It was the resounding catcalls that grabbed his attention. A descending trail of sultry notes played as booted feet stepped through the crowd. Dean's eyes trailed up denim-clad legs to a battered leather jacket and long hands holding a cigarette. It waved ineffectually in front of a duct-taped mouth.

"Cas?"

Big blue eyes smoldered in Dean's direction, in fact if not for the change in outfit Dean would have found this random approach quite normal. The angel ripped the duct tape away but looked quite confused when the words that rumbled out of his mouth were: "Tell me about it, stud."

Spying Sam cracking up in the background caused Dean's heart to plummet. He looked down and, damn it all to hell, was sporting a rumpled suit and trench coat. "You have got to be kidding me," he thought, as he wrestled out of the offending garment. The hunter balled up the outerwear and kept his mouth firmly shut as he noticed Cas, well, slinking out of the leather before throwing it to the side. The angel's smooth movements were greatly at odds with the frustrated look on his face.

"Dean, come on you know this. You have to si-"

"Absolutely not Sammy. Just shut up. Not gonna happen." Of course Dean knew this. He had dealt with women in high school. He had suffered through watching the first halves of movies with them so that he could suck their faces through the second half. Sadly, Dean had always been thankful that Danny made girls so hot for the bad boy.

This however, this was a travesty. Cas was smoking at him with a hip cocked out and a desperate look in his eyes. Sammy was behind the angel and minutely bopping to the disgustingly upbeat base line that was being piped in from god knows where. Well, this was one role Dean Winchester refused to play. As the unhappy leading man turned to leave the scene, his foot caught on absolutely nothing and he was out flat on the ground.

Dean looked up to see Sam mime discarding the cigarette at Cas before dropping his head into the dirt in shame. His brother was such a girl. He looked up again to see a smoldering butt drop on the ground and be ground into oblivion before a hand grabbed his tie and dragged him to his feet.

"You better shape up, 'cause I need a man. And my heart is set on you," the angel sang in resignation. Dean mused that it could be worse as the angel sauntered away. Those jeans were pretty tight after all.

"Nothing left, nothing left for me to do."

Sammy would never let him live this down.