My god, it's been a while, but I apologize for the delay! Hurricane Michael prevented me from uploading anything and for the readers that has been keeping up with the story, thank you! I've finished the story and plan on pretty big chapter dumps. I've also decided to change the rating due to the darker themes that will show up later. Enjoy!
Emmie took her time getting ready to sort out her thoughts. She must have been high off of exhaustion of something last night and this morning. Cuddling in bed? Showing each other tattoos? Were they stupid hormonal teenagers or something? Emmie splashed cold water on her face trying to ignore the implications of her behaviour last night. Hell, she got sappy over his stupid explanation of his groin tat. She shook herself and walked into her extensive closet to slip into a brick red Sonia Rykiel dress and black Gucci mules decorated with embroidered bees. Putting her phone into her Chloe purse, she walked into the living room and heard, "I don't give a shit Obito. No excuses, if they don't leave, kill them." Deidara threw his phone down onto the couch and stretched.
Emmie's throat tightened, since they were in close contact for a week and some, she had gotten used to abrasive ways but she totally forgot about the darker side of society he lurked in. They were getting too close and that statement brought her crashing down to reality. He was a gang leader and she was a psychiatrist, they were too different.
Heading into her living room, she called him to get ready. 15 minutes later, they were headed to Imparali. Unbuttoning the top couple of buttons, adjusting her cleavage, Emmie warned Deidara, "Behave. Harold doesn't do random emergency cases but I somehow convinced him to get you into a good suit. If you say anything to get us kicked out, I swear I'm going to horsewhip you." Deidara dragged his eyes from her chest, "Fine. Just as long as it's short."
Emmie held back a smile. Harold was notorious for being incredibly anal about his craft, no detail was too insignificant. Getting fitted for a suit tended to take hours but Harold was the best at what he did.
"Harold, you are a magnificent human, thank you so much! Deidara is a, er, challenge I know but seriously I know you are the only one who can clean him up," Emmie purred kissing Harold on both cheeks. Harold was a trim, petite man but somehow seemed very intimidating. Deidara stood a little straighter under his close scrutiny. "Only for you darling, only for you," Harold smiled at Emmie. "See you later!" Emmie smiled at Deidara's aghast expression.
As Deidara got fitted, Emmie was able to get a massage, a facial, a haircut and a mini shopping trip. Emmie needed these little luxuries. She had been so stressed about her brother and being kidnapped that her skin wasn't as radiant as usual and her muscles were all knotted. These pampering sessions were necessary though. To see her ex, she needed to look her very best.
A text from Harold notified her that Deidara was done. Emmie checked her phone 3 hours had passed-Deidara was going to be so mad. When she got back, Deidara was standing at the doorway glowering at her. "This was such a waste of my fucking time. What was wrong with my other suit?" Emmie shook her head, "Your old suit is old, my ex would see straight away that something's up. I don't date losers," Emmie said, taking the suit Harold offered. Kissing Harold goodbye, she thrust her bags into Deidara's arm and hailed a cab.
"Aren't you going to pay?" Deidara glanced backwards. "No, that's not his style. I'm paying him online, he doesn't do in person transactions, that's for plebs. Look in those bags, they're for you," Emmie motioned to the shopping bags. "Awww. Gay ass sweaters, button ups, dress pants? Lame," Deidara whined. Emmie got out of the cab and walked into her salon, "Get in. You need these to fit in, I can't be seen with you in public when you're dressed like Kurt Cobain's knockoff," she waved at him up and down. "Bitch. What are we doing here?" Deidara muttered mutinously.
"You need a haircut. Badly, what did you do, cut it yourself with craft scissors?" Emmie picked up a strand of honey colored hair dismissively. "No, I did it with kitchen scissors," Deidara replied defiantly. Emmie closed her eyes and counted to 10; he was impossible, really. "Whatever, just go with Devonna, she'll make you pretty," Emmie pushed him towards the stylist.
While Deidara got his hair cut-cringing in shame, Emmie could hear him whine across the salon-she got her hair styled for the evening and got a fresh mani-pedi in a deep oxblood polish. She admired her new polish when Deidara slouched over. "Well, look at you!" Emmie exclaimed. His hair was a bit shorter but significantly more stylish. The layers in his hair gave his hair volume and emphasized his natural waves. She reached up and arranged the strands around his face so they would fall just so.
"Devonna, you are an artist!" Emmie tipped her stylist generously while Deidara admired himself in the mirror. "So this is what boujee haircuts look like. Nice," He said. Emmie smiled smugly and the two of them headed back to her apartment to get ready for the evening.