A/N: Merry Christmas gangsters and gun molls!
Courtney fiddles with her new camera, holding it up to her eye and looking around the room. Duncan hunches over, smoking and contemplating his cards; Al swirls whiskey around in its container, watching his brother's expression; Heather deals the communal cards with lightning precision; Harold leans over Al's shoulder, then Heather's, sneaking peeks at everyone's hand.
Courtney puts the four of them in focus and snaps a shot. Then she sets the camera to the side, sighing. Duncan looks up.
"What's got yer panties in a twist?"
Courtney leans against the back of the couch. "I want to take pictures."
"Yer takin' pictures," Duncan says, focusing once more on his cards.
"Sometime today, hermano," Al goads.
"I want to take nice photographs. Of all of us," Courtney says wistfully, "so we'll look like moving picture stars."
"Doll, ain't nobody gonna confuse me for Clark Gable," Duncan says firmly, but she catches a hint of a smile on his face at the idea.
"Not looking like that they won't," Courtney says, leaning over and running a hand through his hair. The shagginess was more apparent now that he didn't have his hair slicked back. "Let me give you a haircut."
Heather snorts, shaking her head. "Oh please. This coming from the southern belle who took a steak knife to her split ends."
Courtney ignores her, her fingers moving down Duncan's back, lightly working out kinks. In his ear, she whispers, "Al has two aces, you're losing this hand anyway."
Duncan eyes her, then his cards again, before folding. "Whatever," he says gruffly.
They go to the bathroom and Courtney has him sit at the edge of the tub so she can wet his hair. She grabs some scissors from the kitchen and starts taking experimental snips.
"Watch how short you cut it," he warns.
"Who usually does your hair?" Courtney asks, trimming the unruly strands coming over his ears.
"Let me know when she shaves you bald, Clyde, so I can swoop in and rescue you!" Heather calls from the parlor, snickering.
"Guess," Duncan mutters.
Courtney grabs a magazine from the parlor and has him hold it up so she can mimic the haircut on it. In the end, it doesn't look half bad.
Duncan runs his hands through it a few times and says, "Well, it's not as hot as it was before."
Harold compliments him on the haircut as Duncan takes his cards back from their driver and gets back in the game. Courtney snips the scissors teasingly from the door of the bathroom.
"If we're taking pictures, we all need to look fresh. Who's next?"
"Heather is," Al says casually, putting down a card.
Heather gives her husband a shove without looking up from her cards.
"Not in a million years."
"Amor, listen to me. Be practical. Long hair is so-"
"Don't even finish that sentence."
"Not this crap argument again," Duncan groans, folding his hand and rubbing his eyes.
"Bella—"
"I said no."
"I am sick of this fight, Heather," Al says, glaring at his wife. "You're always so focused on your fashion, and your appearance. Eres demasiado vanidosa! It's not good for you! You're getting it cut."
"I am not." Heather shrugs.
"If you don't, Heather—!"
"You'll what? Divorce me?"
"Maybe I will!"
"Fine then. Good luck finding another woman that puts up with your level of bullshit."
Alejandro yells in frustration, leaving the room and cursing under his breath in Spanish. Harold tentatively picks up Al's cards and takes his place in the game as Duncan clears his throat, lighting up a fresh cigarette.
"Heath."
"Don't even fucking try it, Clyde."
"Courtney needs a haircut too."
Touching her hair tentatively, Courtney mutters, "Well, I don't think it's—"
"Fine." Heather tosses down her cards and stands. "We're the ones that have to look at her anyway."
She pulls Courtney back into the bathroom and grabs the scissors from her hands. When she puts Courtney's head under the sink to wet her hair, she holds her there just a little too long.
"I'll cut my hair when I goddamn feel like it," Heather mutters, sitting Courtney on the edge of the tub. "Too vain my ass. He's the one that needs his suits pressed and ironed before he wears them. He can take care of his own fucking appearance if he thinks it's so vain."
Heather yanks at Courtney's hair. Courtney grits her teeth.
"Uh, do you want to talk about it, Heather?"
"No."
Heather finishes up with the haircut faster than the hairdresser had. Courtney figures out the blow dryer in a few tries and looks at herself in the mirror, finally getting the gist of what Heather meant about her previous haircut being a lopsided wreck. When she tells Heather as much, the woman smirks.
"Now you're a desperate, prettier face."
After giving Harold a haircut too, which involved some experimenting with his naturally curly hair, Courtney sends the boys to get dressed and bring the car out of the garage. As they do so, she and Heather apply their makeup. Courtney glances over as Heather puts some balm over her lips.
"Could I borrow some of that?" Courtney asks.
"No," Heather says, smacking her lips. "Steal your own makeup."
There's a knock on the open door and Al pushes it open a little. "Car's up front."
"Wonderful," Heather says, not taking her eyes off her reflection. "Bonnie, be a dear and sweep up the floor so we don't slip on any stray hairs."
"I'm not your maid," Courtney snaps.
"No worries, chica, I'll do it. Could you fetch me the broom?"
Courtney glares between Heather and Al, takes a second longer to finish her mascara, and side-steps by Al to go retrieve the broom from the kitchen. She snatches it from behind the ice box. Returning to the bathroom, she stops just outside when she hears Al and Heather talking.
"I can't believe you'd embarrass me like that," Heather hisses. "You already knew what my opinion would be, what's gotten into you?"
"Well maybe I'm just goddamn sick and tired of having this argument, Heather. I wish, for once, you would just listen to me!"
"I always listen to you! I was the one who wanted to settle down here when you got released, I was the one who wanted to start a family! But no, you said 'escuchame' back then, too. 'Kids are too much work; you won't like it; we don't have the money for a family; listen to me,' and I did. So why the hell can't you just leave this one thing alone?"
Al doesn't answer right away.
"You still want a family?"
Courtney presses herself a smidge closer to the door.
"Like hell I'm bringing a child into this mess," Heather mutters. "That's in the past. Stop pestering me about cutting my hair."
"Porque? Why this aversion, huh?"
"The last time I cut it, I came home and you were being carted off to prison," she says.
Courtney hears a softness in her voice that she's never heard her use before. Al is quiet for a long moment as either Harold or Duncan noisily pulls the car out of the garage.
"You shouldn't be so superstitious, amor."
"Says the man who turns his socks inside-out twice before washing them and will only drink his father's favorite brand of whiskey."
"...Heather, I'm not going anywhere."
"And I'm not cutting my hair."
"Heather—"
"I said—"
"Te amo."
Heather huffs.
"Yeah," she says. Courtney hears a kiss. "I 'te amo' too."
Harold comes in the front door and Courtney takes that as her cue.
"Here's the broom!" she calls, handing it to them through the door. "Let's go take some pictures."
The five of them walk outside to the car and pass the camera around. Courtney borrows one of Duncan's nice cigars and jokingly poses with it, a pistol, and the car. Harold and Duncan take pictures with the Ford, outside it and behind the wheel. Al whispers something dirty in Heather's ear and even she can't keep her sour expression for the camera when Courtney insists on a picture of just the two of them.
"Give Al the camera and get over here," Duncan tells her, indicating she come pose with him and the car. Courtney passes over the camera and comes over, squealing when Duncan lifts her up and sits her on the hood of the Ford for a pose.
"Smile like ya mean it," he tells her as he slips an arm around her waist.
Courtney wraps her arm across his shoulder and leans her cheek against the top of his new haircut as Al readies to take the picture.
"I do mean it."