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Dean Winchester had just turned 22 And what better way to celebrate than shots, noise, and flashing lights with his friends at a strip club in downtown Lawrence?
He was all laughs and grins, leaning back in the red leather booth sipping something too sweet when his friends got it in their heads to do something memorable. They all knew he was into guys, and before he could stop it some muscled dancer in glitter and black boots was grinding on his lap, slow and sultry.
Dean tried to enjoy it. Really. But it wasn’t the dancer that had his stomach in knots and his heart doing double time.
It was him. that man in the corner, sitting alone at a table with one glass of whiskey. Dark trench coat. Blue eyes that hadn’t left Dean all night.
The second Dean excused himself and headed to the bathroom, he hoped cold water would fix it. That it would calm the heat crawling under his skin.
But no such luck.
The door creaked behind him and when he looked up, there he was.
“You okay?” the man asked, voice low and rough.
Dean blinked. “Yeah. Thanks.”
The man took a step forward, slow like a predator. “So… you’re aroused because of the dancer?”
Dean scoffed. “No.”
the man moved in, one hand curling around the back of Dean’s neck firm but slow, pulling him just close enough to feel the heat between them.
And he said . “You’re warm.”
Dean tried to move back but hit the sink The man leaned in, eyes roaming Dean’s flushed cheeks.
“You’re blushing.”
Dean’s breath caught.
Then a hand on his waist. Close. Too close.
“You’re breathing heavier now,” the man said. His voice was almost a whisper.
Dean swallowed. “Don’t touch me.”
But he didn’t move.
And neither did the stranger.
He leaned in and kissed him.
Dean kissed him back.
Until he didn’t. He shoved him lightly away, panting. “I can’t…”
The man smirked softly and turned to go. “Then go handle it yourself.”
He reached the door when a voice stopped him.
“Don’t go.”
And that’s all it took to have dean to his house.
They didn’t speak much on the drive. Just glances, quiet tension, the city lights flickering over Dean’s face.
In this man’s apartment modern sharp too clean. they finally crashed into each other again , Mouths hungry , Hands greedy.
But before anything else, the man—paused.
“Are you drunk?”
Dean blinked. “No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Then answer my question.” His voice was firm now. “Are you dating anyone?”
Dean frowned. “What are you trying to do?”
“I’m not doing anything if you’re taken. Or not conscious enough to say no.”
“I’m not.” Dean’s voice softened. “I’m not seeing anyone.”
This man’s hand slid to Dean’s waist, gripping tighter. “Do you know where you are?”
Dean nodded. “Yeah.”
Their breath hitched between them. Then they kissed again hotter, deeper.
Clothes hit the floor.
Dean’s fingers curled into the back of this man’s neck as he straddled him on the bed. When he tugged at his shirt and pulled it over his head, his eyes caught the black ink between his shoulder blades angel wings, perfectly drawn, spanning the curve of his back.
Dean swallowed.
the man looked back, catching the awe in his face.
“Call me Castiel,” he murmured.
And then he kissed him again deeper slower this time like he had all night to taste him.
_____________
They didn’t fall asleep right after.
They lay tangled in warm sheets and silence, Dean’s head on Castiel’s chest, listening to his heartbeat.
Dean chuckled softly. “So. Just to confirm. You don’t actually work at the club?”
Castiel smiled against his hair. “No. I was there to forget someone. I didn’t expect to find you instead.”
Dean lifted his head, brows raised. “So what now?”
Castiel looked at him for a long moment. “Now I make you breakfast. And then, if you want, I ask for your number.”
Dean smiled. He leaned in and kissed him one more time. gentle now. Familiar.
“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I want too .”