cuttingremark | Salon buddies for @favoriteanalyst

Salon buddies for @favoriteanalyst

It started about a few months ago. Loki needed to relax after making the mistake of spending his winter holidays with his 'family' (which ended in another spectacular fight with Odin that resulted in one broken window and a lost snow globe Loki has thrown through said broken window), but his normal esthetician was booked solid for the next year and couldn't fit him in outside of his own pre-scheduled appointments no matter how much money he offered to throw at her. Wanda was the best in the city, probably the whole country, so it made sense, but there's still the issue of Loki needing something to relieve his tension so he didn't strangle his paralegals. The thought crossed his mind of setting up a tindr profile for a quick fuck, but he isn't in law school anymore and that was just a disaster waiting to happen.

Wanda saves him from making a bad decision by texting him the information for another technician she helped train. She claims he's new, but very talented, which he figures will do in a pinch. The link she sent him takes him to a rather outdated looking webpage for the "TVA Salon and Spa", an older establishment that apparently started in the 50's as a barber shop, but recent made the jump to full salon under new management. Despite the clunky UI, he's able to schedule an appointment for a basic manicure the very next day with the young man Wanda had told him about.

Casey is a nice young man. Not anywhere as skilled as Wanda, but his nails come out looking acceptable with their basic black polish and the hand massage he gets to begin with is utterly divine. He doesn't go into detail about his family problems, but the other gets the gist that the holidays were strained and is more than willing to play the oh-so-important role of listening ear even if his platitudes do ring a little hollow.

When the appointment is over, Casey hands him a card for a free deep conditioning treatment or 30 minute shoulder massage.

"These are really just for family and friends," he explains, "but you really seem like you need something to help you relax." He thinks about declining, but decides it isn't polite and takes the card anyway before handing the young man a $400 tip.

The stern looking woman at the front desk gives him a serious look as Casey nearly passes out in the background. "I'm going to be checking those to make sure they're real."

"But of course, I would expect nothing less." His usual winning smile does nothing to lighten her glare as she rings him out. She asks if he wants to use the card to schedule something today. Why not? It's a charming establishment and he has some free time coming up.

The masseuse the card is good for, Bee, is apparently booked solid for the next month, but the stylist, Mobius, just had a cancellation in the following week that fit perfectly in his schedule.

That appointment was the beginning of the end for Loki.

So in he walks six months later, having ditched his normal high-end stylist for a middle-aged man who looks like he works in a cubicle rather than a up-and-coming salon. It isn't his normally scheduled appointment, but his cases have been crazy and Thor just left for his "journey of self-discovery" aka backpacking across Europe, so all of Odin's attention is now on his youngest.

Joy.

If Loki were the sentimental type, he'd think it a shame that the lobby area of a salon is more comfortable for him than his childhood home.

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Tension Loki didn't even realize he was holding eases out of his shoulders. What he said was true what he said about not having any shame, but for some reason he really, really cares what Mobius thinks of him. Best to get the worst of it out in the open before they got in too deep.

"How about you? What sort of shenanigans did you get up to in your younger years?"

He leans back and spreads his hands. "I was never important enough for scandals. No sex clubs, but clubs, sure, when I was younger and more spry. I've tested my fair share of possibly less than entirely legal substances. Could roll a joint quick as you please. Nothing exciting."

"Did you always want to be a hairdresser?" While Loki is very glad Mobius is in his chosen field (it's likely they wouldn't have met otherwise), he doesn't exactly strike him as the type to be excited by doing someone else's hair. If he'd met the man on the street he probably would have assumed he was some sort of office worker.

"God no. I just kinda fell into it. You still have to go to beautician school, but I stumbled in on some basic cheap weeklong intro course someone was running out of their shop when I had nothing better to do and just...decided why not?" A shrug. "I love it now, though. It's really satisfying, and I still get to talk to people, meet them, make friends, be up and about, do plenty with my hands, it's creative, it's sometimes lucrative, and it beats the hell out of retail, even if I am still occasionally hawking products at people."

"It's good you enjoy it, even if it wasn't your original plan. Did you have a plan before? Some sort of dream career?"

He laughs a bit, as dinner is served hot and scrumptious. "I had," with some hesitation, and a broad wave of a hand, "something like a dream, yeah. I wanted to be a therapist of sorts, or a social worker, or something like that. Psychologist, maybe. Help people with their personal issues. I probably could've gone to community college for a two-year in that, worked the whole time to help pay it off, but then I would've had to do more schooling from there, depending on what I wanted."

A shrug, mild. It's all far in the past now. "Frankly, I don't think I ever really knew what I wanted beyond the vague idea of helping people. Things didn't turn out that way. But I'm here now. Came a long way. And I'm in a pretty good place." He motions between the two of them. "Helping out anyway, even just by talking."

The food is fantastic, but is always is in these sort of hole-in-the-wall restaurants. It's upscale, but not tiny-food-reservations-out-a-year upscale. Word of mouth upscale. The kind that somehow turn a profit despite never appearing in any food review or spending a dime on advertising.

"For what it's worth, I think you would have been a fantastic therapist," Loki says, twirling his pasta expertly. "But I'm glad you aren't."

"When you get a good rapport with someone, I think people use some of their...service people, I guess you could say, as impromptu therapists. Your hair stylists, masseuse, if you've got a regular to do your nails--obviously in this example I'm just talking about the salon, but anyone you don't necessarily have a friendship with but also spend a lot of time with. A safe place to vent or get some friendly but not too involved advice."

"You are very good at both giving advise and a listening ear." God knows Loki had bitched about family drama to him enough times. It's one of the reasons he tips so well. No matter what these people make, it would never enough to put up with everything people put on them.

He smiles. "I probably could've been a therapist. But hey, if I had been, I probably wouldn't have met you. And that would've been a real shame." It hasn't been a sore spot for a long while now, and he's more able to look at the missed dream more wistfully than anything.

"Did you have plans when you were young about what you wanted to do?" Before the...everything else.

"It was expected that I would get a few degrees, act as his political and campaign advisor. But that wasn't so much my plan as it was the one laid out for me. I went along with it for a time." He hums, thinking. "You know, I don't think I did have a plan of my own. Even when I figured out I didn't want to follow Odin's path, it was more a nebulous 'something else.' I didn't even think of being a lawyer until rehab."

"And what inspired the lawyer change? You could've been a doctor, or go into business, or something else that gets big bucks, notoriety, and is still impressive. Too much legal trouble and you wanted to pay it back?"

"I don't think I'd make a good doctor, having the life of another human in my hands is a bit much for me. Business is a bit too close to politics, wouldn't have been a big enough statement. I did think about teaching briefly, but I don't have the patience for that and it pays shit." The goal had been to become independent, after all.

"After I returned to school an acquaintance was having issues with the university that I helped resolve by simply reading their contracts and a few bylaws. It was fun, so I did a bit more research and found that law was a viable path for me."

"You could read well and see the loopholes." Mobius smriks. "Yeah, then you're perfect for a lawyer. I'm glad it's fun; god knows I couldn't do it." Well. Maybe. He could maybe possibly do it. But would he want to?

"Technically speaking, in a sense, you do have peoples' lives in your hand. It's just not actually a life and death thing at that point."

"I suppose that's true, especially when dealing with insurance companies. A lot less blood, though."

Loki raises his glass of wine to Mobius. "To finding what fit us best, even if it wasn't the original plan."

A toast? Aw, a toast. "To the unexpected paths that led us here." Clink!

"But also, you have to tell me some of the funnier stories of the shit you used to get up to. It evens out the appearance you have of being all put together."

"There was the time I blacked out at a strip club and woke up with my underwear full of $1's and a job offer."

The rest of the dinner is passed with stories and laughter. Loki insists Mobius share as well. His stories aren't as wild (or dangerous/illegal), but Loki finds them no less entertaining. They get so lost in conversation that it takes one of the waitstaff informing them that they will be closing in half an hour to make them realize that the restaurant had been slowly growing empty around them.

The walk to the car and drive back to Mobius' apartment is quieter, but still enjoyable. They pass a busker and end up discussing their tastes in music most of the way back. (Yes, Loki enjoys classic orchestral music and heavy metal. It's a Scandinavian thing.)

Loki helps Mobius carry his bags up to his apartment door and stands there as the other gets his keys out.

"Jonathan should have your suit ready within the week. They'll give you a call when it's ready for you to do the final fitting incase any other alterations are needed," he says, not sure what the next step in their date would be. It could end here and he would be happy, they are going on the trip after all. Mobius might invite him in, but would he go? Is that too fast? If the other initiates, surely it's okay, right? Should he wait until after the trip to try anything physical?

"And now I know how to get there myself, so you don't have to take any time just to ferry me over." He has no doubts that Loki would at the drop of a hat. "But hey, it also means you don't get to see me all done up until the big day."

He grins at Loki, opening up his door and starting to scoot some of the bags across the threshold. "So." So! "Are you gonna have any other appointments or drop-ins before we go?"

Loki isn't sure what he should do with the bags he's carryng. Should hand them to Mobius? Set them down? Wait?

He opts to wait.

"No, I have a few things to wrap up in the office before taking off." He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "Though it would be nice to see you again before we leave, perhaps for coffee or lunch?" They only had a week and a half before their flight, but for some reason that seemed like an eternity to go without seeing Mobius.

Doofus, he's going to take the rest of the bags too, gosh, it's okay if they're set on the floor for a second! Let him take those off your hands. There. "I'd be down for either. Or both. Whenever you're free."

He straightens and faces Loki fully. "I really did have a good time. A lot longer of a day than I was expecting. Couple bumps. Nothing we can't handle."

"I'll text you, we can set something up."

Loki doesn't know what to do with his hands now that they're free, so he shoves them in his pocket, hoping he doesn't look too awkward.

"So...I'll see you later then?"

"You definitely will. Text me when you get home safe?"

Should...should they shake hands, should they hug, should-- Fuck it, Mobius leans in and kisses his cheek, same soft way he had done before in the parking garage.

Loki turns his head slightly just as Mobius moves in for the kiss to turn the peck on the cheek to a chaste peck on the lips. The other's mustache tickles as he pulls back, blushing again.

"I will. Have a good evening, Mobius."

It wasn't Mobius' intent, but, if Loki wants it, then...he won't be the only one blushing. He stands there, smiling like an idiot, considering that...maybe, maybe he should go in for another one, a proper one. Is that too fast? He's tempted...

"Good night, Loki."

And chickens out, ducking inside.

Loki makes sure to text Mobius as soon as he gets back to his condo (and before engaging in a rather rigorous, if solitary, night.) The next week and a half passes in a blur. With Loki rushing to finish up what cases he can before his vacation, they're only able to meet up for coffee once before their trip begins.

Loki picks Mobius up from his apartment and drives them both to the airport. Their flight is at an ungodly early hour, but at least it's nonstop and a fairly smooth ride. They're even able to get a last minute upgrade from business to first class (which Loki swears he did not plan, he just has a lot of air miles, might as well put them to use.)

They're both exhausted by the time they get to the hotel - an old, but beautifully renovated establishment known for servicing foreign dignitaries and celebrities. They arrive earlier than expected, so only one room is available to check in at the moment, but it's better than nothing. The front desk attendant promises they will call the room as soon as the second is ready for them as a bellhop loads their luggage onto a trolly and leads them to the first suite.

Loki flops face first onto one side of the king sized bed.

"Jetlag is truly the worst of man's inventions," he says, voice muffled by the over fluffed hotel pillow

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