Author's Note: What is this? A cryptic piece of crap that looks like it might have a meaning, but really probably doesn't and doesn't even remotely touch canon either? Yes. Yes that's exactly what this is. I need to stop venting on here Dx My apologies, my apologies. Implied slash of a sort o.O
Castiel liked his hair on the longer side. He always did, even back when they were children. Long, but never too long. The ends of sable would never quite reach his shoulders, and that was one thing that didn't change when everything else about his appearance did and said sable was sacrificed for scarlet. Nathaniel didn't understand the appeal. He'd be irritated to no end if his hair was that long and constantly brushing and itching against his neck.
Then again, Nathaniel supposed it wasn't his place to understand how or why Castiel kept his hair long.
It was just something to muse over in the dark while he ran his fingers through it.
His fingertips stroked over Castiel's tresses with a soft, airy touch. So minute and ginger it might not have even existed, like the feeling when a butterfly perches on your hand precariously for a moment or two before fluttering off again. They were somewhat tousled but not too tangled, and the blonde found himself grooming and petting away until they were smooth and silken. He might have just sat there and combed Castiel's hair with his fingers for the rest of the night, had the person in question not breathed a sound of contentment in his sleep.
The low noise was a cue for Nathaniel to get back to what he was really doing.
It wasn't hard at all to slide the pair of scissors out from under his pillow.
It was even easier to take them to the first handful of hair and snip it away. Severed locks of scarlet turned black once more in the dark of the night flitted down, drifting on nothing until they settled atop the pillowcase. The blades gently clicked against each other with each cut made, more and more hair falling away to make a delicate landing. A subtle simper touched Nathaniel's mouth and he distantly wondered if this was how Delilah felt when she exploited the secret Samson entrusted her with and sliced through the hair that gave him his famous strength.
But then it wasn't really Delilah who cut Samson's hair, was it? No, he remembered, it was not. She was crueler than that. Samson had laid his head in her lap, loving and trusting. She cradled him as he slept, smiling sweetly as she called on another man to do the deed. Nathaniel preferred to be more direct with his passive aggression. He leaned over and pressed a tender kiss to Castiel's cheek.
Nathaniel nearly went to brush back his hair in order to do so, but of course that wasn't necessary anymore.
He replaced the scissors under the pillow and stole a single red lock. He tied the severed strands into a knot and tucked it into his pocket. With silent glee and muted chuckles, he took his leave.
