A/N: This one is written for alyssia333 over at LJ and WickedLittleLies who requested "Cas is still working at the bar, and another Demon tries to stake claim over him" and " Make Sam a demon too...Dean's brother. He meets Castiel at the bar and likes what he sees too and is determined to steal him from Dean. Include more lacy panties because I really like them =)" respectively. This was another one of those where the requests were almost exactly the same so I just smooshed them together. :P This is part of my Girl With One Eye 'Verse started here. Sorry this piece took forever, but school kinda ambushed me this week. If it makes it any better, here is the song that I imagined Cas doing his striptease to. /./ It's quite catchy, please listen as it enhances the experience. ^^ Please comment and enjoy! ALSO! This is the 2nd to last request I've gotten for this 'verse, so unless I get struck by inspiration or receive more, there won't be new ones coming in after the next piece. Requests are still open though.
***EDIT** Oh dear, clearly this did not transfer over from my LJ too smoothly on the first run. Sorry for not checking to make sure everything was good before posting. :P Such a hassle switching between sites.
Cas always knew exactly when Dean blew back into town- there was a general disquiet about the bar, along with the sidelong glances his coworkers would give him when they thought that he wasn't looking. The man was like a hurricane, tell-tale signs marking his return before he arrived, ripping through the town for a few days before abruptly departing, leaving a wave of destruction in his wake. He had gotten more attuned to Dean's schedule- knowing the demon would always show up to reclaim him just before the marks from their last tryst had faded. It had been nearly half a year since that original night, but the strange thrill that ripped through Cas' stomach every time he heard Dean was around hadn't faded. As the day started to fade and their seedier clients began to file in, Cas somehow knew that it would be tonight that Dean came for him again and he was going to be prepared. He moved into the back room and opened up the small closet that had recently been vacated of its old tenant and named as his own. He perused through the diminutive collection of costumes that hung there- none of which actually had enough fabric to cover more than half of his body. There was a black leather number with zippers in all the most inappropriate places, a slutty angel that he thought Dean would certainly enjoy and its opposite, the red devil complete with killer stiletto heeled boots, but the one Cas found himself pulling off the hanger was a navy blue sailor girl's outfit. The jacket and skirt were trimmed with white lace and had red ribbons tied around the collar and on the sides. They came with a matching cap, white gloves, and red garter belt. It was Cas' personal favorite, and he thought that Dean would appreciate the simplicity of it. For reasons he hadn't yet tried to explain to himself, and probably never would, he wanted to impress the demon.
He stripped out of his street clothes and began pulling on each layer with the same calm determination that he devoted to everything else in his life. He had been "promoted" from his waitressing position a little over a week ago to this, and he had been strangely glad to take the position. The inhabitants of the bar were always ogling over him anyway- he should at least start getting paid a decent amount for it. He could hear the music signaling his entrance and saw the spotlight illuminate the heavy curtains that hung at the top of the stairs leading to the dancer's stage. He was the first to go on Mondays through Fridays- the bar keeping the more experienced and provocative dancers for later in the night- and while he always felt anxious and embarrassed, the way that he patrons were silhouetted behind the bright spotlights helped to calm his nerves. Taking a deep breath, he made his way up the stairs and stood, hands clenched in the curtains, counting out the beats until his cue, before ripping the curtains back and strutting to the center of the stage.
He'd taken to this particular…. art form fairly quickly, and as he paraded around, sliding his hands down his chest and deftly popping a button, before fingering at the hem of his skirt, lifting the piece of fabric just enough to tease, wolf whistles and cheers rang out through the faceless crowd. He'd been practicing his routines at home during his free time- knowing that tips for his performance were where he'd make his money- and he was secretly proud that he'd become exponentially better at riling up the patrons so easily. The song moved past its halfway mark and Castiel dropped to his knees, peeling the jacket away and arching his back, letting gravity drop the flimsy fabric off his shoulders. He pulled his heels off, careful not to catch them on the fishnet tights, before rising back to his feet and tugging at the ribbons on the side of his skirt. The hard, electronic grind of the song gave way to a lighter, tinkering echo and reverb when Cas bent through his knees to recover the cap that had fallen with his jacket, using it to cover his backside as the skirt finally started sliding down his legs before he kicked it away. He could hear the final notes of the song tinkling as he pranced back towards the curtain, keeping his back turned as he pulled the cap back on, looking over his shoulder and wiggling his hips, faking the seductive smile that curled at his lips while the voices catcalled at the sight of his panties and garter belt. He gave a salute, twirling to finally give them what they had been waiting for, fingers dipping below the waistband…. when the song ended and the spotlight shut out.
The crowd was a mix of cheers and jeers- the usual for his opening tease routine- but their extremely vocal reaction was exactly what the managers wanted. He changed into the casual uniform- v-neck and polyester knee length skirt- eager to head out into the bar and collect his tips before finding Dean and heading home. The bar was loud and hectic as it always was in between shows and he periodically got pulled aside to be handed a fistful of bills or to be propositioned, and on rare occasion, both. When he finally made it back to the curtained booths where Dean preferred to wait for his shift to end he was surprised to find them all closed with the Do Not Disturb sign tied around the seam save for one. A young man in an elegant white suit jacket and dress pants with a cream colored button down reclined against the booth, one arm slung over the back and other resting on the table, drink in hand. "That was quite the show, I must admit." he spoke softly, his intonation measured and confident. Castiel nodded his thanks and turned to leave before stopping abruptly, several black eyed men and women boxing him in. "Why don't you take a seat and I'll get you something to drink." Cas slides into the booth, keeping a wary eye on the demons that had now turned their back. The man in the white suit smiled softly, tucking a strand of his chestnut hair behind his ear, and if it weren't for the dangerous edge to his eyes, Cas might dare to call him boyish. "I heard them call you Jimmy up on the stage, but surely a face as classic as yours cannot be labeled so crudely." his fingers stroked at Cas' chin and his eyes flared at the sight of the fading bruise just beneath his jaw.
"It's Castiel actually." somehow he feels as though the young man would know if he lied. He gets a quiet 'Sam' in reply as the demons outside draw the curtains after he gestures to them with a flick of his jaw. When they are closed off from the rest of the bar Sam licks his lips and sniffs lightly in Cas' direction as he slides around the table and rests a hand on the back of Castiel's neck.
"Judging by the marks peppering every inch of your skin and the lingering pheromones, it's clear you've been claimed." Sam's fingers push at the bruise, making Cas grit his teeth and lift his head. "But that's of no consequence to me."
Dean strolled into the bar as night began to fall, making his way through the small crowd that was beginning to form as the stage was prepared for the first dance of the night. He had gotten held back a few days longer than he had planned, and he was eager to forget himself within the wanton passion that only Castiel could pull from him. He made his way to the back, approaching the booths that he preferred to perch in while waiting as patiently as he could for Cas' shift to end, but as he got closer to the curtained alcoves, he saw that they were all marked as occupied and shut- save for the one with the best view of the stage. Curious and more than a little agitated he pushed his way past the minor demons surrounding the open booth and slid into it, a young man in a fine suit eyeing him with slight disinterest. "Can I help you?" the question was posed softly, but Dean could tell by the man's posture that he had a quiet strength inside.
"Ya, you can get the hell outta my booth." Dean keeps his tone nonchalant, though it's clear that there is no room for argument. The other man's brow furrows and his lips pull together in an oddly child-like pout. Dean wants to laugh at the expression, but hesitates at the dangerous glint ever-present in the stranger's deep brown eyes. With a wary eye kept on him, Dean turns towards the stage disinterestedly where an older woman is starting off the night with the typical strip-tease, leaving the more scandalous performances for later in the night, while he rubs a hand across his mouth and motions towards the bar for a drink with his free hand. "Look, I got a Claimed here and I like to keep an eye on him until his shift's over. You and I both know this is a damn shady place." At this the man's eyes widen and his pout pulls into a slow smirk that looks absolutely acidic.
"So you're the one…" Dean's stomach roils at the abrupt shift of power when the man snaps his fingers and the guards outside come closer.
Castiel tries to keep his legs steady as he carries a tray full of drinks towards the back, and is infinitely grateful that the manager had let him reassume his waiting position for the night. There was no way that he could have gone on stage and danced tonight- no matter how strong his will. He stops halfway, arm propping himself against the table, to close his eyes and try to regain his composure. His body aches all over in ways it never did with Dean, and every few steps sharp, burning pains rip through him. This is nothing like pleasant aftershocks that made him feel owned- these marks are meant to put him in his place. He takes a deep breath and steals a shot from his tray before continuing to the back, taking slow, measured steps, trying to maneuver around the increasingly rowdy patrons without the ability to make quick moves. Today marks a full week since Sam first came to the bar and put his own claim on Castiel- his appetite ferocious and his penchant for violence clear in the way he takes the smaller man each night. Cas is nauseous as he makes his way to the booths he knows will be roped off and waiting- Sam always unable to wait until his shift is over for at least one bout of forceful claiming.
He pushes his way through the last cluster raucous humans before freezing in his spot, drawing a shaky breath and feeling his knees start to give. The full tray crashes to the ground, the sound of shattering glass chaotic as it gains the attention of the demons in the back- including Dean. Castiel continues to shake as Dean's eyes go wide and shoves his way out of the booth- snarling at anyone who gets in his way. As Dean approaches, Cas closes his eyes and lets himself be pulled into a familiar embrace, ignoring the pains his strong grip elicits from the multiple contusions along his frame. He breathes in Dean's familiar musk and is unable to reign in the hot tears that spring forth and soak through the shoulder of Dean's jacket. "Isn't he just beautiful when he cries?" Cas chokes back a yell as long fingers grip his chin firmly and tip his head. "You got them so easily! It took me three days to break him, but seeing this grace was worth it." Sam leans in, ready taste Cas' tears as he is so fond of doing before Dean rips Castiel away and, in one fluid motion, pulls a knife from its holster on his hip and plunges it into Sam's side.
Dean steps back, arms thrown wide to cover Castiel, his teeth bared and his eyes black- alight with a fury that Cas didn't even see the night he was thrown out of restaurant. Sam frowns as he pulls the knife out and examines the hole in his clothing, fingers stained with his own blood. "That was…. unnecessary, plus you ruined a perfectly good suit." He tosses the knife over his shoulder and pulls a handkerchief from his jacket pocket, calmly wiping the mess from his fingers. "And here I thought I might even share with you." he smiles lewdly at the two of them as he advances slowly, signaling his goons to stay back. "We could've split the days evenly and had a group affair on Sundays- really start the week off right."
"Fuck you." Dean growls, his voice low and his posture threatening. "I laid claim first- you had no right to take him." Cas grips at Dean's sides nervously, trying to assuage his own fears while finding a way out that has the both of them surviving. Sam's eyes start to cloud over as he gets closer, his smile turning harsh when he takes on a predatory stance. The two of them look like wolves circling each other, hackles raised, everything tuned out save for their own challenge. Cas tries to fight his way out from behind Dean's back, determined to play a part in this, even if it is only to give himself up, but Dean's hold is firm and unrelenting. Just as it looks like they are going to pounce- ready to fight until there's only one left standing- one of Sam's cronies steps in, looking terrified to be in the middle of the confrontation.
"What is it?" Sam snaps, his face twisting in rage, breaking his calm façade for the first time. The female demon that came between them bows her head immediately, hands fidgeting and voice shaky.
"It's Ruby- she wants to see you. Now." Sam's demeanor changes in the space of an instant and a plethora of emotions flash across his expressive face. He still looks as though he wants to tear the young woman limb from limb, but there is no doubting that whoever this Ruby is- she hold great sway over his actions. His hands clench and unclench into tight fists before he turns his back on them for a few moments, walking back a few steps and then returning with determination in his stride. Dean and Castiel watch him warily, breathing still labored from the palpable tension in the room. Sam walks right up to them, pushing up into their space and locking his eyes with Dean's. Their faces a mere inch or two apart, they continue to glare, teeth bared. Their gaze only breaks Sam slams Dean's knife into the nearby table with a force that nearly splits it in two.
"I'll be back for him."
Dean bit his lip and curled his fingers into a fist, trying his best not to break everything in sight. He stood in the doorway of the bathroom, waiting a few moments to regain his composure before moving forward and pulling the shower curtain aside. Castiel sat in the bottom of the porcelain tub, knees drawn to his chest, water running rivers down his body. Dean stepped in behind him, fresh cloth and soap in hand, and lowered himself down, straddling Cas' back. Despite his shaky breath and initial hesitance, Dean's hands were steady as they began running the white fabric along the smooth planes of Cas' back. He was slow and tender as he cleaned the other man, heart twisting as he uncovered the unfamiliar and vicious marks that covered his Claimed. Sam had been anything but gentle with him, and it left Cas quiet and distant. Dean buried his face in Castiel's dark, wet tresses, whispering a chain of apologies and promises that had started when he shepherded Cas from the bar. He was desperate to make Castiel feel safe and comforted again, but he also longed for reciprocation. Before he could second guess himself, Dean fingered along Cas' jaw and pulled lightly at his chin, needing to see the other's face. Castiel's eyes flitted across his face, searching, frantic, the blue of them cold and frightened. Dean slid his hands across slim shoulders and down, coming to rest on the flat of Cas' stomach, never breaking their gaze. They sat and stared for several long moments, communicating through touch, neither one willing to break the inevitable silence that follows a moment such as that.
When the water began to run cold, Dean shifted, moving to leave the shower and take Cas with him, but was stopped by a hand on his forearm. There was a quiet plea in Castiel's face and he gave a simple nod in affirmation, but still reached to turn off the water and pull a towel from the rack outside the curtain. He draped it around Cas' shoulders and rubbed at them carefully. Cas' thumb rubbed slow circles in it its place on his forearm and the gesture would have been soothing enough for his own purposes, but when Cas placed a gentle kiss to his lips, pressing his back to Dean's chest, he was able to move past his uncertainty and began to plan. Castiel was his, the only Claimed Dean had seen fit to take and Sam was not going to make him a victim. Once he was certain Cas was okay, they would begin.
"It's time to leave."