Okay this is my first foray into writing fan fiction so be gentle with me :p
This AU is based off of Moulin Rouge (Which I don't own) and heavily features Dean/Cas and a host of other characters (I also don't own Supernatural). Warning, this will become M rated in the future, but we gotta build up to the sexy times first, you know?
The little "snippets" at the start of each chapter were anon messages I sent to a certain Raven (castianity at Tumblr) because I couldn't help but be inspired by her own stories, which are really worth a read.

"When Dean said we were moving to Paris I thought he had gone mad. The city of inspiration he said, great work opportunities he said. In the end I was the one who was right. He's certifiable. Three weeks in and my brother has fallen in love with one of the Angels.
Dean's a writer, so of course we had to move into the arts district of the city, i.e. the slums. I can't find a bed long enough for me and all I can smell is absinthe and blood. Heaven became our refuge. And that's where Dean fell."

Sam

The year is 1899, when Sam Winchester finally finds himself in Paris, a smile on his face and his brother bouncing excitedly beside him. Their journey had been a long one, it had taken nearly five months on the ship to sail from New York City to Cobh and then their final port Le Havre. From there the six hour coach trip to Paris had seemed like nothing (saying that, Sam would be more than happy to never spend quite so long in the presence of Dean's dirty laundry ever again). Dean had perked up considerably since leaving the boat, and Sam finds himself grinning as he recalls Dean's first words upon seeing their third class cabin.

"What are we to them Sammy? Cattle? 'Cause I remember spending an awful lot of our savings on this damn floating log"

Sam had then proceeded to spend a good part of their five month trip continuously trying to convince Dean of two things. One, his name was Sam, not Sammy and two, they would have had to save for forty more years be able to afford a first class cabin. The remainder of his time was spent between talking to the other passengers and sketching everything he saw. Sam and Dean were jacks of many trades, so to speak, but each had one particular passion close to his heart. For Dean it was writing, poetry in particular, he found it difficult to properly articulate himself out loud, whether from fear of judgement or something else, Sam couldn't say. But when Dean wrote, it was with pure emotion. Sam favoured architecture, he could conjure up whole cities in his head, taking inspiration from his surroundings. They each had boxes upon boxes of used notebooks which made up the majority of their luggage, between them the boys only had seven shirts, two extra pairs of boots and the trousers they were wearing. Chuck had told them they would be able to get plenty of clothes when they arrived, Paris fashion was very different from what they were used to.

Chuck was Dean's old work mate who had emigrated to Paris two years previously, he and Dean were an odd pair, they would sit and talk about their writing for hours, ignoring everything else around them. Chuck was a playwright and had moved to Europe with dreams of becoming rich and famous, but he and Dean had managed to keep in touch, writing to each other regularly, with Chuck always ending his correspondence with the same phrase "You need to be here my friend, Paris is full of beautiful women, powerful alcohol and vibrent music". After a year of what Dean called careful persuasion and gentle pushes (what Sam called whining and bribery) they had packed up their lives and shipped out to France. Chuck had organised their accommodation as soon as he knew they were coming, which worried Sam slightly, because Chuck Shurley was many things, but organised was not one of them.

He's about to turn to his brother and suggest they move away from the crowds when Dean shouts out, running towards a short bearded man who is pushing through the crowds, ambling towards them. Sighing Sam gathers up their trunks, and follows Dean at a much slower pace.

"Sam, it's good to see you, did you grow taller again? You seem taller, unless I've shrunk...do I seem smaller?" Sam chuckled as Chuck tripped over his words, and feet, trying to greet him.
"Chuck, it's always a pleasure" before Sam can get any further, Dean jumps in, patting the small man on the back and speaking in a booming voice "Of course he's taller Chuckles, Sammy boy is gonna be as tall as the buildings he designs one of these days!"

They all laugh as they share out the luggage, the brothers exchanging looks and giving Chuck the lightest case, before setting off for their new home in the famed Montmartre district.

Dean

When Chuck had described his lodgings in his letters, Dean should have known the man would have used his artistic licence. So he really should have expected what they were faced with upon arriving. The wide streets were not full of beautiful women, instead there were old crones who looked just about ready to curse him for even making eye contact. And sure the building did have arching windows, and balconies on every floor, but the windows were dirty and the balconies did not look like they could hold the weight of a feather.

In short the place was a dump.

But Sammy looks at the building with such wonder in his eyes, that he can't bring himself to say a bad word against the place out loud. So Dean does what he does best, slaps on a smile for his baby brother.

"Well, well, well Chuck my boy. You've certainly outdone yourself this time" Dean grins at Chuck as he speaks, waiting patiently for his friend to shoulder open the door to their new home. At least the door seemed sturdy enough, if the other man's struggle to open it was anything to go by. Eventually Sam sighs, dropping his trunk down at Dean's feet (narrowly avoiding crushing them), before helping Chuck shove the heavy door open, eager to see the inside of the building.

"Well look what you've done now man, he'll be geeking out over the building for hours. Way to fuel his addiction Chucky" Dean winks at his friend as he saunters into his new domain, holding the door open for Chuck to drag the luggage into the hall. The interior of the building somehow managed to be worse than the outside, grimy with an overpowering stench of body fluids, not that that was deterring Sam, who had wandered off in search of their room, marvelling at the tall ceilings and winding staircases. It was a far cry from their small two bedroomed wooden house in Lawrence, but he would have to get used to it.

Two weeks later...

Of course, Chuck had made use of his artistic licence in regards to a few other promises he had made in his letters. The most important being in regards to work. As in there was none. The two brothers had managed to scrape up a few jobs here and there, construction mainly, but it wasn't enough to keep them fed (nor was it particularly enjoyable, when their French was limited and all they wanted to do was write and design). So when they weren't working their asses off they found themselves sat in their shared living room, playing cards and drinking absinthe with Chuck and his misfit gang of friends. There was Ash, the lighting technician with a long ponytail and a penchant for making wild bets, his sister Jo, who spent some of her time helping her mum run the local pub (the rest of her time was spent trying to keep Ash in line). Pam and Missouri, the two psychics, who could quite literally put the fear of God into Dean (a role they revelled in). Then there was Bobby, an older man of unknown origin with a large beard and cold eyes. However, Bobby, it turned out, was actually quite the gentle giant once you got to know him, and he had taken quite a shine to the Winchester brothers, sharing his good vodka with them and teaching Dean how to play chess.

So when Dean sits and pens a letter to his old boss Vic Henderson back home in Lawrence, he can't help but smile. Because yeah they don't have much money, and yeah they basically live in the slums but he has his brother, and good friends. So he can't complain about the life they've made for themselves in Paris, because he's happy. Dean Winchester is happy.

And even if Sam keeps on complaining about his short bed what can he do? Really, the kid just needs to stop growing, it's not Dean's problem he's half person, half moose.

Hopefully I will try and get some more of this written this week, and the boys can finally make it to "Heaven" :) Hope you enjoyed!