Benny came rumbling with displeasure into the garage about half past two the next Monday.
Dean raised an eyebrow and Benny sighed. "There's a lemon on the way in, smokin' up a storm under the hood," he explained in a tired Southern drawl.
"You want me to take it?" Dean asked, not really wanting to do it, but willing. The garage was a bit slow at the moment and he didn't mind the idea too much.
"Nah," Benny said, "I got it. Thanks. You mind going over the paperwork with the guy, though?"
"On it," Dean said, already headed to the sink to take care of his hands.
Holy shit, it was the Angel.
It wasn't like Dean ever expected to see the guy again. After all, while the town wasn't necessarily big, but it was a college town, large enough to catch someone's eye and then never see them again. Even if they did see each other it would probably just be between dances as one of them arrived to or was just about to leave Purgatory.
But there he was, blinking in startled recognition at Dean with those big, blue eyes and a slight flush to his stubbled, pale cheeks. He looked more like a homeless model than anything in his rumpled, oversized suit and shapeless trenchcoat.
"Hello," he said in a voice that sounded like he was the voice actor for every anime villain, ever. Jesus, did he gargle with whiskey and thumbtacks or something?
Maybe he could pretend that he didn't recognize him. "Hey, I'm Dean. Welcome to Bobby's Junkyard. Um, Benny's taking care of your car, and I just need you to fill these out real quick while he gets started." He grabbed the paperwork, a clipboard, and one of the cheap pens they kept lying around, proud of how casual he was being.
The guy took them after a quick glance, then looked back at Dean and licked his lips. "Forgive me if I'm being forward, but were you at Purgatory on Thursday, by any chance?"
And there went pretending it never happened. Dean looked around the tiny, cluttered reception area nervously before he answered. It was one thing for Bobby to already know about it in abstract; there was no reason to talk about so that someone else might hear.
"Yeah. Got to say, you did a lot better than I did my first time out."
He blinked again and Dean had this odd feeling like he was storing that piece of information away. The man was about to say something when the sound of Benny's cussing and the hiss of the fire extinguisher called Dean back to the garage. He left the man with the paperwork and pen, rushing off to help his friend.
An hour, an extinguisher, and an inspection of the clearly gone for car later, Dean headed back into the waiting room. Inside the man looked up from the gardening magazine he'd been reading quickly putting it back amongst the others on the little table in the center of the room. He picked up the clipboard with the information filled out in what looked like neat block letters.
"I'm sorry, man, but there's nothing we can do for her," Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
The man nodded gravely. "It's been a while coming. I suppose I should find another…" He frowned, looking through Dean, lost in thought.
Dean had this odd urge to offer the stranger a ride, but that was stupid, obviously. He didn't even know the guy's name, much less his schedule. (Unless you counted Thursday nights.) People just didn't do that.
Instead Dean grabbed the clipboard, flipped over the paperwork, and started to write down the names of some of the better second hand dealerships in town. "Listen, if you need a new car just go to one of these places and tell them Dean sent you. They'll set you up right."
He passed the paper to the man, who smiled. "Thank you, Dean. You're very kind. Is there some way I can repay you?"
"Don't even worry about it. I gotta get back to work, but if you want to talk to someone about your car my boss Bobby will be here in a sec. Good luck." Dean gave him one last wave and disappeared into the garage again.
A few hours later he realized that he never got the man's name. For a while he contemplated asking Benny or Bobby, but decided that would be weird. It wasn't like it mattered anyway.
By Thursday Dean was determined to ask the man his name. It was just common courtesy, he told himself; after all, the guy knew his. Besides, they were coworkers. Kind of.
He nodded at Gabe on his way backstage. The night was young and only a few of the warm-up dancers had been up on stage so far. A mix of mostly women and a few men were steadily working their way towards wasted all over the bar. A couple of them recognized him and looked ready to call out, but he managed to silence them with a conspiratorial wink.
Once he got backstage everything simplified into habit. He put on his cowboy hat, boots with spurs, leather vest, and ass-less, breakaway chaps. He wasn't sure why they called him the Hunter and dressed him as a cowboy, but Chuck tended to leave these decisions up to Becky and Dean didn't want to think too deeply about her thought process. So instead of wondering he got up on stage and ripped off his pants (such as they were). He growled playfully at a few women in the front row. They blushed and giggled and offered up twenty dollar bills and phone numbers like offerings to a hungry god.
As the song started up for the third dance in his set Dean felt someone watching him. Not like the crowds below. It was different, and made him shiver. He looked around for a second, but the lights were bright and he had work to do. Still… Dean smirked. If this person was looking so intently, it couldn't hurt to give them a show to remember.
Dean licked his lips as he grabbed his lasso. He spun it lazily around his head to the tune of his hips, tapping a foot to the tune of the music. His spur clanked against the stage.
Suddenly he whipped his lasso forward and caught one of the girls who worked the other six nights of the week, his plant in the audience. He tugged her forward onto the stage and she licked her lips as he crouched before crawling towards her. She pulled away coyly and he snapped rope slightly, reeling her in closer. She leaned forward at the same time he did, but just before their lips touched he pulled back and stalked to the other side of the stage, still holding the rope like a leash.
He pulled off his vest in impatient jerks and tossed it carelessly to the side, his eyes still locked on his "prey". He snapped his hips forward as he pulled her forward, repeating it until she was half on stage with him. Whoever the mystery watcher was, Dean hoped they were as jealous of the girl as the rest of the audience seemed to be, based on the way they held out money for his attention.
The song was close to over, so Dean let go of the rope and the woman fell back in her seat, looking dazed, her pupils blown wide. He plopped his hat on her head with a wicked smile.
Dean finished his set and picked up the money around him. He waited for the stranger to come forward, but soon realized that he could no longer feel those eyes watching him. Feeling weirdly disappointed, Dean took his cash and headed backstage.
As he got out of the shower Dean noticed two things. One, towels may cover more skin than a speedo, but they feel a hell of lot more revealing. And two, apparently all it took to feel uncomfortable changing in front of another guy was for him to have really pretty eyes.
"Hello, Dean," the Angel said. He was either socially adept enough to not feel awkward even in the changing room of a strip club, or socially awkward enough to not realize that it was weird.
"Hey," said Dean, heading over to his clothes. "Did you just finish a set?"
He nodded. He was obviously still a bit sweaty from his dances and Dean felt a little stupid for asking. "They were a very enthusiastic crowd. I feel the need to get very drunk."
Dean paused, distracted from wondering whether it would be more or less awkward to pull on his underwear while keeping the towel on by this new information. "But Gabe said you didn't get drunk?"
"Not while working," he explained. "Afterwards, however, it sounds like a very good idea."
"Tell you what, then. After you get cleaned up why don't you meet me at the Roadhouse. It's a good bar about ten blocks south of here. But I never get drunk with a man without knowing his name first…"
He blinked. "Castiel. And I would very much enjoy having a drink with you."