Chapter Text
Crowley paced around the gloomy, empty street hoping it wouldn't start raining before he had gathered the courage to enter.
He saw the entrance to the nail salon around five minutes ago. He then checked his phone, realising he was half an hour early. How fuckin’ embarassing. So he decided to walk down the street to buy himself some time. Plus, that would give him the chance to bail and just leave. Which he wouldn’t do, obviously. So he just paced around the block, hands shoved in his pockets, sunglasses-shield on, sipping on the now-cold double espresso he grabbed on the way there.
He was clearly excited when he enrolled for the courses. It has been his dream to do nails since he has been a young lad, when he watched all those pretty, mesmerising pictures and videos on the internet, back when you had to wait for the nail polish to dry for twenty minutes before applying the next layer, and because he was never one of the patient ones, he would shove his poor hands in ice water or wave them dramatically in front of the fan, anything but waiting really, and when a simple mistake meant you had to start over. He always found it fascinating: the fact that he could possibly create gorgeous art and feel content and happy while doing it. Plus, that was the only time his brain would actually slow down, shut up and just let him be.
Crowley checks his phone again. It’s 8:40 am and if he turned around now, that would mean he would be back at the salon at around 8:45 am and fifteen minutes early is almost as much as 10 minutes early, which is not as desperate.
So, he fluidly and dramatically spins around, trying to stall his usually fast pace as much as possible.
In a way he really wants to start the courses and get into the whole “following your dream and building your career” thing despite being in his thirties already.
Part of his loud heartbeat is precisely because of that: For the first time in forever, he is excited.
Another part of it though, is simply anxious. No, no, it’s fuckin’ scared, sweating, screaming, and panicking all over the place, actually.
Because this could possibly be the stupidest thing he has ever done.
Courses for nail techs, you see, are a very expensive thing. Getting your nails done is for the privileged people that can afford such luxury treatment on a monthly basis. For those who can have extravagantly long nails with obnoxious amounts of jewelry on them, because, well, they don’t have to work or do any labour with their hands. And Crowley was, to simply and softly put it, not one of them.
All the materials, tools, lamps, lotions, files: Every small step of the process was costly. And he might have realised it way too late, after he had used a huge amount of his savings to "pursue his dreams”. Maybe his ex, Luke, was right and he was really stupid and naive. Or maybe, Luke was an ass that should have minded his own business.
Crowley looks at the bright neon sign once again and takes a deep breath. Well, it’s now or never.
The nail salon was divided in two main parts: the nail supply store that faced the main street (through which Crowley entered, as requested by the email) which was fancy, pristine and shining unbearably bright; and the school area, for which you had to enter thought the back door near a dusty and loud construction site.
The girl that met him in the store showed him around with a bright, lovely smile. Maggie, as her tag said, was really polite and way too cheerful for a normal human being at eight in the morning, but Crowley did find her entertaining and nice. She left him in the cloak room, where he left his leather jacket and crossed the big classroom that was still empty to find his seat in the small classroom dedicated to the beginner technicians. Apparently their first class would be more private, in a smaller group, and the following ones would take place in the big room according to a personal schedule. Or something like that—honestly Crowley is as confused as he could possibly be.
The room slowly started filling up with people, and now that the coffee was finally kicking in, so was Crowley’s enthusiasm and optimism about the whole thing. Here he was free and happy and starting something that might actually make his life enjoyable.
“Good morning, ducklings.” The loud voice makes Crowley look up from his phone, putting an end to his doomscrolling through Pinterest. The man that has entered the room is tall, dressed in a fancy, slate gray suit 1 and is relatively good-looking with a Superman type of chiselled jawline. Crowley would admit the guy looks handsome, but there is something about his piercing green eyes and posh smile that just throws him off.
“My name is Gabriel, and I will be your teacher for today, as well as one of the supervisors who will guide you through the challenging, yet gratifying, journey of becoming a professional nail technician.” He flashes yet another polite smile and Crowley feels like he might have judged him too harshly. Yeah, he looks a bit fake, but he needs to be a proper authority, so maybe he’s just doing his job and who could blame him for that.
“Now let’s start with a round of introduction. A few words about myself, of course," Gabriel continues with his pompous tone of voice. “I have been a practicing educator and nail technician for more than two decades now. And I need to warn you, I might be a bit harsh at times, or a bit too strict, but that is because I really want you to succeed. I hold my students to the utmost of high standards, because I care for you all.” He makes a soft face and Crowley feels he might need to throw up from the patronising fuckin‘ attitude.
“There will be times, when you will be working on your model, when I will come to you and see you have made a mistake. And will correct and guide you through the process, because that’s my job as a devoted teacher. So don’t get angry at me or don’t take it personally if I make you start all over or I point out flaws in your work. I am doing it all for your benefit."
Crowley adjusts in his seat, long legs and arms crossed, not really being able to make up his mind about the guy under whose “guidance” he will have to spend the next few months. He is a teacher after all, one needs to be caring and that’s generally a good sign.
“With that in mind, let’s hear something more about you lovely people. No need for long introductions, just tell me your name and your experience in the field of nail work. Let’s start with you in the back, with the pretty red hair, shall we?”
Crowley looks around, realising Gabriel is looking at him, with an impatient smile on his face.
“Ngk, yeah, yeah, sure,” he manages to say, caught completely off guard. “M’ name’s Anthony, but you can call me by my last name, Crowley. And I have had a passion for doing nails my whole life, since I can remember, actually,” he shoots quickly, feeling his face beginning to match the colour of his hair.
“Wonderful. And do you have any experience in the field?”
“Ughm, yeah, I suppose,” Crowley replies, a bit more collected now. “I have been doing the manicures of my friends when I was a kid and then a bit while I was in college, but nothing, like, professional or anything”.
“Perfect, this is precisely the type of students this course is aimed at. People who have a love and passion for the craft and want to elevate their skillset. Thank you, Crowley.” He smiles again, this time seeming more genuine. Ok, maybe Crowley did misjudge him after all. “Alright, let’s continue!”
The other four students in the room take turns introducing themselves, while Crowley zones out completely. He wants to preserve the little scraps of focused attention he has for the more important theoretical part.
He did watch all the online videos on the website, but honestly, everything was a mess in his head, so he was hoping the lecture part would actually be helpful. He also knew he would be working on his first model today and that made him absolutely horrified. That lecture better be the most educational one in existence.
After the rounds of introductions, Gabriel did start with the more important part and Crowley tuned in again. It was mostly the information from the video lessons, but better structured, which he found extremely helpful.
They went through the structure of the nail, the different types of manicures, file grids, materials, and disinfection processes. Gabriel makes sure to warn them which parts he will include in the written and in the practical exams at the end and to emphasise how strict he would be while evaluating them because he wants them to truly become good technicians.
And fair enough, Crowley wants to become a good technician, who would not only make gorgeous, unique, alternative designs, but one who also wouldn't cause infections in his clients. And if the price for that was behaving well once in his life and actually listening to his teachers, then he was more than willing to pay it. Even more so, a strict teacher could be exactly what he needed, to make sure he learns from this course and becomes a real professional.
After what was almost two hours of dense lecture, Gabriel takes the newcomers around the salon. The big classroom has about twenty tables, divided in a few rows. On some of which there are advanced students already working and Crowley can’t help but feel a tingling excitement at taking his seat there and actually, properly doing nails for the first time in life.
“Here is the teacher's desk,” Gabriel explains, gesturing towards the huge desk in the middle of the room. “Your supervising teacher could be found here, but if you have a question while working, you can always ask them to come and help you. Actually, I would prefer if you have a question or any hesitation, ask immediately, don’t torture your pretty little brains. Even if I am working on something, or you think I am busy, always call me and ask your question, alright? That’s why you are here—to learn from the more experienced, not to conduct dangerous experiments. I want you to ask all the questions that pop up in your beautiful heads. Alright, ducklings?”
With that he flashes another bright smile, as his eyes stop at Crowley for a second, his gaze all sweet and caring. And if Crowley has to be fair, he is not a big fan of those patronising talks, but turning off his brain for a second and actually letting someone knowledgeable guide him sounds tempting. Plus, he does apparently have a soft spot for people calling him endearing names.
“Here is the disinfection and sanitisation area,” Gabriel continues explaining. “After you finish working with your client, you rinse and brush your tools and put them in one of the common disinfection boxes with solution for an hour. Be very careful, if you leave them for longer, you might need to buy a new set and those are quite expensive.”
“What about the files?” Crowley asks, only to realise that might have been a very rude interruption.
“Wonderful question, thank you, Crowley. Those we brush hard and spray with the sanitizer which is part of your gift kits and that I will give you after we finish with the tour. But we never put them into the solution.”
Crowley listens carefully, typing everything down on his notes app, still pleasantly surprised the teacher actually remembered his name.
They continue through the break area equipped with a water cooler and some tea packages, the pedicure class (Crowley didn’t enroll in this course, instead he opted for the basic class and extensions), the paraffin machine, the wardrobe and then the waiting area, with a nice couch for the models to rest while waiting for their appointments.
As the tour went, Crowley asked a few more questions regarding the procedures and lines of work, making Gabriel visibly pleased with his excitement and even receiving a couple of praises along the lines of being a very curious and invested student. And as much as Crowley would hate to admit that, it did make him tingle with joy. Of course, that was not a surprise: It was the exact reason he fell for Luke, only to realise later on he was not the person he was pretending to be in the beginning of the relationship.
The tour around the salon concludes with the most fascinating view of it all: the enormous wall display with all the colours they would be able to use during their classes, positioned near the teacher’s desk.
Crowley catches himself staring with his mouth parted, almost audibly breathing heavily. All those vibrant colours, glitters, shimmers, magnetics, top coats and decoration are more than he had ever seen throughout his whole life combined! He studies the colour swatches closely, wishing to make his own ones one day, in his small studio.
There are separate swatches for all the different colours, with at least twenty different tints of each. His eyes feast on literally every pigment the human eye can imagine in all sorts of variations: from light pastel colours, through vivid bright ones and glitters and neons, to deep and bold darks, almost shades of black. Some are opaque, others are transparent. Some provide solid coverage, others are meant for drawing and creating ombre designs. There are even separate collections of magnetic, satin and galactic 12D polishes. There are collections of chrome powders and liquids (which even Crowley didn’t know existed until now).
There’re at least fifteen top coats, some glossy, others extra glossy and shiny, matte, with sparkles or even dots and stars and holographic shimmer. There is one with 24 karat gold pieces inside and one that reflects UV light and glows in the dark.
And the decoration, oh, the decorations!
Crowley has never seen that extreme amount of design options. There is everything from small Swarovski crystals, to pearls, and full-on charms like tiny teddy bears, butterflies and bows. There are more than fifty different stamping pallets and hundreds of foils and stickers.
Crowley feels his head is spinning, as all the options feel way too overwhelming suddenly. But he wants to try them all, his heart pounding loud and fast in excitement.
“Crowley, don’t lag behind.” Gabriel’s gentle, yet strict voice pulls him back from his trance and he swiftly catches up with the group.
Crowley is more than grateful he will have the chance to work with a detailed, intricate catalogue of polishes, yet he can’t help but wonder how much building such a collection would cost. It would probably take him years to get even one tenth of it. But this is future Crowley’s problem and right now he is way too excited and happy to think about it.
All of his thoughts are completely forgotten when they enter the small class again and Crowley spots the gift kits that have appeared on Gabriel’s desk. He takes his seat, a childish, happy grin gleaming on his face.
Gabriel gives them the starter kits, with a wide smile on his face and Crowley barely manages to hold back on his excitement before rifling through the fancy bag. As the teacher explains, he takes out all the materials and tools he will need: from sanitisers through a brand new kit of cuticle pusher and scissors, all different sorts of files, and of course luxurious lotion and oil.
Gabriel walks them through each product, and Crowley tries to memorise every detail while setting up his desk in the way the teacher shows them: cuticle tools, files and brushes on the right. Bond, base and top coat on the left. Lotion and oil behind them.
“Preferably, you would sanitise your lamp and desk first and then arrange it,” Gabriel explains. “But today the room is already set for you, so you can skip that part. I will show you how to disinfect your tools now and then you can start practicing building up a nail on the fake hand.”
Crowley follows all the instructions, setting up a one hour alarm for his tools, realising in about that time he will start working with his first model.
He is positively excited, and way more relaxed than he was in the morning, knowing the space is actually safe and welcoming and he will learn from experienced teachers.
“After you have put the first thin layer of rubber base coat and cured it, you can start building up a beautiful nail.” Gabriel guides them through the process, handing out the fake hands and attaching them to the desks. “The technique we use here is called Wet Floor.”
He demonstrates on one of the fake hands, all the students leaning in to see better. Crowley notices his perfectly manicured hands, his nails short, in soft square form and covered in a shade of Tyrian purple.2
“You spread a thin layer, then you place a bead of the product near the cuticles, but not too close. With even side-to-side motions you spread it towards the free edge. Then you get your thin brush and help guide the product towards all sides of the nail plate. And for the final step, to get that nice apex build, you turn the hand upside down, until the product self-elevates. Only a few seconds are enough, then you turn it back again and check if your work needs fixing. How do we do that? ”
The class is silent.
“The light?” Crowley answers with a hoarse voice.
“Exactly, very good, Crowley! We check the reflection of the light, that’s why it’s very important to invest in a good desk lamp.”
Oh, great, another financial investment.
“Now practice this by yourself, build the nail and wipe it off until you understand the process better. Don’t expect to be perfect or do that well in the beginning, but that’s why we’re here, to learn.” He shines another bright smile, as the students go back to their desks and start practising.
Crowley's mind is razor-sharp focused, gently navigating the brushes and the rubbery base and for the first time in forever, he is following the instructions without protesting or questioning, fully trusting the higher authority.
And it’s all working out.
The material resists a bit in the beginning, but after a few practice nails, Crowley learns how to move and guide it easily. He is so focused, he doesn’t even hear when Gabriel has approached his desk.
“Excellent technique!” Gabriel's loud voice startles him. “I think we might be having a future nail tech star, here!” He smiles widely, while Crowley blushes, but heart pounding and trembling with pride.
He goes back to building a few more practice nails, grinning with satisfaction. This might actually turn out better than he thought.
“Alright, class.” Gabriel claps his hands. “It's half past one, so you can have your break and make sure to be back in 15 minutes, because your models will be arriving. You can take out UV lamps and set them up as well.”
Crowley frowns in confusion: He doesn’t have a UV lamp and there wasn't one in the kit.
“If you still don't have one, you better go and buy one from the store before the models arrive,” Gabriel continues as if he had read his mind.
For fuckin’ sake. More unforeseen expenses is the last thing Crowley needs right now.
He sighs and prepares mentally for spending even more money than he had initially planned.
Yet no preparation is enough when he sees the price and tries to act as if it’s completely alright in front of the store consultant.
Despite the fact he feels annoyed at the school for making him buy the most expensive part of the equipment, he swallows the irritation down, reminding himself there will be extra expenses and there's not much he could do about that. He just needs to be smart about them. And he can’t work without a personal lamp, so it should be alright.
Now, with that care off his mind, he focuses on preparing his station and stressing about the models. Doing one's own nails, or the nails of your friends, is one thing, but acting like a professional technician feels way more demanding and anxiety-inducing. Crowley feels his heart pounding at his chest and throat, as tries to calm down, reminding himself he signed up for this, the models most probably have experience and there is a reliable teacher that seems to like him. Everything will be alright.
Crowley holds onto that thought through the rest of his break. He grips it tightly while setting up his desk. He clings to it when Gabriel invites the models to enter the room.
And he feels it slip right through his calloused hands, when he sees the most handsome, stunning, almost angelic-looking man walk through the door.
Oh, he's completely and utterly fucked.
Gabriel's manicure (shape, colour and length as described in the fic)
1 In addition to a suitable shade of gray, this moment also shows Crowley’s in-depth understanding and knowledge of colours. Originally the colour I chose was royal blue, which later on I decided to change, as in informal British, slate also means to criticise. [ return to text ].
2 Tyrian purple is considered the most royal colour throughout European history. In order to create the dye, the shells of small snails need to be crushed, making it extremely difficult to obtain and therefore very expensive. It's also one of the reasons there are no purple country flags. [ return to text ]