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"Here we are," Dean says on the cusp of a sigh, muffling a yawn with the back of his hand. He still can't believe he agreed to do this after a 12 hour shift, but Sam and Eileen practically begged him to help out; the poor suckers didn't realize it was picture day at school until it was too late, and good ol' uncle Dean was stupid enough to lend a hand. Though, to be fair, someone needed to sort out the bird's nest currently residing on top of his niece's head.
"Awesome!" little Margo grins, big brown eyes twinkling beneath the scraggly hair covering half of her face. Apparently, she takes after her dad in the long overdue haircuts department. "I wanna get a mohawk, like Adam Lambert!"
Dean chuckles. "Sorry, little lady… You know that's against the school dress code."
"Screw the school dress code!"
"Hey, d'you wanna get kicked outta school or what?"
"Uh… yeah?"
"Touché," Dean shakes his head fondly at his niece. He can see so much of himself in the feisty little Winchester. It's probably why they get on so well. "Look, I don't like it any more than you do, but I ain't gonna piss your mom off by lettin' you get some crazy haircut, okay? You've just gotta bite your tongue and settle for a trim."
Margo rolls her eyes. "But, Dean -"
"C'mon, little lady! Do this for me, will ya?"
After a brief staring contest, Margo finally relents with a huff. Dean hates seeing his niece so downbeat, but he can't risk getting her suspended. Personally, he thinks it's a bunch of crap that kids are getting punished for expressing themselves, but who is he to lay down the law? He's just a grease monkey working on minimum wage; there's a reason all the posh snobs in pantsuits are making the decisions.
"Alright," he gently nudges Margo in the side of her head. "Let's get this over and done with, and then we'll grab ourselves some grub. Sound like a plan?"
Margo looks up at him hopefully. "The Roadhouse?"
"Anywhere you want."
"Yay!"
They park Baby alongside the hairdressers, the neon sign above the door spilling blue light over the hood. A bell rings above their heads as they step inside, grabbing the attention of a short man with toffee-coloured hair behind the desk. There's a lollipop sticking out of the corner of his mouth, and Dean can't help but snort at the flamingo shirt that the guy is wearing. He looks like the ultimate douchebag, but Margo doesn't seem to care.
"Oh, cool!" she runs up to the desk. "Your shirt is frickin' awesome!"
Dean grins. She got that line from him.
"Why, thank you very much," the man smooths a hand over his shirt, looking rather proud of himself. "And who have you got hiding behind you there?"
"Oh, I'm her uncle," Dean lifts a hand awkwardly. "I'm, uh… I'm on hairdressing duty."
The man hums. "You're sex on legs, do you know that?"
Dean chokes. "What?!"
"Hey, Balthy! I think we found a winner this time!"
Another guy with dirty blonde hair suddenly appears from the office behind, his eyes lighting up at the sight of Dean standing red-faced in the middle of the room.
"Ah, yes… Should I fetch Cassy?"
"Well, duh!"
"Hey, what's goin' on here?" Dean pulls Margo back, stepping halfway in front of her. "We just wanna get her hair cut, alright?"
"Then you came to the right place! I'm Gabe, by the way. Short for Gabriel."
"I -"
"And that was my cousin, Balthazar."
"Look, man… I really don't care. D'you wanna get paid or not?"
"I do like getting paid," Gabe says with a hum. "But I like setting up my poor, oblivious baby brother even more."
Dean opens his mouth to speak, but the words die in his throat when a third guy steps out of the office. He's pretty tall, with tanned skin and steely blue eyes hiding beneath a shock of dark hair. His pretty pink lips are surrounded by stubble, the kind that leaves your face deliciously sore after a good make out session, and Dean can't help but notice the muscles in his arms pressing against his button down shirt. For a moment, his tongue feels like a weight stuck to the roof of his mouth; he's lost all ability to speak or move or… well, to do anything. He's never felt an instant attraction as strong as this before.
"I think he likes you, Cassy."
Reality comes crashing down around him, yanking him out of his trance. The gorgeous guy is now frowning slightly, a touch of pink to his cheeks. He tilts his head to the side, watching Dean with a scary amount of concentration, then clears his throat.
"What can I do for you?"
Dean balks. His voice literally sounds like he's been gargling nails for a year.
"I… I, um… I-I don’t -"
"I want a mohawk," Margo butts in with a shit-eating grin. "You know, like Adam Lambert."
"Oh," Cassy tears his eyes away from Dean. "That's an interesting choice."
"I wanna be hot!"
"You're nine," Dean ruffles Margo's hair and sighs. "Sorry, man. She's not allowed that. It's against the school rules… We just want a trim."
"Ah. I see."
"She's got a school photo tomorrow as well, so we can't take any risks," Dean shoots Margo a pointed look. "Right?"
"Ugh… Whatever."
"I can thin it out, tidy the ends, and add in some layers," Cassy suggests. "Does that sound acceptable?"
Dean shivers at the sound of his voice. "Uh… yeah! That, uh… That sounds fine to me. What d'you think, Margo?"
"Whatever."
"Hey, c'mon. Don't be rude, little lady."
Margo folds her arms and plunks herself in the nearest seat. "If you want me to conform to the social norms of society, then fine. I won't be my own person!"
Dean just blinks, completely taken aback by the political jargon that just came out of his nine year old niece's mouth.
"Um… I'll take as a 'let's do this' then, okay?"
Behind him, Balthazar snorts. "I like this one, Cassy. He's adorable."
"Don't call me that," the gorgeous guy glares at his relatives hiding behind the counter. "And stop being so inappropriate around customers. This man has no interest in dating me; he just wants to get his daughter's hair cut."
Dean bites back the urge to disagree, focussing his attention on Margo's pissed off mood instead of studying the perfect sculpt of the guy's ass. "Uh, she's actually my niece," is all he can manage to say.
"We're gonna take our lunch break now," Gabe hops off his stool and winks. "You can handle this one, can't you, Cassy?"
"It's Castiel."
"Enjoy your new present, Cassy!"
"Stop calling me that!" Castiel shouts after his brother, turning to Dean with a stormy expression clouding his face. "My apologies, sir… My family are always trying to set me up with the customers. It's really quite embarrassing."
Dean can feel his jeans tightening at the sound of that voice calling him 'sir'. "Oh, um… Dean is fine. And, uh… Don't sweat it, man. We all have a few weirdos in our family."
"Try all of my family."
"Ouch," he rubs the back of his neck. "That bad, huh?"
"Excruciating."
"M'sorry. That's gotta suck."
Castiel's face softens. "It's okay… I love every single one them, it's just… Ever since I came out, they've been very insistent on finding me a boyfriend."
"Oh, well… I'm sure you could find one on your own pretty easily," Dean blushes. "I-I mean… You're a, uh… You're a good-looking guy, and I just… I don't think you need your family helping you out in that department."
Castiel smiles. "You think I'm good-looking?"
"What? Oh… yeah, I guess. I mean, yes. But you already know that, right?"
"I'm not very aware of physical attraction," Castiel shrugs. "A face is just a face to me. Though judging by my family's enthusiasm, you must be very attractive in a conventional sense."
For some reason, Dean deflates. "I, uh… I dunno, man. I guess?"
"Well, you do have nice eyes."
"Really?"
Castiel smirks. "Even I can see that."
"Oh, well… Thanks?"
"You're very welcome, Dean," Castiel gestures towards a bench against the window. "Feel free to take a seat."
"Right," Dean swallows thickly, trying to ignore the butterflies fluttering in his stomach; it's not like the guy called him hot or anything… He just said he had nice eyes, for Christ's sake! "I'll, uh… I'll just watch from the side-lines."
"Please, uncle Dean!" Margo turns in her chair, working the puppy dogs eyes almost as well as her dad. "I'll tell mom it was my idea, I promise!"
"You're not getting a mohawk, Margo. End of discussion."
"But -"
"No arguments," Dean puts on his stern, parenting voice. "You'll get us both into trouble."
Castiel smiles at Dean over the top of Margo's head, blush reaching the tips of his ears when their eyes meet. He distracts himself by throwing a black sheet over Margo's body. It's pretty adorable how he pointedly avoids Dean's gaze, making small talk with Margo as he starts combing through her knotted hair. All Dean can do is sit back and admire the view, especially when Castiel bends down to fetch some scissors from the bottom drawer.
"So," he can't resist breaking the silence. "What made you wanna be a hairdresser, Cas?"
Castiel stares at him blankly for a moment, then shrugs. "It's the family business. My father was just a teenager when he opened this shop almost fifty years ago… Novaks have been working in this place for as long as I can remember."
"Hm. D'you like it?"
"Sometimes," Castiel catches his eye again, this time smiling with more confidence. "When the customers are pleasant, it's rather enjoyable."
"A-Awesome," Dean stammers. "That's important… Liking your job, I mean."
"Yes, it is."
"I work in a garage," Dean says, for no reason whatsoever. "I work with… cars. Mostly cars, I mean… We get the occasional truck or van… Bikes too…"
Castiel chuckles as Dean awkwardly trails off. "That's very interesting. Did you always want to work in a garage?"
"Uh… not really, no. I guess it was kinda like you said; my dad's worked with cars since I was a kid, and I figured it was the easiest route to take. Working with cars, it's like second nature to me. I can spend hours fixing them up, and never get bored," Dean spots Castiel staring at him, and the heats rises back to his cheeks. "Not that you care… Sorry, I dunno why I'm boring you with all that stuff."
"You're not boring me! Not at all… I like hearing other people's stories."
Dean licks his lips, heart thudding as he watches Castiel's deft fingers combing through Margo's hair. He's not sure where this whole thing is coming from, but he sure as hell is attracted to this guy. It's actually kind of scary. The last time he wanted to ask someone out this badly was in high school, and she said no. He's been single for so fricking long that he has no idea how to approach someone in that way anymore. I mean, what is he supposed to say?
"You're really cute," the words come tumbling out of his mouth before he gets a chance to consider how creepy that might sound coming from a complete stranger.
Castiel flinches, accidently snipping a whole chunk of hair from Margo's head. Dean's not sure which is more adorable, the excited squeal his niece makes at the sight of her hair falling to the ground, or the look of pure horror on Castiel's face. He's never seen someone turn so red in so little time; the poor guy looks like a walking tomato as he hurries to rectify his mistake.
"I am so sorry," he babbles, staring down at the uneven cut with wide eyes. "I-I'll give you a full refund, and I'll can sort this out as best as I can. I've never done this before, not once in my entire career. I don't even know what to say. I truly am -"
"Don't worry about it," Dean laughs. "Margo's no wuss… She can handle it."
"I look like a punk!" she throws her hands into the air.
"She means that in a good way, don't worry."
"This is unacceptable," Castiel shakes his head. "I can't apologise enough… There's really no excuse."
"Well, I did kinda distract you."
Castiel gulps. "What? No… No, you didn't. This was my fault."
"C'mon, Cas. I called you cute outta nowhere! I dunno what I was expecting."
"You were merely paying me a compliment. That's nothing to be sorry for," Castiel smacks a hand against his forehead. "I should have been paying more attention…"
Dean can't stand the sad little pout adorning the guy's face; he looks like someone just kicked his puppy or something. God knows why seeing a stranger upset feels like getting a punch to the gut, but he can't help but feel responsible for this whole situation. He should've just kept his mouth shut. Castiel clearly isn't interested in him, at least not now anyway. Unless he can find some way to fix it…
"You can give her a mohawk from that, can't you?"
Margo's face lights up. "Yay!"
"Um, I suppose," Castiel scratches his chin. "But I thought that was against the school rules?"
"Ah, who cares… Wouldn't wanna make my favourite niece conform to the social norms of society, would I?"
A hesitant smile touches Castiel's lips. "Are you sure?"
"Why not? It'll give my brother something to bitch about… Might make for good evening entertainment."
"I'll still give you a refund."
"No way, Cas."
"I won't take your money," Castiel's eyes turn hard, one brow lifting in a sexy, dominant kind of way. "End of discussion."
Dean considers this for a moment, then shrugs. A grin creeps onto his face as he steps closer to Castiel, feigning nonchalance despite the frantic beating of his heart. "How about this," he whispers against the shell of Castiel's ear. "You let me pay you, and then you can buy me dinner with the cash. It's a win-win."
Castiel's breath hitches. "You… You want me to take you out?"
"I think you're cute, you like my eyes… It seems like the obvious thing to do, right?"
"Perhaps," Castiel bites his bottom lip. "But then my family would have won, and I can't have that."
Dean chuckles. "I'm letting my niece get a frickin' mohawk… You gotta do what you gotta do."
Margo flits her eyes between the two of them, fixing Castiel with a toothy grin that reminds him of being a kid, always hiding his devilish intentions behind a sweet, innocent baby face. It's a trick she's inherited from both him and Sam; they were the masters of manipulation when they were younger.
"So, are you gonna marry my uncle Dean?" she asks innocently. "Does that mean I get free haircuts for the rest of my life?"
"Margo -"
"It's quite alright," Castiel waves him off with a smirk. "I'm sure I could offer you a family discount if Dean and I ever got married. Just don't let Gabriel cut your hair… You'll end up with an orange afro."
Dean chokes out a laugh, still dazed by the idea of him and Cas getting married; they only met ten minutes ago, and wedding bells are already ringing! "You speaking from experience?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
"Dude, you have to show me photos!"
Castiel gives him a grin, eyes sparkling. "Maybe on our date."
The next hour is spent watching Castiel transform Margo's head into a kickass mohawk that Dean is honestly quite jealous of. Him and Cas keep swapping secretive smiles over the top of her spiked head, both of them blushing like schoolgirls whenever they catch the other one looking. Dean admires the way Cas focusses on his task, unlike before, only stopping to give him one of those gorgeous little grins whenever the scissors are safely aside and out of hand. His movements are careful and precise, fingers styling Margo's hair with undeniable skill. Dean is genuinely mesmerised as he watches the guy lose himself in his work.
"Dad is gonna freak," Margo claps her hands together excitedly. "Can we dye it, too? Please, uncle Dean? Please...?!"
Dean massages his temples with a sigh, shrugging in defeat when Cas fetches a box of different colours from out of the office. "Why the hell not?" he smiles, accepting his fate as the least responsible uncle ever. "We've come this far… May as well go the whole nine yards, right?"
Margo struggles choosing between hot pink and twilight, until Cas suggests that the latter would suit the colour of her eyes better. Dean gets this warm, gooey feeling in his stomach as he watches the other man leaning over Margo's shoulder, adorable frown knitting his brows together as he helps his niece decide. Dean has never been one for staring all starry-eyed and shit, but there's something different about Cas… He's kind of captivating, as weird as that might sound. It's like he can't look away, in case he misses another one of those almost-there smiles erupting into another gummy, nose-crinkling grin. It sort of reminds him of those nights camping out beneath the stars with Sammy, eyes glued to the sky in hopes of catching a falling star. Cas is as beautiful as a falling star, and fuck if that isn't the corniest thing he's ever thought to himself in his entire thirty eight years of living.
"And we're done," Castiel brushes some hairs away from the nape of Margo's neck, then tears the black sheet away from her body. "What do you think?"
Margo's smile slowly grows wider and wider, eyes bright with elation as the dimples pop out of her cheeks. "I love it!" she squeals, hopping up and down in front of the mirror. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
"You're very welcome." Castiel ducks his head bashfully.
"Best. Haircut. Ever."
"You really did an awesome job," Dean stands to shake Castiel's hand, licking his lips when those deep blue eyes meet his gaze. "Really, I… I owe you, man."
Castiel smiles. "I was only fixing my own mistake, Dean. You don't owe me anything."
"I am gonna pay you."
"Well, the money will remain untouched on the counter, and then nobody wins."
"C'mon, Cas," Dean presses a fifty dollar bill into his hand. "This should cover the cut and colour, right?"
Castiel startles. "That's more than enough! Dean, I can't accept this."
"Please, just take it. For me?"
"But… But why?"
"I dunno," Dean looks down at his shoes, stupid blush seeping back into his face. "The customer service was pretty great, so… Just consider it a tip."
"I can't do that."
"Please."
Margo turns away from the mirror, nose wrinkled and arms folded. "I don't get it," she pouts. "I thought you were gonna go out on a date?"
Dean chuckles weakly. "Margo… That was just a, uh… a joke, ya know?"
"But you like each other!"
Dean glances up to find Castiel watching him closely, a touch of hope in his sad eyes. Maybe this doesn't have to be a joke; maybe it's not so weird to ask a stranger out on a real date after only an hour of knowing them. It does seem kind of stupid to leaves things as they are, knowing too well that there's some kind of connection between them.
"I dunno, Margo. D'you think someone as pretty as Cas would wanna go on a date with someone like me?"
Castiel smiles when Dean gives him a playful wink, the hope in his eyes quickly drowning out the sadness. "I could endure it, perhaps," he says with a grin. "If Dean were willing to let me put some highlights in his hair."
Margo giggles, and Dean quirks an eyebrow. "You trying to scare me off?"
"That depends… Are you scared?"
Dean crowds Cas against the counter, smirking triumphantly at the blush creeping up his collar. "Not even a little."
~~~~~
Once they've exchanged numbers (which involves plenty of nervous grinning and fumbling over their words), Margo manages to drag Dean out of the building. His mouth goes dry when Cas lifts his hand in a shy little wave, with Gabriel and Balthazar cackling in the background like a couple of goddamn witches. Maybe if he wasn't so engrossed by the moody hue of Cas' eyes, even from a distance, he'd have the good sense to throttle them both.
It's no surprise that Sam and Eileen are shocked when he and Margo come knocking on their door after a meal at the Roadhouse. But it's not the dark purple mohawk on his daughter's head that has Sam's jaw dropped.
"Dean," he flits his eyes over his face, eyebrows crunched together in horror. "What… What the hell happened to your hair?"
Margo giggles. In the mirror hanging on the wall next to Eileen's head, Dean catches a glimpse of the bright pink highlights running through the tips of his hair. Cas was serious about his compromise; the sneaky bastard didn't waste any time shoving Dean into a seat and robbing him of his masculinity. Not that he hates it or anything… I mean, it's actually kind of awesome, but there's no way in hell that he'd admit that out loud.
"Shaddup," he grumbles, touching the back of his head self-consciously. "You're just jealous you can't rock this look yourself."
"Yeah, I'm really not," Sam's eyes slide over to Margo. "And what happened here?"
"You know it's picture day tomorrow," Eileen tuts.
"Don't blame uncle Dean," Margo reaches into Dean's pocket and whips out the scrap of paper with Cas' number on it. "His boyfriend got nervous and slipped up. But they're going on a date next week to make up for it!"
Sam glances at Eileen, then lifts a curious eyebrow. "You've got a date?"
"Yeah. So what?" Dean shrugs it off, embarrassed. "I met this really awesome guy, and we hit it off! That's what people do, right?"
"You haven't been on a real date since high school."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Sammy."
"No, that's not -" Sam rolls his eyes with a huff. "I'm proud of you, Dean. This is gonna be really good for you."
"Yeah?"
"Definitely," Sam pats him on the shoulder, nodding his head at Margo with a sigh. "You're still explaining this to her teachers though."
"But -"
"You're the kooky uncle, Dean. It's your responsibility to take the fall," Sam grins, then opens the door wider to let them both inside. "C'mon… I wanna hear all about your new boyfriend."
"He's not my boyfriend."
"Sure."
And with that, he follows his gigantic dork of a brother into the kitchen for a couple of beers, all the while bickering with him, Eileen, and his conniving little devil of a niece. Not that he has the heart to argue with anything she has to say right now; if it wasn't for Margo, he never would've stepped foot inside that hairdressers, and all the good stuff that's heading his way would be nothing but a dream. Needless to say, he's pretty fucking glad he was put on hairdressing duty today… Even if it did result in him having bright pink hair.