He never minded picking her up and dropping her off at her hair appointments.
She always liked to change her hair; mainly the color or placement of color. He didn't give a shit as long as she didn't cut it- something about her having shorter hair than him somewhat weirded him out. Luckily, she hated short hair and promised she would never do it.
He always liked to see how happy it made her, how she pranced around for a bit, obviously feeling good about herself. He loved to see her smile, it didn't matter why.
He had dropped her off and had wandered around town for a while. It was around noon, and he knew she would be getting hungry, so he stopped at a fast food restaurant and got her some food, bringing it back to the salon.
He walked in, and immediately felt like he was misplaced. The sweet floral smell of shampoo hit him in the face; it wasn't unpleasant, it was just strong. The pink walls were bright and cheerful, as were the bright blue chairs in the waiting area. He was a direct dichotomy- white tank top and red and blue flannel, torn jeans and worn in boots, and a baseball cap with a confederate flag on it shoved onto his head to top it all off.
He saw her, hair dripping wet and anxiously waiting for the stylist to come back.
"Hey, mama.
"Baby!" She puckered her lips, begging him for a kiss. He chuckled and obliged.
"You're so cute."
"I'm almost done." He placed the bag of food in her lap. "You are literally the best person ever. I love you."
"I love you too." He kissed her again. "And you're welcome. I'm gonna wait out here, okay?"
"Okay, baby"
He sat in the waiting area, thumbing absentmindedly through the magazines sitting on the table beside him. He remembered when he was a child and his parents would leave the magazines and newspapers they had been hitting him with lying around. He would read them and cut out little pictures and put them in his notebook.
"Sir?" A voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Hm?" He looked up, slightly alarmed.
"Are you waiting for a haircut?"
"Er...no, I'm just...waiting on someone..."
"Are you sure?" She looked him up and down. "You've got some dead ends, there we could trim those up for you. A shave while you wait?"
"Ah, no. Like I said, I'm just waiting on someone."
"Okay. If you need anything just let us know."
His heart pounded in his chest. God, he hated that he still reacted this way after so many years. But damn, she had startled him, and she was pushy.
Finally, she was done. She hurried out to him, blushing like a schoolgirl. "D...Do you like it?"
"What? Course I do." He pressed another kiss to her lips.
"Oh! Is this your boyfriend?" The stylist asked.
"Yes!" She proclaimed proudly, resting a hand on his chest as she beamed. "This is my Otis that I talk so much about."
"She's crazy about you." The stylist giggled.
"Yeah, well, I'm pretty crazy 'bout her, too." He smiled down at her. She paid and they left, hand in hand.
"Baby...I heard that other woman trying to get you in her chair."
"Yeah? What about it?"
"Why don't you let someone professional trim your hair? Or give you a shave? Treat yourself to something like that..."
"Because none of that sounds remotely pleasant to me at all."
"Why?"
"That's...almost all of the things that make me uncomfortable. Having me pinned down in a chair with the cape around my throat I'm sure would be the first thing. I hate being choked or having things anywhere near my throat that aren't your lips. Second, you know how I am about that whole...thing. I won't even let you cut my hair, remember? And have I ever let you shave my face? No. Sharp things near my face that I am not in control of? Absolutely not. Third, someone I don't know touching my head and face excessively. Hell no. Nope."
"But it's so niiiiice." She whined.
"For you, maybe. Your mother didn't pin you to a stool in the bathroom and dry-shave your head with a straight razor."
"No...You're right..." She sighed. "I just...I have this. I want you to have something that you treat yourself to every once in a while."
"I have plenty."
"Like what?"
"I have you." He glanced at her as he drove.
"Baby..."
He smiled softly. "...'Like your hair curly like that...S'cute." He felt his face redden.
"You're so sweet, Otis..."
"Only to you, mama."
She took his hand, pressing it to her face. His other hand gripped the steering wheel. "I love you."
"Love you too."
"You wanna go home or you wanna go someplace else?"
He shrugged. "Doesn't much matter to me." He abruptly whipped his head to her. "DON'T SAY-"
"Let's go for ice cream!"
He groaned. Anything to make her happy.
