Chapter Text
“All right, Ash, take a look.”
Dee rolls away from her station, lifting her arms high over her head and relishing the popping of her back.
Ash climbs out of the chair carefully and wobbles over to the full-length mirror, taking in the flurry of code now inked into his forearm.
“Dee, you son of a bitch,” he breathes, fingers ghosting over the wet characters.
Dee can’t help her proud grin as she offers a small shrug. “Hey, I do what I can. Now, get your ass over here so I can bandage you up before you do something stupid.”
“This is so damn cool,” Ash gushes, taking another moment to admire his reflection before returning to the chair. “It’s like the code is coming out of me! I’m one with the machines, dude.”
Dee smiles as she presses gauze to the fresh tattoo and wraps it snuggly. “I’m really glad you like it, Ash. Just don’t mess it up.”
“Hey, hey, I’d never disrespect your work like that. Don’t you worry, this masterpiece is safe in my hands.”
Once Ash is bandaged, Dee shows him up front to the register. Money taken care of, Ash offers a fist and Dee can’t help but grin as she touches her knuckles to Ash’s.
“Dee, my man, thanks for the work,” Ash says with a wink as he steps away. “I’ll see you again soon.”
“Not too soon. I appreciate your business but I don’t like taking all your money,” Dee teases.
“If I had to get a second job to afford your ink, it’d be worth it. See ya!”
“Later!”
Ash waltzes out of the shop, mullet moving in the breeze and Dee chuckles, lowering herself into a chair with a moan of relief.
Five damn hours. Not the longest session she’s ever had, but still exhausting. At least Ash had taken it like a champ.
“You should really look into yoga,” comes a cheery voice from behind her. “Does wonders for the back.”
Dee frowns at Charlie. “Do I look like the kind of girl who does yoga?”
Charlie rolls her eyes. “You could at least stretch in the morning. All the hunching over is killing your posture and you’re gonna have back problems before you’re forty.”
“Thanks, Dr. Oz. Don’t you have a needle to be pushing into someone’s face?”
“My next appointment isn’t until 6:00,” Charlie says and eases her ass up onto the front desk. “What about you?”
Dee leans back in her chair. “Nah, I’m done for the day,” she sighs. “Ash was my only appointment. Pam can handle any walk-ins.”
“Then get the hell out of here and go home and get some rest.” Charlie swats at her friend.
Dee bats Charlie’s hands away. “Okay, I’m going, I’m g-”
Just at that moment the bell over the front door chimes, and both women look up as a dark-haired woman sweeps into the shop, stealing Dee’s breath.
She’s not the “usual” type they get in the shop. Dee’s business usually attracts a younger group, singles in their mid-twenties who have the spare cash to afford her rates, and, occasionally, some older but experienced clients looking for something fresh.
This woman doesn’t fit into either category.
She’s stiff and unapproachable in her stark black suit, dark hair pulled into a bun so tight it’s like it’s challenging the wind to disturb a single strand. God, she’s even wearing heels and make sharp clicks with every step she takes toward the desk. Everything about her screams “business woman, extremely important and perpetually agitated.”
In other words, she’s the complete opposite of Deanna and Dee is hooked in an instant.
The woman offers a nervous smile as she steps closer, face transforming from threatening and aloof to a practiced and rigid friendliness. But Dee could barely afford to notice because she was instantly consumed by colors, namely the pink of the woman’s lips and her surreal blue eyes.
“Hello.” The greeting comes in a voice far deeper than Dee expected and it curls low in her gut, making her shift in her seat.
Neither Charlie nor Dee can find it in them to reply and they just awkwardly blink at their guest. The woman’s smile begins to wilt and Dee wants to catapult herself into a black hole until Pamela chooses that moment to wander in from the back with a jarringly loud, “Well, hello there. Welcome to Femme Fatale.”
The woman looks to Pam, still nervous and rigid. “Hello,” she says again. "Do you take walk-ins?"
“Sure thing, ocean eyes," Pam says and Dee perks as the borderline purr in Pam’s voice. “Do you know what you want?”
The woman’s smile widens just a fraction. “Yes, actually. I, ugh-” she rummages through her purse, extracting a scrap of paper with trembling fingers- “I want this.”
Pam steps forward to take the paper and Dee and Charlie both lean to catch a glimpse of weird lettering that Dee recognizes almost immediately.
“Enochian?” she blurts.
The woman appears startled, eyes scanning Dee up and down and for a moment she almost looks impressed. “Yes,” she answers carefully.
Pam pops her lips. “Well, I’ve never done anything like it before, but I’m sure I can manage since Dee’s on her way o-”
“I can do it!” Dee says emphatically, leaping out her chair and taking the paper from Pam who grins knowingly. “I mean, I, ugh — I got it, Pam. No worries. We’ll just, ugh, get the paperwork out of the way first.”
Dee dutifully ignores eye contact with Charlie and Pam as she pulls out the standard contract and slides it across the desk for the woman to sign. It’s a quick exchange and soon Dee is taking the contract with a quick glance at it before filing it away.
“All right, C-Castielle? Um, right this way.”
Castielle gives a sharp nod and passes the desk and the three women.
“Thought the great Deanna Winchester didn’t take walk-ins,” Charlie hisses under her breath.
“Fuck off,” Dee mutters through a tight smile and steps after her client to guide her to the right station.
Once they’re in Dee’s stall, Dee takes a breath, trying to draw in all the professionalism she can muster. This woman is gorgeous, possibly the most beautiful human being Dee has ever laid eyes on, but Dee is about to stick multiple needles in her skin and she needs to be focused.
She looks down at the paper in her hand. “So what does this mean?”
Castielle looks up from the photos decorating Dee’s walls. “It’s a protection spell,” she says, a tinge of embarrassment coloring her voice.
“A spell?”
“I realize that may be odd…”
Dee holds up a hand. “You haven’t seen odd till you tattoo Captain America riding a My Little Pony on a grown man’s ass.”
Castielle’s eyes blow wide. “That actually happened?”
Dee hums. “And that isn’t even the weirdest thing I’ve seen. I’m going to draw this up on some transfer paper. Where exactly did you want it?”
“Down the left side of my ribcage,” Castielle answers confidently.
Dee can’t help but pause on the way to her desk. “You sure?”
“Yes.” The response is simple and stern but Dee still hesitates. When Cas gives no sign of changing her mind, she just shrugs and sets to work.
She has the sample traced over in a few minutes, just enough time to let her sink comfortably into her professional headspace.
All that is blown to shit when she turns around to find Castielle shirtless in her chair, looking oddly calm.
So… tan, is all Dee can think as her eyes roam the expanse of Castielle’s abdomen, from the waist of her skirt to the cups of her black bra-
Shit, shit, shit! No, Deanna! Bad! Do not ogle your clients!
Dee takes another deep breath and eases her way to Castielle’s side. “So, ugh, I’m just gonna clean the area and then press this on your side and then you can tell me if you like the placement.”
All Castielle offers is a nod so Dee cleans her skin and carefully presses the paper to the disinfected area.
She gives the ink a moment to sink into the skin before pulling back and saying, “Okay, tell me what you think.”
Slowly, Castielle rises from the chair to stand before the full-length mirror. She studies the characters and smiles, but it’s different this time — almost relived, a little more genuine. “This will be perfect.”
Dee isn’t really sure how to respond to that so she says, “Okay. Let’s get to work.”
It takes about an hour. The second the needles pierces her skin, Castielle falls into a kind of silence Dee knows too well and she honors it by keeping her own mouth shut.
Castielle handles the pain well, never flinching or moving away or even asking for a break. Dee has to pause a few times because her fingers are still hurting from Ash’s piece, but she powers through and then…
“It…it’s amazing.”
Castielle is standing in front of the mirror again, and her posture relaxes for the first time as she barely resists touching the ink.
“No touching,” Dee snaps out of habit and tries to smile when Castielle’s hand drops to her side. “The, ugh, the skin is really sensitive right now and you don’t want to risk messing it up. Let me bandage you and, in a few days, you can touch it all you want.”
Castielle returns to the chair and let’s Dee apply the gauze. “You’re very talented,” she says softly.
Dee blinks, looking up and blushing at the sincerity in Castielle’s blue eyes. “Um, thank you.”
Charlie and Pam are still lurking up front when Dee leads Castielle to the register and Dee works hard to ignore their smug grins.
Castielle stands opposite the three women, pulling out her wallet. “How much do I owe you?”
Dee falters at the initial amount she’s about to name, looking into those blue eyes and those damn perfect lips. “Ugh, with the, ugh, the placement and size it’ll be, um, a hundred.”
Something crushes into her foot and Dee bites a yelp as Castielle digs out her credit card. The exchange is quick and soon Castielle is shrugging back into her blazer. When she looks up, the chill is back in her eyes and her smile looks like it would crack if you poked it.
“Thank you again for your time,” she says, tone overly formal and distant.
“Y-yeah, no problem,” Dee says, beyond confused and, if she’s being honest, a little hurt. “Hope you like it.”
Castielle leaves without another word and even Charlie and Pam are put off for a second.
But only a second.
“A hundred bucks, huh?” Pam tsks. “You’re slipping, Winchester.”
Dee turns to her friends with mock outrage. “I am not! I was just being nice!”
“Nice?” Charlie cries. “You charge two-hundred an hour! You didn’t even give me that good of a discount.”
“It was her first tattoo,” Dee tries to defend herself. “And- and it wasn’t a commissioned piece! It didn’t even take a full hour!”
Pam just laughs and takes off toward the back.
“You’re a weak woman, Deanna Winchester,” Charlie says with a disgusted shake of her head.
Dee looks out the front window to the crowd Cas disappeared into. She thinks of that short-lived smile, those blue eyes, and sighs. “I know.”