AN: Another older fic. My first (and pretty much only) fic for Supernatural. I don't follow the show anymore but I still had fun with this one. I do not own the characters.
Sam flips on a light switch in the bathroom of their motel room just as Dean returns from the drugstore down the road. The television is running, a soft buzz emitting from the speakers as a telenovela lays out its story for the day. Castiel sits in front of the television on the corner of Dean's bed, munching down on a bacon cheeseburger from a restaurant not too far from the strip that the motel resides in. In the soap, a woman's voice quivers as she tries to argue a point to a man who is leaning against his desk in an office that isn't posh or shabby; just a small office with a golf course carpet and a view of a man's ferrari.
"Oh Emilio," Castiel sighs through bits of burger and onion, "if he had only listened to Juanita and given the money to her father, then maybe Tómas would be kicking that soccer ball around the yard with his brothers instead of lying in the hospital."
"You understand that crap?" Dean asks as he sits a brown paper bag on the table and begins taking out the contents. Sam chuckles as he lays out his suit for the interview with Mrs. Dobbs, the widow of a man whose organs were found missing during his daily run through the park.
"If you mean the Spanish, then yes," Cas says matter-of-factly, "angels are able to understand a wide array of the human languages, English being the most basic and common. Spanish is one level above, but isn't complicated to interpret."
"Cas, I think the point of a telenovela for American viewers is to just understand the story through actions, not words," Sam says as he brings a stool from around the counter and places it in the bathroom. Cas watches him with wary eyes, then shrugs it off. Being with the Winchesters never guaranteed that things wouldn't get weird. "Besides, it's more fun that way."
"Why waste time watching something that you won't be able to understand?" Cas asks and he balls up the wrapper and heads for his fries. With the greasy bucket in hand, he takes a handful and stuffs them in his mouth, Dean side-glancing him with a look that evokes bewilderment and curiosity.
"Is that you, Cas, or is that your vessel eating?" he asks. Cas turns his head, fries sticking out of his mouth. He stuffs them down and puts the fries away. He washes it down with a Coke.
"It appears that Jimmy is hungry," Cas says, "but I think that I'm getting hungry, too. That burger was really good. And these fries are delicious. Humans have amazing tastes and interests when it comes to food."
"Uh, yeah, Cas," Sam says, taking the bucket of fries from the angel, "you know we're working a job, and you wanna be a part of it-"
"Yes, I want to hunt!" Cas smiles as the words come out. Sam side-glances Dean, whose arms are folded. "I think I can provide something that neither of you two have offered in years, what with my worldly knowledge and empathetic nature."
"It's not what you can offer that concerns us; it's your appearance."
"My appearance?" Cas asks, "What's wrong with how I present myself?"
"How you present your - Cas, you look like a pedophile waiting outside an elementary school." Dean points out. Cas then takes a look at himself. It's been months since his vessel has had a good cleaning, not that it gets dirty regularly-only times when Cas is involved in heavy combat.
"I don't think I look that bad," Cas argues, "though I could use a shower...for Jimmy, I mean."
"You need more than a shower, man," Dean says, "you need a haircut."
You need a haircut. Did Cas hear Dean clearly? Did he say haircut? Of all things, why would he need that? Cas hasn't even had a haircut before. He only wonders how it would feel.
"I think I'm fine without one," Cas tries to weasel his way out of it, rising from the mattress when Dean pulls out the scissors from the bag. He sticks his thumb and index finger through the holes, separates the blades, and snaps them back in place, a mischevious look in his eye as he stares Cas down. Sam, the obvious voice of reason, has his arms folded. "I think we can work out an agreement-"
"Get on the stool, Cas!" Dean commands. Sam makes him get rid of the trench-coat, button-down, and tie - "To keep from getting hair on it," he said - revealing a stark white tank top and a medium muscle tone. Cas moves awkwardly through the room, walking towards the bathroom, fearing what would happen next. Dean follows closely behind him, the scissors' snipping causing Cas to jump lightly.
"Dean, I don't think this is a good idea. Do you even understand the protocol to hair maintenance?" Cas asks as Sam forces him to sit on the stool. Dean lays his hand's on Cas's shoulders and spread his fingers, looking at his task in the mirror.
"Stop cryin', I cut hair before."
"Why can't Sam get his haircut first?" Cas asks, "He clearly needs it more than me." Sam pulls at his own locks and contemplates a cut, but Dean isn't having it. "I think I can last one more day."
"You're already on the stool, I paid good money for these scissors, and I wanna get this over with as much as you do, so shut up and sit still." Cas gives up and stares in the mirror. The scissors retract as Dean takes a fingers-full of Cas's locks. Cas closes his eyes when he hears the snip, feels the lock fall on his shoulder and down his tank top to the floor.
"Are we done yet?" Cas asks.
"That was just the first strand, Cas," Sam says, "We got a ways to go."
"Can we take a break now? I need to finish my soaps today."
"You wanna be a hunter, right?" Dean asks, feeling Cas nod his head back and forth. "Well, hunters get their haircut. You gotta grow some balls before you can play with the big guns, man."
"But, Jimmy already has testicles," Cas notes as Sam chuckles through sips of a beer. Dean sighs and goes back to cutting. Cas is almost like a two-year-old, wincing and squinting his eyes as he stares at Dean cutting his hair, strand by strand, the brown curls falling to the ground. Sam is in the corner of the mirror, chugging a beer. Cas then realizes that he's jealous of the man and his flowing hair. Dean pauses to get a few fries, then goes back into snipping.
The air conditioner is blowing, and although Cas is unmoved by the constant breeze of cold air, Dean grabs his jean jacket and throws it on. Cas can feel a slight breeze on his head, and he reaches up to touch it, only to get his hand slapped away. A few minutes later, Dean chuckles.
"What is it?" Cas asks.
"Cas, how do you guys choose vessels?" Dean asks. This is the first time he asks this, and it causes Cas to pause and think. Then, he answers him the best way he can.
"It's not a complicated process. It's more like a chosen one thing, a birthright of sorts."
"Well, do angels value beauty, too, cause this puppy had some hair on him." Cas blushes for the first time since taking over Jimmy's body. It was a compliment to Jimmy of course, but it felt like a direct take at him. It made him smile slightly. Sam sweeps up the hair just as Dean cuts the last few strands before putting the scissors away.
"Alright, Cas, you can look." he says. Cas takes a look in the mirror at Dean's handiwork. Needless to say, he thinks the Winchester has some skill, as Jimmy looks better than he did in weeks. His hair is slightly brighter, and his sideburns are thicker, something Dean notes as the 'Sam Winchester cut.' Dean smiles at Cas in the mirror when the angel looks up at him.
"How do you like it?"
"It is nice," Cas says, "but I don't know. I kind of miss the hair."
"C'mon, Cas," Sam says, "is there anything else you need to forget about it?" Cas shrugs.
"Fine," Dean says moments later, "I'll let you cut my hair to make it even. Would that cheer you up?"
"I suppose it would," Cas perks up, fetching the scissors as Dean strips down to his tank top and jeans. Sam glances at Dean as Cas goes back to get his fries.
"Dean, are you sure about this?" he asks. "I mean, yeah, it's Cas, I love the guy, but he isn't aesthetically inclined."
"Are you listening to yourself?" Dean asks, "You sound like a freaking stylist for Victoria's Secret. Besides, it's Cas. He catches on fast. Don't worry about it. It's only a few strands then he's done."
"Ready?" Cas smiles, scissors in one hand, fries in the other. Dean sits down on the stool as Cas sets down the food.
"Cas, don't screw me over, alright?" Cas nods and splits the blades of the scissors. He takes a golden brown stand of hair and snips at the top, working his way to the root. "Cas, I mean it."
"Stop cryin'," Cas says, failing at mimicking Dean, "I cut hair before." Cas chuckles at his own joke, while Sam stands in the doorway of the bathroom, his anxiety getting the best of him. Cas keeps going as the scissors cut more and more of Dean's hair. "Don't worry, Dean, you'll be fine."
"I was fine before," Dean says, his eyes closed, "I better come out gorgeous." Cas takes the words to heart and continues snipping. He enjoys this. He finds it relaxing, sort of like the telenovelas on the television. Cutting hair was as simple as flying, or even vanishing. Just a three step process: separate, pull, snip. Simple as that. After a few minutes, Cas puts the scissors down and sighs happily.
"Okay, open your eyes." Dean looks in the mirror and smiles.
"Well I'll be damned," he chuckles, "told you I'd be fine, Sammy."
"Yeah," Sam says, stifling a laugh, "Dean, I think I'm gonna run to the drug store and get a hat. A big one."
"Why? What's wrong?" Dean asks, nervousness ringing in his voice. "What did Cas do?"
"I just cut your hair. It looks fine." Cas says, trying to shake off his own nerves. Sam fetches a mirror and puts it on the back of Dean's head, angling it in the mirror so that Dean could see. Cas sneaks out of the bathroom in time as Dean lays his eyes on the sucker, a large path of scalp in the middle of the golden brown locks. Sam laughs as Dean stares at it in disbelief. The television turns back on, and Juanita's voice rings through the speakers.
"Cas!" Dean yells, "CASTIEL!" But the angel does not come. Sam grabs his jacket and prepares to leave.
"You need anything, Dean? Maybe some gel that grows more hair?" The man's laughter makes Dean cringe, growing more furious. Sam pats Dean's shoulder and heads out. Dean hears the door slam, then he jumps up. He's gonna kill the angel, seriously throws some blows. But the motel is empty by the time Dean reaches the bedroom. The telenovela ends and the credits roll.
"SON OF A BITCH!"