Chapter Text
"This can't be right," Chase muttered, refreshing the list of appointments he had that day.
Silvia glanced over at him from the wash bowl, her hands covered in shampoo suds from the scalp massage she was giving her client. A dash of worry knit itself into her silver brows, and her eyes— a vibrant pink from her custom contacts— darted between Chase and the mounted tablet he was assaulting at the salon's front desk.
"Did our internet go out again?"
Chase gnawed on his lower lip as he checked all the cables, then huffed when he reloaded the screen again. "No, everything seems fine. I just don't see my regular on here, is all."
"Ahh," Silvia nodded in understanding. "Dark Hair McCrazy Eyes, right?"
"His eyes are gorgeous, I'll have you know," Chase pouted, sticking his tongue out at her.
"I dunno about that, Chasey," she said, rinsing her client's shampoo out. "He always looks like he's staring into your soul. It's kind of unnerving."
Chase gasped in mock offense as he walked past her to grab a broom. "It's romantic, is what it is, Sil. Have you ever seen eyes quite so blue?"
Silvia quirked an eyebrow as Chase began sweeping the already clean floor, sharing a look with her client that said, 'are you seeing this?'
"Besides," he continued on, "you've only seen him a handful of times. He's been booking with me for three and a half years now."
"Three years?" Silvia's client exclaimed. "He must like you a lot!"
Chase blushed fiercely, nearly dropping the broom. "Well, I don't know about that," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "I think he just likes the way I cut his hair. He always comes in on the first Friday of the month and gets the exact same haircut from me. He even schedules me for the same time of day each month. Creature of habit, I suppose."
This time it was Silvia's client who shot her a knowing look as Chase swept suspiciously close to the front counter, pausing every so often to double-check his appointment book.
"That could be us, darling," Silvia joked, leading her client over to the hair dryers.
The woman laughed, smirking playfully up at her. "Well, you are pretty good with your fingers. I'll have to consider it."
"HEY, keep it PG back there!" Chase called out to them. "I just had a family walk in!"
The two burst into a fit of giggles, but resolved to save their flirting until after Chase finished the kids' haircuts.
Surprisingly, it didn't take him all that long; either because the kids were already of a gentle temperament, or because Chase knew how to keep them engaged, but either way, he was soon sending the family on their way, each kid with a handful of stickers and smiles on their faces.
"Look at that; he's a real family man," Sil's client— Grace, she'd said her name was— said as they walked to the counter to pay. "You think Crazy Eyes wants any kids?"
"How about this; I'll find out and tell you the next time you come in, alright?" Silver offered, ringing up the wash and style into the tablet.
Grace smiled, handing over her credit card. "You sure know how to keep a lady interested. I guess I'll be seeing you."
And so, one hefty tip and two exchanged phone numbers later, Silvia was left grinning smugly at Chase as they waited for their next appointments to arrive.
"Shut up," Chase grumbled, folding his arms petulantly.
Silvia's grin widened. "I wasn't saying anything!" She teased, breezing past him to get the hair dyes out for her next booking.
"But you were thinking it. Loudly."
"Well," she chuckled, "I'll endeavor to think a little bit quieter next time. If you still can't get his number, that is," she tacked on, laughing as Chase reddened again.
Shut upppp," he whined, covering his face.
✂ - - - - - ✂ - - - - - ✂
Chase's morning came and went, full of various cuts, colors, and washes, but when he returned from his lunch break and checked his upcoming appointments, Buddy's name still wasn't there. Worse, still, it appeared as though a last minute booking had just taken Buddy's usual time slot of five thirty pm. Chase furrowed his brow. Buddy had never, in their almost four years together (well, not together together. As stylist and customer, together) missed his monthly haircut. Ever.
Nothing… nothing had happened to him… right? Chase started chewing on his bottom lip. There's no way he'd just up and leave for a different salon out of the blue like this. Maybe he was just busy? Maybe his hair had started growing slower? Or–or maybe Buddy had just forgotten to make his appointment this time around and would show up anyway. Yeah! That had to be it!
Chase nodded once to himself, determined to get through the rest of his bookings without freaking out and reporting a missing person to the local police. He didn't need to be giving himself worry lines at such a young age, after all. He'd just have to trust that Buddy would show up sooner or later. He hoped…
Chase shoved those thoughts to the side, putting on his best customer service smile as his next client walked through the front doors. They were another regular of his, frequently coming in for dye touch-ups and steamy gossip sessions. She chose a nice dark purple this time around, and conversation flowed easily as he worked the dye through her long hair. It was almost enough to keep him from thinking about Buddy. Almost.
He got pretty busy after that, with numerous walk-ups padding his time between those who'd scheduled appointments in advance, and before Chase even knew it, the day was almost over. Buddy still hadn't shown up.
Chase sighed as he finished cleaning up the trimmed ends of his latest client's hair, and woefully admitted to himself that Buddy wouldn't be coming.
Well, there's always next month, right?
✂ - - - - - ✂ - - - - - ✂
Buddy stepped off the plane tiredly, his back popping in several places as he stretched it out for the first time in five long, long hours. Sometimes he really hated his job. That stupid client had kept him a whole day beyond what they'd initially said would be needed, and what did his boss do about it? Nothing! 'It's not a big deal,' they said. 'Just finish setting up that new software,' they said. 'You'll get bonus travel compensation!' they said.
Well, Buddy didn't want extra travel compensation! (He would still accept it, naturally, but that's not the point). He wanted to be home! He wanted to get his hair cut! He–he really just wanted to see Chase. But of course he couldn't say that when they'd asked— which is really just a corporate way to say told— him to stay. Just another stupid facet of his white collar life.
Buddy groaned, letting his head fall onto the steering wheel of his car as he finally, finally made it to the airport's long term parking. He stayed like that for a while, simply appreciating the familiar comfort of his own vehicle after spending the better portion of his work trip trying to figure out how to operate the brand new rental car they'd forced him to get.
Whoever had told him to go into IT was a class traitor of the highest degree. Sure, the money was good, but Buddy could feel his soul shriveling away with each new promotion he acquired. He should have taken his mother's advice and gone into accounting instead. Maybe then people would have left him alone to do his work in peace. No more travel; no more climbing the ladder; no more stupid tech nonsense.
Buddy sighed, rummaging through the pockets of his blazer to find his phone. It was almost seven pm, and the salon would be closing at eight… and now that he thought about it, he really needed to eat something…
Buddy ran his hands down his face in lieu of another sigh. Fast food it was, then. Might as well, if his entire day had already been ruined. Thanks a lot, Gerald. Stupid work trip. Stupid job.
It took him twenty minutes to drive back to the city, then fifteen more to find a restaurant that didn't completely suck (a tall order for fast food chains, apparently). Luckily for Buddy, the one he'd found had a drive through, so he was able to get his food relatively quickly, then eat it in the parking lot in peace. Restaurant dining rooms were always overly sticky, loud, or some unholy combination of the two, and therefore Buddy very politely declined to ever eat in one again. He shivered at the mere thought.
Buddy finished his mediocre meal in just over six minutes, and as he left his car to deposit his waste bag in the establishment's dumpster, he noticed his salon just across the strip mall's conjoined parking lots. Buddy blinked. He hadn't realized he'd gotten so close in his search for semi-palatable fast food.
A quick glance at his watch told him it was seven thirty-nine. The salon wouldn't close for another twenty-one minutes, but his regular haircut took twenty-seven minutes; twenty-four if Chase hurried. Still, something inside of him prompted him to walk over anyway.
The salon's lights were still on, and Buddy could just make out— past the glass reflections— Chase's short frame bustling to and fro between empty seats, sweeping and wiping down wherever he went. Clearly, he was starting to prepare for closing time.
Now, Buddy had already (somewhat) come to terms with having to postpone his haircut, but to see Chase in there; to be so close yet so far… it made his chest ache with longing. He didn't even know if Chase would be working tomorrow; he'd never needed to reschedule before.
Belatedly, Buddy realized that he could easily find out by simply going online and scheduling his appointment for whichever day let him select Chase as his stylist. He made to do just that, pulling out his phone and finding the salon's website in his saved browser tabs, when the doors to his side flung open, the sound of the shop's bells startling him into dropping his phone onto the sidewalk.
"Buddy!!" Chase practically sang, stepping to the side to hold the door open for him. "I thought you'd been kidnapped or something; come in, come in!"
Buddy stooped to pick up his phone, wincing slightly at the new cracks in his screen protector. "W-well, you're about to close. I wouldn't want to be an imposition."
"I don't know what that means, but I've been worried sick about you all day, so I think you owe it to me to get in here and spill the deets," he demanded, pointing an accusatory finger at Buddy.
Chase's tone left no room for argument (even if Buddy were capable of saying no to him anyway), so he followed the shorter man inside obediently, smiling when Chase led him to his favorite chair.
Maybe his entire day hadn't been ruined after all.
✂ - - - - - ✂ - - - - - ✂
Chase very nearly jumped for joy when he spotted Buddy standing outside the salon. But… he wasn't coming inside? There better not be another dead pigeon out there or Chase is gonna puke. Again. Two times is two times too many.
From what he could see, Buddy looked sort of upset, but it was more of a 'I just received some bummer news' upset, not 'I am staring at and unfortunately smelling a dead pigeon' upset. So… silver linings?
Buddy still hadn't made any moves to come in, so Chase ditched his cleaning supplies and ran to open the doors for him. He might have gone just a touch overboard, however, because the sudden noise and movement caused Buddy to drop his phone. Oopsie. Chase really should have known better than to sneak up on him like that, but he couldn't change what he'd already done, so he settled for leading Buddy inside and into his regular spot in the back right corner, since the angle of the mirror let him see the front doors. Chase didn't quite understand why, but it seemed to put Buddy at ease, so he always made sure to keep it open for their appointments.
Almost immediately after he sat down, Buddy started to look more relaxed, and Chase couldn't help but feel a warm burst of pride well up in his chest that he was the one who'd put that contented look on the other man's face. It almost let him hope that Buddy doesn't keep coming back just because Chase is an excellent stylist. Though, of course, he is an excellent stylist. Superb, even. One of the best (along with Silvia, of course).
"Sooo," Chase began, getting the cape and neck guard situated. Tight enough to feel secure, but loose enough to let him breathe; just the way he liked it. "You're looking pretty swanky; you didn't ditch our regular time to go on a date, didja?" Chase tried to laugh as he said it, but it… wasn't entirely a joke. If he found out that the man he'd been pining over for upwards of three years was already taken, he'd–he'd… probably cry, or something. Chase didn't know what he could do about it, other than drown his feelings in ice cream. Provided Buddy was already dating someone behind his back, that is. The raven haired man had yet to answer.
Buddy shifted somewhat uncomfortably in his seat, and for a split second, Chase worried that he'd fastened the cape too tightly, or gotten too personal, but then Buddy spoke.
"N-no, I was… delayed coming home from a business trip. I'm not–" Buddy swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing tantalizingly under his neck guard. "I'm not currently seeing anyone."
It took every single ounce of willpower Chase possessed in his (perfectly averaged sized) body not to immediately drop to his knees and beg Buddy to go out with him then and there. But no, he ought to wait and do it properly. Maybe with flowers, or something. Buddy seemed like the kind of guy who would appreciate flowers. At the very least he needed to wait until the haircut was over; that way Sil couldn't accuse him of being 'unprofessional.' Though after her blatant flirting that morning, he'd gained plenty of ammunition to fire right back at her, so he'd like to see her try.
Even so, Chase was glad that Silvia had stepped out to grab them some smoothies. Heaven knows she'd probably try to play matchmaker and just make things awkward. The last thing Chase ever wanted to do was make Buddy uncomfortable.
✂ - - - - - ✂ - - - - - ✂
Buddy messed up. Why did he tell Chase he was single? And why had Chase asked in the first place if he wasn't going to respond??
The air felt thick between them as Chase laid out all of his tools on the counter in front of them. Buddy appreciated the gesture; it let him see the number on each successive clipper guard so he'd know exactly what length Chase was using at any given time, and the order he planned to use them in. No other stylist had ever done anything like that for Buddy before.
All of his friends liked to tease him for always getting the same haircut (and for getting it a good deal more often than he really needed to), but he liked how it felt and the way it looked on him, so why should he change? And would it be too terribly weird of him to say that he liked the feeling of Chase's hands in his hair and on his neck?
"You work for that big tech company, right? The one with that really ugly building downtown?" Chase piped up, snapping the first guard onto his clippers and stepping back behind Buddy. "I'm gonna start on your left side, alright?"
Buddy nodded, both at the question and the notice of where Chase would be shaving first. "Unfortunately. I was supposed to fly back yesterday, but apparently that client of ours is too stupid to hire anyone who knows how to update the BIOS, so it took longer than anticipated to get them set up with our new software."
Chase nodded sagely over his shoulder, his smile sincere as it reflected off the mirror and into Buddy's waiting eyes. "Gotta love first world problems, am I right?" He said, prompting a startled laugh out of Buddy.
"That you are. I suppose I ought to count my blessings," he replied.
"Oh, I'm just yankin' your chain, Buds," Chase said, eyebrows pinched together as he squared off the back of Buddy's neck and gently shaved around his ears. "Where'd they ship you off to, anyway?"
"California."
Chase's arm twitched almost imperceptibly, and his mouth fell open in shock. "You flew all the way back from California and you're not asleep right now?? I would have found the nearest bench and just passed out right in the airport! Gosh, dude, you've got to be exhausted."
Buddy bit the inside of his cheek. He'd been hoping that Chase wouldn't comment on how odd it is for someone to go straight to a hair salon after a day of traveling. Or at the very least, odd that he hadn't even stopped by his apartment first. He really didn't want Chase thinking he was desperate to see him, or anything (even if that was the case), but lying always made his skin crawl…
"Well, to a– to a degree, yes. But I always feel better after a haircut."
"Awww, did you miss me, Buddy?" Chase asked, stepping in front to attach the next length guard so he could move on to the sides and back of Buddy's head.
The words made his cheeks darken slightly, and with Chase directly in front of him as he was, Buddy had no chance of hiding his rapidly worsening blush. Well, no sense in trying to play it off now. The only way out is through. "Yes," he admitted, eyes trained on Chase's face to gauge his reaction. Miraculously, he blushed right back at him. That seemed promising.
"O-oh, I– I missed you too." Chase ducked his head, looking adorably out of sorts as he indicated where he'd be working next.
Somewhere off to the side, someone started slurping obscenely loudly. A quick scan of the room through his mirror told him that it was the woman who'd walked in just a moment or so ago. She wore the same apron as Chase, so clearly she was an employee, but the way she lounged in one of the chairs along the other wall spoke of a rather lax work environment. Buddy was almost jealous.
The woman took another long sip of her drink, looking quite pleased at Chase's embarrassed squawking. "No, no, don't stop on my account, Chasey-poo; this was just getting interesting!"
Buddy's face was positively burning, and if the way Chase's voice cracked as he yelled at his coworker was any indication, so was his.
"Silvia! Just how long have you been sitting there?!" Chase spluttered.
She smiled at them, looking all too innocent for what she had just interrupted. "Long enough to decide that I'm going home early. You can close up by yourself tonight, darling." She stood and took a step towards the doors, then glanced back, smirking at Chase. "Enjoy the smoothie." The doors closed gently behind her, the overhead bells chiming softly in her wake.
Buddy's gaze returned to the mirror in front of him, which ever so helpfully let him know that not only was his entire face colored a bright red, but his ears were, too. Wonderful. Simply wonderful.
Chase ran a beleaguered hand down his face. "I'm so sorry about that, Buds. She just– she likes to– she… yeah." Rather than finish his thought, Chase chose instead to bite his lower lip as he resumed cutting Buddy's hair.
The awkward silence carried on, and Buddy could feel his heart rate picking up the longer they went without speaking. Chase's hands carded through his hair with the same level of delicate care they always did, but every time their eyes met in the mirror, Chase was the first to look away. It was very nearly torturous to have to sit so still with the tension between them growing as it was, but Buddy's normally very impressive vocabulary was failing him, and he couldn't think of a single thing to say that would make things go back to normal.
Did he even want things to go back to how they'd been before? Tonight had given him the clearest indication in three years that Chase might possibly return his feelings. Could he afford not to take this chance? There might not come a better day to confess, and Buddy would never forgive himself if his lack of action now caused them to dance around each other for another three years.
But how is one supposed to just come out and say 'hey, you're one of— if not the most— thoughtful person I've ever met and I think you're gorgeous; will you go out with me?' It just… it just isn't done like that, is it?
Not for the first time, Buddy cursed his lack of romantic experience. He hadn't even so much as gone on a date since long before he met Chase, and after he met the golden haired man, well… he just hadn't wanted anyone else. Not the way he wanted Chase.
God, this was starting so sound pathetic. Buddy refrained from dropping his head into his hands, but only because Chase was still cutting his hair, and— oh… he'd actually just finished. Buddy hadn't even noticed Chase swap out his electric clippers for a pair of scissors to tidy up his bangs, but sure enough, with one last snip of his ebony locks cut and falling to the floor beneath them, his time with Chase had come to a close.
His hair looked perfect— as always— with his bangs framing his face nicely and the rest of his hair neatly shaved off of his neck and away from his ears. Chase didn't even have to ask what Buddy wanted anymore; he just knew. Knew exactly when and where to cut, and how to make him comfortable throughout it all.
They stood together at the front counter for a time, his receipt dangling uselessly from the printer— his payment long since processed. Buddy shifted his weight from foot to foot nervously, not wanting to leave just yet, but not quite knowing what else he could do to stay.
It helped (at least a little bit) that Chase also looked hesitant to end their time together and part ways; his honey brown eyes searching Buddy's icy blue ones for something both unknowable and undefinable.
It was now or never.
Buddy drew in a shaky breath, then blurted out— at the same time as Chase, surprisingly— the six words they'd both been dying to hear, but had been too afraid to say for three whole years:
"Will you go out with me?"