Sorry sorry sorry! I know this is a week late but time keeps getting away from me :P But, this is the longest chapter yet, so enjoy!
Many thanks as always to my lovely beta :)
Any ideas on plots, ships, etc as well as fanart and gifsets are always welcome!
Follow me on tumblr at lokisays for updates and visual guides. NEW VISUAL GUIDE: CALENDAR!
The drive to the club was filled with an electric silence, each brother amped up in their own way about the upcoming night. Sam was still optimistic; the possibilities seemed endless to him. He was exited and a bit nervous, wondering what went on behind the scenes at the club, what the dancers were like, and whether or not they would fit in.
Dean, on the other hand, was mostly nervous, or anxious. His brief surety of the morning had evaporated, and now he felt like he had a swarm of bees in his stomach. Angry bees. Like bees that were attacking Dean for taking their honey. Or if Dean had- 'Okay, I should probably stop with the bee analogy.' The point was, Dean was feeling more and more like backing out of the plan by the minute, and the only thing stopping him was sitting right next to him, drumming his fingers on one knee and bouncing the other one up and down. "You excited?" Dean asked, poking around for a shred of doubt to use.
Sam turned, sending a small grin. "Yea, Dean, a bit. It's a totally new experience for us. You know, I bet this would be a great topic to write a paper on for my Sociology class..."
Dean grimaced, both at the cheery attitude and the idea of their new job being spread around an Ivy League. No one else needed to know about this. "Alright. Cool." was all he said, keeping his eyes fixed ahead.
The majority of the drive, however, was spent in silence. Eventually, about half way there, Dean turned some music on, Metallica's "Wherever I May Roam" leaking out of the speakers.
As Dean swung into the alleyway by the club, he glanced at the clock on the dashboard. 8:10- there left plenty of time to get everything done and to get out of here before the club actually opened.
Realizing Sam had already gotten out of the car, Dean jumped out, locking the door behind him. Jogging across the street, he caught up to his brother right as Sam knocked loudly on the metal door. It was silent for a moment, and the brothers shared a look before Sam tentatively knocked again.
A good thirty seconds went by before they heard footsteps, and they stepped back, Sam not wanting to be in the way, and Dean not wanting to be near Hound. As the door swung open, though, they saw that it was only Balthazar, dressed in a sky blue tee shirt and dark jeans. "Hello! What can I do for you?" he charmed, his smile slightly too wide to be sincere.
"Uh, hi." Sam replied. "We're here to see Crowley." He shifted slightly, running a hand through his hair.
Balthazar squinted at him, tilting his head. "I see. Good for you." was his only response. He smiled again, seemingly content to sit there in the doorway all night long.
Dean rolled his eyes. "That means let us in to talk to Crowley, asshole." He ignored Sam's bitchface in favor of glaring at Balthazar.
The blonde was unfazed. He sighed, sliding to the side. "So needy." he complained as Sam and Dean walked in. "Making poor Balthazar have to help you." he continued, shoving the door closed. It was dim inside, the few lights on the ceiling glowing softly.
"Poor my ass." Dean muttered user his breath. Louder, he asked, "So where can we find Crowley?" He paced ahead, staring at all of the shiny and clean leather and mahogany surrounding them. If Dean didn't know any better, he'd say this place looked like a hotel conference room or something. Very neat and matchy-matchy.
Upstairs and all the down the hall." Balthazar directed, sighing dramatically again. He walked away to continue setting up the bar, while Sam and Dean started up the stairs. Once they reached the office door, Sam knocked, with Dean hovering behind him. A muffled "Come in." sounded and they walked in.
The office hadn't changed at all; the same stacks of paper were on the edges of the desk, and the same scotch bottles were on the floor by Crowley's chair. "Moose, squirrel- what can I do for you?" Crowley greeted, giving them a cursory look. If you asked Dean, it looked like the douchebag already knew why they were here and was giving them a hard time. 'What a surprise.' The brothers sat in the soft leather seats, Crowley looked expectantly at them.
"We're accepting your job offer." Sam jumped ahead of Dean, preventing him from saying anything damaging. "Both of us." he added, seeing Crowley's eyes dart over to Dean. Dean gave Crowley a tight smile, one that clearly said, 'By the way, fuck you'. Sam barely managed to keep his eyes from rolling at the obvious hostility radiating from his older brother. It was obvious to him that even though Dean had said that he had made his final decision, he obviously still wasn't happy with it.
Crowley smiled largely, standing up from the large leather chair. The brothers hurriedly stood up as well, both towering over the club owner. "Excellent! You made the right choice, if I do say so myself. Glad to have you on the team!" He shook Sam's hand first with a cheery wink, and then Dean's, and in that shake both men probably squeezed harder than what was necessary. "Now, let me just get the paperwork and some glasses, eh?"
As Crowley bent down behind his desk and started digging through a drawer, Dean shot Sam a look. 'This is all your fault, and if anything bad happens, I'm blaming you entirely.' Sam's returning bitch face clearly stated, 'Stop being such a pussy and get over it.' Then the two resorted to glaring at each other, Dean even going so far as to aim a kick at Sam's leg, until Crowley resurfaced from behind the stained oak desk. The boys, Sam sending a final dagger-glare at Dean, snapped their attention back to their new boss.
"Alrighty." Crowley said, handing out each form as he spoke of it. "This form is just a simple information sheet- contact information, date of birth, social security, et cetera et cetera. This one is the tax paper- I don't even remember what it's called- but make it look official. This one is bank information- your paychecks are direct deposit, of course. And this one is a waiver, in case you get injured twirling your pretty behinds around on that pole." he finished with a smirk, sliding over two pens.
With a sigh, Dean started in on the paper work, clicking his pen relentlessly as he read it. 'Social security number?' He wasn't even sure if he officially had one of those. Leaving that blank, he shrugged, figuring a strip club shouldn't have that info anyway. He filled out the rest of the form, even going so far as to write down his real birthdate and phone numbers. Dean paused again as he reached the tax form. He hadn't exactly been filling out tax forms and such while living in his car, or even their shitty two-room apartment. It was probably a bad thing, but did he care? 'Not really.' He filled it out as best as he could, hoping it wouldn't come back to bite him in the ass. The bank paper was easier, as he had just opened the account two and a half years ago for Sam's tuition. Coming to the waiver, he raised an eyebrow at it. This was Sam's thing, all this legal, lawyer-y stuff.
He glanced at Sam to his right, seeing him reading the waiver too. A minute passed by before Sam nodded to himself and signed it. Dean turned back and signed his too, since Sam knew his shit. Tapping the papers into an even stack on the desk, Dean slid them back over to Crowley, and they were followed a moment later by Sam's.
Crowley scooped the papers up, grinning once again. "Wonderful." he proclaimed, handing them each a tumbler of scotch. He toasted them before they drank, and Dean once again had to admit that Crowley had damn good taste in liquor. "Now that all of the legal jargon is out of the way, it's on to more practical stuff." Crowley announced, leaning forward slightly on the desk. "Scheduling and training."
Sam cleared his throat, half-raising his hand like he was in class. "Well, I'm still in school, so during the week might not work very well."
Crowley nodded slightly. "Well, when are your classes?" he asked.
"Basically one to five Monday, Wednesday, and Friday; and noon to three Tuesday and Thursday." Sam replied.
Seemingly satisfied, Crowley assuaged, "I can work with that." He turned to Dean. "And I assume you work every day?"
Dean nodded. "Yea, pretty much. I usually just work whenever Sam's in school. I have Mondays off, though."
Nodding again, Crowley sat back with steepled fingers, obviously thinking. "Alright, so I'll have you train four to eight Saturday, Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday, here at the club. Does that work for everyone?" Sam and Dean nodded. "Marvelous. We'll train you for about two weeks, and then we'll put you out on the floor and see how you do." The boys nodded again.
As it became more real, Dean felt uneasy again. The feeling of sky diving without a parachute, not knowing where you were going to land or how successful the jump would be, would probably be remarkably similar. Sam seemed perfectly content to throw himself head first into this, much like when he had first decided he had wanted to go to Stanford. Yet Dean didn't do well with change, and this was a hell of a change. But still, for Sam's sake, he plastered on a smile and shook Crowley's hand again.
The three stood up, and Dean had his hand on the door when Crowley's voice stopped him. "Now, before you go, I want you boys to stay here for a bit. I want to introduce you to all of my dancers, as they should be getting here any minute." Crowley said, placing a hand on each Winchester's shoulder as he walked over to them. Dean swallowed a sigh, wanting to go home to prepare himself for what was sure to be a hellish day tomorrow.
Sam, however, responded, "Yea, sure. Lead the way." Crowley left first, followed closely by Sam, and then slower by Dean. They walked down the short hallway and climbed down the spiral staircase, but instead of going off onto the main floor of the club, Crowley continued down the stairs. The journey ended in a plain looking hallway, with four doors on either side.
Gesturing before him, Crowley guided, "These are the dressing rooms. They're a bit unimpressive, I'm afraid, but they're furnished with comfortable chairs and complete bathrooms, so they're pleasant enough." He walked down the hallway and tapped on a couple of the closed doors, frowning when there was no answer. "Bollocks. I tell these idiots to be here by eight thirty, but I'll be buggered if they ever show up on time." he muttered.
Dean wasn't really listening. He was busy exploring his new surroundings. Strolling over to the first door on the left, he was surprised to find it unlocked. Inside were two white leather chairs, each on either side in front of a huge counter and mirror. The mirrors took up both of the side walls, and on the back wall there was a door to what Dean assumed was the bathroom. Overall, the room looked clean and shiny, and it was brightly lit by large bare bulbs across the top of the mirrors. He shrugged a bit- he'd definitely had worse working and living conditions.
"Ah, Castiel! Thank you for actually being on time." Crowley's greeting behind him made Dean stiffen. Swallowing, he turned around and shut the door, eyes flying to the newest addition to their party. Cas was dressed normally, albeit stiffly, in dark blue jeans and a navy blue sweater, and had a bag slung over one shoulder. Bright blue eyes shifted to Dean, and Dean managed a small wave.
"Hello, Dean." Cas replied, the tiniest of smiles on his face as he inclined his head. "Sam." he added, turning to nod at Sam. Returning his gaze to Crowley, he said, "Usually I am the first one here. The rest usually come within half an hour, though Gabriel and Lucifer most likely won't arrive for another hour."
Rolling his eyes, Crowley muttered, "Of course they would. No matter- I have some paperwork to do. Make sure these two don't do anything stupid." Cas nodded seriously, eyes straying back to Dean, this time staying there. Dean fidgeted under the stare, feeling like Cas could see right through him, pick him apart with just that bright blue gaze. It made him uncomfortable and confused and he'd have to talk to Cas about that because wow it was weird the way he just didn't blink.
Dean's attention was dragged back as Crowley offered a goodbye as he climbed back up the stairs. Giving a late wave, Dean blew out a breath in the silence that followed the owner's departure. Cas continued to stare at Dean, who shifted on his feet, and Sam stood off to the side, eyes flicking between the two. He cleared his throat, green and blue eyes snapping to him. "So, which one is your room?" Sam prompted.
"Of course. This way." Castiel responded, turning and walking to the end of the hallway. Sam and Dean followed behind, hands stuffed into their pockets. At the very end of the hall Cas paused, gesturing to the door on the left. "This is my room, and I share it with Gabriel." He then gestured to the room on the right. "This is your room, as I assume you will be using it together."
Dean surveyed the blank door, realizing that on all of the other doors, there were dark brown, wooden plaques, each with two names engraved on them in gold leaf. "There's no plaque." he observed, hand brushing the blank white wood.
"It was… taken down." Cas deadpanned as he unlocked his own door.
"Why?" Sam wondered.
Cas paused, deliberating. He wasn't sure what they knew. If Crowley had not yet told them, then they deserved to know the truth, yet he didn't want to scare them. "The dancers who used that room are gone." he stated simply, watching for their reaction, hoping that that was it.
"Why?" Dean persisted, sensing that something wasn't quite right here. Cas was obviously not telling them something, and it set Dean on edge.
There was silence as Cas stared at Dean. This time, Dean didn't look away, showing Cas that he really wanted to know the answer. The staring contest went on, and just as Sam was about to intervene, Cas finally responded. "They were murdered."
'What the fuck.' Dean thought in shock. "I'm sorry-murdered?" Dean repeated.
"Yes." Cas replied solemnly.
Sam and Dean looked at each other, eyes wide and brows raised. "It would have been nice to know that beforehand." Sam murmured, rubbing at his jaw. Dean scoffed and nodded in agreement.
Cas held his hands out in front of him. "I'm sorry, I wasn't sure if Crowley had told you yet. Obviously he hasn't. But that was two weeks ago, and nothing has happened since. We think it was an isolated incident."
Dean groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Great. You think. Does that mean you haven't caught someone yet?" At Cas's hesitant head shake, Dean scoffed again, half turning towards Sam, as if to say 'Look at what you did'. "Figures. Of course there's a catch."
Cas stepped forward, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder, turning him back around. "I promise you, this is a safe place. Nothing will happen to your or your brother." Dean still looked angry and skeptical, but at least he calmed down a touch. "Now, the others will be here shortly." he continued, quickly reaching in his room and placing his bag on the counter before returning to the hallway.
Rolling his eyes, Dean followed Sam and Cas back up the hallway, where they loitered about the bottom of the staircase. It was a tense silence that enveloped them, though Cas seemed perfectly content to wait for the next hour without saying a single thing. Dean leaned back against the wall, letting his head thump against the white cinder block. Sam, shooting a watered-down bitchface at Dean, turned to Cas. "So, Castiel, how long have you worked here?" he posed, hoping to break the silence.
Cas replied, "Since it opened, in late August." And then it was back to the silence. 'I guess Cas isn't so good with this whole socializing thing.' Dean thought with a sigh, crossing his arms. God he hated sitting around.
As if in answer to his prayers, loud footsteps suddenly sounded down the stairs, and all three of the men at the bottom sharply turned their heads towards the noise. An incredibly large, blonde man appeared at the top of the stairs, face blank as he descended. Behind him came another man, with short black hair and an angular face.
"Dean, Sam, this is Camael and Michael. Camael and Michael, these are the Winchesters." Cas said by way of introduction. The brothers gave small waves.
Recognition and understanding showed on their faces. "Oh. Hello." Camael greeted with a small nod and a slight grin, an Australian accent clear in his voice. Camael slid past them without another word, unlocking and entering his room, and shut the door behind him. Michael nodded at both of them, a small smile on his face. "Welcome." he said formally, shaking their hands. With that he walked past them too, going into the room next to Camael's.
Sam looked surprised. "Not too friendly, are they?" he asked with a small laugh.
"No, they're very friendly. Camel just doesn't talk to many of us, and Michael is very…" Cas struggled to find an adjective, before he just shrugged, moving his hands in an aborted gesture. Dean snorted, stuffing his hands back into his pockets. He should have known that if Crowley- the king of dicks- was running this place, there would be dicks who worked here.
A couple minutes later, two more dancers came down the stairs, chattering loudly. Dean's cheeks warmed slightly as he recognized the dark haired one as the dancer who had invited them into a private room. The two squeezed down the steps side by side, coming up short right before running into Sam. "Oh, hello!" the light haired dancer said, looking the brothers up and down.
Cas took a step forward. "This is Raguel," he pointed to the dark haired one, "and this is Jophiel." he introduced, pointing to the light haired man. "These are the Winchesters." he concluded, gesturing towards Dean and then Sam.
Raguel's face lit up as he stared at them. "I remember you two!" Turning to Jophiel he said, "I invited them in for a private, and they were so flustered!" Both of the dancers started laughing, and Jophiel slapped Sam on the back good-naturedly. Sam grinned back, more at ease than Dean was. Dean gave a small nod and a tight smile, staying next to Cas.
"So you took the job, then?" Raguel asked as the laughter faded.
"Yea, we did. We start training this weekend." Sam answered.
"That's great! The shows will be a lot easier now with a full cast!" Raguel declared, a wide grin still on his face. With that, they gave final waves before turning and heading half way down the hallway, going into their room and shutting the door.
Sam turned to Dean. "See? Not everyone is rude. Relax."
Dean shrugged, not saying anything. He wasn't sure overly-friendly and flirty strippers were that much better, to be honest. Cas regarded him silently, but Dean ignored it, even though he could feel those eyes on him like twin spotlights. Sam attempted to make small talk with Cas again, and again it failed, and again they descended into silence while they waited.
About five minutes later, another dancer made their way down the stairs, steps light and quick. This one looked barely old enough to be working here, with big eyes and floppy brown hair. "Hi!" he said, not stopping his descent as he spotted the trio. "I'm Ariel. You must be the Winchesters, right?" He went straight to the point, smiling genuinely at the brothers.
Dean took a step forward. "Yea, that's my brother Sam, and I'm Dean." he replied, his lips twitching in a smile. "Ariel- like the little mermaid?" He couldn't resist, and he could almost hear Sam's eye roll.
The kid rolled his eyes as well, but his smile didn't fade. "No, like the arch-angel. I get that a lot, though." He shifted on his feet, switching his bag to his other shoulder. "I have to go get ready, but we'll be able to get to know each other soon!" With that he practically bounced off, going to the first door on the right.
As he disappeared from sight, Sam grinned slightly. "He's adorable. How old is he?"
"Eighteen. The youngest one of us." came Cas's monotone reply. 'Well that would explain the puppy-like attitude.' Dean thought.
Within two minutes another group of dancers came down the stairs. This time there were three of them, walking in single file down the white stairs. The one in front looked to be the oldest dancer so far, with short dark brown hair. The middle one was the tallest of the three, with dark hair and even darker eyes. The last one was blonde, thin, and neat looking, and was busy tapping on his phone. They were completely silent, and they reminded Dean of secret service or the Mafias or something.
The three kept walking, and just as Dean thought they wouldn't even acknowledge them, the group paused, and the one in front half turned to look at Cas. "Who're they?" he asked, glancing towards Dean and then Sam.
Cas's face tightened slightly, but his voice was even and unchanged as he responded. "This is Dean and Sam Winchester. They accepted the jobs. Dean and Sam, meet Zadkiel, Azrael, and Uriel." Each of the dancers nodded shortly in turn, Uriel barely glancing up from his phone.
"I see." was Zadkiel's only response, before turning away and heading into the same room as Camael had. They heard a short greeting before the door closed. Azrael didn't say anything; he just solemnly regarded them before turning and walking into Ariel's room.
Uriel tucked his phone into his jacket pocket, and then continued walking down the hallway, giving a brief hand lift and a "Lovely to meet you." in a posh British accent.
Dean whistled lowly. "Wow. I wonder who pissed in their cereal this morning." he grumbled, somewhat irritated. Sam snorted softly in agreement, shaking his head slightly.
Cas turned to them, hands slightly upraised, his tone apologetic. "Zadkiel… he doesn't really get along with anyone besides Camael. Uriel is just snobby, but he'll warm up to you if you're polite. And Azrael doesn't talk to anyone, really, so it's not just you." Suddenly Cas smirked, and it seemed to change his whole face. It made him seem younger, looser, and more alive. Dean blinked, realizing he'd never actually seen the guy smile for real before. "In fact, in five weeks, I don't think he's spoken to me more than twice." he joked.
Sam chuckled, and Dean joined in, though it was more at the fact that why-so-serious Cas had made a joke than at the actual joke. Cas looked pleased by their reaction. By this time it was almost nine o'clock, and Dean still counted some dancers missing. Which was a good thing- obviously Crowley didn't care too much about punctuality, and Dean was never adept at getting to places on time.
"Do they live together or something?" Dean asked curiously. Castiel tilted his head, obviously confused. "The dancers. They keep coming in groups. Do they live together or carpool?" he explained.
Cas's face cleared. "Oh. No. Well, Raguel and Jophiel do, as they're together, but no, we live all over the city. Most of them just show up around the same time and walk in together." Dean nodded, resorting back to staring at the wall.
Two more dancers came clumping down the stairs. The one in front had short brown hair and was almost as tall as Sam, and the one behind him had longer, wavy hair, and a smile already on his face. Dean thought that that was the same dancer that had come up to them the first night in the club ('God, was that only one week ago?'), and he sighed inwardly, hoping there wouldn't be any more laughter at his expense. The taller dancer in front stopped at the bottom of the steps, breathing hard like he'd run all the way here. "So sorry I'm late!" he pleaded. "I had to-"
"Raphael, it's okay. You're not the last one here; you're fine." Cas interrupted with a touch of fond exasperation. "Here, this is Dean and Sam, the two new dancers." he continued, gesturing to them, almost using them like a distraction to the flustered man.
Immediately focusing in on the brothers, Raphael's lips split into a wide grin, teeth flashing. "Hello! Nice to meet you! I'm Raphael, and this," he said, pulling the other dancer forward, "is Haniel." Raphael was another "angel" with a sharp British accent, but he seemed a lot friendlier than most of the others so far. Haniel gave a wave and an even bigger grin, winking at them before slipping past Raphael into the last unlocked room in the hall.
"Anyway, so sorry to have to run off, but hopefully we'll be able to talk more later. Have fun!" With that Raphael turned around and walked quickly down the hall, swinging into his room.
"Raphael is by far the politest one, though he apologizes a surprising amount." Castiel explained.
Sam nodded, a grin still on his face at the dancer's antics. "I can see that. Is that all of them?" he asked, head swimming with names. Dean already knew he wouldn't remember half of them by tomorrow.
Castiel shook his head. "Raziel is still missing, though usually he's here earlier than this. And, of course, Gabriel and Lucifer aren't here yet. I have never seen them here before nine thirty." he commented, smiling with just his eyes.
Lucifer…. 'Wasn't that the dancer who…' Dean turned towards Sam, opening his mouth to ask him, but at that moment a whirlwind came down the steps. Sam hurriedly jumped backwards out of the way, raising his arms above the bundle of energy. Dean was slower, and stumbled backwards as a lean arm smacked into his chest.
"Ooh, so sorry about that, mate. Here, let me help you-" Dean was steadied by a hand on either shoulder until he wasn't tripping backwards anymore. "Wait- who are you? No, don't tell- you're the Winchesters!" The dancer was still holding onto Dean, examining him with a smile, chattering on in a thick Scottish accent. His brown hair stood almost straight up, looking like he'd actually been through a tornado.
Dean was a little startled from both being knocked around and the enthusiastic help from the newcomer. Did the dancer even pause to take a breath? He stammered, "Uh, yea. I'm Dean, and that's my brother, Sam." The dancer spun around, letting go of Dean, giving Sam an ecstatic grin.
"Oh, my, aren't you an enormous fella! Well, I'm Raziel by the way, so sorry to run off, but I had a little car trouble so I'm really very late, but it was fantastic meeting you!" With that he whirled away again, almost sprinting down the hall and into Jophiel's room. A loud greeting sounded, and then a chuck-encased foot pushed the door shut behind him.
Cas seemed amused, a tiny lift of his lips the only indicator. "That was Raziel, and he is very excitable, as you can tell."
Sam seemed to be having the time of his life. "Yea, I think I got that." he laughed, leaning languidly back against the wall.
"He has one hell of a right hook." Dean muttered, surprised at how sore his ribs were now. Sam laughed at his brother's misery. Cas chuckled deeply, another thing which Dean had never seen him do. If he had to admit it, he was a little proud that he was getting all of these responses from Cas already. 'Psh, and Sam says I'm not charming.'
More time passed by, the only sounds being muffled talking, laughter, and thumps coming from the various dressing rooms. Almost fifteen minutes later, they finally heard another set of footsteps coming down the stairs. Muddy black boots, faded black jeans, and then a shiny black leather jacket all slowly came into view. An onyx helmet was tucked under one arm, and the dancer had a head full of messy blonde hair. As soon as he laid eyes on the little group, he smirked, though it didn't reach his eyes, and Dean instantly felt a trickle of mistrust towards him.
Cas stepped forward half a step. "Dean, Sam, this is Lucifer. Lucifer, this is Dean and Sam, the two new dancers." he announced.
Lucifer finished walking down the steps, face strangely blank except for his smirk. "Well, well, well. Don't think I've ever seen you before," he directed at Dean, "But I remember you." he all but purred, giving Sam an obvious up-and-down. Sam's face flushed, eyes skittering away from the advancing blonde. It was obvious Sam remember the dancer, too.
Narrowing his eyes, Dean called, "Hey. Back off." Lucifer turned back towards him and raised an eyebrow coolly. After a moment he simply shrugged, smirking once again.
"Nice to have you on the team." he murmured, turning and walking towards his room. "I look forward to working with you." Dean growled an obscenity under his breath at the leather-clad back, his hand clenching at his side. Sam let out a breath he had been holding, his shoulders de-tensing, eyes not moving from the retreating dancer.
Cas noticed, and he briefly touched Dean's arm, which instantly relaxed. "Don't worry about Lucifer. He's like that with everyone really, and that's what makes him so popular with the clients." Cas confided. "He mostly minds his own business."
Dean nodded, still not convinced. He didn't like the way he had looked at and talked to Sam at all. 'I'll have to keep an eye on him.' he thought. Changing the subject, he suggested, "So there's just… Gabriel left, right?"
Nodding, Cas sighed, his lips twitched upwards again. "Yes. He's impossible to control, mostly, but he is kind-hearted and fun." He spoke with obvious fondness, and the fleeting thought went through Dean's mind that maybe they were together. Then the thought of why that should ever matter to him at all crossed his mind, and he found that he didn't really have an answer to that.
He was saved from reciprocating to Cas by incredibly loud and off-key singing echoing down the stairwell. A short man with long blonde hair and a lopsided smile hopped down the stairs, still singing. He bounced to a stop in front of the Winchesters and Cas, pausing in his rendition of 'Stayin' Alive'. "Hey, Cassie. Who are these guys?" he asked cheerfully, shrewdly looking over the brothers.
"Dean and Sam, the new dancers. This is Gabriel." Cas stated. Gabriel waved jauntily, producing a red lollipop seemingly out of nowhere and sticking it in his mouth.
"Pleased to meet you. Officially." he greeted, and something about the way Gabriel was looking over them and smiling set Dean on edge. He could just tell that Gabriel was going to be very, very aggravating.
Lifting an eyebrow, Sam asked, "'Officially?'"
Gabriel giggled- there really was no other way to describe the laughter coming from him- and pointed at Dean. "I ran into this one last night. You were wrecked, dude."
Dean smiled tightly. "Workin' through some stuff, you know." That was just great- another thing that he didn't even remember doing. One of the things Dean hated most was not having control over a situation, and last night was pretty high up in that category. 'Definitely not ever doing that ever again.' he thought with an inward groan.
Popping the lollipop out and licking his lips once, Gabriel said nonchalantly. "Yup. I know. Is your neck feeling okay, by the way?"
Frowning, Dean rubbed at the back of his neck. "Yea, why would it-" He froze as a thought crashed into his mind. Seeing the way Gabriel was grinning like a maniac at him, and then winking, Dean knew that he was- unfortunately- completely correct. "You son of a bitch." he growled.
"Aw, Dean, I thought you liked it!" Gabriel whined, the smile not quite wiped off of his face.
"Hilarious." Dean muttered, fighting the urge to punch Gabriel in the face. His fists clenched at his side as he glared at the dancer. If he had laser eyes, Gabriel would be ash.
Sam and Cas stood to the side in obvious confusion. "Um… what's going on?" Sam asked, stepping forward and placing a warning hand on Dean's shoulder.
Gabriel turned towards Sam, waving his hand around. "I left Dean-o a little present to remember me by. Though," he pouted theatrically, "I guess he doesn't actually remember it."
Glancing at Sam, Dean saw the realization dawn across his brother's face. He scowled as mirth came next, and Sam coughed very hard to try and hide his laughter. From Cas's head tilt and Gabriel's titters, he obviously didn't do very well.
"Well, it was so lovely meeting you boys. We'll do some quality get-to-know-you time later. Ta-ta!" He strutted down the hall, slamming the door to his and Cas's room as he entered.
Petulantly, Dean kicked the wall, cursing darkly under his breath, trying to avoid rubbing at the hickey mark on his neck. "What was that about?" Cas finally asked.
Sam waited a minute for Dean to answer, and sighed slightly when he didn't. "Last night, when Dean came in here and got piss-drunk, apparently he let Gabriel give him a huge hickey." Sam still sounded like he was choking back laughter, and Dean narrowed his eyes and glared at him.
"Oh." Cas said, and Dean was both amused and irritated- though mostly irritated- to see another smile on his face. "That does sound like Gabriel. He does things like that; pranks and jokes. They're very funny." Seeing the look on Dean's face, he backtracked a bit. "Unless, of course, they're directed onto you. Lucifer once tried to run Gabriel over."
Sam laughed, while Dean muttered, "I know the feeling." He was still boiling over the fact that that had happened last night, and now he'd have to work with the guy who did it. 'Something tells me this isn't the last way that Gabriel is gonna fuck me over.'
Cas glanced back down the hallway towards his room. "I have to go and get ready now. You can go upstairs and grab seats if you'd like. The club opens officially in about twenty-five minutes."
Opening his mouth to reply, Sam was cut off by Dean. "Yea, we're actually gonna go home now. It's been kind of a long day, and we've got a big day tomorrow, so, you know…." He shrugged one shoulder, an easy smile spread on his face.
"Oh. Okay. Well then goodnight, and see you tomorrow." Cas replied, looking a tad let down. With a final small wave, he turned and walked away, leaving the brothers alone in the hallway.
As they climbed back up the steps, Sam muttered, "You're still being ridiculous." They came out onto the main floor, where all of the seats were already starting to fill up. Dean wound his way through the giggling teenage girls and the sharp dressed men towards the door, Sam having to squeeze his larger frame behind him.
"I'm not. I was just here last night, we've been here over an hour already, and I have work in the morning. We're going home." Dean argued, pushing the door open with perhaps too much force. The cool air was a smack in the face from the extremely warm interior of the club, and Dean could smell fall closing in.
Sam scoffed, striding alongside Dean. "Whatever dude. You've got issues. You just need to relax or something; embrace your inner stripper." Sam grinned cheekily at Dean's scandalized face, dodging the fist that came swinging his way.
"Bitch."
"Jerk."