I'm sorry this is so late! My family had a yard sale, so this past week was super busy for me. My beta also was very busy, but now the chapter's out! Also GISHWHES started so I've been panicking about that as well.

ANYWAY

As always, plot ideas, ship opinions, gifsets, fanart- all are appreciated. Thanks guys :)

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Dean woke up on Monday morning with elephants stampeding through his stomach. Today was the day that he started his career as a stripper. If someone had told him this time last year that this was where he was going to be, he would've laughed his ass off at them. Told them to fuck off. And look where he was now. 'Life's a bitch, ain't it.'

Sam woke up with a mix of nervousness and excitement coursing through him. Today was the day they started their new jobs, and possibly a new chapter of their lives. If this worked out, money would cease to be a problem; they could move into a new house, get Sam a car, and maybe even get real credit cards. He didn't care that Dean didn't share his optimism- it was rare that he did.

The day passed by in a blur, the brothers going through the motions rather than being one hundred percent there in their activities. Bobby noticed, and told Dean to just go home after he had spilled oil on the floor for the third time. Dean then spent the next couple hours trying (and only partially failing) to resist the temptation to get raging drunk. Sam went through his classes in a daze, unfortunately not learning anything about group-think in his Psychology class. If Jess noticed anything on the way home, she didn't comment, merely reaching over and taking his hand.

Dean was determined not to show Sam how nervous he was, though. All afternoon he kept the talk casual, light, and completely fake. He knew it, and he knew that Sam knew it. Luckily, Sam, too, was too deep in his own thoughts to try and make real conversation with his brother. Once it was time to head over to the club, however, Dean kept silent the whole drive, answering Sam's blasé questions about his day with short replies. Of course, Sam knew what was going on. He knew his brother better than anyone, and he knew that when Dean was inwardly nervous over something, but trying to hide it, he acted exactly like this. Every time.

All too soon the brothers pulled up to the ramshackle building, and stared at it for a moment in silence. It was only 8:45, and as Cas had assured the two, that was a perfectly fine time to show up, as most dancers still wouldn't be there yet. Each was lost in his own thoughts, though one set was decidedly more pessimistic than the other. After a minute, by an unspoken signal, the Winchesters got out of their car and headed off across the parking lot.

They went through the door (manned, as always, by the Hulk), past Balthazar and his smirk, down the steps, down the hall, and into their dressing room. They'd been given their keys to it at their last training day on Saturday. Sam had brought an old-looking gym duffle bag, black and unadorned. Dean had his costume and wings in an old camouflage backpack, no doubt one of their dad's.

Dean and Sam got silently dressed, and could hear quiet chatter as the rooms around them filled up. Dean couldn't help but listen for Cas's deep rumble, because surely he was already here, but he couldn't hear anything decipherable. 'Hopefully he'll come and at least wish us good luck or something.' Dean thought, packing his street clothes back into his bag. Sam was focusing on going over moves and routines in his head, because he was absolutely sure that he would somehow screw up something tonight. Plus, they were dancing in singles tonight, so if he messed up, there was nothing else up there to distract the customers. The possibility of botching it on his first night was what really scared him.

The two started stretching in am extended silence, repeating the motions they'd been taught at training. They had made it almost all the way through when a knock at the door startled them, making Sam jump and hit his head on the counter. Dean opened the door, revealing Cas on the other side. "Hello, Dean. Sam." he greeted, inclining his head. "Are you two getting settled in okay?" The boys could see that he was already in costume, trench coat waving around his legs.

Sam answered in place of Dean, who he knew wouldn't manage to ask anything of importance. "Yea, Cas, thanks. Just, uh… how do we look?" Sam looked a bit embarrassed to be asking that question, and Dean agreed with him. He shuffled his feet as Cas very obviously looked him over, and then Sam.

"You look fine, Sam." he began, and Sam felt a smile tick at his lips, born out of sheer anxiety. "Dean, you look good as well, although…." Dean was apprehensive when he saw Cas whirl back into his room and poke around on his counter. He returned a moment later with a bottle of what Dean was surprised to see was hair gel. Sam chuckled at Dean's obvious indignance.

Dean held up a hand as Cas squeezed some onto his fingers, making the blue-eyed dancer freeze. "Um… why?" he asked. He'd never really styled his hair before, always keeping it relatively short. He was no Sasquatch like Sam.

Shrugging, Cas advanced on Dean. "It is something that Crowley has said that customers enjoy. He calls it sex hair." Cas's tone showed that he didn't put much stock into Crowley's observation. Dean hesitantly lowered his arm, allowing Cas to do as he pleased. It didn't take long, and when Cas was finished, Dean had to admit that it did look like he'd just been roughing it up. Sam gave a nod of approval; Cas had just spiked up the front portion of Dean's hair, much like how Dean had used to wear it as a kid. Except now it looked more 'raunchy' than 'cute'.

"Now, remember," Cas said, wiping his hands on the edge of his overcoat and pocketing the bottle. "We're doing singles tonight, but don't worry- it'll be easier than you think. Crowley picks the music, so you'll find out the song once you get out on stage. Remember your training, go with the flow, and just try to have fun." His eyes alighted on Dean, seeming to see completely through him. "It will be fun, and I think that you will not regret this decision."

With that he was gone, sweeping out of their room. Sam and Dean looked at each other, both a little confused and worried, but at a loss as to what to do. Sam, after fiddling with the feathered edge of his wing, abruptly got up and left, walking down the hall. He needed to find his tutor to get some last minute wisdom. Dean shrugged, figuring Sam needed space. They both were on edge tonight.

Stepping up to the mirror after using the bathroom, Dean started washing his hands, looking at his reflection. He didn't look any different than normal, though his hair had more product in it than he would have liked. 'Thanks, Cas.' Maybe it was just because it was his own face, but he didn't think that he looked the part of a male stripper. Hell, he knew he was attractive- 25 years of being called a twink (by guys) and a model (by girls, and some guys) had told him that. But he didn't look… edgy enough. Dean snorted, shaking his head. This job was already doing things to his mind.

As Dean looked back down from the mirror, he jumped back when he saw that the water was spurting out a dull, dark red. He looked at his hands, which were now colored deep red from the wrist down. 'What in the ever-loving fuck….' Swallowing- chanting to himself that it was not blood, it wasn't- he cautiously looked at the sink faucet. All traces of shock fell away as he saw two dark red life savers stuck to the underside of the faucet. The warm water and started to melt them, showering Dean's hands with liquid candy. 'Now I wonder who could have done this.'

Storming out of his dressing room, Dean yelled, "Gabriel!" The dancer in question turned from his conversation with Jophiel, eyes dancing. Jophiel took one look at Dean and stepped back, joining a couple other dancers who were gathering in the hallway to see what was going on.

"Yes, dear?" he asked 'innocently', though his grinning expression pretty much decided his guilt.

In response, Dean held up his hands, scowling at Gabriel. At the sight of them, Gabriel and the watching dancers started laughing. "Oh, shut up." Dean snapped. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't smash your face in right now."

"Oh, come on Deano, lighten up!" Gabriel said, holding his arms out as if presenting a show. "It's just a little fun!" Raphael and Haniel snickered loudly behind him, and just laughed more when Dean turned his glare on them.

Stepping up closer to Gabriel- towering over him by a good half of a foot- Dean got in his face. "Maybe I don't like your idea of fun, Gabriel. Leave me the hell alone." he growled. Inwardly, he was proud of himself. If he had been Gabriel, he would've been pissing his pants. Dean could be incredibly scary when he wanted to be.

Of course, Gabriel was obviously not a sane or normal individual. He just winked and sauntered off towards the stairs, ducking suddenly into one of the rooms on the left. Dean was left fuming in his doorway, glaring down the hall at where the blonde dancer had disappeared. Eventually he felt, more than heard, someone come up quietly to his side and place a hand on his shoulder. Cas's scent- something like soap and old books- surrounding him just confirmed Dean's thoughts.

"We'll be going upstairs soon, Dean. Just wash your hands and try to ignore Gabriel. The more he gets a rise out of you, the more he'll target you." Dean raised an eyebrow, not really believing that it was that simple. He was already calming down somewhat from the encounter; Cas had that effect on him. "I'm serious. Why do you think he's stopped coming after me?" Dean chuckled, and Cas's lips lifted slightly in response, making the hallway a little brighter.

Turning around, Dean went to return to his room. "Alright, man, I'll try. I dunno, he just pushes every single one of my buttons…." As Dean turned on the sink (making sure to remove the candies this time), with Cas still standing in his doorway, they both heard a tremendous crash and a loud growling sound, followed by a decidedly high-pitched scream interlaced with giggles. Turning back around, Dean and Cas watched together as Gabriel fled down the hallway, running at full speed. Azrael was in full pursuit, hands outstretched, chasing the screaming- and laughing- blonde. Again, if Dean had been Gabriel, he would have been pissing himself. Azrael was incredibly scary, period.

Leaping into his and Cas's room, Gabriel locked the door, and Azrael slammed into it, shouting abuse at Gabriel in a thick Irish accent. "OPEN THE DOOR YOU FUCKING CUNT." he yelled, pounding on the white door. It held firm, and they heard Gabriel's heaving breaths and continued giggles from the other side. "GET OUT HERE, FUCKER!" Dean realized with a start that this was the first time he'd heard the dark dancer speak.

Cas, always the mediator, stepped in. "Azrael, what happened?" he asked softly, as if approaching a wild animal. Dean admired his ability to keep his cool and calm down others. It was like an aura he had, or some other new-age hippie crap.

Breathing heavily, Azrael replied shortly, "He thought it'd be funny to throw some sort of fucking smoke bomb in my room, and it smells like shit." Now that he looked, Dean could see tendrils of greenish smoke coming from the last room on the left, and he winced. No wonder Azrael was pissed.

Cas raised his hands pleadingly. "I can see that. But it's the beginning of the week, and if you beat him, then he won't be able to dance for a couple nights. Then Crowley would be very upset, and it would cause problems for the rest of us." He stared at Azrael, wordlessly asking him to step down. Azrael continued to scowl darkly at Cas, but it seemed that some of the tension was leaking out of him. Logic always wins. 'Well, most of the time.'

"Everyone, that's enough." Michael's voice sounded down the hallway, and everyone's heads swiveled to look at him. He and Camael were standing at the top of the hallway, Ariel and Zadkiel watching from behind them. Ariel looked pale, probably from also being trapped in the room with the stink bomb. Zadkiel just looked uninterested. "Everyone needs to be quiet and stop acting like children."

Nodding, Camael continued where Michael had left off, arms crossed and practically bulging. "The show is going to start in less than ten minutes. Start getting in line." With that, the dancers all started migrating to the top of the hallway, all murmuring and laughing amongst themselves. Looking around uncertainly, Dean began to follow them, and Sam materialized at his shoulder.

"Where were you?" Dean asked quietly, slowing down as he neared the crowd of dancers. He wasn't really sure where to go, and anxiety was back in full force. Gabriel's antics had helped him forget, but now that it was time, he wasn't sure that he could do it. 'I haven't been this nervous since… shit, I can't even remember.'

Sam whispered, "I was talking to Lucifer. Getting some last minute advice, and all that." As much as Dean disapproved of Lucifer, he couldn't blame Sam. Dean was freaking out even while Cas had been trying to give him tips. To say that Dean was panicking was an understatement. "Any idea what we're doing?" Sam asked.

"I have no clue." Dean muttered, looking surreptitiously around at the other dancers. They all seemed to know where they were going, but none deigned to tell the brothers where they should go. The crowd of dancers was still shifting and moving, and Dean looked up front, where he could see Cas at the front of the line. But he was in deep conversation with Michael, so Dean failed to get his attention.

Just when Dean was considering ducking back into his dressing room to hide, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He and Sam turned around to see Raphael smiling at them. "You looked a bit lost. Need some help?" He sounded sincere, without any mocking in his voice.

Sam nodded, laughing a little. "Um, yea, that'd be great. Where do we go in the line?"

Raphael thought for a moment, tapping his lip with a long finger. "Let's see… the order tonight goes Castiel, Raguel, Zadkiel, Chamuel, Jophiel, Raziel, Raphael, Ariel, Gabriel, Haniel, Michael, Jeremial, Azrael, Camael, Uriel, Lucifer." he rattled off, leaving Dean and Sam open-mouthed. Raphael, with a bright grin, continued, "So, Chamuel, you are behind Zadkiel, and Jeremial, you are behind Michael!"

"Uh… thanks." Dean said, amazed at how the dancer could remember the whole line up, just like that. 'I suppose it comes with practice.' Swallowing, he and Sam split up to go to their respective positions in line, waiting for the next set of instructions. Zadkiel gave him a sideways glance, but otherwise said nothing. Jophiel gave him a clap on his shoulder and a smile, but it really didn't help Dean's nervousness. Before Dean even had any time to start worrying again, Cas started leading the line of dancers up the spiraling steps. Taking a deep breath, Dean followed Zadkiel up onto the main floor.

Crowley's voice interrupted the usually-continuous music. "And now, valued patrons, welcome our first new dancer of the night, Chamuel." A huge round of applause sounded at that, and Dean took that as his cue. He stepped out across the stage, heart pounding. He'd never done well with big groups of people he probably got stage fright why was he doing this oh fuck this was going to end terribly.

Hesitantly, he stopped by the middle pole and gripped it with his right hand, waiting for his song to start. There was no telling what his song would be… he just had to make it up as he went along, as Cas had told him. Dean could feel his palms sweating against the cool metal of the pole. As the beginning notes of Cherry Pie trickled out of the speakers, he could have cried in relief. 'Warrant… nice. I'll have to thank whoever suggested that.' With increased confidence, he began to dance.

Starting out with a Fireman Swing into an Invert, Dean moved with the music, letting the bass seep into his bones. Hoisting himself back up again, he climbed to the top of the pole, spinning back down to the bottom in a Tabletop. Dean couldn't help but laugh; he was just doing exactly what he had done in practice, and from the sounds of the crowd, he was doing a great job.

His favorite moves were the spins, so he was up and down the pole constantly, each time using a different position to get back down. He also enjoyed the feats of strength, such as Flagpoles, because that impressed a lot of people.

Within a minute he was lost to the music, just working his way around the pole and listening to the beat and the cheers. He decided that he liked this, just him and his thoughts and the pole. He wondered briefly if this is what Cas was talking about when he had mentioned enjoying the independence of it.

The pleasant ache and burn of his muscles, combined with the adrenaline from dancing, made him grin as he danced. Dean never really put much thought into what he was going to do next, just letting the momentum carry him where it would, and adjusting his body afterwards. It seemed to be working out, as he hadn't fallen or slipped yet.

Eventually, he noticed that the second song had ended, and he hadn't even thought to pay attention to what it was. But he did remember that he was supposed to leave the pole behind and entertain the crowd at front stage after two songs. Breathing harshly after all of his acrobatics, Dean dismounted, somewhat unhappily, and paced to the front of the stage.

He could make out smiles and excited grins, and, in a moment of pure confidence, bent down to grab a woman's hand to kiss it. She squealed, and when he withdrew his hand there was a twenty stuffed into it. 'Sweet!' he thought, pocketing it with a wink. The third song well underway- this time it was some techno song that he didn't recognize- he began to strip.

First was the shirt, though he took notes from previous dancers he'd seen and took it off as slow as possible. Inch by inch he worked it up his body, sweat making it stick to his skin. When it was finally off, he threw it behind him with a flourish, earning him a few screams. Circling his hips like he was taught to do, he ran hands down his torso and back up, even mussing up his hair.

He got down on one knee at the front of the stage again, and immediately hand darted up to run up his legs. That was… slightly unnerving, but nothing he couldn't handle. Sliding backwards, he stood up again, turning his back to the audience. With a wry grin at the memory of learning it, he did a few body rolls, looking over his shoulder at the excited crowd. 'So far, so good.'

Just to try it, Dean let his hands creep down to the hem of his shorts. Slowly, not quite looking up at the crowd, he unbuttoned it, and began to unzip the fly. Yelling and shouts greeted that action, all seemingly in favor of him going further. Smiling at them, he shook his head theatrically, instead running a hand along the wings on his back, trying to recall some of Cas's talented moves.

Luckily, the final song drew to a close, and Dean exhaled strongly. More cheers went up, and he could see more bills being tossed up onto the stage. He hurriedly collected the money strewn about, shoving handfuls into his pockets and wrapped up in his shirt. Waving at the customers, he jogged off stage, nodding to Jophiel as the brunette walked on after him.

Behind the stage, in the little hallway, Dean passed Sam. He gave his brother thumbs up, enthusiastically showing him the cash he'd gotten. Sam smiled back, nodding. Dean continued on down the stairs, heading to his room to put away the money. He was still floating on adrenaline and excitement, and he whistled as he went.

If every night was this enjoyable and this profitable, Dean may come to love this job.

Sam managed to watch most of Dean's performance from back stage, and he had to admit, he was stunned. Dean had been reluctant enough in coming here, and had argued viciously at first, but damn had his attitude changed. He worked the stage like he owned it, and from the sheer amount of bills being tossed up at him, it was totally working.

Michael coming down the short set of stairs at the back of the stage was Sam's cue to head up. Michael gave him a small nod of encouragement as he passed, but that did nothing to steady Sam's nerves. He had been fine earlier in the day, but the anxiety had been steadily getting worse and worse ever since he had started getting dressed. He tried to calm his breathing down as he hit the stage and felt all of those eyes on him.

As he had when Dean had gone out, Crowley paused the music to announce Sam. "Esteemed customers, please welcome our second new dancer of the night, Jeremial." His voice oozed out of the speakers, and Sam was met with wild cheers and applause. Apparently the crowd was riled up already, which Sam hoped meant that he would be received well. The beginning beats of Seven Devils- but a bass-filled, digitalized version- began vibrating in Sam's chest, and he took a deep breath before stepping up to the pole.

Each move he thought out, trying to do the best transitions and switches possible. Sam used chunks of routines that he had learned at training and had been running through his head all day. He went from a version of Splits to a Backwards Chair back into a different version of Splits, all smoothly running into one another. He could feel sweat beading on his skin, but his grip on the metal was firm and sure.

Time passed almost unnoticed, and he was in deep concentration on his dancing and movement. He just really, really didn't want to slip off or fall, because that would be the worst. But everything went smoothly, and he could almost feel the shift and slide of his muscles and bones as they worked around the pole, swinging and dropping and climbing. He heard the song change for the second time, and knew that he had to go on to the next part of his performance now.

At first he was uncertain when he started walking up the front of the stage. The pole was set back pretty far, and was predictable. This far up, the customers were right there, and very unpredictable. But as he started to move to the music, closing his eyes and rolling his hips and shoulders, a certain kind of calmness spread through him, and when he opened his eyes next he was back in full swing.

Nothing that this section would definitely be easier with another dancer to work off of, Sam began by running his hands down his chest and then to his thighs, the way he'd seen all of the other dancers do it. Since he didn't have on a shirt to strip off- his chest bare and probably glistening with sweat- he decided to go straight for the shorts. He ran his hands around the waistband, pulling them down an inch or two to expose his hipbones, and then pulling them back up. He didn't go so far as to undo his fly, though. 'No thanks.'

Rolling his body, he sank to his knees, gyrating his hips in time to whatever bass line was vibrating his bones. He tried to plan ahead, to think about what he would do next and when. Running his hands roughly through his hair- making it even more unruly than it usually was- he stood up again, taking the time to turn around and move his hips some more. Suddenly, he had an idea.

Sam laid out flat on his back on the floor, ignoring the uncomfortable way the wings dug into his back. He lifted his hips up off the floor, balancing on just his shoulders and feet, and began grinding the air that way. The crowd definitely liked it, and a couple girls reached up to try and touch him, even though he was way too far away for it to be possible. He stayed in that position for a moment, before flipping over to his stomach.

Getting another inspiration, he began to crawl forward on his hands and knees, putting a smirk on his face. He realized that he was probably thinking too much like Lucifer, but, hey, it worked for him, so why wouldn't it work for Sam, too? The patrons seemed to agree, and more hands and bills went up to the stage. Sam grinned larger, because he was honestly thrilled at this outcome. Who knew that he would make a good stripper?

Soon enough his last song faded out, and he quickly scooped up the bills littering the floor, disbelief settling in now in place of the sheer nerves of before. Was this really all his? Did he really just do that? Was this really his life now? The answers were yes, but somehow that didn't bother him. He had a fun job, a huge load of cash, and he felt like he could do anything.

It was only after the club had been closed, and all the patrons had been pushed out, that Sam allowed himself to celebrate. He had been too focused earlier, but now that it was over, he was laughing with relief, and maybe some happiness too. The night had gone extremely well, and he had made about seven hundred dollars in tips. That was more money than he'd ever had at one time in his whole life. It added a bounce to his step and an extra sweetness to the enjoyment of the night.

Sam rounded the staircase, having just grabbed his bag from his dressing room. Dean's was already gone, so he assumed that his brother was already upstairs. He hadn't seen Dean for most of the night, but as no one had been punched or given death threats, Sam assumed that the night had gone well for him, too.

Coming up to the main floor, he saw that all of the dancers were milling around the floor, chatting with each other on their way out the door. Looking around over their heads, he spotted Dean talking to Castiel- no surprise there- and Raziel. Sam grinned to himself- it looked like Dean was making some new friends. He didn't notice anyone come up behind him until a whisper was tickling his ear. "Hey, you did great up there."

Sam jumped about a mile in the air, before turning around to glare at- 'Really, who else would it be?' - Lucifer behind him. "What?" he replied, trying to still his terrified heart. Sneaking up on either Sam or his brother was never really a good idea- Dean's been known to break noses that way. Sam usually could control himself better, but once he gave Bobby a hell of a black eye.

Smirking, Lucifer repeated, "You did a great job up there tonight. My compliments to your teacher." He winked at Sam, crossing his arms. The other dancer still had his leather dog collar on, but he had traded out his coal black wings for a leather jacket, and his shorts for a tight-fitting pair of black jeans.

"Oh." Sam grinned hesitantly, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck. "Thanks. I was terrified, actually." He probably hadn't breathed properly until he was heading back down those stage steps.

Lucifer shrugged. "Hey, it's true- I will never lie to you. It was really well done, especially for a first time." His sincerity made Sam blush, and he looked away, biting down on a grin. The fact that Lucifer- one of the best dancers here- had complimented him was amazing. He had been a bundle of nerves all night, but he could feel the tension now slipping out of his bones.

"They look pretty friendly, don't they?" Lucifer suddenly prompted. Sam tilted his head, confused. "I mean your brother and little Cassie over there. " Sam followed Lucifer's head jerk to see that Raziel had gone home, leaving Cas and Dean to themselves. Cas said something that made Dean laugh, throwing his head back. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that those two have a little somethin-somethin going on." Lucifer continued, grinning hugely.

Smiling, Sam said, "Well, I do know better, and Dean won't admit to anything." He paused, shaking his head. "But I know my brother, and he likes Cas. I'm sure of it. He just won't say it, even to himself." And really, it was so obvious. Dean didn't have time for anyone else in the club except for Cas, and the way Dean looked at him… well, it reminded Sam of how he looks at Jessica sometimes. Dean couldn't hide anything from Sam for very long, and ever since that first night at the club, he'd always been different around Cas. Nicer, calmer, happier, even.

Lucifer's smile became predatory, and he rubbed his hands together. "Well, why don't we do something about it?" The glint in his eyes made Sam nervous just on principle, and he wondered if Lucifer had chosen his stage name.

"Excuse me?" asked Sam, raising an eyebrow.

"I mean… why don't we show those two love birds that they obviously want each other? Make them realize the error of their ways. Make them stop eye-fucking, for god's sake." the blonde explained, making a face at the two.

Sam couldn't help but laugh. Maybe that was what they needed- someone to point out the obvious and shove them together. God knows Dean was so obtuse that he almost always needed something like that. "Alright, yea, let's do it." He could definitely play the role of meddling little brother.

Lucifer nodded, looking like he was already scheming. "Okay. I'll start thinking of a plan, and I'll let you know when you can help. Maybe we can even get Gabriel in on the mission…." He faded off into silence, mischief practically sparking off of him. It was an unusual- but no less exciting- side of Lucifer. It was a (welcome) change to his usual overly-flirtatious manner.

Sam turned back to watch his brother affectionately touch Cas's arm in the middle of conversation, both of them now grinning. "I don't think Dean will want anything to do with Gabriel." he offered. The smaller blonde dancer seemed dead-set on getting on Dean's bad side. So far, it seemed to be working. Sam, however, thought that Gabriel was hilarious, and that Dean could use a little teasing every now and again. He might even offer assistance to Gabriel, once he got to know him better.

Shaking his head, Lucifer countered, "I know, I know. He won't actually be involved in it- just the planning. As much as that little shit annoys me, he is the best when it comes to things like these." he admitted. Then he paused, raising his eyebrows and shrugging. "Well, except for me, of course."

Sam snorted, unable to stifle another grin. "Okay, I believe you. Just help me whip my brother into shape." Now the idea began to excite him, and he already began inventing half-formed scenarios and possible plans. Lucifer's answering grin really made him look like his namesake, and Sam should definitely not have enjoyed this conversation that much. "I'm gonna go over and get Dean and get outta here. I'm exhausted." he yawned, not needing to fake it.

"Alright, see you tomorrow." Lucifer replied easily, switching his black bag to his other shoulder. They went opposite directions, Sam over towards the bar where Dean and Cas were, and Lucifer towards the door, presumably to go home. Sam couldn't help but turn around and watch Lucifer push open the door and walk out, metal studs on his jacket glinting in the lights.

Shaking his head roughly, Sam reached his brother. "Ready to go?" he asked, interrupting the words just about to come out of Dean's mouth. 'Cause he really was exhausted, and he wasn't going to miss out on sleep just cause Dean couldn't stop flirting with Cas.

Nodding, Dean answered, "Yea, sure," not looking away from Cas. "Well, uh, night, Cas. See ya tomorrow." He accompanied it with a little wave, which made Sam roll his eyes. Did his brother even know how deep in he was?

"Goodnight, Dean." Cas replied, his normally blank face crinkled up in a smile. Dean nodded again, seeming reluctant to leave, and finally turned around, following Sam to the door.

As he pushed open the door, Sam shot over his shoulder, "Sorry to interrupt your flirting, but I need my shut-eye." He waited a moment for the words to sink in, reveling in Dean's glare. He knew that Dean would argue- it was inevitable, really- but it was still worth it to annoy his big brother.

"We weren't flirting, bitch." he denied, huffily unlocking the Impala and getting in.

Sam laughed as he slid in the passenger side. He had wanted to talk to Dean about the night, but that looked like it would have to wait until they'd both gotten some sleep. "Whatever you say, jerk." He was having too much fun with this, but the looks on Dean's face were priceless. Hopefully his and Lucifer's plan would work, because Dean and Cas needed some serious help.