Celebrity! America X Stylist! Reader C2

Celebrity! America X Stylist! Reader

Chapter Two

~~~

Sophia- Fem!Austria

Lian- Taiwan

Feliks- Poland

Daniel- Male!Hungary

~~~

_____ stepped out of the little kitchen, holding her favourite hot drink and a nice, hot coffee. She glanced around, then down at her watch. He was due to arrive, but from what she knew Alfred was notorious for living at his own pace, supercharged though it may be.

He was also egotistical, so probably didn't give any thought to a schedule that wasn't his own. 

It was the stylist's job to cater to the client, to fix any flaws and to prime their appearance.  _____ in particular loved her job and strived to perfect any face that left the door. She dreamily set the coffee down at her work station, sipping her own drink as she waited. Lian, waiting at the desk, was fiddling with the chopsticks in her hair.

"Li! Where's Feliks, I want his opinion on this dress!" It was the sharp, accented voice of Sophia, an Austrian girl. The Asian up front shrugged loosely.

"Last I checked, he hasn't even come in yet. Probably having trouble with his wardrobe or something." _____ paused.

"But he never does... maybe Toris went out in something unacceptable and he stopped him."

"That poor boy. Honestly, how on earth does he manage to stay sane?"

"Soph, you're just way too uptight."

"Mm..."

"Hey, everyone! Am I late?"

_____ whipped to face the entrance, eyes widening. It was him. His shorts clashed terribly with his v-neck tee, his Doc Martins were pretty worn and that was definitely bed head but it was him. She took a deep breath, scarcely containing herself like everyone else in the salon, and raised a hand.

"Good morning, Mr Jones! I'm _____, your stylist-" The American took a step forward, cutting her off.

"Dude, call me Al! I'm not really into formalities." She nodded, gesturing to the seat in front of the mirror.

"Right here, then, Al." He grinned and almost jogged over, sitting casually. _____ watched for a quick moment before his voice oh so rudely interrupted.

"Did you make that for me?" Huh? She looked down and let out a tiny 'oh' when she realised he meant the coffee.

"Yep! I hope it's not too hot or cool or anything." Al shrugged.

"I don't mind, any coffee is good coffee. Thanks!"

And with that, she got to work. _____ fell into the easy, familiar pattern of chatting with her client, discovering he was really no different from any guy on the street. As she kneaded his scalp to work the shampoo thoroughly into his hair, they compared work.

"Mm, yeah, I tend to get in the zone. Artie says I'm really different on the set." 

"Hey, I have to agree there. After talking to you, I'm actually kinda shell shocked." _____'s words earned her a hearty chuckle and her smile widened.

"Well, you're super nice too! I thought you'd be all professional and stuff." She faked hurt.

"Of course I'm professional. Here, just tilt your head back for a moment so I can wash this out aaaand- there! What scent conditioner?" Al paused.

"Dunno. What do you think?" She hesitated.

"Uh... you know, I think I'll go for the cinnamon. I don't know, it just reminds me of you." 

"I'm not really that down to earth."

"Yeah, well-" she squirted a little pile of the stuff onto her hand- "it's also good to add natural shine and remove knots so stop complaining."

~~~

_____ grabbed Al's clothing from where it was, shoving the bundle into his hands. He stared at it.

"Is this seriously fashion?" She sighed.

"Unfortunately it is. This is the most decent thing I could find, ok?" The stylist gave him a not-so-gentle push towards the changing rooms. "Now get changed, we've only got ten minutes left." Alfred laughed and obediently followed his orders, stepping behind the curtains.

A few minutes later he emerged, looking rather proud of himself.

"Look, I didn't mess up my hair!" _____ facepalmed.

"Yes you did, come here." He nodded and sat back down, pouting.

"I tried."

"I know, and that's why we leave extra time at the end." The actor let out a little 'oooh' and snapped his fingers.

"I get it now! I thought you were just getting it done faster to slack off." She sighed.

"I don't slack off. Ever."

Alfred heaved a sigh.

"Well, you really should, dudette."

"Why?" _____'s voice was tinged with jealousy. He lived the high life, and she spent her  time slaving to others... the job was wonderful and it paid well, but sometimes the 24 year old wished she could take a break. She worked six days a week, and if there was an emergency she was called in on Sundays.

"Because!"

"Because....?" 

"Uh... dunno. It's good for you!" She sighed.

"Al, please. I really don't have time to do anything for myself." His next question was completely unexpected.

"Do you make a lot?" _____ chuckled dryly.

"Not compared to you."

"But do you?"

"...yeah."

Al sprung up from his seat, messing up his hair again as his face split into a huge grin.  

"So spend it! Look, I'm having a party on Saturday-" 

"No." Her voice was firm. "Absolutely not."

"Why nooooot?" His, on the other hand, was a shrill whine that brought a few stares front the others in the shop.

"I just don't have time, and nothing to wear-"

"Pfft! You own a styling thingy, and you absolutely can't say that."

"W-well it's a party for somebodies. Not me." 

There was an awkward silence for a few seconds. Alfred stared at the stylist for a few seconds, eyes wide but she refused to crack under his gaze. "I don't belong with those rich people." 

"Yes you do. You've got better hair and taste in clothing and beautiful eyes and-"

"Al! Stop! N-now sit down so I can fix your hair." He sat quietly, fiddling with his fingers as _____ ran the brush expertly through his sandy blonde locks, flicking it back into shape and snatching up the hair spray to hold it in place. She hadn't wanted to resort to that.

"You know, you are pretty. You shouldn't put yourself down." She sighed.

"Just drop it."

~~~

He left awkwardly, scribbling a cheque out and a little note of paper. _____ picked it up carefully, unfolding the worn yellow note and scanning over it. Inside was an address and a little message.

-Al

</b> _____ gaped at the paper, just as Lian snatched it from her hand.

"Oh my god! _____! Alfred Freaking Jones asked you on a date!"