Hey guys. So as some of you may know, I started this fic well over a year ago. ''Leather and Alcohol.'' I was super proud of it despite my prominent misuse of commas (a problem that is still present) and obscene amount of typos. I had a surprising number of people enjoy the fic, to my surprise. Which is part of the reason that I've decided to start again and keep it going. Well.. It HAS been in the back of my mind for some time now. I love the concept and the idea of the fic so... Here it goes! I'll revamp the plot to best of my ability and begin spouting out all new chapters and probably new fics for you guys. Starting with a step up from my dinky first chapter. With that, I give you the new and improved chapter one of ''Leather and Grace.'' Enjoy! :3))))
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Finally, after the 9th attempt in the past hour, Castiel submitted to Sam's incessant pleading.
Sam had successfully jipped the angel into doing, again, what just never seemed to work out.
Sam slid behind the wheel of the shitty 1982 model Chevy pickup he managed to snag from Bobbys. The suede and leather seats rubbed against his Wranglers awkwardly as he shifted into comfort and started the car.
Castiel was already seated and buckled in the passenger seat and his face was dressed with confusion and unease. As usual.
The moose man leaned over and patted Cas on the knee, ''Come on, Cas. It'll be fun! Third time's the charm, right?'' There were jokingly manic undertones in his speech. He laughed playfully, and anyone but Cas could tell he was doing it for his own enjoyment.
Castiel responded with his very vague, signature momentary stare.
Sam veered out of the parking lot and down the road, eventually turning down a narrow alley. The rickety old truck's engine made winded, asthmatic gasps with every acceleration. At its final stop, in front of a red glossy door, it sputtered and calmed down to a soft, puttery hum. Sam shoved Castiel out of the car much like a mother shoves her child back into highschool once summer's unforgiving end has come.
The Winchester rolled down the window and waved with an unsettlingly giddy grin. ''It'll be alright, Cas. Hey! Maybe Deans in there. He could.. Y'know... Show you the ropes. Help you answer questions like ''Which exotic dancer is the right one for you?'' He cackled and sped off down the swampy alley and back into the streets to take care of his own ''Friday Night Business.''
The angel shot a soft, concerned glare back at Sam.
…Which Sam didn't see. He was two blocks away by the time Cas had even furled his brows.
Cas fidgeted awkwardly as he measured the circumstances of his situation over and over.
The glossy door contrasted dramatically with the red of the alley. It was bright red and adorned the words
''CAT SCRATCH CLUB.''
Castiel read the words over and over in his mind, trying to make sense of just where Sam had dropped him off. This didn't look like that last club Sam took him to.
After roughly 7 minutes of weighing the odds, he felt a burst of bravery in his chest. He took hold of the dewy door handle and yanked open the stuck door.
The smell of latex and top shelf vodka flooded his nostrils so abruptly that he visibly cringed and coughed lightly. He swallowed hard in attempt to rid his mouth of the vile flavor.
By the look of it (to any normal person) it was just an average strip club. It had women giving dances in one corner, men and women serving drinks in another, and a huge catwalk in the center of the room dressed with several floor-to-ceiling silver poles.
Cas trudged uneasily to the bar and took a seat on a tacky red upholstered stool.
A tall, thin, and unnaturally busty woman sauntered over from the opposite wall and flicked her golden curls behind her shoulder. She gave him a compelling look that any normal human man would find all too enticing. Key words: normal, human, etc. He glanced at the blonde, gave an awkward half smile, then looked to the bartender. He cleared his throat coldly. ''Ehm.. Can I just have... Er... several cups of liquor... Please?'' The bartender quickly slid him in a line in front of him; five shot glasses brim-full with amber liquid.
At the crushing realization that she was not the center of this mans attention, she smirked and slid a hand over and up his thigh, her gaze lingering on his groin. His brows knitted together in dissent. He looked to her hand, then to her. He paused.
''...No thank you.''
She huffed and scampered away, leaving him alone in a strange situation, just like Sam had done.
Castiel took a deep breath before knocking back each of the shot glasses consecutively. And all too quickly.
He stood up abruptly and staggered against the bar at the sudden rush in his head.
He leaned in to speak more privately with the bartender. ''I was told...'' he began softly, looking around with wary eyes as if it was a secret that sex was something sold in clubs like these.
''That I could have sex here. With someone- A human. Now... I was told that Dean-'' He was cut off in a hot second by another woman behind the counter with a big bouncy brown perm. ''Say no more, sweetie!'' She tucked her buss towel into her back pocket and grabbed Castiel by the wrist, dragging him through the club and into a much quieter hallway.
Her stilettos clicked ominously and gave him a foreign, sinking feeling in his gut. A feeling he immediately decided he didn't like.
Finally, after what felt like an hour of traveling through hallways and doors, they stopped in front of a big black one. each door was a different color. And there were different things through the different doors he'd gone through. But this was the only black door. It made him feel uneasy.
The woman snatched the little black blindfold from the door handle and handed it to him. ''Here ya go doll, slip it on quick before he comes out.''
Castiel held the silk nervously in his hands. ''But why?'' he inquired shyly.
She shook her head and playfully swatted his shoulder. ''Sugar if you're waiting for De- Erm!.. Daddy... Then I know this ain't your first rodeo.''
Panic struck him immediately.
''What.. Who even mentioned a rode-''
''Shush! Here I'll help you.''
She tied the silk around his eyes firmly yet not so hard as to hurt him. She patted his shoulder and rushed back to the club lobby for her next shift.
He sighed and stumbled against the wall before finding the handle.
He jiggled it blindly and pressed his palm to the door, pushing it agape.
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Dean heard muffled chit-chat outside his door between what sounded like... Raven.. And some dude.
Hm.
He slipped into his favorite leather pants and quickly and gave all his equipment a sanitation check. He did a twice over just to insure that every thing was clean and entirely sanitized after his last client. Not that they were particularly messy.. But Dean believed in a clean workspace bred clean work.
He rushed to the bathroom hidden behind a door in the corner and freshened up a bit. He quickly brushed his teeth and swished some mouth wash around. As he gargled he watched himself in the mirror. He shot a beaming smile at himself in the mirror before he spat out the mouthwash and toothpaste remains, ran his fingers through his hair anxiously, and washed his hands for the third time since his last client.
He rushed back into his workplace just as the door creaked open.
What caught his eye was much much different than his expected eight o'clock.
...Cas?
