Chapter Text
“Dip me!”
Takoyama leans back dramatically, blue arms grasping his best friend’s shoulders. “Come on Moosesha, just let your body feel the music!” The military instructor sighs, a bit exasperated and a bit endeared, and slowly lowers her friend closer to the ground, making an effort not to hurt him.
Club Fun was hosting a Masquerade of Music, led by MC King Kong Mushi. MilkCan was performing for a bit of that night, a mix of alternative rock and (at Takoyama’s request and a bribe of a few cute haircuts) a few quick and hot salsa songs they’d made recently. One of those salsa songs was playing now, and Takoyama just had to get up and dance to it.
He’s glad this is a semi-formal event. Takoyama loves to dress up, and the purple patterned dress he decided on agrees with him. He has a penchant for floor-length garments. His mask matches his dress, and honestly, he feels as pretty as a peacock. Or perhaps just a very stylish octopus.
After the song ended, Takoyama curtsied and Moosesha bowed, both laughing a bit at the absurdity. They went back to dancing normally to a rock song, the octopus smiling involuntarily whenever Katy hit one of those high notes she was known for. They drifted away from each other slowly, and after a while, he couldn’t spot Moosesha anymore. He looked around while swaying to the beat and spotted her talking to her sister. He could tell it was her because they’re both built similarly and wore similar dark blue masks. Twins twinning. That’s fine! Takoyama knows more people. Sure, he doesn’t have many friends, but pretty much everyone enters the salon at some point or another, and everyone knows his silly smiling face.
He waves at a couple of people that he knows. Like Miss Sunny Funny in her pretty pink mask! She comes in sometimes to keep her petals orderly. It’s fun sometimes to explain to other customers why he has a pair of pruning shears right next to his straight razor. She’s a sweet girl, but she also seems preoccupied talking to one of her friends. He can’t recognize her with her mask on, but he’s sure he’s seen her before.
Takoyama circles back around to meet up with Moosesha. He waves at all the same people again, plus some new faces that he may not exactly recognize. The music picks up and swells again and dancers begin dancing in pairs to the energetic beat. Takoyama has never been one to miss a dancing bandwagon, and twirls by himself for a while before finding someone similarly alone. He doesn’t know this person, with purple arms and a face hidden behind what appears to be a ski mask, but he grabs two of their hands and begins to lead them in a tango.
“Whoa-!” His dance partner is a bit clumsy on his feet, obviously not expecting to be partnered up so abruptly. Takoyama just laughs and swishes his dress a bit, having a bit too much fun to be apologetic.
“I like your mask,” Takoyama says. His partner seems to get his footing and twirls the hairdresser in a little circle. They chuckle sheepishly. “My friend said I just had to wear a mask; I didn’t know it was gonna get so intricate. I like yours too.” Takoyama laughs again, a bit coy. This person seemed a bit silly, or perhaps just not used to parties. He thought it was cute.
He puts his hands on his dance partner’s shoulders and is surprised to feel a swish of some of the softest hair he’s ever felt graze the back of his blue hand. He peers behind the stranger to find a shock of deep brown hair loose from the back of the ski mask. Pretty, shiny hair. It’s honestly admirable. And he’s very sure this person has never walked into the salon a day in their lives! He’s a bit jealous. He’s got to find out who the competition is and offer better prices.
“What’s up, huh?” His concentration, brought on from years of salon work, is broken. “Hm? Oh, nothing. Just admiring,” He says, grinning. The stranger laughs again. The energy in the room seems to have changed, at least for Takoyama. The music slows down a tiny bit, almost imperceptibly, and his hands feel warm on the stranger’s dark blue tuxedo.
“Dip me?” They comply, and four arms move lower on Takoyama’s back and waist, lowering him in a move that feels almost suave. They lean closer to him, eyes locked, gazes trading electricity. The stranger closes his eyes, and Takoyama follows suit…
And somehow lands up on the floor. His eyes fly open. The stranger stares down at the hairdresser, almost frozen. They look petrified. Takoyama slowly picks himself from the floor, and he couldn’t explain to himself why he’s giggling like he’s still in high school. He grabs the stranger’s hand. “At least you didn’t wear a mask from a Halloween store,” He says, “That would have been very tragic.”
Slowly, the stranger brings Takoyama’s hand to their mouth, kisses it, and lets go. They look apologetic as they flee, and before long they’re lost in the crowd of friends and strangers. Takoyama touches the back of his hand, stunned, as the song slowly dips to a close.
“Thank you, everybody! We’ve been MilkCan! Goodnight!”