"Stars shining bright above you, night breezes seem to whisper 'I love you.' Birds singing in the sycamore tree, dream a little dream of me." Dean grinned into the microphone, adjusting his bowler hat and shooting a wink at the audience. They ate this shit up. "Say nighty-night and kiss me, just hold me tight and tell me you miss me. While I'm alone and blue as can be, dream a little dream of me. Stars fading by I linger under, still craving your kiss." He blew a kiss and the hooting intensified as he began stripping off his black vest, letting it drop to the stage with a hushed sound.
"I'm longing to linger till dawn dear, just saying this…" He popped the buttons, one by one, on his dress shirt, biting his full lower lip as money began accumulating in the hat at the end of the stage. His shirt fell to the floor and he brought the old fashioned mic back to his mouth, eyes half lidded. "Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you, sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you. But in your dreams, whatever they be, dream a little dream of me." He toyed with the button on his slacks, popping it and doing the zip as he whistled effortlessly. "Stars fading but I linger on dear, still craving your kiss. I'm longing to linger till dawn dear, just saying this…. "
His slacks joined his vest and shirt on the floor and the hat at the end of the stage was positively overflowing as he began working his hips in time with the music. "Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you, sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you." He flicked his fingers under the waistband of his boxers and took a deep breath, sliding them down slowly. "But in your dreams, whatever they be, dream a little dream of, dream a little dream of me." The last note rang in the air as Dean stood there, in all his naked glory.
The song ended and the crowd erupted in applause. He took a bow, getting himself another flurry of bills, and the curtains closed. Dean picked up the hat, surprised at the amount of large bills inside, he'd honestly been expecting ones. But, fuck, he had a month's rent in the hat alone.
"Dean, that was great! They ate that shit up, how do you do it? Honestly, you should be on Broadway, not in this little shitty strip club. You're a fucking miracle!" Charlie Bradbury, the owner of the Night Swing and Dean's boss, was practically raving.
"Can I get payed? I need to get home before Sam wakes up." He scrambled into his average clothes, a flannel and jeans, before lighting a cigarette.
"Here, your customary 250. Thanks Dean, you always bring good business. See you tomorrow." Charlie gave a wave, but he didn't notice, too busy running past the stage where another male stripper was singing another old fashion love song.
He took the stairs two at a time, throwing open the door and hurrying through the alley behind Night Swing -the faux early 1900s strip club- that featured mainly male models. The pay was fair and Dean desperately needed the work. Checking his watch, he swore as he realized he only had a few minutes more till the subway hit the station, that was almost five city blocks from the club. He started to run, dodging people, counting backwards from 100 in his head to keep from panicking at the fact his two year old might wake up and realize he still wasn't home.
Sam wasn't his son, but his parents had been young, only 17 when he was born, When Dean turned 21 his parents were 38 and had decided it was time to have baby number two. Unfortunately, two short years later, a nasty car wreck had taken their lives, leaving Dean as Sam's only living relative.
So Dean had dropped out of college, gotten an apartment and was working three jobs to keep Sammy out of foster care. It was worth it though, to see his little brother smile. Even if he did get noticed in the streets, catcalled while buying milk and occasionally groped when he was doing a personal show.
He was gasping and sweating by the time he hit the stairs leading down into the subway, taking them two at a time he only managed to force his way past the doors of the train and drop into a seat, exhausted. His fingers twitched as he did the math in his head, he'd be home just a few precious minutes before Sammy woke up. The babysitter only arrived after Sam was asleep and left before he woke. Dean refused to let Sam know that he was gone during the night, the kid was smart and Dean didn't have the heart to lie to him.
The train stopped and Dean stood, stretching and slipping past the doors. Dawn was coming and, if he was lucky, he'd get a few hours in between Sam waking up and going to daycare.
Dean worked a five hour shift at Ellen's Diner, while Sam was in daycare, then a four hour shift at Singer's Autoshop -he took Sam with him, Bobby had known his parents- and then he went home for a few hours, got Sammy dinner, a bath and put him to bed. After that it was a five hour shift at Night Swing before heading home to eat, shower and sleep.
Getting off the train, Dean made his way into the apartment complex and got in the elevator, forcing himself to keep his eyes open. He knew Sam would be awake soon, maybe if he got lucky he'd be allowed to brew a cup of coffee before his little brother was up and screaming. But then again, it was still pretty early, he'd try to get a nap in there.
He got the key into the slightly sticky lock on his apartment and jingled it, trying to ease the door open, when, from across the hall, he heard a blood curdling shriek.