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Of course their next case led them to a nail salon. Of fucking course.
' This was serious ' Dean kept reminding himself. And it was. People were showing up mutilated after visiting the Happy Hand’s nail salon and spa. A spa day didn't sound so bad, but getting his hands fucked with? Yeah, no thanks.
Unfortunately, all the vics had fresh manicures from the same place. So… here they were.
Sam, the douche, had opted to go interview witnesses the second the option popped up, leaving Cas and Dean to follow the lead of the nail salon.
They were gonna go in with their whole FBI schtick but figured it'd cause their perp to book it. So instead they went through the doors of the salon with its obnoxious little bell as customers.
“Hello, how can I help you?” Some overly enthusiastic receptionist greeted them.
“I’d…” Dean had to pause to breathe through his nose, “Like a manicure.”
“Excellent, and for you?” She turned to look at Cas.
Cas had thrown a complete bitchfit in the Impala once Dean explained the specific torture that a manicure entailed. That's how Dean had ended up in this specific hell in the first place. Even if the dude could just 'heal' the manicure away from his vessel if he wanted. The dick.
“He’s here for, uh" Dean had to think for a moment before lamely settling on, “Emotional support.”
The receptionist, Janice, or so said her nametag, gave him a kind smile, “First time?”
“Not exactly. Last time didn't, uh, go so well.”
Dean had been to a manicurist exactly once before. He'd been sort of drunk and with the words of Bobby singing its praises stuck in his head, had decided to hit up the salon next to the bakery he'd stopped at for some pie.
The moment the chick had started messing with his cuticles Dean had freaked, thrown a random wad of cash on the table, and booked it.
“Well, we're very professional here at Happy Hands. I'm sure you'll leave with a smile.”
“Yeah,” Dean said weakly, following Janice to the nearest empty table. There were a few other people currently getting the full horrifying experience. Dean tried not to look over and watch it happen.
“Someone will be with you in just a moment,” Janice said cheerily before leaving them to it.
Cas immediately grabbed a bottle of clear polish or something and unscrewed the lid to sniff the little brush, narrowing his eyes at the smell.
“Dude, stop it!” Dean hissed.
Cas looked at Dean like he was being overdramatic, which, fair, but he still screwed the lid back on and put the bottle back.
A disgruntled-looking lady came and sat down on the other side of the table from them. She did not look like she was havin' a good time and what's worse, she was probably gonna take this fact out on Dean's hands.
She held out her hand, looking at Dean expectantly. Dean, oh so reluctant, placed his hand in hers.
She started off easy, just washing his hands in a little basin and dryin' 'em off.
“So,” Dean cleared his throat, desperate to alleviate the awkward silence, “How are you doin’?” he read the name off her nametag, “Dolores.”
“I've had a shitty day.” She grunted.
Dean huffed a laugh, “Yeah, that makes too of us.”
“That why you're here? A little nail therapy?”
“Nah, this wasn't my idea,” Dean looked over at Cas, “This is his fault actually.”
She glanced over at Cas, “He gettin’ his nails done next?”
“No, no,” Dean shook his head, “He hates having his hands touched.”
“Then what's he doin' here?”
“He's my uh–”
“I'm his partner,” Cas spoke up.
At this Dolores' face softened. “That's really sweet actually. My boyfriend would never come with me to a place like this.”
“Oh, he's not–” But Dean was cut off by Cas saying,
“I'm sorry. He should try harder.”
Dolores laughed at this, “Yeah, he really should. So far he's just been a deadbeat.”
“You deserve better,” Cas said sincerely.
Dolores smirked up at Dean, “You've got a keeper.”
Dean, not wanting to blow the new cover they'd just stumbled into, had to agree, “Yeah, yeah he is.” And found that the words didn't feel off on his tongue. Cas was a keeper. Maybe not his boyfriend, but that didn't mean Dean didn't want to have Cas around. For like… always. After all, Cas was his boy–BESTfriend. Cas was his bestfriend, not his…. shuddup.
Everything was goin' smoothly. Cas and Dolores were shootin' the shit about Doloroes' shitty boyfriend. Dean mostly tuned them out and tried to go to his happy place–tuning up Baby.
She started filing his nails down on an emery board, which Dean could swear he could feel in his teeth. It was fucking uncomfortable, but he could hang.
Dolores put his nails in water for a minute and it felt kind of nice…
That's when she took his hands out of the water and started pushing down his cuticles.
Dean had to look away, his eyes landing on Cas' look of horror, which just made everything so much worse.
“Is this absolutely necessary?” Castiel asked, voice strained.
“Don't worry,” Dolores smiled at him, “It doesn't hurt. Does it?” She paused in her work, looking up at Dean's face which was pinched.
It was no bullet wound. But it still didn't feel great. “Feels…. weird.”
“That's normal,” she said and kept pushing his cuticles back.
Dean thought this would be the worst part. It's when he'd bailed last time.
But then he saw a pair of mini pliers out of the corner of his eye.
He almost, ALMOST, pulled his hand away, but instead let her grab onto his cuticles and slowly start cutting/pulling it away.
This felt much less pleasant.
“How do people do this for fun,” Dean gasped, feeling like he was about to puke.
“You get used to it,” Dolores shrugged. “And it's not that bad.”
“That's easy for you to say.”
Dolores laughed again but kept on cuttin' away.
After about ten seconds Cas placed a hand on Dean's shoulder, and suddenly Dean could barely feel his fingers. He breathed out a sigh of relief. He wasn't gonna thank Cas for this little act of mercy though. Not only because of the fact they had an audience, but because he was in this mess in the first place because of the douchenozzle.
Just when Dean thought the worst was over she went back in with the emery board but this time rubbing over Dean’s actual nail and not just the tips. How much nail did he have before she wore it too thin???
And again, he could feel every scrape of the nail file in his teeth, even with the angelic numbing. It was the sound. That fucking sound!
Bobby was insane!
“You are so going to be the one who does this next time!”
“I highly doubt there will be a ‘next time’.”
“Then you owe me!”
Dean blocked out the next few minutes until she started massaging some kind of oil onto his nails and fingers. It felt… kidna nice. So not worth all that other crap though.
“And all done! What do you think?”
Dean opened his eyes and tentatively looked down at his hands.
They looked… nice? He guessed. Kinda like Bobby's, which made sense. But not as nice as Cas', who apparently did nothing to them (so unfair).
“Yeah, uh, great job, Dolores.”
“Thank you,” Dolores smiled at them. “You know, I was having such a bad day, but you too made me smile.”
“Glad my suffering was for somethin’.” Dean muttered.
Dolores laughed again before saying, “You can pay up front.”
Dean paid and then they headed back out to Baby. Once they' were inside, Cas took Dean's right hand instantly in between both of his, a healing light glowing from his palms, making Dean's hand all warm and tingly.
When Dean pulled his hand away after maybe a few seconds too long–-it felt warm okay?!-- he saw his hand was exactly like it was before, cuticles and all.
“Dude, what the hell?” Dean hadn't liked the experience, but now it was like he'd gone through all that for nothing. Besides for the case. But still!
“I like your hands the way I made them. Give me the other.”
And how could Dean argue with something like that? Cas had built him from the ground up. If he wanted the make and model to stay the same down to the smallest detail then who was Dean to say no?
Dean gave over his left hand and Cas took it between both of his, tuning it back to factory setting.
“Happy now?” Dean asked, sounding a little more breathy than he would like.
“Yes.”
“Well, damn, Cas, if I'd know you had such a thing for hands I'd of…” And Dean couldn't think of anything to end that with so instead he swallowed roughly and awkwardly started the car.
—-
Dean hated bein' the bait. He'd been bait on and off since he could remember. Well, at least since he was eight. John wouldn't let him fire a shotgun yet but he'd sure as shit let him stand there all helpless while a Rugaru ran straight for ‘im.
This was somehow worse than all that. Mainly because of the witch. Dean hated witches, man! They were gross and… gross. He had an anti-hex bag and a gun with witch-killing bullets so he was way safer than way back when, but still… witches.
“Man this is giving me the heebie-jeebies,” Dean said apparently to no one, but he knew Cas was over in the corner, hidden away in another plane of existence or whatever. Sam was also in the room next door, ready to bust in when things started up.
Cas said nothing, since he was pretending he wasn't there and all.
Dean looked down at his right hand, flexed out his fingers, looking at his newly reformed cuticles. So Cas liked his hands, huh? That was… well, that was somethin'.
The door the to room busted open then, causing Dean to jolt up off his seat on the edge of the bed.
“You should be coughing up nails by now,” Janice, the apparent witch, said. Dean was just glad it wasn't Dolores. Even though he'd never go back for her services, she was nice to Cas, so he liked her.
“What can I say?” Dean said, not daring to pull the anti-hex bag out so she wouldn't fling it across the room, “I'm just special I guess.”
Sam entered the room then as well, aiming his gun at Janice.
“You know, I gotta ask.” Dean started, “How'd you make a hex bag for me? Dolores didn't clip my nails.”
“Cuticles are a much more potent ingredient.”
Dean gagged at that.
Janice looked over at her shoulder at Sam, and then snarled at Dean, “I should've known that whole boyfriend bit was just a ruse. No one's boyfriend would come with them to get their nails done–”
Before Janice could finish Cas appeared between her and Sam, placing a hand on top of her head and smiting the ever-loving shit out of her.
—
After they finished burying the witch out in an abandoned field they all headed back to the hotel room.
“So…” Sam started after a few minutes, a constipated mischievous look on his face as if he'd been holding this one in for a long time, “What was that about boyfriends?”
Dean immediately started grinding his teeth. Of course Sam couldn't just gloss over that.
“Two dudes walk into a nail salon together of course they're gonna think we're gay for each other, Sam!”
"I… was actually thinking only one of you would go and the other would be doing research…?”
That…that actually made sense.
“Well, what if I needed backup, huh?” Dean quickly changed subjects, “I'm going to go get some grub.”
“I'll go with you,” Cas said instantly.
Sam smirked at them in a way that said ‘I know'. Knew what?!
“Not helpin', Cas!” Dean barked.
“Helping… what?” Cas asked in confusion.
Dean thought it over before deciding he wasn't gonna take Sam ribbing him out on his angel. The angel. Cas. Whatever.
“Well, c'mon, then,” Dean grunted before heading out the door, Cas following too close behind, but Dean didn’t mind.
THE END