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It is Castiel’s 27th birthday. Nothing special about it, if you ask Castiel himself. But no one ever seems to do just that, and that’s why he is now blindfolded and led into another den of iniquity that Gabriel frequents. Or so Castiel thinks at least, going by the music pulsing in his ears, mixed with people shouting and hollering, and the small portions of lights that seeps through his blindfold in small bursts. Green. Yellow. Purple. Pink. Blue. Green again. He is led into a new room, apparently, because the light becomes constant and soft and not blinking and the sound of partying people thins out, replaced by soft music, sounding familiar. It takes him a minute before recognizing it, it's Lady in Red. Hmm. Gabriel positions him in a chair and finally removes the scarf tied over his eyes.
“Gabriel..-“ Castiel begins warningly. He wishes that Anna still lived close, and not in Florida. She’d never drag him to a night club, or worse. Was this place even a night club? Leather couches, red lights, painted windows. Oh crap. It was probably worse than your average downtown nightclub.
“Yes, brother dear?” Gabriel answers, his usual cheerful self, completely aware that Castiel probably wants to rip his throat out with his bare hands.
“Is this what I think this is?” Castiel asks, trying to suppress his anger. Gabriel raises a brow at him. Alright, perhaps not so good at the suppressing part.
“Depends what you think, but probably yeah,” Gabriel grins, winking at him. “Got you set up for a private show and all!” He continues, carefully moving out of Castiel’s reach.
“You- You got me… You got me a stripper, Gabriel?” Castiel all but shouts, feeling his face warm up and turn red.
“It’s not every day one’s kid brother turns the respectable age of 27 you know! I got you a real good-lookin’ guy too, not the average Joe,” Gabriel says, this time actually laughing out loud. “I’ll be right outside, don’t go anywhere!” The shorter blond turns and leaves Castiel alone in a room reeking of cologne and sweat.
Alright. A stripper. Well. That’s nice... No, no it’s not. It’s not Castiel’s thing at all. He’s a god darn kindergarten teacher. So yeah, he can handle glitter. But like, on stickers. Not on male strippers. He knows that this is Gabriel’s way of showing his love. Honestly? He could blame himself, for complaining to Gabriel a couple of weeks earlier about his non-existent sex life. At least it’s not a hooker… No, he can’t do this. It’s wrong.
Castiel rises from the chair, picking the scarf up and turning it in his hands as he decides. Gabriel means well, but this just feels wrong. So Castiel sneaks out from the room, and past Gabriel, who’s found company in a beautiful Indian-looking woman, who seems fairly uninterested. With Castiel’s experience though, Gabriel’s charm and puppy eyes will probably win, and she’ll allow him to buy her a drink, and Castiel must listen to all of it tomorrow, how she swooned and how easy it was for Gabriel, ever the bragging one.
Finally out on the street again, Castiel takes a deep breath as he wraps the scarf around his neck. It’s a chilly September day, but at least the sun’s out. He walks aimlessly around the town center and not before long he finds himself holed up in his usual reading chair next to the window in the small coffee shop on the corner, adjoined with the book shop. He has spent countless hours in that chair, reading everything from Shakespeare to Astrid Lindgren to Clive Cussler. That chair is his haven from home, where he unwinds after a long day with the children at the kindergarten.
He’s halfway through his new copy of 1984 when he hears a voice addressing him.
“Hey, uhm, is this seat taken?” An Adonis of a man stands before him, pointing at the old stuffed reading chair opposite his. Castiel blinks, once, twice, before nodding. The man turns to leave, when Castiel realizes that he hadn’t heard a word.
“Sorry, I- uh, did you ask something?” he says, hoping that he didn’t insult Adonis. Adonis chuckles, before placing himself in the empty chair.
“I was just asking if I could sit here, but I assume that I can. Quite the thing you have for that book, I can’t compete with that apparently!” Adonis says, a smile spreading from his lips, creating crow feet by his eyes.
“Oh, yes, it’s- I want to say that I enjoy it, but that would feel wrong. Because it’s horrible. The story. Not as in bad written or anything. Just, imagine living like that, like Winston does. It’s captivating, but depressing, I think. Imagine not remembering what’s real and what’s not, because someone brainwashes everyone.” Castiel says, realizing too late that he’s rambling. And apparently reviewing a book, to a stranger. An Adonis of a stranger. But still. The man just laughs, nodding approvingly.¨
“Yeah, seems like a shitty life. Just wait until the last chapter, I thought about that for ages. I still do sometimes.” Adonis muses, lifting his cup of coffee to take a sip. He sticks his tongue out to see if it’s still too hot, and apparently it is. “Shit, that was hot!” Adonis exclaims, wetting his lips with his burned tongue, dragging it along his teeth, wincing at the pain. Castiel can’t help himself, and laughs at the man, trying to soothe his tongue, but to no avail.
“You know, try and eat yoghurt or drink some milk. I think that helps.” Castiel suggests. The man nods.
“Mhm, ‘m ‘er’ain,” Adonis mumbles, talking with his tongue out. It would be so easy to just lean forwards, over the table, and take that tongue into his own mouth, soothing it with his own. But Castiel doesn’t. He never does anything, according to Gabriel, hence the stripper he guesses. Castiel turns back to his book, the persistent frown appearing again. He only gets to read another half a page before he’s interrupted again.
“So, what is a man like you doing here, reading a book all alone on a Saturday evening?” Adonis asks, this time with his tongue back where it belongs. Castiel looks up, meeting Adonis’ green eyes, frowning even more.
“It’s my birthday,” he says, and adds, “and what do you mean ‘a man like you’?”
“Your birthday? Seriously dude, you should be out celebrating!” Adonis answers, ignoring Castiel’s question.
“I was…” Castiel mumbles and the man raises a questioning eye brow at him, which he ignores. “And you? What are you doing here all alone?” Castiel retorts.
“My gig tonight got cancelled, the costumer bailed. But that’s cool, if he hadn’t I wouldn’t be here talking to you, would I?” Adonis smiles that eye-crinkling smile again and Castiel blushes. “But,” Adonis continues, “now tell me, why aren’t you out there doing something grand? It’s only one day a year you’re allowed to spoil yourself in decadence and women, or men, I don’t judge, whatever floats your boat, you know?” Castiel ponders for a moment if he should tell the stranger. Why not, he reasons, he’ll probably never meet him again anyway.
“Well, my brother had plans. He had booked me a stripper and that’s not really my thing, so I snuck out, ending up here.” He says, looking down into his empty coffee cup, trying to find a pattern in the now dried foamed milk. His head snaps up when Adonis snorts with laughter. “What? What did I say?”
“It’s- You’re- Oh my God! You should’ve seen his face! Your brother, when he realized that you’d left-“ Adonis laughs, almost doubling over in his seat. Castiel grows just more and more confused.
“I’m not sure I understand..?” He tries, and the Adonis looks up at him from where he had his head in his hands, still shaking with laughter.
“You’re the costumer that bailed. My costumer, the one that bailed. I’m the stripper, I’m your stripper.” He manages to get out between gasps, clutching his stomach. Castiel turns a deep shade of red, and feels like he wants to sink through the floor.
“W- What?” He squeaks, probably looking terrified. At last Adonis, the stripper, stops laughing and looks at Castiel, smiling reassuringly.
“Hey, it’s cool, I don’t take it personally. And don’t worry; it’s not my only income. I’m actually a mechanic, over at Singer’s.”
“But- Then why-?” Castiel tries, still afraid to talk.
“Why I’m doing it? I only do it two or three times a month. And it’s only for fun, I like making people feel good about themselves, and the attention ain’t that bad. They pay you pretty good too. I’m not doing naked shit, that’s too private. Speaking of, well sort of anyway, I’m Dean!” Adonis, no Dean, says, still smiling slightly at Castiel’s wide eyes.
“My name’s Castiel.” Castiel says, after catching Dean’s expectant look.
“So, uh, Cas, it’s okay if I call you that?” Dean asks. Castiel nods, blushing at the nickname, and Dean continues. “If you don’t mind me asking, why don’t you like getting a strip tease? I won’t be offended, it’s not for everyone, I'm just curious.” Dean smiles his reassuring smile again, urging Castiel to answer.
“I- I guess I don’t like to have to pay people to think I'm pretty,” he begins, looking down at his hands, everywhere but at Dean, ”I want someone to like me for real, and not because they’re getting paid. It just seems fake to me, to be honest, and it seems to lack emotions. I want someone that can turn me on as much emotionally as physically, and for that I need a deeper connection that some dollar bills can provide.”
“Huh,” Dean says when Castiel’s finished, “I never thought about it like that. I can only speak for myself, but I take as much pleasure in it as the observer does, if I didn’t I wouldn’t do it. But sure, I can see what you mean. I sometimes want that deeper connection too, even if I get my thongs filled with dollar bills.” Dean winks and suddenly Castiel has no problem at all imagining Dean in his lap, wearing nothing but a pair of thongs, filled with money. “But it’s not the same, I never sleep with my costumers. Sex is a lot more intimate and I’m a lot shyer in bed than on stage…” Now it’s Dean’s turn to blush.
They stay silent a while after that, no one knowing what to say. Castiel glances at the clock on the wall behind him, shooting up from the chair when he sees the time.
“Crap, I gotta- I mean- Sorry, I just- I have to go, I need to get up early tomorrow, it’s my laundry day, I need to be up at half past six and-“ he mumbles when he gathers his stuff, putting on his trench coat, taking his 1984 in one hand and the scarf in the other. He’s almost out the door when he feels a hand on his shoulder.
“Cas, can I give you my number? It’s just- I had fun tonight, really. And uh, yeah. You’re funny. And hot. And yeah, here!” Dean says, thrusting a napkin in Castiel’s hand and disappearing out the door in front of them before Castiel even can react.
The next morning when Castiel checks the pockets in the jeans he wore the previous day, before tossing them in the machine, he finds Dean’s napkin. Across it, with a number below, written down in haste, is written:
If you’re ever in need of a strip tease, or connecting on a deeper level, call me!
Castiel smiles to himself, and thinks that, perhaps strip teases aren't that bad after all.