[fic] Fever

[omnomster]

Title: Fever
Author: omnomster
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Crack
Pairing/Characters: Dean/Cas, Gabriel, Anna, Balthazar, Jo
Spoilers: None
Warnings: drag!Dean (not trans!Dean)
Word Count: 5,689
Summary: It’s Castiel’s twenty-first birthday, and Gabriel can’t think of a better way to spend it than to take his little brother out to get smashed.


AN: I am not an expert on drag clubs and culture. Everything in this was gained through my own experiences at shows, questions from my friends who are heavily involved in drag, and the internet. I hope that I did a well enough job, and that nothing comes off as offensive. If it does, let me know! Although, until it gets clarified by Dean, specifically, some things are meant to come off as ignorant, just because there’s no reason for Castiel to know these things. This was written for my good friend laura_lal's birthday. We talked about it for awhile, and I figured I would write it for her as a present. Happy (belated) 18th birthday!

It is a rather uneventful day. Classes are just as interesting as they always were and work is just as stressful. Somehow, Castiel has managed not to get a single call from his brother and has seen neither Anna nor Balthazar. A few people wish him a happy birthday, and he graciously thanks them for that. He isn’t terribly concerned with birthdays and hasn’t been since he was thirteen. Most of the friends he sees ask him if he’s doing anything special, such as going to a bar. He says that he’s not, however, and plans to spend the night touching up an essay on Chaucer and reading.

When Castiel gets to his apartment that night, he’s worn and tired, the strong smell of coffee following him as it clings to his uniform. He tries the knob and finds the door unlocked. Balthazar must be home, he thinks, and he was certainly correct.

“Surprise!”

The young man takes a step back, surprised that three people can be so amazingly loud. Gathered in his miniscule living room are Balthazar, Anna, and Gabriel, standing around a small cake that is lit with twenty-one candles. They’re each unusually well-dressed, donning garbs that would typically be reserved for a nice dinner party or wedding reception. His chapped lips turn up in a small smile, and Castiel shakes his head as he steps in, placing his backpack on the floor.

“I should have known something was going on when you managed to wake up and get out of the house before me,” he says, looking at his best friend and roommate Balthazar, before glancing to his brother. The shorter, older man is looking particularly devious with his grin and his arms crossed over his chest. “Or when you didn’t leave me an obnoxious song on my phone.”

“Hey, my messages are great! Besides, I thought you’d love to hear my angelic voice in person,” Gabriel retorts with a smirk. “Now sit down and let us sing to you. I’m starving.”

The three of them make it through a painfully out-of-tune version of “Happy Birthday” while Castiel stares at his cake. It’s coated in frosting and copious designs carefully crafted with icing. “Happy 21st, Cas!” is written across it in huge, cursive, red letters, illuminated perfectly by the candles. When the song ends, he can blow out all but three, which leads to some teasing as he snuffs them out with a second breath.

Gabriel swoops down with a knife and plates (when he managed to grab those, Castiel has no idea) and deals out pieces, leaving the biggest one for himself. The four of them sit scattered in the living room, enjoying the dessert which is sinfully delicious. It’s Castiel’s favorite flavors, too: red velvet with homemade buttercream icing.

“You wanted to tell him, right, Gabriel?” Anna asks after everyone has had a few bites. The man in question, who is several years older than all of them, looks up, face stuffed with cake and frosting around his mouth like a child.

He manages a nod, wiping his mouth and looking at his brother. “So, this is your twenty-first birthday, Cas. You know what that means, don’t you?”

And Castiel knows exactly what that means. He’s of legal drinking age, and he expected that it wouldn’t be long before his friends dragged him to go bar-hopping now that the baby of the group could finally have alcohol.

He doesn’t voice that thought, however, and instead he asks, “What does it mean?”

Golden-brown eyes roll excessively, and Gabriel pouts. “It means you get to drink!” he answers matter-of-factly. “And it’s a Friday night. We’re going out.”

Castiel has never been one for partying. He prefers this type of situation, where he’s surrounded with a few good friends and they can chat and enjoy each other’s company without the distraction of loud music or strangers. And while he’s thankful for the cake and the gathering, the thought of spending hours in a loud club full of cigarette smoke and sweaty college kids makes him grimace.

“Don’t give me that look! I already booked us seats,” his brother snaps before Cas gets a chance to argue.

“Excuse me?” Castiel blinks, confused. He is forced to look at Balthazar, who’s giggling behind his hand and sharing a look with Anna. “Booked us seats? What kind of bar requires such a thing?”

“Oh, you’ll see. It’s going to be a great time; I promise. Look, the show starts at nine, so we should skedaddle soon. Want to make sure we get there on time, after all.”

“Show?”

Castiel has never been so confused. Taverns don’t usually have shows, do they? They’re places of drinking and debauchery, not acting and musicals or whatever they were going to see.

“Yup! So go get changed into something nice. I don’t want people thinking I have a slob for a brother.”

After finishing his slice, Castiel quickly retreats to his room and slips into a suit and tie, an oversized khaki trench coat draped over his shoulders to protect it from the light sprinkle of rain outside. When he returns to the living room, his friends and brother are standing at the door, chatting quietly amongst themselves.

“Took you long enough!” Gabriel sighs. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s go.”

They take a cab because Gabriel insists that they’ll all be piss drunk by the end of the night. Anna seems least interested in the idea, but she continues to make comments about how seeing Castiel drunk could possibly become the weirdest thing she’s ever witnessed. Balthazar, Gabriel, and Anna all make bets on how they think Castiel will behave once intoxicated. His brother is convinced he’ll become an emotional sap. Anna thinks he’ll be condescending and just generally a loud oddball. And, naturally, Balthazar thinks Cas will end up being a profoundly sexual being that will attempt to touch and flirt anyone that walks by him.

Castiel, on the other hand, believes he won’t get drunk tonight, but refrains from voicing that opinion for his own safety.

The taxi stops outside a place called Brooklyn, the word written in crimson neon lights above the entrance. They walk inside, stopping just a few feet in to show their IDs to a very tall woman dressed in only a sequined bikini. She begins to ask them for money, but Gabriel stops her by saying that Sam Winchester has them covered. After checking the list, the woman nods and escorts them into the main area of the bar.

Well, it’s not really a bar, Castiel notices. It’s more like a lounge. There’s a large stage set up in the far back with a catwalk that extends out from it with a metal pole at the end. A couple dozen tables are set up around the room, each covered by elegant red cloth with a burning candle in the center. Perhaps half of the seats are taken, but their hostess leads them to a spot just to the side of the catwalk where a small card reading “Reserved” has been placed.

“A waitress will be with you shortly to get you drinks,” she chirps, then walks away, silver heels clicking loudly on the wood floor.

Castiel sits, furrowing his brow as he watches her go, and then looks to Gabriel.

“Did you bring me to a gentlemen’s club?” he asks, confused. His brother knows that his affections lie with men, so to have brought him to such a place seems odd-unless, of course, it was just for the Gabriel’s own amusement.

The older man makes a face, rocking his head from side to side as he releases a non-committal hum. “Well, not exactly.”

Blue eyes narrowed, Cas is about to question further when their waitress comes. He openly stares, quite confused at what he is seeing. The person wears a short cocktail dress, bright red against pale skin with small breasts. Their hair is huge and blonde, overly fluffed and hairsprayed to give it massive volume. Make-up is thoroughly caked on to the waitress’ face. However, she has quite a bit of blonde stubble on her face, as well as hair on her chest, legs, and arms.

Castiel quickly realizes where they are, suspicions confirmed when the waitress says in a deep voice, “Hello, my name is Diamond. I’ll be taking care of y’all tonight. What can I get you?”

“It’s a club of cross-dressers,” the twenty-one-year-old muses, giving a slight nod.

Gabriel rolls his eyes. “Drag club, Cas. Jesus Christ.” He turns his eyes up to the waitress and manages a smile. “Gin and tonic for me and a strong whisky sour for the birthday boy,” he says, using his thumb to indicate his brother.

Castiel frowns at him while Anna and Balthazar order their own drinks. When Diamond leaves, Gabriel turns to give him another smile.

“Happy birthday, bro!”

“Why did you bring me here?” His voice isn’t irritated, but rather curious. After all, he has nothing against cross-dressers or the like; he made it clear in the past that he’s completely indifferent to sexual orientation and gender expression. But it still seems like an odd choice, given the circumstances.

Gabe shrugs. “Why not? The shows are great. The booze is great. And we got in for free because Sam owes me one. Seems pretty perfect to me!”

“Sam?”

“He’s a friend. His brother works here.”

Castiel nods, then looks off to where their waitress disappeared. “She didn’t seem very… feminized,” he replies slowly, trying to choose his words carefully.

“I think she’s going for a more androgynous look,” Anna pipes in. “That’s what I like about this club. It’s a good mix of different styles. There’s some campiness, some more serious acts, drag kings, drag queens, gender-bending. A lot of different topics.”

The young man hums, sitting back in his seat. Well, seeing a show seems much more entertaining than going barhopping. It’s best not to complain. Besides, this still has the opportunity to be fun.

Diamond brings their drinks, setting down a glass of something distinctly citrusy in front of Castiel. He grabs the glass and brings it up to nose, blinking at the strong smell of alcohol that wafts out.

“Cheers,” Balthazar says, holding out his own glass of wine.

They clink their drinks together, and everyone watches while Castiel downs all of his in one go. Anna looks surprised, while the other two boys have huge grins on their faces.

“So?” Gabe asks.

Cas waits another moment, then nods. “It’s slightly bitter, but the taste is good.”

And that makes his friends all burst out into laughter, and he’s left sitting there and wondering what is wrong with what he said.

Apparently, he can hold his liquor very well, because he has three strong drinks by the time the show starts, and he’s only feeling what the others describe as “tipsy.” The pop music grows a bit louder and the lights dim everywhere but the stage, which grows brighter.  There’s a drum roll, spotlights beaming down from the ceiling and swirling across the stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Brooklyn, the finest drag show in all of Kansas,” says an overly dramatic voice over the intercom. “We ask that you turn the ringers on your phones off. You know how dramatic the royalty here can get when someone robs the spotlight. Now, without further ado, please put your hands together for your host, Miss Diana!”

The huge, gathered crowd bursts into raucous applause, whistling and cheering as the curtains open. A woman steps forward, grinning and waving lazily to everyone. The dress she wears is as big as her hair and just as dark, flowing to the ground and accented with gold. A corset works to accentuate Diana’s waist. The dress cuts off at her shoulders with an illusion of breasts and cleavage. Her hair is curly and dark, tied up on the top of her head. The blush, lipstick, and eye shadow are completely over the top, making the woman look excessively dramatic with her too-arched eyebrows, oversized eyelashes, and overdone lips.

“How are you bitches doing tonight?” she asks into her handheld microphone. Her voice is not as Castiel expected. It’s low, like a man’s, and is laced with confidence. He doesn’t even need to see her face to know that she’s smirking.

Diana takes several loud steps down the catwalk, bowing to those that cheer her on. She gets to the pole that juts from the floor and leans against it, looking around as if she was been expecting more. Someone in the back yells a cat call, and she shoots him a look.

“Don’t worry, sweetie pie, I’ll be up here later,” the woman says, patting the pole, “but not right now! There’s a few more assholes in the back that want to dance around and shit first. But, you gotta deal with me for a few minutes. So, how are you all tonight? Enjoying the drinks?”

The customers give a sound of approval.

“Good, glad to hear it. Now, I know there’s someone special here… let me see.” She reaches into the front of her dress and pulls out a slip of paper with her perfectly manicured nails. She stares at it a moment, chewing her lip, then asks, “Cas-teel? Is there a Cas-teel Novak around here?”

Gabriel starts to laugh loudly, and the man in question goes rigid in his chair. Why? Why was she calling his name? He stares up at the woman with wide, terrified blue eyes. Oh, God. Oh, God, what did his brother plan?

When Gabriel is laughing too hard to answer and Cas is left mute from shock, Anna raises a hand to indicate their table. Diana sees her immediately, quickly looking down to peer at the table just a few feet from her.

“I have to say, I was expecting more dick,” Diana comments, raising an eyebrow at Anna.

The redhead laughs, and the two share a knowing smile before the young woman points back to her stricken friend.

“It’s that one. His name is Castiel,” she says.

“Castiel?” the hostess repeats slowly, turning her gaze to the man. She hums into the microphone, then turns to walk down the steps at the end of the catwalk, circling around so that she can stand next to Cas. When her hand lands heavily on his shoulder, the young man looks from it to her, trying to regain his tongue. “Well, I’m certainly not disappointed. I heard it was your twenty-first birthday tonight. That right?”

All he can do is nod.

“Well, aren’t you a regular Chatty Kathy?” Diana smirks. She runs her hand through Castiel’s hair before giving him a hard pat on the cheek. “Well, while you get your shit together, I’m going to harass someone else.” She must see the way his shoulders shrug and relax, because she quickly adds, “But don’t worry. We got something extra special planned for you later. Just you wait.” She lets one of her nails trace the line of his jaw, then turns and begins walking through the rest of the club.

She does just as she said, cracking jokes with the more rambunctious customers, managing to make everyone but Castiel laugh. It’s not until Diana disappears and the first act comes on that he can manage to relax. His mind keeps going back to what she said, how it sounds like a threat to his mind. Something extra special planned for you. He can’t even bring himself to ask his brother about it, mind too frazzled to create words. He focuses on the first performance to try to reset his brain, finding himself intrigued as a person donned in a suit jacket and tutu dances across the stage to some song he’s never heard of. That combined with another drink helps him forget the fact that attention will be called to him once again later that night.

Diana comes out between acts to make quips about the performers. The show has comedic and serious elements, not just dance and song, but also acting and stand-up. Castiel even laughs a few times and applauds a bit more enthusiastically for some of the better performances. There’s an intermission, which Cas and his friends use to go to the bathroom and order an appetizer.

When they return (with a fresh round of drinks and boy does Cas feel good), the show starts back up. Diana is nowhere to be seen, however, and the hostess is now a young woman with a round face, bright smile, and wavy blonde hair. She wears a well-tailored suit and a fedora is tipped to one side of her head. Spinning a cane in her hands, she speaks into a tiny mic that is carefully taped to her cheek.

“Sorry, folks. Miss Diana needs to get ready for her act, so I’ll be taking over,” she chirps. “Besides, you’re probably gettin’ real tired of her. She can be pretty obnoxious, right?” The new hostess winks. “Anyway, you can all call me Jo.”

The woman introduces the next act, and Castiel watches, mildly interested as he sips at some kind of daiquiri his brother insisted he get. There are three more performances, and he doesn’t notice when Jo has sneaked up behind him.

“Awesome job, Lu!” she praises the exiting performer, clapping Castiel’s shoulders with her thin-fingered hands. A gasp gets caught in the man’s throat, and he would stand if not for the hostess’ pressing him sharply into the chair. “Now, Castiel,” she says, looking down at him, “you remember earlier when Miss Diana said we had something special planned for you?”

Cas flinches and mutters, “Yes, I recall.”

She takes a moment to give him a funny look, then says, “Well, I’m gonna have to ask you to come on stage with me.”

“Excuse me?” Cas’ voice is small as he looks wide-eyed at the girl. “Why?”

She grins mischievously at him, then helps him to his feet. “You’ll see. Let’s go, birthday boy.”

Jo pushes him to the stairs, and it’s not until he’s actually on the stage, already sweating beneath the too-bright and too-hot lights, that he sees a chair facing the crowd in the middle of the catwalk. He blinks, not quite understanding, but the sound of his brother and Balthazar trying (and failing) to hold in their chuckles is not comforting. Jo forces him to sit in the chair, giving him an appraising look.

“Now, honey, all you gotta do is sit right there. Let her do the rest.”

“What do you mean by…” But she’s gone, walking past him and disappearing behind the curtain.

It’s more than awkward sitting in front of all of these people. His posture is as perfect as he can make it, knees together with his hands on top of them. His face is red, and it’s not due to the alcohol coursing through his veins. He licks his lips, listening to the crowd yell lewd and sexual comments-not at Jo or any of the workers-but at him. He’s never been comfortable in front of large crowds, and the heat beneath his collar only grows as he stares at the pole that’s just feet from him. He thinks about getting up and refusing to do this. Are they going to make a fool of him? His head snaps from side to side, and he’s about to get up-

And then the music starts.

It’s electronic, poppy, and has a steady rhythm. Cas can hear the sound of heels clicking against the floor in time with the beat. People begin cheering and whistling, and Castiel can’t bring himself to look back and see what’s happening. He just swallows and wipes his hands on his slacks to get the sweat off of them. He doesn’t hear the lyrics to the song, not until a familiar nail touches the back of his neck. It’s dragged gently under his jaw and to his chin in a familiar motion as the woman circles around in front of him, standing close enough that even Castiel-the King of Standing-Way-Too-Fucking-Close, as Gabriel says-is uncomfortable.

“Yeah I know we both know it isn’t time. No… But could you be m-mine?” Diana mouths the words with perfect timing, smiling suggestively down at the man who looks like he just saw a ghost.

Her outfit has changed. She’s wearing the gold corset that had been over her dress, and from this close he can see that her cleavage really is painted on, just a trick of make-up, some padding in the corset, and light. He can see the freckles on her bare shoulders and the traces of them on her face, covered up in layers of make-up. Her hair is pinned more tightly to her head. Clinging to her hips is a pair of very immodest underwear, and when she turns around and heads to the pole just a few feet away, he can see her perfectly sculpted rear. He blushes brightly as the thought enters his brain, but he can’t look away, not as she swings a leg over the bar, gold pumps shining, and begins doing things that normal human beings should not be able to do.

She dances through the chorus and verse, performing a mixture of overly-sexualized motions (during which her bright eyes stay transfixed on him) and feats of such strength and flexibility that Castiel momentarily forgets to be embarrassed. She finally makes her way back over to him, a dirty look on her face as she sings quietly beneath her breath, “Would you be m-mine?”

When she nudges his hands away from his lap and straddles him, he’s pretty confident he’s going to have a heart attack and die.

In the eleventh grade, after weeks of her not-so-subtle touches and lewd notes in class, he pressed Meg Dolan into the lockers and kissed her in a moment of curiosity, intrigue, and general hormonal want. When she found him after school and tried to take it further, he almost threw up on her. His freshman year of college, he and Anna had a thing that lasted only a month or so, and it was full of awkward moments and even more awkward almost-sexual encounters. After they broke up, Castiel went on several dates with several different men, and whenever things became the slightest bit sexual, he froze up and stumbled over his words and generally felt so completely like a fish out of water that he could do nothing but sit and wonder what was wrong with him that he couldn’t do this.

Now is no different, but there’s no running away, not when there’s a woman grinding into his lap and running her fingers through his hair, lips moving with sordid, carnal metaphors. But the alcohol’s going to his head, and all he can do is tilt his head back while she leans in, lips brushing hot breath over his ear with every word (I’m sick of laying down alone with this fever). She accentuates the beat by rubbing against him a little more, soon turning around so she’s facing the audience.

Diana is so close that once she’s nicely settled with her legs wide apart, he has to rest his chin on her shoulder. He’s half-hard in his slacks, and the woman’s near-naked bottom pushing achingly into his groin is not helping. She reaches down and grabs one of his hands, placing it on her thigh and moving it up slowly towards her hip, the skin incredibly smooth. Her other hand reaches up and tangles in his hair, and she looks back at him with a huge smile. It’s the first time he notices her eyes, which are bright and the color of grass.

He barely notices that the song is coming to an end. The alcohol has certainly alleviated some of the embarrassment and nervousness (though not all of it), but when she starts to stand, he feels a bit disappointed at the loss. She wiggles her waist a few times with the music, then turns around once more. Cupping the side of his face, she slides her knee between his, moving it up until it presses against his crotch. The last few notes hit, and she swings her other leg up and over his shoulder, letting it dangle on the other side of the chair as she grins devilishly just an inch or so from his lips.

Diana is panting lightly, and as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, Castiel is, too. After a moment, she stands up straight and pulls him up by the lapels of his coat. He’s not sure he can walk properly at this point, but it’s not like he has a choice.

“Thanks for being such a good sport,” she says, giving him a wink.

“You two make such a cute couple!”

If Castiel had the ability to smite someone, he would have struck down his brother right then.

Diana laughs at it, though. Grabbing him by the tie, she guides Cas down the stairs and to his seat, lingering close to him while playing with the fabric in her hands. “Too bad a guy like this probably already has a few dozen chicks flocking after him,” she shrugs.

Castiel gives a subtle shake of his head, but Gabriel (who has had way too much to drink and will be cut off after this) yells, “He’s single and ready to mingle!”

Cas can think of eighteen ways to murder his brother and make it look like an accident.

“Well then,” Diana purrs darkly, and she caresses his cheek and neck with her free hand, “you ever want to fix that, you can look me up, Cas.”

She gives him a wink, then presses a kiss against his cheek, leaving a perfect red print of her lips on his skin. It quickly blends in as Castiel blushes, staring wide-eyed at her as she walks back up to the catwalk and struts away, hips swaying exaggeratedly. He watches her go, then quickly snaps his gaze to the new drink on the table and gulps it down.

The rest of the show is quite enjoyable, though Castiel keeps thinking of Diana’s hips and eyes, and he’s given minimal effort to rubbing the lipstick off his face. Jo brings the entertainment to a close, and she invites all the customers to stay and drink some more. While Anna and Balthazar seem spent and ready to go home, Gabriel’s face is flushed and he’s busy hitting on anyone who walks too close to their table. Cas believes he himself has reached “intoxicated” by now, and so when his brother asks if he wants to stay, he has no problem slurring, “Of course.”

After all, Diana said to look her up, didn’t she?

He decides not to drink for the rest of the night, hoping to sober up a bit before he gets home (and maybe fend off a hangover by drinking a lot of water). The four continue their chat from earlier, and Castiel finds it easier to talk-or, rather, he finds more to talk about. He’s not shy, but he tends to be quiet, so when he starts to go on rants about politics, campus food, and his thoughts on animal cloning, his friends regard him with amusement. Leave it to Castiel to get drunk and talk about things no one else cares about.

Still, his thoughts drift back to Diana. He wonders what she’s like-what she’s really like. Is that really her up there or is it just an act? Does she always dress as a woman or is it just for the show? What if they went on a date? What would happen then? She seems very sexual. Would she be expecting that?

An hour or so passes before the party’s conversation is interrupted. It’s a young man who appears incredibly out of place in a room full of campy cross-dressers and ritzy-looking customers. He looks nothing like the type who would frequent such a place, dressed in jeans, boots, and a green jacket, a strange amulet hanging from his neck. Castiel stares at him, looking at the familiar eyes that quickly run over him before they go to Anna.

Cas blinks in confusion when his redheaded friend stands to hug the stranger and exchanges pleasantries with him. After a moment, the man turns to face them, running a hand through his brown hair.

“So, did you guys like the show?” he asks. Balthazar and Gabriel emphatically nod and praise, but the youngest Novak continues to stare. The man looks back at him, then gives a suggestive grin. “Bet you really did, huh, Cas?”

Castiel is taken aback by the use of his name, head quirking to the side in question.

“Do I know you?” he asks curiously.

“Oh, my bad. I guess you wouldn’t recognize me. The name’s Dean,” replies the stranger, but Cas still doesn’t understand. “If you need me to grind against your lap again to remind you, I wouldn’t mind.”

The blush is immediate, and the young man leans back in his chair while keeping eye contact. Now that it’s pointed out, he realizes why those forest-green eyes and the curve of the jaw were so familiar; he was up close and personal with them just a couple hours ago. Surprisingly, however, he’s not as embarrassed as he was earlier. In fact, the blush is quick to disappear, replaced with a leisurely smile.

“Do you two know each other?” he asks, looking between Anna and Dean.

His smirk fades to a fond smile and Dean nods, gently elbowing the woman’s side. “Yeah, Anna and I go back.” He then looks between the other two men at the table. “Now, which one of you’s Gabriel?”

The man in question is quick to reply, a huge shit-eating grin on his face as he chirps, “That’s a-me!”

“Huh,” Dean mutters, glancing him over. “I thought you’d be taller.”

Gabriel rolls his eyes. “Never heard that one before,” he grumbles. “What’s the look for?”

“Sammy’s told me stories about you.”

“Oh, well, that explains it.”

There’s a beat of silence, and Dean turns to give Anna’s arm an affectionate squeeze. “Well, I’m heading out. The show kicked my ass. I’ll see you guys-“

“We should get burgers.”

The words are out of Castiel’s mouth before he knows what’s happening.

Dean raises a brow, looking at the other man rather skeptically. “What?”

“We should go out together to a grill and acquire cheeseburgers,” Cas says a bit louder. “You’re very attractive.”

The brunette scrunches his face in thought, glancing around. “Uh, I don’t really-“

“Hey, Dean-o, come here. I wanna talk to you.”

Gabriel stands up and quickly wraps an arm around the man, dragging him away and to the bar. Once they are far enough away that Cas can’t even see so much as hear them, Gabe turns to the perfomer, gripping his arms.

“Take him out to dinner.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, the man rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “Look, dude, I’m sure your brother’s a nice guy, but I don’t date customers.”

“Well, he’s not really a customer. He’s not paying for shit, and he’ll probably never be back again. Q-E-D, not a customer.”

Dean gives a short chuckle. “That’s some interesting logic you got there, but I think I’ll pass. Look, dude’s hot, but that stuff up there is all just a show. I’m not interested in going out with a customer.”

Rolling his eyes, Gabriel glances back at the table. “Look. He’s a nerdy virgin who needs to go on a date. You do that for me, and I’ll owe you one. Ask your bro: if a guy needs something, anything, I can get it. And I also know where you live, so there will be no need for me to sneak into your house and plant a hornet’s nest in your pillow.” He grins. “So, what do you say?”

Dean inhales deeply, glancing over in Castiel’s direction. He finally rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Fine, but only because you’re Sam’s friend. One date, that’s it. But I hope you know I don’t do the whole relationship thing. If your brother’s expecting that, he’s shit out of luck.”

The shorter man gives a triumphant smile as he pumps his fist. “Great! Let’s go, then.” And without another word, he saunters (well, as much as a wasted twenty-something can saunter) back to the table, his usual devious smile plastered to his face.

Dean follows, flashing Castiel a half-hearted smile as he walks up. “When do you wanna get burgers?” he asks.

The messy-haired Novak stops suspiciously glaring at his brother to look up at the man, eyes brightening significantly. “Tomorrow night,” he states, “at Hoover’s Grill.”

The brunette gives a small smirk, then nods. “Alright. How’s seven?”

“I will be there.”

Dean raises his eyebrows briefly in an expression that Castiel doesn’t understand before looking to the rest of the table. “Well, guys, I’ll see you later. Like I said, I need to head out. Take care of yourselves.”

Everyone but Castiel, who has fallen into a habit of staring silently at Dean, says their goodbyes. Once the man is gone, Balthazar grabs his friend’s shoulder and leans in slightly.

“See? Drinking is wonderful.”

Castiel rolls his eyes, slumping slightly in his chair. He’ll probably regret setting this up once he’s sober, but for now, there’s something settling in his stomach, something hopeful and blissful and somewhat excited. He’s been on dates before (even though he and Dean didn’t actually call this a date), but the alcohol leaves him with a certain confidence in himself, something that alleviates a bit of his stress and anxiety at the idea of going out with someone. It will fade in the morning, but for now, he is simply basking in the fact that it was him, for once, that actually asked someone out.