DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction using characters from the Supernatural/Pretty Woman universe. I do not claim any ownership. This work is solely for entertainment purposes and is not considered film or tv canon (not by a long shot).

"Wake up, time to shop!" Castiel said cheerfully.

Dean raised his head and blinked blearily at the man as he sat on the edge of the bed and handed Dean a black credit card. Dean took it and blinked again.

"Cas, is this thing ... metal?" Dean asked, studying it.

Castiel smiled. "Yes ... anodized titanium. It has no limit so you should be able to purchase everything you need. I was rather surprised you only purchased one suit yesterday."

Dean lay back against the pillow. "Yeah ... that wasn't as much fun as I thought it would be."

"Oh? Why not?"

"The guys at the store ... they made me feel like crap," Dean admitted.

Castiel studied Dean's expression and wondered at the sudden surge of anger at the salesmen who had made him feel badly about himself. He made a decision.

"Get dressed, Dean," Castiel said. "I will accompany you."

"What?"

Castiel threw Dean's t shirt at him. "Get dressed, Dean."

Dean groaned but rolled out of bed and did just that.

Walking down Rodeo Drive, Dean had his hands shoved deep in his jeans pockets and was watching his feet so he wouldn't have to see the criticizing looks from the people they passed. He was dressed in his street clothes which had been laundered but he still felt out of place.

"Come on, Cas ... let's just go back. Maybe I can find somethin' online ... people are lookin' at me, man." Dean blushed and nearly ran into Castiel when the man stopped.

Castiel tipped Dean's chin up and met his hazel eyes with a warm smile. "Dean, stores recognize money, not people and everyone is looking at me – and wondering who the handsome man beside me is," Dean snorted and blushed again. Castiel continued. "I think you will enjoy shopping today a great deal more than yesterday. Take your hands out of your pockets and don't fidget."

Dean shrugged and pulled his hands out. To his shock, Castiel took one and pulled him into the store. Dean felt his blood instantly run cold as he was surrounded by suits and shirts and ties – it was yesterday's store all over again. "Cas, I don't think I can - "

A tall, lanky man walked over to them. His face was thin and his nose and ears seemed a little too large for his head, but Dean noticed that his eyes seemed kind. That was already an improvement over yesterday – he stood close to Castiel and waited for whatever was about to happen.

"Yes, sir .. my name is Garth Fitzgerald – I'm the manager. How can I help you?"

Castiel shook Garth's hand. "Garth, this is Dean – he is in need a new wardrobe and I have chosen your shop to outfit him. Can you do this?"

Garth looked Dean over shrewdly. "I think we can manage, mister -?"

"Novak. Castiel Novak. Also, allow me to expound ... we will require more people than this to assist," Castiel said quietly, leaning toward Garth. "The reason being ... we will be spending an obscene amount of money in this store today."

Garth blinked and then a wide grin spread across his face. Dean chuckled. It never failed to amaze him when Castiel went all "corporate rich-guy" on people. He exuded a control and power which Dean could imagine had terrified more than a few rival executives. It was a stark contrast to the shy, afraid-of-heights, piano-playing man Dean had been sleeping with for the past few nights. Named for an angel, Castiel was bad ass when he wanted to be.

However, Dean wondered what he was in for when a veritable herd of salesmen descended on him and he found himself staring at a catalog filled with more clothing options than he'd dreamed existed. Castiel smiled at him and tapped his ever-present headset. Crowley's voice filled his ear.

"Castiel! Where the hell are you?! Haven't you heard – Singer is going to double your offer!" the lawyer whined loudly.

Castiel laughed. "He's countering? He is definitely tougher than I suspected. He knows the Navy contracts are stalled – where do you suppose he's getting the money?"

Crowley snorted. "I've no clue – perhaps he's throwing in with the employees."

"He'll still require someone to underwrite the paper," Castiel reminded Crowley. "Find out who that is – I will be in the office in an hour."

"Very well, Castiel." Crowley said.

Castiel turned and saw Dean being shown several different colors of shirts against suits. He looked up and his hazel eyes seemed a bit dazed. Castiel chuckled and motioned him over.

"Cas, I don't know -" Dean began.

Castiel leaned in and gently kissed Dean's cheek, effectively silencing him. "Stop saying that, Dean – you can do this. I have faith – you'll do fine. Remember ... you hold the credit card so they will do whatever you ask."

Dean blinked and a shy but mischievous grin crept across his face, much like the one he'd displayed when Castiel had first offered him the week's employment. It made Castiel wonder how Dean had managed to never have anyone in his life want or believe in him.

"Ok Cas ... and ... thanks," Dean said, his voice small.

Castiel tilted Dean's chin up and met his eyes. "I will see you tonight, Dean. Have fun."

Dean nodded. He chuckled when Castiel made a point to tell Garth, "He has my card."

Garth came over with a grin. "Well, then ... let's help you use it!"

Dean had never seen so many clothes in his entire life nor had he ever tried on so many outfits. Day suits, suits for evening, classic tuxes, the array of shoes by themselves was enough to make Dean's head explode. He nearly had a heart attack when he saw the price of a simple pair of jeans.

"Dude, they're jeans ... what the hell are they made of? Gold threads?" Dean protested.

Garth simply laughed and sighed indulgently. "Dean, Dean, Dean ... the way you dress and the quality of the fabrics you choose make a difference. Expense doesn't always mean pointless ... in many cases it's because of the quality of the workmanship."

Dean understood but that didn't mean he was ever going to have a chance to live like this again and when he went back to Hollywood Boulevard, he'd be buying his jeans at the thrift store again. Garth said something that caught his attention.

"Dean, I don't know you but you seem like a nice guy so let me tell you this – you came in here with a deer in headlights look – you wouldn't even look up until Mr. Novak introduced you," Garth said. "Just now when he kissed you? Your head came up and you've got confidence oozing out of every pore. When you leave? Keep that attitude. Hell, we all want to live like the Novaks of the world – but if you act like you own the place, people will generally treat you like you do." Garth leaned in conspiratorially. "The clothes just help you fake it with style."

"Dude, I don't have to hug you or anything, do I?"

Garth laughed. "Nope ... your signature on that credit card slip is going to be all the hug I will need for the day."

Dean laughed with him and they went back to choosing shoes. Looking up, he saw a tie on one of the clerks that was unusual in color and pattern – Dean loved it. "Cas would look great in that tie!"

Garth all but tore it off the young man's neck. Dean's grin got even wider when he saw the beer and pizza come in – Garth rolled his eyes but remembered the Black Card Dean had in his possession ... and had a slice himself.

When Dean left the shop, he was wearing one of the new 'casual' outfits he'd purchased. The rest would be sent over to the hotel.

Dean had chosen a dark, navy straight-legged trouser with a striped cotton shirt and a blazer. He'd even selected a pocket square to match. The leather shoes were just as comfortable as the other pair from yesterday – for someone who spent the better part of his night walking the boulevard, Dean knew and appreciated shoes that felt good. The change in the way people looked at him was astounding but Dean wasn't really paying attention, he had a goal in mind.

Walking down the sidewalk, Dean found the shop he'd entered the day before. Steeling his features, Dean strode in, ignoring the assistant salesman and walking directly to the man he'd dealt with yesterday.

"Hello," Dean said.

"Good afternoon, sir. How may I help you?" the man's face stretched into something Dean assumed was a smile.

"Do you remember me?"

The man frowned. "No sir, I'm sorry, I'm afraid I cannot recall meeting you."

Dean smirked. He pulled out his new chest pocket wallet, exposing the new watch as well. The man looked expectantly at Dean.

"I was in here yesterday ... you threatened to call the cops on me?" Dean said with a thin smile.

"Oh ... yes, I recall ..."

"You work on commission?" Dean asked.

The man cleared his throat. "Erm ... yes."

Dean held up the Black Card and watched the man's eyes widen. "Dude – biggest mistake of your life. Just sayin'. Gotta go – more stuff to buy!"

With that, Dean turned on his heel and left, an absurdly broad smile covering his face. He might have done a little fist pump once out of sight, but Dean would deny it to anyone who asked. He walked back to the hotel in the best mood of his life.

In the lobby, Balthazar was talking with two employees when Dean walked in followed by a bellhop with a suit bag and several bags from various stores. He watched the young man walk to the elevator and smiled – he looked confident and well-dressed. Balthazar chuckled. Mr. Novak had no idea what he'd done.

Dean tipped the bellhop and plopped down in a chair, surrounded by boxes and bags. He sighed. Castiel had been right – it was more fun this way.

Castiel sat down at the conference table with a sigh. He looked at the reports in his hand but he didn't really see the data. Crowley was chuckling merrily to himself.

"Oh, Castiel ... you were completely right. Singer has mortgaged everything he owns to secure a bank loan!" Crowley said gleefully. "And ... it's not just any bank, my friend – it's Plymouth Trust."

Castiel began taking glasses from the tray left with a carafe of water. He made a non-committal noise.

"Castiel – it goes without saying that your business is more to them than Singer's. Make the call." Crowley tapped Castiel's phone.

Castiel stacked the glasses carefully. "Fergus, do you know what I enjoyed as a child?"

"No, Castiel ... what?"

"I enjoyed blocks. Building blocks, erector sets – I enjoyed making things." Castiel said softly.

Crowley stared at him. "Castiel, pardon my bluntness but what the hell is wrong with you this week? Blocks? Building things? Who the fuck cares?"

"We don't build anything, Fergus. We don't make anything," Castiel explained distractedly.

"We make money, Castiel. This deal is a year in the making – you said this is what you wanted," Crowley said. "I'm handing it to you – the old man's throat is bared. It's time for the kill – call the bank, Castiel."

Castiel sighed. For probably the first time in his business life, he did not know what to do.

Dean had "One of These Nights" playing softly in the background as he waited for Castiel to come in the door. The lights were low - dinner and wine were waiting. Dean was wearing his fail-safe jeans and the tie he'd gotten earlier that day. The top button was undone on the jeans - he sat with his body profile to the door. When Castiel came in, he was intent on the mail and only looked up when Dean spoke.

"Hey Cas, how was your day?"

Dean pulled the tie down and smoothed it down his muscled chest and abdomen. A faint smile played at the corner of his mouth.

Castiel looked over and his mouth went dry as he took in the sight before him. Dean looked sexier than Castiel had ever seen him ... he was hard-pressed to remain in place. Clearing his throat, Castiel commented, "I like the tie, Dean."

"Yeah? I got it for you, Cas."

Castiel decided the mail could wait.

If anyone had suggested to him that he, Dean Winchester, would be sitting in a bathtub roughly half the size of an Olympic size swimming pool with a man whose net worth was in the billions leaning against him between his legs – Dean might have either laughed at or slugged the person. Dean was positive he was going to wake up somewhere along the way and find himself back in his old apartment with Gabe snoring in the other room. Closing his eyes and opening them quickly, Dean decided that he wasn't dreaming. Castiel's head is on one shoulder and he turned to regard Dean with a raised eyebrow at Dean's small laugh.

"Nothin' Cas, just thinking."

Dean dragged in the scent of the bubble bath surrounding them. Castiel was amused by Dean's excitement over using the bubbles again – his enthusiasm for things is infectious. Castiel lifted a hand covered in suds and blew them into the air. Dean offered up another chuckle.

"Tell me you had bubble bath as a kid, Cas – I can forgive the lack of driving experience but it's like a rite of passage or something – kids and bubble baths," Dean teased, then ran his hand over Castiel's chest. He felt the smooth skin beneath his fingertips and allowed them to slide down the line between Castiel's abs. He smiled to himself when Castiel's breath hitched. Turn-about for the piano session in Dean's opinion.

"Yes, Dean ... I had bubble baths as a child. I rather liked them," Castiel admitted softly.

Dean licked the shell of one ear. "My mom always ran mine ... she used that pink bottle ... the one with the funny-lookin' whatever on the front."

Castiel couldn't stifle a laugh at that. "Mr. Bubble ... my nanny used that as well."

"Small world, Cas," Dean grinned. "Wait ... nanny? Your mom didn't do baths or something?"

"My mother died giving birth to me, Dean."

"Oh shit, Cas ... I'm sorry, I didn't -"

Castiel reached up and gently pressed his hand against Dean's cheek. "It is alright, Dean – I have long since come to terms with it. After all, I never knew her."

Dean fell silent, berating himself for ruining the moment. He went back to dragging the washcloth across Castiel's chest and pressed a gentle kiss against the stubbled cheek.

"My brother Michael, however ... he was twelve when she died and he held it against me," Castiel said softly.

"Dude, you were a baby." Dean protested.

Castiel shrugged. "That did not matter to Michael ... he tormented me often whenever we saw one another even though he was an adult by the time I was old enough to understand."

Dean shook his head. "Didn't your dad do anything?"

Castiel sighed. "My father was ... absent a great deal. He died when I was still young. Michael managed my trust fund and we did not speak. I was very angry with him for a very long time."

"I guess so, dude," Dean said softly.

"It took me years and several thousand dollars in therapy to say that," Castiel said.

Dean blinked. He had his own issues and he figured he might need therapy but he wasn't about to shell out good cash for some idiot behind a desk to tell him that. Castiel continued.

"I think I say it rather well – 'I was very angry with my brother'."

Dean snorted and Castiel chuckled. "Hello, my name is Mr. Novak and I am very angry with my brother ..."

Dean laughed, running his hand through Castiel's hair. "I would have been angry about the thousands of dollars."

Castiel sighed and turned his head toward Dean again. "My brother was president of the third company I ever took over. I bought it and I sold it off piece by piece."

"What'd the shrink say, Cas?" Dean asked, placing another kiss against Castiel's temple.

"He said I was cured," Castiel replied.

Dean's mouth twitched. "Well, you got him back – musta made you feel good, huh?"

Castiel fell silent and took one of Dean's hands between his own. Dean could feel Castiel's body tensing and he shifted to widen his legs a bit. His other hand snaked around Castiel and took gentle hold of his growing erection. Castiel inhaled sharply and leaned back against Dean.

"You know, Cas ... sex is the one thing I'm really, really good at – well, that and cars – but I could be considered almost an expert," Dean whispered against Cas' ear as he continued to stroke him. "Expert enough to make you forget the stress of the day - " Dean twisted his hand ever-so-slightly at the top of his stroke making Castiel moan. "Expert enough to make you forget your name -" Dean sped up his hand and Castiel gripped the sides of the tub while his head fell back against Dean's shoulder. "And expert enough to make you come so hard you see stars -" Dean's hand tightened just enough to drive Castiel over the edge with a harsh, pleading growl of Dean's name. Dean's fingers lightly slid up and down Castiel's cock, pulling a few aftershocks from him until the man slumped back, panting.

Castiel turned and regarded Dean with eyes gone cobalt in arousal. "I believe I prefer your version of therapy, Dean."

"All for the bargain-basement price of just -" Dean began. Castiel joined his voice to Dean's with a chuckle. "Three thousand dollars."

They both laughed and Dean found that he wanted to laugh with Castiel a lot more.

A/N: Just a side note on the card Dean is using - American Express issues the Centurion card which is anodized titanium and has no limit. It's invitation only and you have to have a net worth of over $16 million and 1.5 million in annual income. It is colloquially known as the Black Card.