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 The link she sent him takes him to a rather outdated looking webpage for the "TVA Salon and Spa", an older establishment that apparently started in the 50's as a barber shop, but recent made the jump to full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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"Well, it seems like jumping the gun to set up my phone to record some salacious sexual acts to then leak online. Probably need to be a couple dates deeper to get to that point."

"Oh, fifth date at the earliest for sure." Loki chuckles and leans up a little to recapture Mobius' lips. His hands continuing their exploration by sneaking under the hem of his shirt, lightly scratching the skin beneath.

"Mm, well, don't think you have to worry about any scandals with me."

Probably. Maybe. Surely not!

His own hands trail along Loki's sides, down to his hips. Content to kiss, content to take this actually slow. Not gonna chide Loki for his exploring, though. Because that's nice.

Loki shifts slightly so their legs alternate, then bends the leg between Mobius' up slightly. It doesn't press against Mobius, but is clearly there as an invitation if the other wants more friction.

Meanwhile his hands snake around the other's torso and begin feeling up the front of him, wondering if the hair he feels is the same beautiful silver as is on Mobius' head. How it would feel pressed against his own smooth chest.

Oh, this could get real heavy. He hasn't had someone touch him with sexual intent in longer than he wants to consider. Massages in no way count. Does he want? Well, yeah, of course he does. Does he want it sleepily in a hotel room after two-three dates and a long flight? ...Okay, he can't find any reason in that to say no, either.

But does it make him old-fashioned that he thinks it's big enough to talk about first? That would seem silly in the face of Loki's flagrantly confident sexuality. They'd be consenting adults having fun. What's there to talk about? With the invitation clearly there, and the way Loki touches him, and the way they kiss, yes, hell yes he'd like to see all of Loki and do a little bit more in this bed than just nap.

Still...maybe they should set a few parameters. Just in case.

"Loki," murmured between kisses, "I think maybe we--"

The phone on the nightstand rings. Mobius stares at it blinking. It rings again. He looks down at Loki. It rings a third time, and he clumsily reaches over to grab it, hanging awkwardly half on the bed and half on Loki.

"Hi? ...Yes? ...Oh, that's great. ...Yes, absolutely. Thanks for letting us know. ...Yes, same to you. Bye."

He misses the receiver twice before it clicks back into place. And he stays like that for a long moment before wriggling off Loki and laughing to himself. "The other room's ready. They're having the key sent up here so we don't have to go back down to the lobby."

Loki was just starting to move down to kiss and nip at Mobius' jaw then the phone rang. He holds back a groan as the other climbs off of him. He holds strong, though. Mobius is the one setting the pace here. He has to keep that in mind.

"Excellent. The rooms are practically identical, so either is open for you to claim."

"I'm gonna stay here if it's all the same to you." He sits up and looks over at Loki, wincing a little, but smiling through it. "Sorry about the interruption. But I do think we could both benefit from resting up a little if not a whole nap."

And at this point, they could both probably use a shower. Separately. To take care of certain needs and desires.

"...That was nice, though. We should definitely do that again. Sometime soon." And do a little more than that. God, why does he feel like a nervous teenager for it? Or maybe he just feels like an awkward tired old man trying to keep up with someone with more...everything.

"A nap does sound like a good idea." Loki stands from the bed, deliberately stretching so his shirt rides up, exposing a thin strip of pale midriff. He leans forward to place a quick peck on Mobius' lips. "I'm glad you enjoyed it as much as I did. If you'd like to pick up again later, just say the word."

A knock on the door stops anything else that may have happened between them. Loki opens it, taking the key from the bellhop and showing him which cart had Loki's luggage (hint: it's the one with more shit.)

Before he leaves the room, he turns back to Mobius with a small smile. "I'm right next door," he says, pointing at the wall separating them. "What say we reconvene in an hour or so for an early dinner?"

"An hour. Then you can wow me with local cuisine."

And then he's alone in the room. He flops back onto the bed, scrubbing his face with his hands. There's going to be a shower before dinner, and it might have to be a little longer than usual. Shit. That was stupid. Was that stupid? Yeah, that was stupid. What's there to talk about other than 'hey, promise I don't have anything, who wants to grab a condom' and whatever else. Loki's had the briefest taste of what his stylist-turned-date/boyfriend(?) is like under clothing, and--the naughty thought of doing another shopping trip and inviting Loki into the dressing room with him flashes through his head, which does not help.

He's right next door.

"Fuck."

Shower now, then brief if sated nap. Got it.

When that hour-ish has passed, he is definitely not a flustered mess, and is in fact already dressed. Nice-ish clothing, some of the new stuff gotten, warm but comfy. The suit will only make its debut at the gala, after all. He even is the one to come knock on Loki's door (next door, where he could go over, spend time, ignore his room, spend the next couple of nights if he so wished--) to see if he's ready. Even for the short time, Mobius looks fresh and refreshed.

Loki disappears into his room after tipping the bellhop and goes straight to the shower.
It had been too fast. He'd told himself he was going to let Mobius set the pace, but then the man was on top of him and he couldn't stop his hands from roaming all over. The scratch of his mustache on Loki's face had been divine, making him wonder how it would feel against his neck, his chest, his thighs... The shower is on the wall his room shares with Mobius, so he has to cover his mouth with one hand while the other finishes what was started before the blasted phone went off.

The shower is short, all things considered. He quickly changes into something comfortable and flops on the bed, trying the entire time to not think about what Mobius was doing at that exact moment. By some miracle he's able to doze off for a few minutes before his phone alarm goes off.

He opens the door and smiles at Mobius. "Come on in, I just need to finish up my hair and we can go." He gestures to where one hand is holding a half-finished braid. "Do you know what kind of food you'd like, or are you relying my tastes today?"

Should they talk about it? Loki's never really had to talk about stuff like...that before. Should he apologize? Mobius seemed like he'd been enjoying himself, even said he'd like to continue later, but now Loki's had a nap and time to stew and he's suddenly a little uncertain.

The braid is not surprising; Loki's sported braids now and then on coming in, not an unusual look for men with longer hair. Nice, though. "You need a hand with that?" Just to offer. Given that he's good with hair and all.

He sidles in and shuts the door behind him either way. "Let's rely on your tastes. I'm curious. And you do have good taste; I trust your tongue to guide the way."

Hm. That was not the best way to phrase that. Both because jesus fuck that sounded corny and also for a moment it has him thinking of Loki's tongue, and he's just going to put that image away for the moment.

"By all means." Loki sits on one of the chairs with his back to Mobius, hair tie held loosely over his shoulder for the other to grab. He could finish the braid himself, but who is he to deny help when it's been so kindly offered?

He barely holds back an innuendo about where exactly his tongue could lead them as he silently debates if they should talk about what happened in the other room.

"You know I...I don't expect anything from you on this trip. Or after." Wow, so eloquent.

He sets himself to work. It's not work in this case, not when it's offered freely and for fun, for closeness, and when half the work is already done for him. His hands are never as sure as they are when dealing with hair, and especially the hair of someone he's work on before.

And Loki says...that. He purses his lips, working quietly for a moment. Are they talking about this? So they're talking about this. Okay. He just has to get into the mindset of Talk About It with a sure breath.

"I'm not a prude." Okay, that could have come out better. "I mean, you're very openly sexual, and I have no problems with that. I will never ask you to change who you are or how you feel or what you want. Unless you're about to make a very regrettable hair choice," because, a little humor can go a long way to helping with a talk. "I just want to make sure that we both know what we're getting into and...what we want."

"So what would I be 'getting into' with you?" Loki asks. He's normally the one to take charge in these kinds of talks, but then again 'these talks' for Loki normally include a price point and safeword rather than dinner and wooing.

"Well, uh." Frankly, he was expecting 'what do you want', but, fair enough. "I live a very different life from you, apparently. I didn't grow up with money, and everything I have right now, I worked hard by myself, on my own, to get."

That's not to say Loki hasn't worked hard to get where he is, but it's also clear that for a fair enough chunk of his life, he coasted on daddy's money.

"That's why I was so nervous about the idea of you paying for everything. Maybe you don't need me to pay you back for anything, but I don't want you to look down on me. I don't want you to think I'm barely getting by, that I'm some kind of charity case that you can feel good about doing a good deed for." At this, at least he can chuckle. "When things go wrong in my apartment, I try and DIY it before I ever call the landlord, even though that's literally the landlord's job. I'm that kind of independent. Point of pride. I left home the second I graduated high school, never looked back, and now I'm part of a pretty popular spa where people like you give me some big tips to make sure I can pay my rent every month. I'm way out of my depth in a situation like this."

This isn't what he meant to say. He meant to talk about sex. He meant to talk about how he doesn't want Loki to just use him for sexual gratification and leave, no offense to sex workers, but he ain't one. He's long since finished off the braid, but not being watched like a hawk by Loki has made this somehow easier. Mostly he's been playing with Loki's hair, running his fingers along it, occasionally taking part of the braid out and redoing it tighter and smoother. He can't do that forever, and he rests his hands along Loki's shoulders.

"I'm not going to make this a dick measuring contest of who's got more baggage." Because Loki is clearly by and far the winner there. "But we've both got some stuff in our lives. I haven't dated anyone, not seriously, in...a while. And it doesn't seem to me like you're in the habit of doing so, either. I used to be a lot more casual about all this. If you had come to me just offering a fun night, no strings attached...maybe I would've turned you down, maybe not. I don't know. But you wanted to take me to another country and meet your family as your date. Whether you meant your plus one or your date, I don't know, but that's not," with another incredulous chuckle, "something normal people just up and ask their hairdresser, Loki. Not on any kind of whim. So I have to assume, because we're here, and because we've gone on a couple dates, that you want more than just a fling."

It doesn't feel right, though, to keep talking at Loki from this angle. He moves around to the front of the chair and kneels down on a knee, looking up at him.

"I'm not a spring chicken, here. I'm past my prime. I've never been married or had kids. I've mostly given up on having anything past a few drink dates. So this kind of terrifies me. I don't know what the hell I'm doing, and I'm pretty sure I'm in good company there. Maybe this will fall apart. Maybe we'll decide we're not ready or right for each other. I hope we stay friends if that happens. But I don't...want this to just be a fling. I don't want this to be you stringing me along, plying me with gifts, having fun, getting in bed, and then moving on to someone else. I'm too old for that shit. You're an attractive man. You're good company. You're funny and engaging and witty and sharp and sweet and thoughtful. I'd like to sleep with you."

The honest truth.

"And I want to know that if we do, it's not because I'm just some fun new conquest. I want to be sure that this is because you actually mean the effort you're putting into this. I don't want to be a story you tell the next person in a month or two. I don't want it to be out of some backwards socialized sense of obligation that there can or should be fucking after x-amount of dates, okay? Does that--am I making any sense?"

There are a few times Loki feels like he should interject, say something, but he can't finds the words, so he stays quiet. It's a lot, but then again Loki himself is a lot, so he figures he owes it to the other to get all of this out.

"You're right. I haven't had anything that even remotely resembles a relationship in...over ten years now." And they aren't getting into that today, thank you very much. This is already heavier. "Asking you here may have been...less of a whim than I initially let on. After the first few times seeing you, I had thought to proposition you for a fling, but it felt so hollow." Loki slowly reaches out and places a hand on Mobius' cheek.

"I want to do this properly, and that terrifies me. I'm not a good person and I don't entirely know what I'm doing. I'm probably going to do more weird shit like inviting you to another country before we've even had a proper date. I'm not great at showing affection beyond buying things and being intimate, but...I just don't want this to be a fling."

He leans into that hand. "Of course you're a good person," with just a bit of confusion. Why wouldn't he be? Jokes about bloodthirsty lawyers aside. "You're certainly good to me. Please do more weird shit. I'll put up with it and let you know when it's weird. Just...be you. I'll keep being me. And we'll find our way through trial and error like everyone else on this planet."

"Well, my trial record is pretty good." Loki jokes, trying to ignore Mobius' insistence that he's a good person. He doesn't know him yet, there's still time for that opinion to change.

"Thank you for putting up with the...weird. At least enough to give me a chance."

"Okay. Yeah. I think...we're good. That this is all a strange thing, and we'll figure it out, and I...think we can go to dinner now." He makes to stand. "I could use a drink."

"Agreed."

The air isn't quite as bitter cold as Asgard's climate is capable of, but the heavy layers of sweater and coat serve them both well walking from the hotel to the pub Loki had picked out for dinner. Hand-in-hand they step into a place that could easily be used for History Channel reenactments of the Viking ages were it not for the large screens above the bar displaying a hockey match and the servers in modern attire. It's clear the décor is less a gimmick and more a nod to tradition.

Hand in hand, they are led to a table by a window and given menus. The hostess explains that the mead and beer they have in stock, which Loki translates for Mobius.

"What would you like to start with?" Loki asks Mobius "I prefer the mead, but their beer is rather good as well. All locally brewed."

"I can try a mead. Be one with the people. Try out a few little phrases, maybe. I'm definitely a little out of place here, but it's really exciting." He nods around to the decor. "I like the vibe."

Loki orders two different types of meads that he enjoys, figuring Mobius will probably like at least one of them.

"Yes, this pub has been here for about 300 years. It's changed names and gone through some renovations in that time, but the building is the same. It was a favored haunt of Thor and his friends in high school."

"And what about you? One of your haunts, or did you have a preference for somewhere else?"

"I came with them on occasion, but in high school I mostly kept to myself and my studies. And in college, well, the places I frequented were either more seedier or more...colorful."

"I've been to clubs back in my day, not as colorful." They've both made some allusions and told some stories to these kind of days. "Can't say I've been to a 300 year old pub."

He's curious about the reason for Loki just throwing all caution to the wind, but will not ask that here and now.

"So your brother isn't going to be at this shindig. And your dad's not great." To put it lightly! Possibly one of the reasons for the throwing caution to the wind, and also being a rich kid, frankly. "But I'll probably be meeting your mom, right? And she sounds great. Think she'll like me? Is she into the political scene?"

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