NOTE: This is my very first published fanfic and I'm really nervous about putting my work out there, I hope you like it! This fic is AU in that Dean and Charlie are both 18. Everyone depicted in this fic is 18 years old or older unless specified.

SMUT appears in chapter 6! ;)

It's cold, here. Not the kind of cold Dean's used to. The city is bitter, damp and he feels the chill of it in the marrow of his bones. He's in dark layers, his coat, sweater, beanie. Doesn't even look like himself these days, but then he's kind of not himself.

Dean's out on his own for the first time in his life. No dad, no Sam and no Impala and while the former, the lack of family, leaves a sort of dull ache somewhere in his chest? It's the latter that's got him destination-bound in mass transit, standing in front of the door with his personal brand of comfort blasting through cheap headphones. Holding on to the rail and the seat beside him, swaying a bit as the train meets it's destination.

The doors open and Dean finds himself pushing through the small crush of commuters heading home after a long day. His own trek is quick, he has a routine. Out of the stations, up to the street and straight for a sandwich shop where he still has a little good credit. They know he's coming, the BLT he orders every day is wrapped in white paper and waiting for him to swing by the counter and pick it up. Good credit - they know he can't pay them back and Dean knows they know. Every day he gets a smile from the girl behind the counter. If the owner's in he gets a pat on the back, 'Look at this boy! What a boy!' Pride from a man he's only known for three months that his own father couldn't muster.

And he's lonely.

He's on the fourth floor of a building that would scare the ghost from Dark Water. There's an elevator but it's broken, they keep chairs in it. The steps up to his apartment are, for some stupid reason, about half as wide as they should be. Dean's down his hall and pushed through his apartment door and no sooner does he have his coat off, tossing it on the shitty, threadbare love seat than he's startled by a hollow thump somewhere behind him.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

It's too early in the week for the rent and a visitor at this hour of the morning is weird, even by Dean's standards. Still, he makes his way to the door, lines an eye up with the peephole and sighs, weakly.

Sure, he's lonely. But Dean isn't exactly on his own. Sure, the trio of his surviving family has gone their separate ways, Sam to college and John fighting the good fight. That doesn't mean Dean is alone in the world. Charlie, the quick witted redhead in the apartment across the hall that now grins at him from the other side of his door, had run into him the day he moved into his building and they hit it off pretty quick.

"I'm not home." He almost yawns, opening the locks and tugging the door open. Dean leans on the wall and half closes his eyes for a moment, "What? God, Charlie. It's like six in the a.m., don't you ever sleep?"

She's smiling, nervously so. Obviously trying to come up with a great pitch for whatever she's about to ask and Dean can't bring himself to wait patiently. He makes a 'get on with it' gesture in the air and Charlie sighed, winced, "I need fifteen dollars." Dean groans at that, heads into the apartment and leaves Charlie standing in the open door. Which, of course, she takes to be an invitation to follow, "Only until Monday! Swear, I can give you twenty on Monday."

"Dude, you owe me fifty-eight already. Look, I would but I'm tapped. Only so much blood you can give before they're on to your ass." They make it to the dining room table, a small card table in the corner of the living room over a mini fridge and wearing a coffee maker. He's making coffee almost as soon as Charlie invites herself to sit, "What's the fifteen for?"

"Would you believe..." Charlie's trying, Dean's got to give her that, "A birthday cake?"

Dean snorts, sits across from her, "Is it for a birthday cake?"

She winces, tries to smile and make it comical, "No?"

"Yeah, alright. What's up?" Sighing, "Level with me, Kiddo."

And Charlie gives in, slumps back in her seat and stretches her arms out onto the table in front of her, "I'm beyond passed due with my rent, that's what's up. The lights are out unless I can make the money by Friday."

"Oh, man..." Dean scratches his ear, sits himself back and drapes an arm over the back of the folding chair next to him. Suddenly his tight belt seems like it could give a bit to help out a friend, "Fifteen bucks, eh?"

She shrugs, it's weak, "Forty-five but I figured fifteen was a place to start."

"Great. So what's all this crap about hittin' me back with twenty on Monday? What happens Monday?"

Charlie finally stands and starts to slowly wander to the love seat, slumping on it, "It sounded close but still plausible? Ugh... I'm kinda running out of options. I haven't had a paycheck since January. Dean, if I don't find something soon..."

"Right." And he's up, too, pushing out of the chair to meet her. He takes a seat on the crate board coffee table in front of Charlie, elbows resting on his knees, "Hey, I get ya. I'm in the same boat. But there's nada, zip. Even the unemployment office? Nothing. I'm startin' to get desperate, here. But, hell. There's gotta be something, right? Just got to figure out what our options are."

"Well, actually..." Charlie seems a little nervous now, fishing in her jacket pocket until she finds a folded piece of newspaper. She opens it up, smooths it on her knee and starts to hold it out to Dean. When he reaches for it, though, she stops him, "You have to promise not to laugh."

"Oh, please. Just gimme the -"

"Promise."

Dean's rolling his eyes, sighing and then, finally, nodding, "Give it here." he takes the paper from her and turns it right-side up, looking it over with a little bit of a scowl. He's seen these ads before, every week in the want ads section of the free press paper that gets slipped under his door on Sundays.

Nude Models Wanted for Private Shows and Parties

Are you a hot, healthy and outgoing individual between
the ages of 18 and 25 who wants to earn some fast cash
while attending New York's wildest upscale parties? Are
you interested in meeting new people? Do you love to
feel sexy and be the center of attention? CE Parties are what
you've been waiting for! Call to set up an interview, we
want to hear from you! Drug and STD testing is mandatory.
Candidates of all genders welcome. Celestial Entertainment
is an equal opportunity employer. Must be 18 years old or older
and a legal resident of the United States with valid I.D.
or driver's license. Transportation is provided for those who
qualify.

"Oh, come on, Charlie... you gotta be kiddin' me."

"Well, what else am I supposed to do?" Charlie folds her arms at her waist, rests her head back on the cushion behind her and lets her eyes snap shut, "Argh, I'm running out of stuff. You said we had to find out options... well, this is an option, Smartass."

"Yeah, no it ain't." Dean starts crumpling the paper, rolling it into a ball between his palms, "Dude, anything else... those places, man. You're asking for trouble. Besides, you ever even stripped before?"

"Um, excuse you." She reaches forward, snatching the little ball of newspaper out of Dean's hands, "I take my clothes off every morning and every night. How hard could it really be?" Charlie unrolls it, starts to smooth it out over her knee again, "Whatever, forget it. I'll figure something else out."

"Hey," His hand finds both of hers, rests atop, "We'll find something. I know it."

"I know. I just... I hope it's soon."