitra cut him off angrily, glaring at Tesla's reflection in the mirror. "I'm not letting that pink-haired pansy anywhere near me."
Tesla didn't argue back; anyone who looked at Szayel's own hairstyle couldn't really muster much enthusiasm about getting a trim from the eccentric octavo; it was something like asking a tramp for fashion tips. However, he wished that someone, anyone else could take this task out of his slightly trembling hands. He did not want to be responsible for maiming Nnoitra-sama's ravishing black locks.
"What would you like me to do, Nnoitra-sama?" he asked tentatively, the scissors and comb hovering reluctantly above his master's head.
"Do it how it usually is," Nnoitra commanded him, "only more... edgy." He gesticulated vaguely in a manner which indicated he wanted a wild afro; Tesla decided to ignore this and go with his own instincts. Pushing away his doubts, he made the first hesitant snip.
Nnoitra caught his eye in the mirror. Tesla gave a timid smile; Nnoitra scowled.
"If I don't like it, I'll give you a reason to wear that eyepatch," he warned, his bony fingers twitching towards Santa Teresa, which was propped against the wall, always within arm's reach. Tesla gulped.
"Don't worry, Nnoitra-sama," he comforted the quinto. "I'll make it look beautiful."
It wasn't that Tesla didn't adore his master in every respect. He was delighted that Nnoitra ate the food he painstakingly prepared every night, even the nights when he tossed it against the wall because it was too spicy, or dumped it on Tesla's head because it wasn't hot enough. He didn't even mind when it was hot enough and Nnoitra did it anyway, just so he could watch him jump around in agony and laugh. Anything he could do for the lanky espada was an honour. He was happy to clean Nnoitra's apartment from wall to wall with special lemon-scented products, and to do his laundry, ironing his underwear and starching the trademark spoon to perfection each morning.
But when it came to cutting his hair, he was understandably reluctant. Because nobody came within three metres of Nnoitra Jiruga with a sharp instrument and got away unscathed.
For years, Nnoitra's hair had been cut every few months by that cow, Neliel. Oh, sorry, was that a centaur? Tesla resented her immensely, since no amount of renting his body out as a punchbag or making homemade chocolate brownies could cheer Nnoitra-sama up after he had lost a fight to Nel. He also resented the fact that Nnoitra allowed her so much slack when anyone else would have got their spine ripped out through their nostrils for hogging the bathroom for so long. He wasn't even going to comment on the noises she appeared able to coax out of him whenever they shared a bedroom; he tried not to think about it, although if he had done, he was sure that most of them could be explained away by a rousing game of GrandTheftAuto. The only saving grace of their toxic relationship was the fact that she could sit him down, tell him not to be so childish, and with a flash of her scissors, give him a tousled, sexy look which was the reason Tesla had become his fraccion in the first place. Well, it wasn't for the job satisfaction, was it?
For a long time Tesla had dodged the issue by telling Nnoitra how amazing his hair looked long, thus avoiding the task of recreating Nel's artistic effort. Since Nnoitra's last skirmish with Grimmjow had ended with Grimmjow getting in a sneaky blow whilst Nnoitra was trying to swipe the hair out of his eyes, however, he had drawn the line and demanded a haircut. It might also have had something to do with the hair-pulling incident with Lilinette, too, but Tesla was bound under several death threats to swear on his left arm and the fingers on his right hand, when asked, that this had never taken place.
On the plus side, being allowed to comb his fingers through silky strands of raven-black hair was something which trumped at least sixty percent of Tesla's greatest ambitions, although he could probably do without the twitching every time he brought the scissors too close to his master's single eye.
Tesla would have liked to have been able to stroke Nnoitra's hair for a little longer, but Nnoitra was not the most patient of men, and he was beginning to fidget, so Tesla stood back to admire his work before Nnoitra decided that stabbing him would be more fun than having symmetrical hair.
"Do you like it Nnoitra-sama?" he asked tentatively as Nnoitra leant forwards to examine himself from every angle in the mirror.
"That took too long; I'm hungry. Go make me a sandwich. Make sure there's plenty of mayo," Nnoitra snapped at him. "And cut off the crusts!"
As Tesla hurried towards the kitchens, he allowed himself a happy smile. It was little words of praise like that which made the bad times worthwhile.