So here's the next chapter! I know there's lots of new characters and it's a bit confusing, so I made a visual guide at itsfnickingawesomeness. tumblr post/ 55267340200 (just take out the spaces). Also, the face claims for each character are listed in bold when they appear.
Also, I'm still looking for A) a beta for this fic, and B) a talented GIF maker to gif some parts of this story. Message me here or on Tumblr (username is the same) if interested :) And I'm still looking for any opinions on events or ships (so far I have one vote for Samifer) you would like in this story, cause I have only the basest plot down.
Castiel sighed, scratching at his head. Looking in the mirror, he ran both hands through his hair, making it stand up more. After studying his reflection for a few more seconds, relatively satisfied, he turned around on his chair, facing the other mirrored wall and his friend Gabriel. He was, as usual, snacking on candy- this time it was an entire family size bag of M&Ms. He could always be found with some sort of sweet or another in his hand or mouth- it was a wonder he wasn't as large as a whale. Castiel shook his head, asking in his deep voice, "Do you ever stop eating?"
Gabriel shook his head, mouth full of chocolate. "Nope! I ask, why stop? There's plenty here!" he answered with a cheesy smile. Castiel stared, squinting, shaking his head once again. Gabriel paused in his eating, twisting in his seat, giving him a look. "Cas, we've talked about this- don't stare."
Castiel nodded once, rolling his eyes the smallest amount, and turned his head to look towards the door and the clock mounted above it. "We've still got ten minutes before we need to be out there." he remarked. He was already dressed, if you could call what we was wearing being dressed. A short pair of white shorts, a blue tie, a tan trench coat, and- to top it all off- a pair of strap on wings, with black feathers. Gabriel was dressed in a short pair of denim shorts, with an opened white button down shirt with light brown wings underneath. It was a relatively standard outfit, with only slight variations throughout all of the dancers. It was certainly better than other things Crowley could be making them wear.
Gabriel suddenly swung his legs off their perch on the counter, spinning around to fully face a startled Castiel. "Why don't we go play a prank on Lucifer?" he suggested, waggling his eyebrows, candy momentarily forgotten. "Or, even better, Michael?" He stood up, already heading to the closed door. What else was there to do in the ten minutes before show time?
Sighing, Castiel leaned forward and gripped the corner of Gabriel's shirt as he passed by. He was always playing pranks on everyone, but he especially liked to pick on Michael and Lucifer because they got upset the most. He used to prank Castiel all the time, but eventually gave up after all he got was a sigh and a disapproving frown. Castiel didn't like it when they fought, but he was somehow always caught in the middle. "Gabriel- do you remember what happened last time? Michael nearly stabbed you, and Lucifer literally hit you with his car." His wide blue eyes were intent and concerned, and it warmed Gabriel's heart. Or, it would, if he listened to those kinds of things, that is.
"Of course I remember! I'm fine, they're fine- no lasting damage! Besides, even you have to admit, those were some good pranks." He chuckled, remembering Michael's face when the shower had splat sticky glitter over him, and Lucifer's when he found his Nair-induced bald spot. The bodily pain and staying low for a few days had been totally worth it. He slipped quickly past Castiel, giving a jaunty wave as he went down the hallway.
Standing up, Castiel poked his head out the door, looking down the hallway, seeing nothing but the seven other doors in this underground level. The rooms were Raziel and Haniel, Camael and Zadkiel, Raguel and Jophiel, Azrael and Ariel, Michael and Lucifer, Raphael and Uriel… and a blank door. He paused for a moment, staring at the plain white door directly across from Gabriel's and his room. That was where Sandalphon and Metatron's room had been, before. Now the plaque with the swirling script was removed and thrown out, the twins already almost forgotten, their spots as of yet unfilled.
Metatron had been found 10 days ago, in their room, stabbed in the heart. No one knew how it happened or why, or who did it. The security cameras didn't show anyone coming into the club beforehand or leaving afterwards. Of course, people started pointing fingers at each other, throwing accusations, especially at Sandalphon. He was, of course, the only other dancer to have a key to their room. He vehemently denied the claims, of course- he was his only brother. Castiel had never put the blame on him- Sandalphon was completely distraught at the news. No one could be that good of an actor.
Of course, all blame on him was effectively wiped away when he was found six days later, in his room, stabbed in the heart. The whisperings and blames started flying again, no one knowing how this was happening, everybody panicking. Haniel and Raphael had gone to Crowley, begging him to shut the club down, to get the FBI, anything. Crowley had refused, saying that eventually it would stop, that there was nothing that could be done. All had been quiet after that.
"When do you think Crowley will find new dancers?" he asked absentmindedly to the hallway. It was a rule that the club had sixteen dancers. No one knew why, but it had been that way since the place opened. No more, no less.
Raphael (Tom Hiddleston) poked his head out of his open door, wearing his trade-mark grin. He and Uriel were in the room right next to the empty one, across the hall from Raziel (David Tennant) and Haniel (Bradley Cooper). "Cheer up, Castiel, I'm sure we'll find two more dancers soon. If not, you and I can always put on some wigs, yeah?" he called. His British accent, light brown eyes, blinding and infectious smile, and altogether amazing structure made him very popular with the clients.
Castiel grinned slightly. "Yes, I'm sure Crowley would love that."
"Not with you ugly lumps. Maybe with someone prettier. Like me." Jophiel (Matt Bomer) teased from down the hall, his dark brown curls bouncing and bright blue eyes flashing as he leaned out of his doorway, dressed in nothing but black shorts and a white shirt collar, golden brown feathers framing his shoulders.
"All of you, just quit it." Zadkiel (Jeremy Renner) yelled from the other end of the hallway, not even leaning out his door. Everyone fell silent- Zadkiel had that effect on people. You were never sure what he was thinking or how he was feeling, and it was unsettling. "If anyone's dressing in drag, it's gonna be me." Laughter rebounded against the plain white walls, and even somber and silent Azrael (Aidan Turner) let out a quiet chuckle.
Camael (Chris Hemsworth) marched out of his room, wearing khaki shorts and a tight gray tank top, smoky gray wings sticking out behind him. He took control over the goup, as always. "Alright, boys, it's time to head upstairs. Remember, tonight Crowley said we had-" The biggest dancer was interrupted as a shriek came from Michael and Lucifer's room. Raphael immediately ran next door, and there was silence for a few seconds. Then they could hear Raphael's "Ehehehehe!" reverberate down the hall, and Gabriel waltzed out of the room, wearing a shit-eating grin.
"GABRIEL!" Lucifer roared, storming out after him. Castiel sucked in a breath as he saw Lucifer's coal-black wings now streaked with hot pink. He heard snickers as Raguel (Orlando Bloom) poked his shaggy head out next to Haniel's, and little Ariel (Nicholas Hoult) had emerged from his and Azrael's room and was bent over his knees laughing, black and white wings askew.
Uriel (Tom Felton) walked out of his room, black leather jacket open and snow white wings peeking out the bottom. "We're gonna be late guys." he sighed, making a face at Michael trying to hold Lucifer back from taking a swing at Gabriel.
"He's right, guys- we need to go. Save this for later." Castiel said, following the trail of dancers going towards the spiral stairs at the opposite end of the hall. He head Lucifer growl some final curses at Gabriel, promising to get back at him, before running into his room to grab a spare set of wings. Raziel came up behind Castiel, still grinning, his hair sticking up more than ever above the red wings he wore.
"Your roommate is something else." he chuckled, shaking his head. Castiel simply nodded his head in response, a grin twitching at the corners of his lips. He certainly was something. But Castiel wouldn't give up this family for anything.
Dean shifted in his seat, looking around, wondering why the hell they were here then. "Dude- this is a chicks' strip club. Or a gay strip club." he hissed. Neither of which he wanted to be in. This was not what he had been expecting.
"Dude, I realized." Sam whispered back, shrugging back on his coat, ready to leave. He hadn't even wanted to come to a regular strip club, let alone one where the strippers were male. Do whatever you want with your life, that's cool, but he did not need to see it.
The boys jumped a foot in the air as a hand clamped down on each of their shoulders, pressing them back down in their seats. "Boys, please, stay a little while." Crowley leaned into their peripheral vision, grinning down at them.
Dean chuckled nervously, a smile half on his face. "Listen- we didn't know that this wasn't a normal strip club. We were only supposed to be checkin' this out for Bobby." he said, hands in the air, looking at Sam to help him. Sam gave him a wide-eyed look, one that clearly said, Dude you're on your own. Dean sent him one back that said, Screw you.
"Well, I did tell you that our dancers aren't what's to be expected, didn't I?" Crowley retorted, a glint in his eye.
Swallowing, Dean responded, "Well, yea, but-" Hey, he's not the one who's going to law school. He gave Sam a subtle kick, which was only returned harder.
"No, no, the show's about to start. Leaving now would just be rude." Crowley said, lifting a hand off Sam's shoulder to gesture up to the stage. He gave Dean's shoulder one last hard squeeze. "Stay. I insist." Then he was gone in the ever growing crowd.
"Dude, what the hell?" Dean breathed incredulously. This was officially the weirdest night of his life. Okay… second weirdest, after Rhonda Hurley. Just because he had kind of enjoyed it didn't mean it should be a regular thing. Well… make that third place. That one time he snuck into Comic-con….
"I don't know." Sam answered, a shocked look never leaving his face. He was trying to mentally prepare himself for what he was about to see, though he wasn't sure how exactly one prepares oneself for a gay strip show. He didn't have very much time as a curtain across the very back of the stage started to roll across to the side, and a cheer went up from the crowd.
Up on stage, five men stood in a row, all in ridiculously short shorts. Three had shirts or jackets (which Sam could see weren't buttoned up in the front), and two just had something around their neck (one had a bow tie, the other had a white shirt collar). They stood with their backs to the audience, and each one had a pair of wings on their back, each set a different color, though some were covered by the shirts and just poked out the bottom. They wore no shoes, and Sam couldn't see any sort of jewelry or glitter that he had expected from male strippers. They were all young, lithe, and fit. They stood perfectly still until the beginning beats started to pound out of the hidden speakers.
It was some sort of new-age electronic music, and Dean didn't like it. What was the point of machines making weird, grating noises when you had things like guitars and drums? It did have a strong beat, which is why they used it for shows, he supposed. The left-most, right-most, and middle men (all wearing shirts) spun around and immediately went to the poles. They muscled their way up and down the shiny metal, doing gravity-defying spins and hangs, muscles making themselves apparent. Dean was almost hypnotized, watching these guys maneuver inhumanly around the small pole, throwing body parts around and twirling at the speed of light. He'd never seen pole dancing this good, male or female. He had to give it to the guys- they were talented.
Sam, meanwhile, was focused on the two males in front of the poles, who were currently working the females at the edge of the stage. They ground against each other and the air, bodies moving fluently and quickly, making them look like some sort of mirage. They danced and bounced around the stage and up and down the runway, and Sam had to admit, he was impressed. Some females couldn't work a stage that well, and these guys obviously were doing amazing, considering the amount of cash already on the ground beneath them.
Three songs later, the techno mix was over, and the five guys did final strutting up and down the stage, collecting last minute money and sweeping up the previous "donations". The three that had shirts on tore them off theatrically, earning a few more screams and thrown bills. With large smiles and sly waves, they danced off the stage back behind the curtain. The screams from the crowd dissolved into murmurs and giggles, and people quickly got up to get more drinks from the bar or over to the atm to get more cash. The brothers turned to each other, mouths hanging open, unsure of what to say. Dean was the first to find his voice.
"What the hell did I just watch?"
Sam laughed once, mouth still open. He shrugged, a disbelieving grin on his face. "I have no clue. But I gotta admit, they were pretty damn good."
Dean nodded slowly, eyes going back to the empty stage. "Yea, they were." he agreed gruffly, tapping the arm of his chair. "Do you think that's it, or is there more?" he wondered, definitely not too curiously.
Blowing a breath out through his lips, Sam said, "I dunno. You'd think they'd have more dancers, but this place hasn't exactly conformed to the norm." Dean grunted in agreement. He opened his mouth to muse further when lights on the stage began flashing in beat to another techno song, and everyone in the club hushed down and ran back to their seats.
Five new dancers appeared from behind the curtain, each dressed similarly to the last group. This time, two had something on up top, and three didn't. There were yet more different wings and neck accessories, and no shoes. As the song sped up and intensified, the three shirtless men jumped up on the poles and began to work them just as well as the last group. They managed to make it look completely different and new and amazing, yet Sam was certain they used the same moves. Either way, if Sam had to be honest, they all deserved the wads of bills being chucked up at them.
Up front on the runway, the two clothed men were in the process of removing their clothes as slowly as possible, with as much swiveling and grinding as possible. The women closest to the edge of the stage kept jumping up to try and reach them, but the guys just inched away, smirks on their faces. They danced around each other, using various limbs (and teeth) to remove the single piece of clothing. The shirts slowly came off, revealing tanned muscles inch by inch, and yes, Dean was allowed to stare, because let's be honest here, this was an amazing strip show, even if it was a different gender than he was used to. Credit where credit is due, and all that. Once the shirts were off they got creative, starting to strip the bottoms, too, but stopping before anything could be seen. The women below were shouting at them, and tossing money like no tomorrow.
And again, after three more songs, the group gathered up their clothing and money and pranced off the stage. This time almost everyone in the room got up to get more bills and drinks, chattering up a storm. "I need another drink." Dean muttered, getting up and pushing his way through to the bar. Balthazar was still there, mixing up fruity drinks and martinis for all of the girls surrounding the counter, occasionally sending winks and smiles to them. As he saw Dean approaching, he smiled brightly and immediately grabbed two beers.
"How're you enjoying the show?" he questioned, opening them deftly and sliding them across the counter, turning towards a blender on his right.
Dean grinned, shaking his head. "I'll be damned, but I'm actually having a good time. I gotta give it to the guys- they're damned talented." he admitted, taking a swig of his beer.
Balthazar laughed, handing a pink drink to a well-dressed business woman. "I thought so. Not what you expected, but something you like. It happens more often than you'd think. And," he said, holding up a finger as Dean took a step away, "the main event hasn't even happened yet."
Dean raised an eyebrow, and Balthazar sent him a devious smirk before turning away to flirt with more customers. He stood there for a second, slightly confused, before attempting to shrug it off and walk back to Sam. Handing him his beer, he threw himself back in his chair, taking a deep drink. "According to Balthy over there, the "main event" has yet to come." he announced.
Sam raised his eyebrows, taking a drink. "Oh really? Can't wait." he said, only being half sarcastic. If that wasn't even the main event, what else could the angelic dancers produce?
"Ladies and gentlemen, for the last on-stage performance, please welcome Uriel, Raziel, Lucifer, and Castiel." Crowley announced, each dancer coming on to the stage as their name was called. Bright white wings, red wings, and two sets of black wings could be seen as the dancers walked on. The one in the trench coat- Castiel, apparently- brought up the rear. Dean's eyes locked onto him. Sure, all of the dancers were handsome, but in Dean's opinion, this guy got the award for the night. His dark tousled hair and bright blue eyes were visible from back here, and Dean found himself actually interested in what was under that trench coat.
Another song started, but this time it was slower, less base-filled, more… spacey. The four on stage started to dance, and damn if Dean didn't start in his chair. Castiel and the smaller blonde one- Uriel?- stepped up to the runway and started to take off their coverings, just as slow and sensual as the last groups had been. But the last groups didn't have this level of grace and talent, and they literally moved like something from out of this world. Dean couldn't take his eyes off of the trench-coated dancer, who moved as if he was made of water or light.
Sam watched as Lucifer and Raziel took to the poles, one on either side of the stage. If he had thought that last ones had been talented, then these were gifted geniuses with god-given skills. They seemed to barely grip the pole, and they spun and flashed around it like birds in flight, limbs out and in, heads up and down. He watched in amazement the entire time, mouth slightly open, wondering how that was even human.
These four songs seemed to go by much quicker than the other sets. Dean glanced appreciatively once again over Castiel's body as he bent over collecting money, giving it a quick mental nod of approval. He was fit for a nerdy looking dude in a trench coat. Sam looked over to Dean, mouth forming words that didn't seem to fit. "That was… unbelievable." he finally said, throwing his hands up in the air.
"I'll say." Dean replied, eyes going to Sam as the stage lights dimmed. "This club might not be so bad." He grinned evilly as a thought came to him. "We should still tell Bobby to come, just to see what he does." He sure as hell knew the old grouch wouldn't take it as well as they had. He didn't appreciate things like this. He liked beer, guns, and cars, and that was about it.
Sam laughed, throwing his head back. "That would be terrible. But hilarious."
"Alright ladies and gents, now comes the floor time. Remember, no touching, and private rooms are to be discussed with the dancers only. Enjoy the rest of your night." Dean glanced down at Sam's watch as Crowley's accented voice came out over them, surprised that it was already almost eleven. They had spent an hour just sitting there, watching the dancers. He hoped that didn't say anything about their subconscious or anything.
Sam look confusedly around, wondering what was happening now. There was nothing on the stage, but people were still milling around with money and drinks. What does floor time mean, anyway? He looked back at the stage, and over near the right-hand corner of the stage, he could see all of the dancers filing down a set of stairs, beginning to walk among the customers. Oh…. The angel strippers were currently walking through the crowd, beginning lap dances, personally strip teases, and in some cases leading women up the stairs, no doubt to one of the "private rooms".
"Ah, shit." Dean cursed as he saw one of the strippers walking their way. He was tall, with bright blue eyes and Sam-length light brown hair. He was wearing a dark blue (open) button down shirt white shorts, so at least he was clothed. He stopped before them, giving them a bright smile.
"Hey, I'm Haniel." he introduced himself. "I've never seen you guys here before- first time?"
Sam nodded. "Yea… to be honest we weren't even supposed to be here." he replied.
Haniel nodded like he understood. "Right. So you guys are together, right? It's always good to see a couple in h-"
"Dude, we're brothers!" Dean cut him off, feeling a bit nauseous. Why does everyone think that?
Looking surprised, the dancer let out an "Oh." Then, for some unknown reason, comprehension seemed to dawn on his face. "Oh." He gave another smile, this one more tricky looking than the last, and nodded at them. "I see. Well enjoy the rest of your night. Hopefully we'll see you again." He walked a few tables down before a clean-cut guy flagged him down, putting a bunch of bills in the waistband of his pants. The boys looked away before it could get up close and personal.
"I don't know about you, but I'm ready to leave." Dean muttered. "This place is creepy."
"Uh, yeah." Sam agreed, standing up.
As they stood up to heads towards the exit, Crowley appeared suddenly in their way. Dean jumped, cursing. How was this guy seemingly everywhere? "Boys, one thing before you go. My office?" he stated, gesturing to lead the way towards the stairs. Dean looked at Sam, an annoyed expression on his face. Sam shrugged, widening his eyes. Rolling his, Dean turned back to Crowley, sending him a tight-lipped smile. Doing an about-face he trudged towards the spiral staircase, occasionally having to bend and twist to avoid the unseemly behavior going on in some of the chairs. These strippers obviously were masters of the trade. He was starting to get a headache from all of the creepiness and weird techno music.
As they climbed the stairs, the pumping music became a bit quieter. As they walked down the hallway to Crowley's office, Dean could hear giggles and assorted thumps from at least three of the private rooms. He turned his head away, making a face. Luckily the cluttered office seemed to be soundproof, as all was silent as they walked in and shut the door. Taking their seats from earlier, they stared at Crowley expectantly. He took his time in pouring himself another glass of alcohol, sitting down, and staring at the boys.
He took a breath before talking. "The club opens at ten, stage performances go until eleven. The dancers work the floor until two. The club officially closes at three, and in the last hour we give just a few last dances and floor chances before kicking the drunken mob out. Dressing rooms are in the basement, quite plain I'm afraid. Private rooms and my office are upstairs as you can see, and we don't serve food, so there's no kitchen or anything of the sort." He paused to breath, giving the boys a chance to let the knowledge sink in. "Balthazar is our bar tender- I'm sure you've already met him- though he's been known to do some dancing of his own back there occasionally. Hellhound- you I know you've already met- is the security and bouncer, making sure nothing gets out of hand. We have fourteen dancers- usually we have sixteen. Obviously our theme is angels and the like, so they're all given stage names of archangels. Though there are a few that came here with names like that already." Another breath. Dean and Sam nodded, looking quite confused as to why they were being told this. "I don't allow any unsavory acts on the floor, and what goes on behind closed doors is not my business, so long as it's nothing illegal. The base pay isn't very good, I'm afraid, but what the dancers get in tips more than makes up for it. I, of course, take a small percentage- gotta keep the place running somehow. We're open every night except Sunday night. All in all I think you'll find it a more than pleasant club." He took another breath, and Dean waited wide-eyed for more word vomit, but Crowley leaned back, obviously finished, with a slight smirk- as usual- on his face.
There was silence for a moment as the brothers tried to absorb all that had been said. Sam, always having a bit of an edge in that area, was the first one to speak. "Um, wow. It sounds like a well run place. And, no offense, but why are you telling us?" he asked, getting down to the main issue. This guy was just getting stranger and stranger. Dean blew out a breath, thinking the same thing.
Crowley huffed a laugh, his smile widening. "Isn't it obvious?" he said, looking expectantly at the boys. When it became apparent that it wasn't, Crowley rolled his eyes. "You morons- I want you two to be my two new dancers!"