Sam Winchester did not know what his brother did on Thursday nights, but he was pretty sure he didn't like it. Fridays were the one day of the week he had to take the bus to school, because Dean never came home before 4 o'clock in the morning.
Sam had his suspicions about what his brother was up to. He saw the extra money that showed up in his college fund on Friday afternoon like clockwork and had dark thoughts about drag races and drugs and witnesses that never made it to court. These thoughts would be gone by the next time Dean tried to cook him quinoa because he heard it was healthy and easy to make, or overheard him whispering endearments to the Impala.
If Dean had been aware of these thoughts he would have been proud. He didn't spend an hour after every performance showering off glitter for his brother to know what he actually did.
Rainin' Men Night at Purgatory was a crowded and noisy affair. While women stripped every other night of the week, every Thursday from 8 p.m. to 3 a.m. the appletini's were half price and the men half naked.
Dean tipped his cowboy hat and winked at the cheering crowd of men and women surrounding the stage, bending over to pick up the dollar bills that hadn't quite made it into his G-string. He smirked as he felt a few more dollars get added to the back, going in for a quick grope before retreating quickly. A group of middle aged women tittered and catcalled their braver friend, a tipsy woman in a tiara that proclaimed her a "Bride to Be."
"That was the 'Hunter', ladies and gentlemen. Give him a hand. Hell of a last temptation isn't he?" Gabe, the bartender, announced over the microphone he kept under the bar.
Dean sauntered off the stage with a bit more swagger to his walk than was really necessary, counting his money. It was a decent haul, all told, and he disappeared into the dressing room feeling accomplished.
As he prepared to leave, freshly showered with a baseball cap pulled low over his face, Gabe called out to him. "Dean, no, man, wait up. You're gonna wanna see this. We got fresh meat in today. Becky made him up like an angel. I swear to fuck I've never seen someone look so grumpy over a costume."
Dean climbed onto a barstool at the mostly empty bar. Easily 90% of the patrons were crowded around the stage, drunkenly swaying to the terrible music and waiting for the next dancer to appear. "Yeah?" he said. "You let him get drunk first?"
"I offered, but he said something about integrity and drinking on the job," he said, sliding a beer over to Dean without prompting.
Dean snorted. "He's gonna be regretting that now."
"At least it'll be funny."
Becky appeared at the edge of the stage then, peeking out from the curtain and giving them a discreet thumbs up and a giant smile. She disappeared. Gabe took out the mic and said, "Showtime."
"We here at Purgatory tend to blend the line between heaven and hell, and out latest performer if further proof that we put the naughty in nice. Why don't you give it up for our newest dancer the 'Fallen Angel'!"
The crowd roared, the noise almost deafening. Dean leaned back against the bar and waited for the show to begin.
The Angel, as it turned out, was a semi-tall, lightly muscled, pale man with neat black hair. He walked stiffly onto the stage, squinting as the stage light found him. He was completely naked except for a pair of speedo-like briefs, a flimsy halo, some little black wings, and, inexplicably, a bright blue tie.
The crowd cried out again and the music for his first dance started. He blinked up at the light for a few more moments before he seemed to remember what he was supposed to be doing. Hesitating only slightly, he began to sway his narrow hips. The move was more mechanical than sexy, but the club was full of people to drunk and horny to care. They cheered again, and he began to really start dancing.
As Dean watched he came to the conclusion that this dude would never really have much rhythm in his soul, but he was doing pretty good for his first time out. On Dean's first time he drank half a bottle of whisky and spent more time clutching the pole so he wouldn't fall off the stage than actually dancing.
Seeing that the guy was doing fine, and therefore wasn't going to be very funny, he finished his beer and prepared to get up to leave. But his movement must have caught the new guy's eye or something because he looked up and suddenly Dean was looking into a pair of the bluest eyes he'd ever seen. They practically glowed in the shimmering light and Dean was suddenly reminded of a picture Sam showed him once of a dying star, shining from somewhere deep inside and so blue no ocean could ever hope to match it. Their eyes caught and held. Dean couldn't quite bring himself to look away and the Angel didn't seem inclined to even try.
Gabriel nudged him and Dean turned back to bar with a start. "You good to drive? You're looking a little dazed."
"It was one beer, I'll be fine," Dean said, coming back to himself. The rest of the club suddenly seemed dark in comparison to the stages flashing lights and he was having some trouble readjusting.
He nodded to Gabe and slipped out the door, carefully not letting himself look back towards the stage. The Impala waited for him patiently out in the cool night air. He slipped into her gratefully and went to the Roadhouse, like he always did on Thursdays. He was greeted by Ellen with a piece of pie, which she always made sure to save just for him. He sat down with Bobby, who was actually eating breakfast before opening the garage for the morning. Fridays were Dean's day off from the garage, but Bobby was more like another father than a boss and Dean usually sat with him until he left. Bobby left when Dean was only 3 beers in. Then, as usual, Dean got pleasantly drunk and left the Impala in the lot.
And if instead of going to spend what was left of the night with a girl like he usually did, he walked home and drunkenly googled dying stars to try and find that picture, well. It was no one's business but his.
Author's note: I meant to post this as a big, single chapter story, but I really want a beta!reader to go over the rest with me and figured that I'd be more likely to get one this way. (Also, I'm impatient.) So, if you're interested, send me a message!
