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Okay. Dean might have gotten himself into a situation where he was in over his head. Maybe. Just… Just a little bit.
It was hard to blame him, since this was the first time he and his best friend had been able to go out in ages. He and Charlie had been so caught up in finals at the university that they’d barely had time to eat and sleep, let alone go out to a club and get some drinks together. Sue Dean for wanting to hang out with his best friend after what felt like a solid month of hellish studying and testing.
Of course, it probably would have been better if he’d gotten some sleep before he’d gone out, but no one had ever accused Dean of making good decisions for himself. Charlie’s finals had finished a day before his, so she’d had a good twenty-four hours to sleep off the residual stress and exhaustion of their testing marathon. Dean… Well, he couldn’t quite remember when he’d slept for more than three hours straight. It wasn’t good, whenever it was.
So yeah, he was a little out of it. It didn’t help that he hadn’t gone into subspace since the frantic studying phase of finals had started. Usually, Dean could scene every month or so with a stranger he picked up at a bar and take care of himself between then, but the increased stress plus the prolonged period without subspace meant that his body was seriously messed up right now. Dean wasn’t sure what his brain wanted more: to be taken under, or to sleep. Maybe both at the same time, if that was even possible.
As he sat at the bar and woozily tried to keep up with Charlie’s rapidfire rundown of her dinner date with her girlfriend last night, Dean mentally cursed himself for not updating his sticker board. He kept a board of star stickers—yes, it was straight out of kindergarten, and no, he didn’t give a damn—to help his inner submissive function without a Dom. The simple system of objective-and-reward kept Dean on track with healthy eating and stuff, and it also helped him stay sane. He was proud to say that he’d mostly kept up on his list of tasks even amidst the haze of finals.
He hadn’t taken the time to update the board, though, and his inner submissive was starving for the reward-feeling that came with putting stickers on the “completed” side of the chart. Dean’s skin itched a little, like it was just a tad too tight. Dean had been tapping one finger against the side of his beer for a while, a testament to how unbalanced his hormones and energy levels were.
“Dean?” Charlie asked, snapping Dean out of the unfocused haze of thought that he’d fallen into. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, sorry. Just zoned out a little,” Dean said. He blinked hard a few times, trying to get rid of the heavy feeling in his eyelids. “What were you sayin’? She saw that teddy bear in the candy aisle?”
“Oh, yeah. So Gilda saw the teddy bear, right? And of course, being the good girlfriend I am…” Charlie kept talking, and Dean sort of zoned out again despite his best attempts not to, his mind too exhausted to stay focused for long.
The music in the club was loud enough that Charlie had to speak up to be heard, but not loud enough to make Dean’s ears ache. The bass of it reverberated pleasantly in his chest, the rolling thunder sound acting like white noise. Dean’s beer had long ago gone warm in his hand, the label softened with condensation. He’d only had half of it. In an attempt to get his fingers to stop their tapping, Dean nudged the bottle away, figuring he could finish it later if he really wanted to.
It was kind of crowded at the bar, so everyone was packed in tight. Charlie was pressed up right next to Dean, and Dean was brushing up against the guy to his left. The closeness of everything and the warmth of the atmosphere was not helping his attempts to stay alert and awake. His inner submissive was lulled into a sense of safety and haziness by the drowsy sort of spell that had fallen over him.
Charlie made an exclamation, and Dean’s attention was jerkily pulled back, like the head of someone falling asleep sitting upright. “I see Benny and Andrea!” Charlie was saying. The switch was craning her neck, searching out their friends in the crowd. “I’m gonna go say hi. Watch my drink for me, will you?”
Dean mumbled something like an affirmation and reached out clumsily to stick a napkin over Charlie’s drink before he forgot. His eyelids were heavy as fuck, and the low lighting of the club meant that Dean could very well fall asleep right here. He’d hate to do that and leave his friend’s drink unattended.
Dean’s balance was a little fucked, since his head was kinda dizzy and his eyelids were still super heavy. He ended up leaning back and against something very warm, which was kinda nice. He had enough mind to try to pull himself up slightly, but he was tired and he only ended up leaning against that warm thing again when his muscles decided it wasn’t worth the fight to sit up and stay sitting up.
Dean heard a quiet noise of surprise. “Are you alright?” a voice asked, right in his left ear. It was a man, someone with a really low, really gravelly voice that sent happy little shivers down Dean’s spine.
“Mmm,” Dean mumbled sleepily. “Mmhmm.”
In the back of his mind, he knew he should probably sit up and apologize. He was definitely leaning pretty heavily against the guy sitting next to him, but he was too tired to care. His inner submissive was thrilled at the warm, solid weight beside him. Dean’s submission instincts and general exhaustion were melting together into one soft, sleepy puddle. He leaned his heavy head to the side and sighed as it came to rest on something solid and warm.
“Shut up, Gabriel,” that voice said again, though Dean had a feeling it was directed at someone else. “I think he’s asleep. He’s probably exhausted from finals or something.”
Dean hummed, hazily confirming that assumption, though he was sure the noise got lost in the loudness of the club surrounding them. His eyes had slipped shut at some point, and it felt too good to have them closed for him to try to wake up. God, he was tired. When was the last time he’d had any real sleep?
A hand on his forehead startled him, sending a brief jolt of adrenaline through him that quickly dissipated into sleepy exhaustion after only a few seconds. The hand stayed there for a moment, then stroked tentatively through his hair, gentle and light.
Dean gave a soft little sigh of contentment, and the surface he was resting against vibrated with a chuckle. “Hello, sweetheart,” the man said with something like fondness in his low voice. “I’m unsure as to why you’ve chosen me as your pillow for tonight, but I can’t say I have anything to complain about.”
“Is he seriously asleep?” Dean heard someone say.
“Yes, I think so. He’s exhausted,” the voice said. Dean tried to lift his head a little, figuring he should at least make an attempt, but his skull felt like it weighed a million pounds. The hand in his hair stroked him gently, fingernails scratching his scalp lightly. “Shh, honey, it’s okay. You can rest here for a while, I don’t mind.”
Some part of Dean, the submissive part, was soothed by that statement. There was something about the man he was leaning against that called to him, the kind of quiet strength that Dean had always liked when choosing Dominants as partners. Though Dean hadn’t really asked, he still felt better knowing that he had permission to be here, permission to lay against this man’s chest and be petted softly.
And he was being petted. There was no other way of describing the way the stranger’s hand stroked through his hair, gentle and soothing, the perfect amount of pressure. It was everything Dean wanted, the exact thing his inner submissive had needed to send him careening into that soft, quiet place in his head where everything was nice and safe. He made a quiet noise and leaned closer to the touch on instinct, delighting when a strong, warm arm slipped around his waist to hold him steady.
“You seem like a very good boy, honey,” that voice rumbled, close to his ear and low enough to send goosebumps skating across Dean’s skin. “I’m honored by the amount of trust you’ve placed in me, even without meaning to.” There was a pause, and when the man spoke again, there was considerably less surety in his voice. “I… sincerely hope that you’re alright and that you’re just tired. If you’ve been drugged, I’m glad that at the very least you’re here with me.”
The word “drugged” brought to mind Charlie’s drink. Dean tried to peel his eyes open to check on her drink, to make sure the napkin hadn’t been fucked with, but he hadn’t been kidding when he’d thought his eyelids were a hundred pounds. It was nearly impossible to open them, and even harder to keep them that way. A soft, distressed whine left his throat, and the man holding him shushed him gently.
“I’m gonna go, Cassie,” a voice said. “Kali is texting me, and I think I’m gonna get lucky tonight. Make sure you get this kid’s number, yeah?”
“Gabriel—”
“Shut up, I see the heart eyes you’re making. His number, or give him yours. Or I’ll kick your ass tomorrow and hunt him down myself.”
Dean heard the scrape of a chair, barely audible over the sound of the music. The man holding him sighed, his chest expanding pleasantly underneath Dean’s shoulder. His hand, which had paused in its ministrations when he’d been talking to Gabriel, resumed petting Dean.
“You really are a sweetheart,” the mystery man said. Dean felt the brush of lips against his temple, the sensation pleasant yet far away. “Such a good boy.”
Dean would have been content to stay like that forever, but the sudden presence of a very familiar, very angry voice ripped him out of that soft, happy place where he’d been floating in his head. “Who the fuck are you?” Charlie’s voice screeched somewhere behind Dean. “Did you do something to my friend?”
“No, no, I swear,” the mystery man said, going tense underneath Dean. “He fell asleep on me, I promise I didn’t do anything. I… I…” He trailed off, sounding lost.
Dean’s eyelids still felt like they weighed a million pounds, but this time, he fought through the drowsiness to blink blearily at his friend, who was staring at him in a mixture of disbelief and fury. “Dean?” she asked, her voice making him wince. “Are you okay? Did he—Did he drug you or something?”
“No, no,” Dean slurred, shaking his head weakly as he forced himself to sit up. He winced. His lower back muscles really ached, now that he was paying attention to them. “Sorry, Red. I didn’t… Shit, man, I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”
He turned around to apologize to the guy he’d apparently fallen asleep on—which was pretty horrifying, now that his brain wasn’t so foggy with exhaustion—but the second he laid eyes on the guy, the words sort of died in his throat.
It was a Dom that he’d been leaning on, which he’d sort of intuitively guessed. What Dean hadn’t guessed was that the guy would be absolutely fucking gorgeous. Unruly black hair, piercing blue eyes, chapped pink lips pulled into a small, gentle smile… Christ, the man was like a fucking angel from Heaven or something.
“Shit,” Dean mumbled, still not entirely in control of himself.
“Are you alright, honey? I never did get to check in with you. You kind of just… passed out on me. Literally,” the man said. Dean was too fucking caught up on the pet name “honey” to really get the rest of it, but he understood enough to nod awkwardly.
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry, man. Seriously, I didn’t mean to do that.” Okay, yeah, Dean’s face was probably red as a cherry fucking tomato. It was bad enough that the guy could probably see it even in the dim light of the club.
“Dean Winchester!” Charlie fumed behind him, and shit, yeah, Dean had forgotten his friend. “Are you telling me you somehow fell asleep on a stranger?”
“Yeah,” Dean said, ducking his head a little. Even though Charlie was only a switch, she could be pretty Dom-y when she was angry. And she certainly seemed like it now. “Sorry, Red. Seriously, I didn’t mean to. I was just, um… I was just really tired. I swear, I tried to stay awake.”
“I’m not mad about that,” Charlie said. “Well, I kind of am, but mostly I’m just mad you let me drag you along when you were tired enough to keel over! Why didn’t you tell me you needed sleep?” She glared at him, and before he could answer, she sighed. “Never mind, I already know. You and your need to please have got to get under control, Dean Winchester. Good God.”
“Sorry,” Dean said again. It was probably possible to feel the warmth coming off his face right now just by sitting a few feet away. He imagined himself kinda like a stove, just radiating heat and embarrassment. Christ, he wished he could sink into the floor and disappear.
“Come on,” Charlie said, and she sounded less angry and more exasperated now. “We’ve gotta get you home before you fall off your barstool or something. Say bye to the handsome stranger guy.”
Christ, could she be any more of a pain in the ass? Shooting Charlie a dirty look, Dean turned awkwardly to the mystery dude, managing to choke out, “Sorry again, man. Thanks for, um… For bein’ cool and everything. I gotta go. Sorry.”
“Wait, one second,” the mystery guy said. He reached into the pocket of his dark jeans and fished around for a second, coming up with a pen. Before Dean could do anything, the man had snagged the napkin Dean had been given with the pretzels he’d ordered earlier, using it to scribble something that he eventually slid over. “For the future. Only if you’re interested, of course.”
Dean blinked, staring at the napkin. Castiel Novak, it said. There was a number, too. A fucking smiley face. Jesus Christ, forget being a stove, Dean was gonna melt down like a Goddamn second Chernobyl right then and there.
“Dean, let’s go.” Thank God for Charlie. Fuck all the other stuff Dean had been thinking before, he was grateful for his friend again. She grabbed his arm, since he was a dumbass and had forgotten how walking worked. Dean sort of half-stumbled after her as she began to drag him toward the doors of the club.
Dean turned his head just as they were about to disappear into the crowd, looking back at the mystery guy—Castiel, the napkin said—one last time. He was watching from the bar, and when he saw Dean looking, he smiled kindly and gave a little wave. Still dumb with exhaustion and the daze that came with even being looked at by someone as beautiful as Castiel, Dean gave a tentative wave back. The crinkle-eyed grin he got in return made him feel warm all the way down to the bottom of his stomach.
The night air sobered him a little when Charlie eventually dragged him outside, and as they waited for an Uber, Dean looked down at the napkin Castiel had given him.
“What is that?” Charlie asked, craning her neck a little to see it.
“‘S nothing,” Dean said, tucking the napkin into his pocket and giving her a small, tired smile. “Just somethin’ for the future.”