Chapter Text
Dean was a bundle of tightly strung nerves. He had re-buttoned his simple uniform shirt twice because he kept skipping a button and had almost put his personal items in the wrong locker despite the golden name-plates on the front of each door. He nearly jumped right out of his skin when a delicate hand landed on his shoulder.
“Jeez, you're tense.” Charlie squeezed his shoulder before sitting on the bench next to him in the middle of the locker room which was cold like a damn meat freezer- “Dean, you know you don't have to do this, right?” He clenched his jaw slightly and tried to smile to reassure her, but he couldn't stop the way his fingers fiddled with the soft bands on his wrists nonstop. Charlie leaned forward and grabbed his hands. “You don't have to do this.” She repeated as her red hair, pulled up in a ponytail for work, slid behind her shoulder. The thick piece of gauze taped to her neck was lightly spotted with red. Dean couldn't stop staring.
“Hey! Winchester get out of your head and listen to me.” She fixed him with a wide-eyed glare and waited for Dean to actually look at her face. “Just because I took the dive into individual clients doesn't mean that you have to.” She slapped his bicep where a gold band on his sleeve could be clearly seen. The color was a signal that Dean would only be allowing wrist-access. Charlie's shirt sleeve bore a black band which meant that she would allow throat-access, but only to specific clients. “As long as you've got this, no one is going to touch your neck. The usual crowd may get rowdy from time to time, but they are still really polite about feeding off strangers.” Dean took one of his hands back so he could drag it over his face before getting to his feet, but Charlie still had her eyebrows knit with concern. “Look, Sam would understand-”
“I'm going to do this, alright?” Dean snapped a little harshly before dragging an apologetic smile on. “So, stop trying to talk me out of it.” he laughed, but they both could hear the anxious undertones. Charlie was one of Dean's oldest friends. She was the one who recommended working at the party when Dean had cracked and told her that he was struggling to get by while trying to support Sammy in college. Charlie sighed but stood up as well, snatching an apple from the snack table beside the door and leading the way into the decorative hall towards the main room. They stopped in front of the large, gilded double doors and Charlie turned to him with determination.
“I've seen you charm the pants off women more times than I can count, even men have trouble resisting your charm. It's going to be the same thing here. Some gorgeous people will flock to you, ask for a bite—which you have the right to say no to them—you'll feel the prick of fangs which, I'm not gonna lie, will hurt, but then the natural numbing agent in their saliva should start up and they'll be done and out of your hair before you know it. You might get dizzy after they've had a few rounds, so make sure to stay hydrated and if you need to, go back to the locker room and have some snacks and rest, or just go home. The job contract only requires one drink for the first payment, after that you don't even need to stay the night to get enough to take the edge off your bills this month. Okay?” Dean nodded and Charlie squeezed his shoulder one last time before saying “And don't punch anyone!” and continuing down the hall to the private rooms and her list of personal clients.
Dean stared at the gold handle on the door for a few minutes before cursing under his breath and opening the damn thing. He slipped into the next room and froze. The manor that had been reserved for the party was classically old-fashioned and the clientele roaming about gracefully looked to be made up solely of models, lawyers, doctors and whatever the Hell else could look powerful, terrifying, and sexy all at once. Dean swallowed roughly, his mouth already dry, as he commanded his legs to set off in the direction of the center of the room where some of the other workers of the evening were talking and laughing like they weren't surrounded by a bunch of... well, Dean had prided himself on not using the word 'monsters' anymore when referring to vampires, but nothing could ever stop him from seeing them as definite predators.
A few of the workers noticed him and beckoned him closer. They were kind enough to re-explain what Charlie had told him, but Dean couldn't help the anxious feeling that made his heart beat double-time and what made it worse was the fact that he knew that every vampire in the room could hear his damn near heart attack. A pretty blonde lady in a simple, black satin dress smiled at him and Dean thought about Sam's tired but happy expression every time Dean found the time to visit... and he smiled back invitingly. The blonde walked up to him, eyes flashing to his throat for a moment before sliding down his chest and arms and seeing the gold band. She pouted, but it was more playful than anything else and made his smile a little more genuine.
“Evening, handsome. Mind if I have a drink?” She fluttered her long dark eyelashes at him, her smoky eye-shadow making the hungry tint of red in her eyes pop. Dean didn't really trust his voice by this point, so he slid off his right wrist-band, baring the sensitive skin there and offering it to her with a mostly automatic wink. She took his hand in her own small, beautifully manicured ones and brought his wrist forward to her mouth. Dean squeezed his eyes shut and waited, but nothing came. No pricking pain or burning racing up his veins as the woman drank. His eyes flashed open to see the woman wasn't even looking at him, her face turned to the crowd before she nodded curtly to someone and dropped Dean's hand and walked away. Dean blinked for a couple of moments staring after the retreating figure, dumbfounded.
“What the-”
“Evening.” A gruff voice greeted from behind him and Dean nearly bit his tongue off. Shit, he didn't even hear anyone approach from behind him and the floor was tile so it was impossible to not make at least a little sound. Dean's breath and his returning greeting got caught up tightly in his throat as he turned to meet a pair of the bluest eyes he had ever seen. The man standing before him was slightly shorter than him, but Dean didn't think for a moment that hidden underneath that unassuming trench-coat was anything less than an extremely powerful creature that could end his life as fast as pinching out a candle flame.
Dean's work contract had mentioned that sometimes 'alphas,' or vampires closer to the first generation, would make appearances at parties and that all workers must treat them with the utmost respect. There aren't many alphas left in the U.S. so Dean, in his state of absolute panic a week prior to the party, had Googled all of them. The one before him was one of the oldest; a man named Castiel Novak. The few pictures of him that had been filed online did the man little justice. His face looked like it had been sculpted out of marble, his jawline sharp and in need of a shave, but the five-o'clock shadow was not harming Dean's suddenly very excited libido one bit. His hair was probably the most irritating part of the man because the messy, just rolled out of bed style made Dean's fingers twitch with want as he imagined threading through the thick black strands and tugging the man's pouty pink mouth just a little closer... Dean quickly tore that thought to shreds and mentally shook himself before his eyes snapped back to the almost glowing blue irises. Dean was taken aback by the amusement playing through them now, as if Castiel was very aware of where his mind was just heading. It took a few more moments and a raised eyebrow from Castiel to realize that he had just been standing and staring at the alpha.
“Um, evening, sir.” Dean scrambled to reply, hoping he hadn't already pissed off the highest grade client in the room. Castiel smiled, a small tilt of his lips that Dean might have missed if he hadn't been paying such close attention. And by the way that his smile tilted up just a fraction on one side into a smirk, the man was very aware of said attention. Dean looked down at his shoes before strong, calloused fingers gently took him by the chin and tiled his head back up again. Castiel waited for eye contact once more before speaking.
“This is your first time attending a party.” it wasn't a question, but Dean answered anyway.
“Yes.” he breathed out as Castiel's thumb rubbed over his jawline before pulling away and leaving his skin feeling oddly cold. None of Dean's research had prepared him for how warm a vampire's touch could be. Dean had expected to be touched by cold and clammy hands for the night, but the blonde woman had been around room temperature and Castiel was at another level entirely, feeling almost like he had a fever. How could she feel so ordinary while Castiel felt as if a fire was burning low under his skin just waiting to spread out and scorch anyone who dared defy him.
Was Castiel perhaps the person that the woman had been looking at? Dean was working at the basic level where every client at the party had access to his wrists, so why didn't she just bite him? Out of the corner of his eye he could see her satin-clad form and... was she turned towards him? She looked like she might have been staring... and now that he was looking it seemed like a lot of other vampires were doing the same. With sharp resounding snap of Castiel's fingers, Dean's focus whipped back towards him as multiple vampires calmly took a step back, none of them so much as coming close to looking at Dean's face anymore. Of course that was weird and intimidating, but Dean still had a job to do so he threw on a well-worn veil of charm and moved forward. “Feeling a little peckish, sir?” The vampire tilted his head to the side in an owlish form of consideration. There seemed to be a spark in his eyes as he slowly gave Dean a once over that had his skin flushing as he resisted the urge tug on his suddenly very tight shirt collar.
“I think I'd like to have a drink, if you would allow it.” Castiel spoke politely, leaving the choice up to Dean. Despite the hunger that was laced into his rough voice, Dean couldn't spot a single speck of red in the alpha's irises. Dean had been around vampires before, kind of impossible not have a run in with at least one when they make up at least a fourth of the population, but he had never seen such control especially when it came to feeding urges. Perhaps Castiel had already had his fill? But then why did he want to drink from Dean? “I like to think that I have a bit more control over my hunger then the fledglings. I assume this will be the first time you've been bitten and I wish to take it upon myself to show you that we aren't so terrible.” Dean wasn't exactly swaying, but he felt a little hypnotized by Castiel's voice. It had been proven various times that vampires don't have the power to actually compel people anymore than humans can, but Dean felt something awfully strong building up. “Do you think you could trust me?” Sure Castiel wasn't human, but all he wanted was a quick drink. Charlie had said the bite would hurt a little, but Dean wouldn't be in any real danger. And if Dean played his cards right, he might even get a bonus for bagging an alpha and start saving up for the new textbooks that Sam would need next semester. Steeling his nerve, he reached out to grasp the offered hand with a warm smile, all smooth charm on the surface with twitching nerves underneath.
“Trusting someone as gorgeous as you sounds like a bad idea, but I suppose I could try, sir.” Castiel's laugh was almost worth the embarrassing honesty.