Chapter Two: Nothing Stands In Your Way

If the day had started badly, it was getting steadily worse. Callen had managed to secure the exclusive services of his hairdresser at short notice. It seemed there was literally nothing the devoted JJ would not do for his precious Mr Carl. It was good timing, as it meant they could at least escape from the Mission, where word of that evening's outing had swiftly done the rounds, which meant that everyone else was whispering avidly behind their hands and trying to not snigger too loudly. Unfortunately, most of them were none too successful. And the comments of "hair today – gone tomorrow" and "curl up and dye" were swiftly becoming old and tedious.

"Remember to call me Mr Carl," Callen reminded them as they drove across town.

"Isn't that just a little bit pretentious? Does that mean Sam gets to be Mr Harn and I'm Mr Dere? Enquiring minds want to know. Or would that be too much like Reservoir Dogs? No, make that Reservoir Bitches."

"Shut up, Deeks or I'll let him lose with the clippers on that shaggy head of yours. JJ has the impression that Mr Carl is loosely involved with the enforcement end of film producing and he's hoping one day I might just come in useful."

"He thinks you're in the Mafia? You? Come on, you're kidding me – right?" For some reason that Callen could not understand, Deeks found this hilarious. "That's just what we need – a hairdresser who is at the less-able end of the spectrum. Do they let him use scissors with sharp points or just the ones with rounded edges?"

"JJ's alright. Don't give him a hard time. Remember, he's going to be the one doing your hair and one slip of the scissors and you're that much nearer a normal, grown-up look. Which would be a contradiction in terms for you, wouldn't it?" Mess with JJ and he'll have your guts for garters. There's no flies on JJ. Okay, actually there are, especially since the gender reassignment surgery. But that kind of makes him perfect for the job. Especially where Kensi is concerned. God, she looks grumpy sitting there. I bet she's regretting saying she liked Deeks' hair. Traitor.

Kensi clutched onto her hair protectively. "I'm not having my hair cropped. Not for anyone. Understand?" It had been bad enough when she'd had to have her hair cut short as a kid, no way was she going through that again as an adult. Not for anyone. She huddled into the corner of the car, like an animal trying to protect titself.

"Relax. Nobody said you would have to get your hair cut," Callen said, in a vain attempt to soothe her. He'd never seen Kensi quite so worked up before. What was the big deal about going to the hairdressers? Didn't women love that sort of thing? Of course, Kensi wasn't exactly like most women.

Sam attempted to pour some oil on troubled waters. "I'm JJ will find some way of putting it up. Maybe a chignon?"

Callen shot a suspicious look. "How come you know so much about women's hairstyles, Sam?"

"Because I've got sisters. And they've got hair, okay? Don't try to make something out of this." Sam's knuckles showed white as he gripped the steering wheel. Not for anything would he let on that he was so good at doing the girls' hair, his mother had gratefully handed over that chore to him. As he got older, they'd bring their friends around for free hairdressing, which had scored Sam no end of dates. Still, it wasn't something he felt like sharing.

They were all on edge. For once Deeks had no more smart remarks to make, which made a refreshing change. Usually a car journey with Deeks was akin to having a bored child in the back seat continually asking "are we there yet?". This was pleasantly quiet and without incident, although persuading Kensi to get out of the car and then in through the door of the salon was slightly tricky, as she behaved like a dog who realises he is just outside the vet's and has no desire to get a thermometer stuck up his ass followed by a shot in the neck. However, after a little coaxing and a hard shove from Sam, she made it inside, only hyperventilating slightly.

"Mr Carl! And you've brought your friends too – oh, this is lovely!" JJ planted a loving kiss on Callen's cheek and then surveyed them carefully. "There's no time to waste. I can see I've got my work cut out for me here."

"Excuse me?" Kensi bristled visibly. "My hair's in excellent condition." Do not come anywhere near me with scissors or I will swing for you.

"If you say so, dear. You might want to do something about that dandruff though. I can see it clear across the other side of the room." JJ looked carefully at Sam. "I see you as a redhead."

"You do?" Sam swallowed hard. His Aunt Sophie had red hair and she bore a remarkable resemblance to a pig in knickers. He just hoped he hadn't inherited her genes.

"Oh yes. Nothing subtle though – more like Lucille Ball. You've got the chutzpah to carry off that look, and you can't say that about just everyone. So, wigs for you and Mr Carl, an updo for scurfy-girl over there and – oh my! Haven't you just got the best hair!" JJ's voice rose at least an octave and Sam wondered if he was going to climax there and then. Kensi just looked as if she wanted to string him up from the light fitting. "I'm going to have such fun with you.

Deeks gave him an "aw shucks" smile, that made him look like he'd just come off the farm that morning. You could practically see the straws sticking out of his hair.

"Mr Carl – why haven't you brought him round to see me before?" JJ was running his fingers through Deeks' hair in paroxysms of delight. "What I couldn't do with hair like this."

"Don't do anything much," Deeks pleaded. "I kind of like it the way it is."

JJ studied him carefully for a couple of moments. "Well, I think you need some more height in there, but we can probably fudge an early Meg Ryan look with a little back combing. Maybe add a jewelled comb for a little bling?" He stoked Deek's hair lovingly, almost as if it was rare and exotic breed of animal and then let his fingers edge forward to caress his cheek. "And I'm going to have such fun shaving you too!"

"Yeah, whatever." Oh God, this is mortifying. Why did I ever think it would be cool to be treated like a sex object? Or maybe it's just JJ treating me as a sex object that's a turn off. I hope so.

Two hours later, the transformation was complete: Kensi was the proud possessor of a French pleat so incredibly tight that her eyebrows were at least an inch higher than normal. To her chagrin, JJ had insisted on adding a smear of gel, so that her hair had a slightly greasy appearance. He'd also been most insistent that she should not wear any makeup that evening. "I look like the one of the ugly sisters," she moaned as they got into the car as quickly as possible.

"Count yourself lucky. You still look normal – just not very attractive." It had been a struggle to actually get into the car with a pile of crimson curls adding almost another foot to his height and now Sam cringed as he looked in the rear view mirror before pulling out of the parking space. "I look like a freak." No, it worse than that, Sam thought. He was the spit and image of Aunt Sophie. Right down the little piggy eyes. He was just surprised that he was still able to speak, rather than oink. "You look – different," he volunteered to Callen.

"Tell me I don't look like Marilyn Monroe – please?"

"You don't look anything like Marilyn Monroe. She was beautiful," Deeks said firmly. "You look like a man in a platinum blonde wig. It'll probably be better once they get some make-up on you, though. Red lips and a beauty spot could make a big difference."

"I do not want to look like Marilyn Monroe," Callen forced out from between gritted teeth.

"Why not? She was an icon."

"It's a damned sight better that looking like Aunt Sophie," Sam spat out. The traffic lights ahead turned red and he was forced to stop. Staring stonily ahead, Sam was uncomfortably aware that the occupants of the cars on either side were staring curiously at them. Beside him, Callen slunk down in the seat. Deeks just smiled insouciantly and gave them a merry wave.

"Who's Aunt Sophie?"

"She's hell on wheels. And she made my life a misery when I was a kid."

"And you look like her?"

"With this wig – yup." God help me.

"Is that why you shaved your head then?"

"Never mind why I shave my head. That's my business – Meggy dear."

"Those rhinestones in your comb are so sweet – they bring out the colour of your eyes." Kensi leant across and flipped the ends of his hair with her finger. "You should wear your hair in a shag all the time."

"I've nothing against shags – just not that sort."

Kensi decided to act innocent. "What other sorts of shags are there?"

"You want me to draw you a diagram? Or give you some personal, one-on-one tuition?" Deeks leered at her, but the Meg Ryan hairdo ruined the effect.

"Stop squabbling in the back, kids. Or there'll be no ice-cream for either of you."

"Spoilsport." Kensi stuck her tongue out and waggled it back and forth. "My head really hurts. And I don't think I can move much of my upper face."

"Think of it like preparation for your first Botox." Deeks yelped as her hand connected with the side of his head. "Watch the hair, Kensi!"

"Cut it out, right now, you pair. Or I'm stopping the car and making you walk back."

A blissful silence descended and lasted all the way back to the Mission. The moment they went inside, a cacophony erupted: shouts, whistles, handclaps and air-horns filling the space with noise, while a barrage of camera flashes partially blinded them. Sam looked up to where Eric stood on the balcony orchestrating things and held his gaze, while spitting on his forefinger and drawing it slowly across his throat.

JJ first appears in my story Snippets Swept from the Floor. You'll discover exactly why Kensi has a terror of hairdressers in that story too.