This drabble was brought to you by Nori, my hair stylist, who cut my hair today (and gave me a fabulous scalp massage) and insomnia. Sorry for any spelling/grammar errors (this was written and uploaded at 4am), but I hope you enjoy this literary masterpiece.
Standard Disclaimer : I don't own Sailor Moon.
Mamoru loves Usagi. He loves her a lot. He loves every part of her, every atom of her body, every fiber of her being. But the part Mamoru loved most about the girl he was going to marry was her hair, her long, luxurious golden blonde hair. The flash of gold was the first thing he had noticed after she had hit him in the head with her failed test paper. Her unique hairstyle was the root of the nickname Odango Atama. She was very protective of her hair and only allowed to her mother, a former hair dresser who created the iconic buns, and Mamoru to touch the delicate strands (mentioning something about it getting damaged when handled too roughly by others). It was his secret guilty pleasure to wait until she had drifted off into a deep slumber before running his fingers through several feet of the silky strands. He marveled at how it felt so cool to the touch and how it would absorb the fruity scent of her shampoo. And Mamoru relished in the fact that he was the only who could touch her hair like this; curl it around his fingers and be close enough to it to inhale its intoxicating scent. Until now.
Usagi had dragged him to a fancy salon in Roppongi Hills. Minako had called in a favor and made an appointment for his wife-to-be with her personal hair stylist that she hired for all of her photo shoots and tours. The plan was to cut her split ends first so her hair could grow out healthier for the wedding and then mess around with different styles and makeup that she would want to wear on the big day. Mamoru watched with envy as the hair stylist, a man whose looks rivaled that of his own, led Usagi to the wash basin. His knuckles turned white as his fingers tightly gripped the armrest of the uncomfortable plastic chair as the man lathered her flaxen locks with a sweet smelling shampoo before giving the girl a scalp massage. He trimmed the dead edges and touched up her layers as Usagi gleefully showed him the pictures she had cut out of different bridal magazines, occasionally pausing to return one of her infectious smiles and whisper something in her ear that sent a faint blush to her cheeks. He cursed the hair dryers for being so loud that he could not eavesdrop.
It simply was not fair! He was her fiancé, not that schmuck! He should be the one giving her massages, shampooing her hair, and drying it. It was a rare privilege for him, and this guy goes around flaunting it in his face like it was his job or something...Okay, so it was his job! But still. He shouldn't go around and flirt with his clients while their fiancés were sitting right there! He crossed his arms over his chest with a huff, lips slightly pouted, and tapping his foot impatiently on the linoleum tile silently praying that this torture would end soon.
It was a good twenty to thirty minutes until Usagi bounded up to the reception desk.
"Thank you so much Keita-kun!" the perky blonde called out behind her as Mamoru grabbed her arm and practically dragged her out of the salon. As the couple turned down the street, Mamoru spotted this Keita waving back at her excitedly.
"Sounds like you and Keita-kun had a lot of fun," he grumbled as he ushered her down the sidewalk faster, eager to get as far away as possible.
"We did!" Usagi replied, blissfully ignorant as always, "We figured out what style I'm going to wear for the wedding, but that wasn't the best part!"
"Oh..and what would that be?" he deadpanned. The sun had began to peak out from behind the overcast and a glimmer caught his eyes. Her hair was unusually shiny after her hair treatment, and he wanted so desperately to touch it.
"Keita-kun thought you were my brother or some other relative when he first saw you. He thinks you're really cute and asked me if you...swung that way. "
"Wait...he's gay?!"
"I think I broke his poor heart when I told him you were my fiancé, but we had a good time discussing your strong jaw and how blue your eyes are... " At this point Usagi could barely contain her laughter and broke out into a fit of giggles, "He really wanted to run his fingers through your hair."
That was all Mamoru could take; he just snapped. He whisked his blonde beauty into the nearest alley and kissed her senseless as his fingers explored the lush, dense forest of hair on the back of her head. The rest was a blur to him, though he faintly remembered hearing, "Mamo-chan! You're going to mess up my hair!"
