ONESHOT/SLASH REPOST

When I re-posted all of my old stuff, I somehow managed to forget this little gem. Which was a Christmas present for Brouc in 2009. So it's a year and a few months old.

For Brouc.

Her requests:

A haircut gone wrong, an awesome old person, sprinklers, tinsel, a tarantula named Fluffy, a 'this isn't what it looks like' moment, and a stepladder.

Reviews always appreciated.

Enjoy~

I squirm impatiently in my chair, the sheet itching around my neck. My aunt is chattering at me, neither noticing nor caring that I'm not listening to her. She dances around, long hair sparkling with the tinsel she wove into it - "To be festive!" she'd told me when I gave her a questioning look. The snip-snip of her scissors narrowly missing my ears keeps me sitting as still as I am, but I still bounce my legs, tap my fingers against the seat of the chair.

"Ooooookay," she says, pulling the sheet off my and standing back to admire her work with a quaint smile. I stand up, throwing out a quick "Thanks!" before darting out the door, ruffling my hair in the process to get rid of strays.

"Don't forget to pick up some crickets for Fluffy!" she shouts after me, and I groan, jogging to my car. I'm late for a date with my friend Sam. I speed into town, passing the pet store and making a mental note to grab crickets for my cousin's stupid tarantula.

I park in front of Al's Burger Joint and hurry inside, finding Sam already halfway through her usual strawberry shake. I grimace in apology, but as soon as her eyes find me, her jaws drop open and her eyes are glued to my head.

"What the frog did you do to your hair?!" Her eyes are wide and I run a hand through my hair, mortified by the look she's giving me. I rush to the bathroom and jolt to a stop as soon as I'm inside the door, my refection staring back at me - horrified.

My aunt gave me a mullet. A fucking mullet. I look like I just walked off a bad Billy Ray Cyrus video.

"What the fuck?" is all I can manage. Sam's full-on laughing at me now from the doorway, doubled over and slapping her knee. "Fuck. Fuck. Do you think Doris' is open this late? Fucking hell, what was my aunt thinking?" Disbelief fills me, but this is real, I know it's real as I run my hand through my hair, turning my head to the side. Business in the front, party in the back.

Sam is too busy laughing hysterically to care about my plight, and I pout. "Gimme your beanie," I say, sulking. She tosses it over, mussing her own sandy hair. I tug the beany over my head, looking highly disgruntled.

I huff, slipping out the door past Sam, and I grab her hand on the way out as she wipes her tears with the other. I wait while she pays for her shake, still tearful and giggling now and then. I drag her with me, down along Main Street - ten tiny blocks to Doris'. The entire town is dead quiet, save for the occasional car driving through and the slick-tick-tick of Mr. Corgan's sprinklers.

Doris' barber shop is the only salon in our tiny town. Well-to-do and ripe in her age, Doris' prices have changed little since the 70's. Only her reputation of having a loose tongue - self-proclaimed Gossip Queen and all - precedes her amazing prices and service. Doris' hair color changes at least twice a month, from vivid colored-hues to rich natural shades to jet black or peroxide blonde. She's the type of saucy old granny you'll see running over punks in her scooter or smacking lecherous old men with her cane ten years down the road.

The vibrant red and blue neon of her OPEN sign are the colors of my redemption, and I breathe a sigh of relief as I walk through the door, jingling bells signaling our arrival. I halt momentarily when I spot him - Ara Anir - sitting in the chair, blue cape around him while Doris trims his raven locks. Doris greets us with her naturally booming voice, her hair dyed a seasonal mixture of hot red and bright green.

"Ah, Randy. Your aunt told me to have you text message her when you got here." Okay, what? Confused, and while Sam greeted Doris enthusiastically, I texted my aunt.

Wtf?

While I waited for her response, I took a seat near the far wall, inconspicuously sneaking glances at Ara, who was now chatting animatedly with Sam. Now lemme explain really quick. Ara is a guy who lives in our town. His father is rich and his mother is what my aunt calls "One of the Stepfords." Ara goes to a private boarding school in Europe. Ara is also fucking hot.

Get crickets 4 Fluffy plz. is my aunt's responding text, and I huff. She did this on purpose. So the fucking bug wouldn't go hungry. I mean, sure, Eric's off at college and I'm still at home, but I don't think I should have to take care of his stupid spider just because his campus has a no pets policy. Just squash the fucking thing.

Back to Ara. Excuse me while I drool for a second... Okay, done. Anyway, he's gorgeous. High cheekbones, caramel skin, raven-black hair, and these amazing hazel eyes. Everyone I know either envies or lusts after him. I guess I can count for both of those. Because, yeah, I wish I was as hot as him. But I would much rather twine my fingers in his sable hair, gaze deeply into those beautiful hazel eyes, and fuck him senseless.

Sam snaps me back to reality when she plops down next to me and rips her beanie off my head. "Ow, fuck!" Doris gives me a scathing look, and I grin sheepishly in apology. She doesn't appreciate vulgarity, a fact that's well known and that I get scorned for every time I visit for a haircut.

"See?! Look at what she did! Isn't that hilarious?!" I realize that Ara is staring at me, grinning broadly. Oh fuckity fuck. I blush because, come on - gorgeous guy practically laughing at my ridiculous haircut? Gah. Doris clicks her tongue in pity at me, and I sigh morosely, pouting and sulking. Ara bites his lips. Fucking bites his lip like a shy schoolboy, and I almost wet myself at the thought of biting his lip for him.

"Don't stress, emo kid," he tells me, and I blush, sucking my lip in from the emo pout I'd had going on. "Doris will fix you right up." He winks at me. Fucking winks. Oh god.

"This is what you get for letting someone else cut your hair, honey," Doris says shamefully, and I huff, still blushing. She takes the cape thing off Ara, dusting his shoulders with a brush before he stands up and I can't help it, I take in an eyeful of his crotch. Excuse me while I drool some more...

"So six o'clock? Sounds great, I'll see you then." I resurface from my daydreams in time to hear Ara say this to Sam, giving her a smile and a wave as he walks out the door, bells jingling after him. A flash of jealousy hits me square in the chest and I glare at Sam. A date with Ara? What the fuck? She knows I'm in lust with the guy. How dare she?!

"Cool your jets, he's meeting us - as in you and I - for dinner tonight." She rolls her eyes dramatically and I snort. Drama queen. I'm silently relieved in more ways than one as I take a seat in Doris' chair.

"Just make me look normal," I plead with puppy eyes. Doris laughs heartily, snipping away and I relax, watching Sam flip through a random magazine. Doris chats idly while she clips, asking me about my aunt and uncle. I tell her that both are well. Uncle Rick is a police man, part of the Highway Patrol. Oh yeah, and my parents? They were killed by Voldemort when I was a baby. It was quite tragic. Just kidding. Never knew my dad and my mom OD'd on coke when I was ten. Aunt Linda and Uncle Rick have done a fine job of raising me since.

Doris does a great job evening out my hair. It's a lot shorter than I've had it in a while, but Sam reassures that it looks good. Makes me look older, more sophisticated. To a seventeen year old with an ego complex, that's just what I need to hear. I pay Doris, adding a tip, a kiss to her cheek, and happy holiday wishes, I snatch a candy cane on my way out the jingling door.

Sam and I head two blocks down to Graden's Pet Supply. While I'm waiting for the clerk, Nate, to get me the crickets, I pick out a nice new house rock for Fluffy. The perfect gift to Eric for Christmas. I also buy a pack of catnip mice for my cat Shredder, and Sam rolls her eyes. DRAMA QUEEN. I love my kitty.

"So when are we meeting with Ara again? And where?" I finally ask, and Sam smiles.

"Oh, I just remembered I have to babysit tonight so I can't go. But he'll meet you at The Lodge at six." Her shit-eating grin makes me giggle giddily because this means I have a date with Ara. Okay, not an official date, but... omg. I pay for the crickets, for the spider house and the mice, and Sam and I head back to Al's for a quick order of chili fries and to share my own chocolate shake. It's just past one and I have a date with Ara in less than five hours.

Sam follows me back to the house, giggling teasing me as we walk up the steps. Through the door and the first thing I see is uncle Rick on a stepladder with his pants half down and aunt Linda's face in his crotch, hands gripping his hips. I almost throw up in my mouth at the sight. Sam runs into the back of me then freezes when she sees what I'm staring open-mouthed at, and my aunt finally realizes we're there and she peeks around at us.

"Oh hey guys! Did you get Fluffy's crickets?" She sounds so chipper and I'm still horrified. It's then that I realize uncle Rick's reaching up, unscrewing a lightbulb from the ceiling lights. His pants aren't half down, he's just wearing a pair of slacks that are beige at the top and blue halfway down the leg. I'm relieved, to say the least.

"Um. Yeah," I tell her, handing over the sack with the crickets in it. She comments on my nice new haircut and I resist the urge to flip her off, instead giving her a snide grin. Sam rolls her eyes - DRAMA. QUEEN. - and we head back to my room. Sam flops on my bed, picking out a DVD and tossing it to me to put in the player.

Christmas break in Middle of Nowhere, Southern California, is about as exciting as watching a paint-covered frog dry out in the sun... Okay, that's actually kinda fun. Well, never mind. She picked Land of the Lost. Will Farrell is one of my favorite actors. He's hilarious. I mean seriously. Elf? Best. Movie. Evarrrr.

When the movie's over, Sam gives me a quick makeover before my date. She plucks my eyebrows - which, btw, hurts like a fucking BITCH - and gels my hair up just right and even I have to admit that I look nicer than I could have ever managed by myself. She also helps me pick out my clothes because, despite the fact that I'm queer, I completely lack the good taste in clothes gene.

Sam leaves my house at five - it turns out she really does have to babysit - and leaves me to fret and build up a serious case of nerves in the form of flesh-eating rabid butterflies that are currently gnawing at my stomach. I'm at The Lodge nearly fifteen minutes early, jittery and nervous and too nauseous to even think about eating.

I'm at one of the couples tables near the lavish fireplace in the back, sweating my ass off and considering taking my jacket off when Ara arrives and then I'm too nervous and self-conscious to think about it. I stand up when he gets there, and he looks around curiously for Sam. I blush.

"Sam had to babysit. I hope that's alright," I say sheepishly as he sits across from me, and his warm smile has me weak in the knees. Good thing I'm sitting back down again.

"Oh no, that's fine. I have to admit, you look a lot better without that mullet," he jokes, and ugh. I can't help but blush. He chuckles at his joke, I smile and offer a "Yeah." Insert slightly awkward silence here. "Sooo... Sam said you're single?" Fuck yes I am, I've been saving myself for you!

"Uh, yeah. And you?" Oh smooth, Randy. Really smooth. Ara laughs and I blush even more.

"Heh. Yeah, just broke up with my boyfriend." Another slightly awkward silence. The waiter breaks it this time, setting down our water and menus and Ara orders a rootbeer and I eye him suspiciously before ordering my own rootbeer.

"Rootbeer is my favorite." And it is.

"... It's my favorite too." He gives me the eye right back, and I think I just fell in love. Not really, though.

"Favorite color?" I ask.

"Red. Yours?" He's leaning forward, elbows on the table and chin resting on hands. I copy him.

"Red also. Coffee or tea?"

"Tea."

"...Me too." I'm slightly overwhelmed with elation.

"I've had a crush on you for years." His gorgeous hazel eyes are locked on mine.

"..." Okay, I wasn't expecting that. But still. "...ditto."

"Seriously? I mean, you've hardly ever spoken to or even acknowledged me."

"Oh look who's talking," I tease, shamelessly making eyes at him.

"My parents are in Hawaii for the weekend. Wanna come over after dinner?" Fuck. Yes.

"Fuck. Yes." Finally I decide to voice my thoughts, and Ara laughs. We talk idly over our rootbeers, eat our food when it comes. I text my aunt to let her know I'm possibly staying the night at a friend's house, and she okay's it. On our way out, Ara tells the host to put it on his father's tab. I want to squeal because come on, how cool is that? I should have ordered lobster...

I'm excited and nervous and I'm almost positive this perfect night is going to end in me fucking Ara senseless like I've always dreamed about. And even so, I can't help but silently thank everyone who helped get me there. My aunt for the shitty haircut, Sam for setting up the date, and ultimately Fluffy, the stupid fucking tarantula who needed a meal. I can honestly say I've never thanked a spider for getting laid, but this one's to you, Fluffy.