Work Text:
“It’s them again,” their receptionist, Ana, says with almost a tone of horror.
It's a quiet day at SuperCuts and Melanie, having the chair closest to the receptionist's desk, looks up lazily from the magazine she’s skimming through. She doesn’t really have to, though. She already knows who Ana’s referring to.
It’s a young woman about her age, Dolio, and her mom, whose name Melanie's never cared enough to catch. The two of them walk through the front door, Dolio quiet and looking down at the floor with every step and her mother rattling on about something to her. Melanie flips her magazine closed and lays it on her counter, standing up and scanning over her station. Clean and ready.
Ana's tone is a bit much. They’re not that bad. But then again, the only one she has contact with is Dolio.
“Hi, Dolio,” Melanie says with a smile as Dolio passes Ana and comes to her chair automatically. The pair had picked her at random for Dolio’s trim one day, and now it seems she's the only one they both trust.
Dolio’s mother settles on the plastic couch in the wide open lobby, hands in her lap like a picture of good manners, but Ana watches her without making a big deal about watching her. Last time the pair were in, their store lost about two-hundred dollars' worth of high-end shampoo. Somehow, even with security cameras, they weren't able to successfully pin it on them. That and the fact that it hasn't happened again is the only reason they're allowed back in.
Dolio has sat down, and so Melanie gets to work, whips out the standard black apron and secures it around Dolio’s neck delicately, carefully lifting her hair away before snapping the rivets shut.
The only thing Dolio ever gets - or that she's allowed to get - is a trim. Not even a haircut, because she keeps it long as hell. Melanie's not sure if it's a religious thing or what, and it's all pretty confusing since she gets major gay vibes from the other woman. But hey, her mom's a paying customer and so Melanie does her best to make it look nice, no flyaways or split ends.
“So, how are you?” Melanie asks, spritzing Dolio’s hair with water and running a comb through it, straightening that amazing length of straight, strawberry blonde mane before picking up her scissors and getting to work. At first, Dolio hardly ever said anything, but over the last five months that Melanie’s worked here she thinks she's made some decent progress towards a full-on conversation.
“Um. Good,” Dolio replies uncertainty. Blue eyes meet hers in the mirror, and Melanie smiles back. “How are you?”
They chat as Melanie snips away, mostly herself talking about the latest things that have happened in her life while Dolio listens, and the trim goes quickly. It's okay, though. She can also appreciate a good listener.
When she’s finished, Melanie sets down her scissors and takes her time brushing Dolio’s hair out. Long and silky in her hands, her brush glides through it as if through water, and she doesn't miss the way Dolio closes her eyes, looking relaxed for a fleeting moment. It's part of their service, even if you don't get a full wash. Can't have the client leaving without at least a brush out. But Melanie knows she pushes it with Dolio. Not in a sexual way. Just, like, to make her happy. It seems like she needs it.
Eventually, after a few minutes she's played with Dolio's hair as much as she can and there's nothing more to do, so Melanie whisks off the apron, lightly brushing Dolio's shoulders free of imaginary hairs.
"There you go!"
“Thanks,” Dolio says with a half-smile. She reaches into her cargo pants pocket, leaving a palmful of various change surreptitiously at her station before heading to the front desk where her mother waits.
It's not your typical fifteen to twenty percent tip, but Melanie has come to understand that the gesture is worth more than the money itself. She's not quite sure what's going on exactly in that family. Moms and daughters come in all the time, sure, but at their age Melanie's hard-pressed to find a mom who still makes the final decision on her daughter's haircut.
Melanie waves goodbye, getting a small wave back from Dolio before she turns and starts to cleans up her station in anticipation of her next client.
-
Summer is here and that means a break from classes at the community college and more time to work. Melanie takes on full-time hours for the season, busy with a decent amount of customers, both walk-in and regulars, so it takes a while until she realizes Dolio and her mom haven’t come in lately.
Melanie slips past Ana and checks the agenda, flipping back, and yeah, the last time was about three months ago. Typically Dolio comes in every two months - not that she's being weird about it, okay?
But there's nothing she can do except wait to see if Dolio shows up again, so Melanie throws herself into her work.
-
It's high summer when Dolio walks in the door, but her mother is surprisingly absent. The change is enough to catch Ana off guard, apparently having only recognized them as a duo, and Melanie is finishing up with another client when she hears almost by accident her name spoken in Dolio’s low tone, asking Ana specifically for her as she registers for a walk-in.
Luckily she's finishing up a hair and Melanie practically shoves her client away when she’s done with him, cleaning up her station the fastest she's ever done so and then waving Dolio over.
"Hey, you!" Melanie says, sounding a little too excited even to herself. She tries not to read too much into the way giddiness settles in her stomach. She’s got a few clients that she’s made a connection with, a handful of people that if they met by chance in the real world Melanie might have befriended, so it’s definitely not romantic butterflies. Just... friend butterflies.
"Hey," Dolio replies, actually kind of smiling, and Melanie motions for her to sit.
She gets to business, holds Dolio’s hair out of the way, snaps the apron on her, and asks, “The usual?" She’s never known her to ask for anything else, so it’s a surprise when Dolio replies –
"Short.”
Nice. Melanie can see how all that long hair could start to get in the way. Hers is long, but not as long as Dolio's, plus last week she got bored and shaved the sides. Change is good. "Okay. Like, lob short?"
In the mirror, Melanie sees Dolio’s forehead wrinkle in confusion. "What?"
"Long bob - a lob." Melanie makes a motion with her hand, showing Dolio about how long it would be.
"Uh. Shorter."
"Like a pixie?" Melanie suggests questioningly. Usually clients bring in a picture on their smartphones, but she doesn't think she can actually remember Dolio ever having a phone in her hand.
Dolio seems to gnaw on her bottom lip nervously before she points to a nearby magazine, one with a brooding man with a fade on the cover. "Like that.”
"Ah,” Melanie says, trying not to make a big deal out of it - she still gets the feeling that too much excitement on her part will send Dolio running. "Big change,” is all Melanie says approvingly before giving Dolio’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I got you, girl."
Melanie works her magic, cuts off the length of hair and buzzes away with her clippers, adds final touches with her scissors, and the change is almost like someone else entirely is now sitting in her chair. Gone is the curtain of hair that hung in front of Dolio’s face, her hunched shoulders, her kicked-dog look, everything about her screaming please for the love of God do not look at me.
Now, Dolio is sitting upright, looking at herself in the mirror in a wide-eyed way that leaves Melanie unable to hide her own growing smile. She does this because she likes it and likes making people happy, and Dolio is for once very clearly happy.
“Look at you, handsome,” Melanie says approvingly, running her hand through Dolio’s hair back-to-front, ruffling it before removing her hand. Dolio’s pale skin flushes pink, but she accepts the compliment with a pleased look on her face, reaching up to touch her now-short hair as if to make sure it’s really there.
“Thank you,” Dolio says, sounding a bit as if she might cry, and Melanie shakes her head.
“Happy to help,” she says sincerely, taking off the apron and storing it away before reaching for a barber's brush to sweep Dolio’s shoulders free of tiny hairs. “I hardly ever get the chance to do such a big make-over,” Melanie admits, whisking first one shoulder and then the other. The trend lately is for shorter hair, but a man's cut is still a rare request. But it fits Dolio well. “Short cuts do require up-keep, though.”
“So I should make regular appointments?” Dolio asks, rising and shoving her hands in her pockets as she stands there, and the haircut must be the final step of some magical transformation because Melanie swears Dolio's flirting with her despite her killer poker face. The thing that gives her away is that she usually never lingers, usually never looks her in the eye and definitely not with something like vulnerability.
Not that she needs any flirting as encouragement. Melanie has to admit Dolio's new full look is something else. Where before Dolio's whole vibe had been, well, endearingly bedraggled, now the look - tracksuit, sneakers, and baggy shirt complete with her short-cropped hair - looks intentional. It's hot.
“If you wanna keep it sharp, I would suggest it," Melanie says. There are proper channels to go through for this, but she turns and fishes a pen out of a drawer and rips off a rather large corner of the nearest magazine - oops - before scribbling her number down on it.
"You can skip Ana and just text me. You know, just if you want," Melanie says, attempting nonchalant professionalism with a shrug. You're not really supposed to do this, but hey, what the hell. "I'll put you in the schedule myself."
It takes a moment before Dolio smiles, slow and sweet as if she too can't believe her luck, and accepts the scrap of paper from her.
"I'd like that."