Title: Color Me Descending
Co-Author: BlackFruitBat
Chapter: 4/?
Pairing: Eventual Dean/Cas
Rating: PG13 (eventually R?)
Spoilers: Just assume everything up to Season 5 episode 15.
Feedback: Please? We're big fans of it as it keeps us going.
Warnings: They're at a strip club. Mentions of topless women and mild sexual situations.
Authors Notes: Well here it is. We're finially getting to a little more DeanxCas UST. Which will only get worse as time goes by XD
There were many excuses Dean could have dealt around but what it came down to was that Dean wanted Cas at the strip club because the bemusing reaction Cas had to things "unholy" was enough to make him burst at the seems with laughter. And, hell, if he could get a lap dance or two out of it, all the better.
A lap dance from one of the GIRLS (he felt he should mentally note) because a lap dance from Cas would be.. Awkward. Especially after today. While Cas was considered (by most standards) to be an attractive man, he was ultimately such a nerdy little angel guy that "sexy" never fit into his profile. Ever. And even when it did, it didn't, regardless of what the shirtless Castiel images flaunting about his brain were saying.
Still standing at the base of the stairs, Dean side glanced Cas who was looking spectacularly more uncomfortable with each step of the way. Awesome. Oh, how the small joys in life made dealing with the rest of the shit storm easier.
So, with a backwards glance to make sure Sam really wasn't there or following them at all (because Sammy would, no doubt, attempt to "rescue Cas from undue stress" or something like that), Dean paid entrance and ushered them on in.
Black lights were the decor but the theme was.. Dark. Not dark as in "cryptic" but dark as in "someone ran out of funding to properly light this B-rated movie set". Heavy base sounds were drumming in their ears and the overall atmosphere looked like it was boredom abound. Besides themselves there were only two other guys in the main seating, which was all tables and couches facing the main stage. An appreciative whistle from the back said there were probably a few more guys at the shower room but, on a whole, the place was theirs. Again with the awesome. Dead nights meant more approachable dancers. And of course the fact that they were good looking and Cas had the air of "innocent" all around him meant they definitely had some aces in their pockets.
So Dean pushed (yes pushed) Cas into a double seated couch with a table up front before sitting down next to him to enjoy the free show. The only downside to 'Vus were that they didn't serve alcohol. The upside however was that Dean had already started his night early and as a precaution he always carried a flask just in case. The added bonus was that Vu always offered free drinks in which he could mix things into. Less conspicuous that way.
So the night really started at 10:45pm when a cocktail waitress brought them each a coke, of which Dean willed liberal amounts of (extremely) hard liquor into. Liberal meaning the entire flask.
By the time 11pm rolled around, the older Winchester brother had regained his buzz and was working on further intoxication. The dancers had been/still were hot and Cas was fidgeting none stop in his discomfort next to him. With any luck, this was going to be a great night.
At exactly 11:10pm one of the more distinctly attractive dancers waltzed up to them and Dean could feel a measure of his previously thwarted good luck returning to him (finally).
"What's your name cutie?" Or, at least, his luck was sort of returning to him. The bombshell made up of smiles and barely fitting clothing was sliding in between them, however, instead of playing with Dean's shirt, she was tracing her painted nails over Cas's tan trench coat.
For all intense and purposes, Cas was attempting to transfigure himself into a marble statue under her intense blue eyed stare. Blue eyes that weren't quite as bright as Cas' and , really, only half as blue. To distract himself from unfair comparisons, Dean began to wonder if Cas was actually breathing at this point, which was terribly amusing under the influence of so much liquor.
By the time a whole awkward minute crawled by, Dean thought it wise to intervene so he could get the night moving in a more.. positive direction.
"Don't be fooled by the petrified expression, Cassie -" His mind faltered for a split second before picking back up, "-nova here is always like that around exceptionally beautiful women." Dean made another mental note to never call Cas "Cassie-nova" again, it just made too weird links in his brain. Besides, it was "Casanova", his inner Sam pointed out before his inner Dean punched him for interrupting his intoxicated thought process.
The angel in question opened his mouth to object as soon as the dancer shifted her attention to Dean, but the stern look Dean shot back over her shoulder made Castiel shut his mouth and allow his opinions to suffocate in silence. Good. Dean didn't feel like hearing any protests from Cas tonight anyway. Or at least not right now. The more Cas let him do whatever he wanted, the better…
And now his mind was back in the gutter. What the hell was wrong with today?
"Oh." The unnamed girl broke up Dean's thoughts as she dropped the painted smile for a knowing expression. "And are you his wingman?"
The ironic choice of words earned her a laugh. "Something like that. How much do you charge status for a lap dance?" The only thing better than getting a private dance himself was forcing one on Cas and watching the comedy unfold.
"Normally? Twenty five a head but for you.. How about a two for one deal?"
"Absolutely." Oh hell yeah. Now he could be amused and enthralled all in one almost-awkward-but-totally-awesome-anyway go.
"Follow me then." Her questionable smile was back, uncurling onto her violently red lips as she rose gracefully (and that was a feet in 5" heels) and walked towards the side booths. Each, Dean noted, were well equipped with their own pole and side blinders to prevent any unease between patrons from blossoming. Their booth was just big enough for two, and Dean didn't even hesitate to consider otherwise as he forcefully man-handled Cas into it. The angel would thank him later.
Cramming himself in next to his companion (and wasn't that cozy?), Dean was grateful that the alcohol had managed to seep further into his blood stream. Least he let some stray thought bother him, like how odd it felt to be pressed next to his friend from ankle to shoulder in such an erotic scenario.
And, yes, it was erotic because miss blondie with large assets was sauntering towards them looking more than a little expectant. Hail 151 and the wicked ways of humanity.
It took the more human of the two a full minute to realize that the expectant look was not so much aimed at him (or Cas for that matter) but at their collective wallet. Dean quickly responding to cues by fishing out the right amount (throwing in a little extra for generosity's sake and because it was Sam's money) before handed it over and getting settled again.
Not but a few seconds later the beat shifted and when it did, Dean was indeed enthralled. The dancer was.. voluptuous, curvy in a way that was punctuated with each sway of her hips. She moved to the rhythm like she was lighter than air, in a way that looked as effortless as breathing. If he wasn't positive that Cas would have noticed immediately, he would have accused her of being a siren. Speaking of the dev-er-angel, Cas was marble. His eyes were slightly wide and fixed at some unseeing spot while his body held a position so stiff it rivaled rigor mortis.
Again the Michael vessel found himself stealing glances at his shoulder angel (thank god Cas couldn't read his thoughts anymore because he'd totally kill him for that implication). A wide surly grin with a flash of teeth peeked out from behind full lips and made itself present before the owner turned back to face the (now) topless dancer. Whoa! When did that happen? Said vessel concluded that he needed to pay better attention to these details else he was bound to miss more than he got to enjoy. Under further examination, maybe it had been a bad idea to take the 2 for 1 special because Cas was proving to be an ample distraction. And wasn't THAT weird?
The woman who was now fully engrossed in her work, swayed towards him first, which made sense because he was significantly more approachable than the angelic statue next to him. And what a woman she was, lush in every way that, if he were allowed to touch, would have given him a pleasant handful of firm-
"Your friend looks scared…" Her voice lured him from his daydreams like the mouth that was warm against the shell of his ear. A green tinted gaze lazily dragged itself from ample assets to Cas who was doing that thing he did so often when he thought no one else was looking. He was starring. Awkwardly.
Not at the exotic dancer, which would have made sense, but at Dean. His eyes were like shards of azure ice piercing through the core of the righteous man and almost entirely clearing away all the alcohol induced fog that had been clouding his vision until now.
And in this rare moment of clarity, the world felt wrong.
The situation, the place, the time… the… country? Everything felt out of place as if the universe had shifted without him noticing. Yes, all of it was inside out and backwards… except Cas. Castiel seemed to be the only constant in all of this aberration. Or maybe Dean was just drunker than he thought he was. Yeah. That made much more sense.
"He just needs a little TLC and I think you're the perfect one for the job." He lied, of course, but he did that a lot so what was one more to the pile?
Besides, the dancer didn't know any better. So when she stood up, shifted over and startled Cas, she had no way of knowing how uncomfortable she was making him. IF it were actually possible, Dean would have said Cas had gone paler when he locked eyes with the woman sensually moving in his lap.
The Winchester actually started to chuckle out loud at Cas' horrified face, openly expressing his amusement at the angel's pain when the laughter suddenly caught in his throat and died. Castiel wasn't looking pained anymore, he wasn't even looking slightly panicked either. Instead those brilliant blues were focused hard on the girl as if contemplating something more serious than they had the right to.
It was the same remarkably unsettling look Dean had been the victim of time and time again, but somehow it seemed all wrong when directed at anyone else. It was as if Cas was sharing a secret with this stranger in which he had previously only told Dean. And, like the 12-year-old he sometimes morphed into, Dean didn't like it. Not one bit.
Great, now his mood was ruined. And by what? A look. One stupid look that he didn't like because Cas had NO right to be giving that soul searching expression to anyone else. Least of all to this mostly naked girl who was all over him. She clearly wanted Cas and that would just not do. Not because it wasn't okay but because Cas wasn't into humans. Thinking back to the brothel, Dean already tried that route and it ended in failure. So, clearly, this floozy wasn't going to show up his previous efforts by succeeding.
The more Dean sat there, the more he silently fumed and even when she turned back to him in order to even out the attention, it was already too late. The scowl was in place and those feminine whiles weren't going to take the edge off.
About thirty seconds into the woman's last ditch effort to amend some kind of imagined wrong, the song ended and subtly announced their private dance was over.
With very little what-to-do, the dancer rose fully to her feet, put on what little clothing she had, and waved as she wandered off. Dean didn't feel so good about being there anymore. As for Cas, who seemed lost in thought, well, he didn't really want to come in the first place so there was no harm in leaving right away.
When everything was mentally squared away, Dean formulated a plan.
"Let's go." He stood, not wanting to over think why one lap dance for Cas would put him in a foul enough mood to leave. Especially after he had been looking forward to it all night,
"Dean?" The barest hint of a question bubbled up and lingered behind the mostly flat tone, betraying his seemingly cold indifference.
"I said let's go. We have more important things to be doing," It wasn't true but he didn't want any arguments. The further he got from the situation the sooner he could wash his hands of this weirdness.
Without a backward glance, the aggravated human stomped out of the establishment and made it about a block and a half before he noticed Cas wasn't with him. Naturally this only served to put him in an even fouler mood as he hailed a taxi and trekked his way back to the motel.
DCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDC
Now, if anyone had asked Dean how the next few moments played out, it would have read like this:
Dean Winchester (epitome of calm, cool and collected) strolled into the motel casually when Sam shot him an annoyed glance from over the top of his lap top, suspiciously muting the volume to what Dean was sure was an old Care Bears cartoon.
"What the hell happened to you?" The quark of his lip suggested his exasperation almost as much as his tone did, and the eldest brother was simply not in the mood for any of that. So, for the sake of peace, he ignored the barb and tossed his coat gingerly in to the chair by the door.
"Deeeeeaaaannn~n."
Dean could feel a headache spring to life, "Sammy, not right now. Nothing happened."
"Deeeeeaaaannn you have to talk about your feelings. Keeping all this bottled up inside will make you, like, explode or something."
"Sammy, I'm fine. Nothing happened." His life's mantra.
"But.. Dean.."
"Sammy!"
Cue the kicked puppy look that always made Dean feel guilty enough to exit stage right where the porcelain god awaited.
Now, ask anyone else (namely Sam) how the scene went and they'd tell you it went something like this:
Sam Winchester, the perpetually unfortunate bystander of Dean's bad moods, was most innocently (according to him) researching on his laptop when Dean burst in like there were hell hounds at his back.
"What happened?" Sam was startled by the nearly palpable anger in the air around him, so naturally he was worried. "Dean?"
"I am NOT in the mood Sammy." Dean threw his coat violently at the chair. It missed by about two feet but Dean was far too engrossed with his stomping around to notice.
"O.. kay. Seriously man, What happened?"
"Nothing. Happened." The words were ground out like broken glass and Sam blinked at the shattered pieces.
"Whoa. Then why the angry brooding? And where's Cas?"
"Whatever." The bathroom door slammed in response and the youngest brother was left sitting in the middle of the room completely befuddled.
About five minutes later (two minutes into Dean's impromptu bathroom excursion), Cas showed up gently cradling the cursed locked box.
"Oh. So that's where you were." Sam managed while the angel placed the box on the coffee table.
"Where's Dean?" Typical.
"Cooling off in the shower." The youngest was flippant with his comment as he studied and looked for every kind of lock box/weapon combo missing and known to exist around and pre-dating ancient Egypt. As it stood, he had only previously known about the weapon but not the box. Or at least, not enough about the box to open it.
"He was over heated?"
"Something like that." Sam actually managed to look up, get up, and walk over to the table where the box was innocuously sitting. "There's Enochian on it." He commented off handedly.
"Yes. It's a ward to keep in a 'great weapon'."
"So the angels DO know about it."
"Or at least one does. This is a powerful ward, Sam. We need to be extremely careful."
If Sam were Dean, he would have made a remark about obvious statements being obvious. However, since he was Sam and thusly more socially sensitive and graceful than his older brother, the younger just opted to make an agreement noise while running his fingers over the carved wooden puzzle box.
And then Sam addressed the elephant in the room.
"So how do we open it?"
DCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDCDC
Feeling somewhat less bitter, marginally more sober, and significantly cleaner, Dean stepped out of the bathroom 20 minutes after he had entered it.
Yes things were now smoothing out as all the little wrinkles of stress evaporated with the shower steam. That is, until he ran into a snag and frowned again. Said snag was sitting dubiously in his brother's hands, causing that frustrated irate look that always managed to square Sam's jaw tightly.
"What's that?" Dean turned to see Cas leaning against the wall by the bathroom door. Yet another snag in his stress-free mood. "Is that the box?"
Cas noted the older brother wasn't waiting for answers, which was really counterproductive to his want for them. Frowning for a good minute, Cas attempted to accurately wage if Dean was really looking for a response or merely saying whatever came to mind first. Which DID happen quite often.
And judging by the raised eyebrows and slight head movement forward, he guessed Dean was genuinely looking for a response, so he complied.
"Yes." If it were possible, he'd be pleased with himself for getting the hang of 'Dean Speak' (or so Sam puts it).
"What's it doing here?" Now, while the angel had managed to pick up on what certain looks meant, he was still having problems with the colloquialisms.
"I brought it here." That, really, should have been obvious.
"I gathered."
Now Castiel was just confused. Why ask a question that you already knew the answer to? Clearly his charge must still be under the influence.
"I mean, why is it here NOW? You weren't supposed to retrieve it until tomorrow night."
Oh. That's what he meant. Then WHY didn't he just say as much? What was with humans and never directly stating what they-
Snap!
Cas blinked. Dean was snapping at him which meant his mind must have wandered.
"You said we had more important things to do. I-" He frowned deeper than before. Had he misunderstood? "The phrase seemed to suggest we should get a 'jump start' on the plan."
"You've been talking to Sammy too much." Because the term 'better things' did not equate to work in Dean's world, only Sam's. Sam, who was looking up and arching an eyebrow at Dean. What? The man dressed in only a towel shuffled over to his brother who was pointedly staying OUT of the conversation, least he be berated for no reason too.
"How's it coming?"
The younger man had turned back to his project and, once more, became fixated on the puzzle box. He had pushed and pulled and turned and moved all the pieces around in order to try and open it. To no avail.
"I think.." Sam's brow lowered with more concentration than Dean would ever bother with, "I almost.."
And suddenly there was an ominous click and a few ticks before the box opened and released a strange scent caught between ancient perfume oils and dust. The three pulled in closer, huddling over the thing in order to peer inside and discover..
"Another box?" Sam sounded forlorn.
Dean just sounded annoyed, "Oh you have GOT to be kidding me. What is this? A damn Russian nesting doll?"
"It appears to be a riddle." Cas was pulling the smaller box out of the larger one, rotating it in his hands to stare at the hieroglyphics.
"Tell me you know how to read that because I left my Egyptian to English translator back at the club." Dean felt he deserved points for recognition at least.
"Hieroglyphics," the other two corrected and the eldest Winchester had the startling epiphany that these two were no longer allowed to hang out alone. Ever. Again.
Dean watched the Sasquatch and pretty boy angel look over the -Whoa! Whoa ,whoa, whoa! Since when did he ever refer to Cas as 'pretty boy angel' in his head? 'Cas' , naturally - he gave him that nick name to begin with. 'Nerdy little angel.' yes. 'Geeky small guy,' sure. 'Holy tax accountant,' why not? 'Dick with wings,' not so much anymore. 'Castiel,' sometimes though almost never. But 'pretty boy angel?' Not his.
"Dean? You appear to be having a dilemma." Speak of the devil. Angel. Whatever.
"What does the riddle say?" According to the Dean-to-life handbook, when all else failed, obvious diversions were an acceptable tactical maneuver.
Cas turned his impossibly bright blues back to the box.
"It says, 'I never was, am always will be. None ever saw me, nor ever will…" He rotated the box lightly while squinting as translations clearly ran through his mind. "And yet I am the confidence of all who live and breathe on this terrestrial ball."
Silence shuffled in and filled up the entire room with its weighty presence. The hell was THAT supposed to mean? The pregnant pause continued for several minutes longer before Dean rubbed at his face. Three in the morning was NOT the time to be solving -
"Tomorrow." Sam said.
"My thoughts exactly, Sammy. It's way too early for this-"
"No," He cleared his throat looking a little sheepish, "I mean the answer is 'tomorrow'."
Dean starred at his brother like he had suddenly sprouted tentacles because, really, who knew the answer to things like that right off the top of their head?
"You are such a freak."
"But he's correct." Cas commented as he clicked in the answer into place by turning the symbols accordingly, handing the box back over to Sam when he was done so a Winchester could finish the last of it.
The wall watched as Sam allowed his finger to hover over the button, taking in a deep breath as he did so. This was it. The solution they had all been searching for.
"Sammy, unless you're planning on using a Delorean to get my wasted minutes back, push the damn button."
Dean, as it turns out, would learn to regret his impatience some day.
Sam pushed down on the button and the box flew open, a powerful burst of energy and light exploding into the room. It spilled and filled into every nook and cranny, reminding Dean of what it was like to lick a 9v battery. You know, the tingly shock which wasn't entirely unpleasant but defiantly shocking? And don't pretend you never licked one of those square 9v when you were a kid either. Everyone did. Or at least Dean did, which meant that Sam did and.. well anyway…
Instinctively, the elder brother stepped in front of the younger and Cas stepped in front of both of them. Naturally this meant Dean opened his mouth to make commentary about the unnecessary action, but he was immediately cut off by a booming voice that sounded like thunder clapping down right in the very room they were standing in. It shook the foundation of the motel and rocked the walls, forcing the lamps and the boys to unceremoniously fall towards the ground.
When the earthquake subsided it became apparent that the voice they heard wasn't talking in some ancient dialect or any dialect at all. It was laughing. Laughing with one of those tones that oh-so-clearly let the world know that you just did something monumentally stupid.
TBC