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XF Fanfic One Line Challenge: "I can't believe I let you cut my hair!"

Author: SyndicateGirl
Archive: Yes, definitely! But please keep my headers attached and let me know where it is if you can. Thanks!
Spoilers:
Rating: PG
Classification:  Response to fanfic challenge: Must start with the line, "I can't believe I let you cut my hair!" Under 650 words.
Summary: Alex Krycek gets a new hairdo from an inexperienced stylist.
Disclaimer: The X-Files characters are Chris Carter's and 1013 Productions', not mine, unfortunately; no infringement is intended. Please don't sue - I'm a writer, and have no money! :D

TITLE: The Butcher

“I can’t believe I let you cut my hair!”

Marita was biting her lip, trying to keep herself from laughing.

She was failing miserably, and another peal of uncharacteristic giggling echoed through the room.Krycek glared up at her before shifting his eyes back to the hand-held mirror.

“I’m sorry, Sasha, it’s just…” she burst out into laughter all over again, and Krycek stood up, tossing the mirror onto the nearby table.

It must have been revenge for the incident at Fort Marlene all those years ago.

He was sure of it.

“Thanks a lot, Covarrubias, now my head looks like it got caught in a rusty lawnmower.”

A snicker caught in her throat, and she forced a serious expression back onto her face.

After years of practice, she was getting pretty good at it.

“Alex, I really am sorry. I told you I have no experience cutting hair. I have no idea what I’m doing.”He shook his head, and surveyed it more closely in the room’s larger mirror.

One side was decidedly shorter than the other, hacked off and squared in a way that would make a 1980s rapper jealous.How the hell had she managed to cut the hair right at his cowlick, in a way that made the right side of his hair stick straight up?

Krycek turned to the side, and surveyed the damage on the left side of his head.

As expected, his left side was even worse.

It looked as though a rogue set of razors had chopped off lines of hair, leaving behind tufted rows that resembled a series of grape vines.

But the worst of it, the creme de la creme of his new “look” was the back of his hair.

It had been practically shaved, with only a short group of strands hanging down - like the world’s most pathetic rat tale from decades past.

Alex started to wonder if Marita secretly had a thing for the 1980s.

He was also silently cursing himself for not paying closer attention to what she had been doing to his head.

He had been so busy watching the curve of her waist, and her soft ivory skin, that he completely missed her butchering his hair.

She had betrayed him once before, with Dmitri, but in Alex’s mind this haircut came in a very close second.

When he spied her in the mirror, tight lipped to prevent more laughter, his eyes narrowed, “Thanks, Marita.

I know we’re in hiding out here, but there’s no need for me to have such a heinous disguise. I look like a rodeo clown.”

She smirked, “Well then you should have gone to a reputable barber, Sasha.”

She added, in her usual deadpan tone, “And they don’t have the rodeo here, so your cover is blown.”

Marita grabbed his hand, and tugged him towards their front door.

“C’mon, Alex, let’s go into town. I’m sure there’s someone there who can fix this,” she gestured up and down near his head, searching for the right word, “mess.”

She ran her hand through his scissor ravaged hair, and he caught her wrist, flipping it over.

He planted a small kiss on the inside of her wrist, “All right, Mare, but you owe me.”

A small grin graced her face, she knew what he’d expect, “Let’s go.”

He grabbed a baseball cap, putting it over his head, and they headed out into the warm Krasnoyarsk summer afternoon.

CSM: Nothing vanishes without a trace...burn it!

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