Title: Out of Control

Author: Halfblood Achemist

Rating: Hard R

Word Count: 3.989

Genre: Destiel, song!fic, Castiel/sirens(?)

Spoilers: mild for 4.14

Warnings: sexual situations, boy kissing, swearing, dirty dancing, blood

Summary: The sirens have struck again at the local club and it's up to the boys to complete pest control. Too bad for a certain angel, he's the bait…

A/N: Story collab with Supernatural-Fox on Deviantart. She provided the lovely image, I wrote the story. Enjoy. Songfic to Saturday by Basshunter

Dean really wished he could have one Saturday off. Just one. Was that too much to ask? One Saturday where he could spend it in the relative quiet of his brother and a certain angel's company without being disrupted by the call of the job, pulling them into the cold September night for the littlest of haunts. He frowned, downing his drink in one go before taking a glance over his shoulder at the scene before him. The thriving bodies in the club did nothing to quell his libido, watching the bodies on the dance floor writhe and grind together in beat with the thrumming bass of the night club. The air hung thick with musk and booze, making him slightly dizzy.

Ok so it really wasn't that small of a haunt. The siren call had once again struck, the intended victims falling under the spell at the local club. When bodies began showing up in the dingy back allies for authorities to stumble upon and puzzle over, it was time to call in the professionals. It was a pretty simple hunt, more or less speaking. Get in the club, gank the siren and be out before the witching hour was through (pun totally intended).

However, this left the dilemma. Neither Dean nor Sam was willing or interested to risk being indefinitely caught under another spell. After the last fiasco the two had run into on their last siren hunt, even the notion was moot. Neither of them was willing to risk losing their head once again for fear that this time they wouldn't have a chance to stop the rampage before irreparable damage was done. This left only one possible solution and although Dean was loathe to admit it, it was their best.

One little siren couldn't possibly control an angel indefinitely, could it?

Dean smirked. He glanced through the thronging crowds one more time, his gaze seeking out their bait for that night. Sure enough, on the other side of the club stood Castiel, the poor angel shifting uncomfortably under the scrutiny of the other patrons. Dean remembered the past few hours with all too much clarity, a sense of jealousy and pride warring to the forefront of his mind.

The outfit the brothers had managed to shanghai looked damn good on the slight man's form. His lithe figure filled the fabric in all the right places, his body decked beautifully in the too-tight leather pants they'd managed to wrestle the protesting angel in. He watched as Castiel tugged at the low slung collar of his shirt, glancing about the club with that terribly innocent and all-too-adorable-but-if-you-ask-Dean-he'll-deny-it look on his face. He looked almost as terrified as he had when Dean had tried to get him laid in the brothel. It wouldn't be long before the siren sought him out for the night. Who wouldn't? The girls were already eyeing him up with the same interest of a starving dog to meat, mingling just a bit further away from their dates to get a better look at the leather-clad, blue-eyed beauty in the back of the club.

Not that Dean would ever admit it. This thing he had with Cas; this "we're not talking about it Sam, now beat it before I break your face" thing was beginning to rear its ugly head again. The hunter had to physically fight down the urge to drag the angel out of the club and away from prying eyes. After a few calming breaths, the hunter managed to will himself back onto the barstool (and when did he stand up?), his eyes ghosting over the crowd again.

Not a catch. Huh.

Dean shrugged, turning away from the sight to meet Sam's eyes. Sammy was down the bar a ways, looking ever the aloof being he was supposed to be. The younger Winchester held a hand up below the bar, gesturing for Dean to stay put. They'd get a catch… sooner or later.

Actions decided, Dean nodded, ordering another round of shots for himself. He casually glanced back at his companion every so often, keeping a weathered eye out for any unusual behavior.

To be honest, he wasn't what he was looking for more: their intended beasties of the night, or possible competition.

Dean was beginning to get a headache. He pinched at the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath to try and quell the dull throbbing that threatened to split his temple in two. He felt so out of place in this club; the music was (surprisingly) too loud with its heavy bass and repetitive tones. The people here were bumping and grinding along with the music, making promising motions that fell short every time someone jostled them wrong on the dance floor. The flashing lights, glow-in-the-dark interior making his eyes cross funny. Hell, even the tumbler he held at the moment glowed a dull neon pink, cheap plastic illuminated by the too-many black-lights lining the walls.

This wasn't real music; this was fad tunes, popular tonight, forgotten tomorrow. Dean wouldn't be surprised if he snitched his brother's iPod this very moment and found ten thousand remixes of the same damn song on his playlist. Kids…

Ok, he'd averted his gaze for five minutes. That was long enough. Dean glanced towards the back wall again, seeking out the angel. His pulse quickened when his gaze fell on an empty section of the wall, void of its angelic flower. He looked about quickly, seeking out a familiar bed-tousled head of dark brown hair, too tight clothes…

Wait a minute, what the hell was he thinking? This was a freaking night club. This particular description couldn't possibly hope to get any vaguer. Undeterred, however, he continued to search for his angel, ignoring the little girly voice that squealed in the back of his mind at the self-admittance. No, he wasn't getting into this right now. Mission comes first, Dean.

After several minutes of fruitless searching, he found Castiel, further into the depths of the club. Dean set his jaw, noticing the angel's current companion. A young girl with short red hair wearing a micro-mini skirt and a PVC bustier giggled to her new companion, hanging off his arm. He watched her run a hand down the front of his chest, feeling the taut muscles under the thin shirt with painted fingers. Dean's jaw twitched at the sight, but he stayed his peace, gauging the reactions of the two.

After a few moments, Dean determined that the girl was just very drunk and not the siren they were looking for. If the tick in his jaw didn't sway at all, he didn't say.

Gloriously, the angel managed to extract himself from the girl's arm, visibly jumping when she grabbed his ass too close to the crotch and gave it a hearty squeeze before flouncing off into the club. He visibly blushed at the contact, averting his eyes to the floor as he tried to worm his way through the crowd and towards his friends. Score one for the reliable shoulder to lean on.

The moment didn't last. Like it ever did. The second Castiel came in full view of Dean, the music changed once again. At the opening tones, a cheer rose up in recognition from the crowd, youngsters chanting "BASSHUNTER! BASSHUNTER!" before flooding the dance floor.

Castiel didn't get very far. Through the horde, Dean watched Castiel jostled further away from him, before he was lost to the crowd again. Cursing to himself, Dean finally stood up to get a better view. His timing was impeccable.

He saw three women, all scantily clad in silk and lace numbers approach the angel, seductive smiles on their faces. Eyes flashing predatorily in the night, they advanced on Castiel, surrounding him as the music picked up.

Before his very eyes, Dean watched a magical transformation unfold.

It's a quarter t-to three,
I think I'm going crazy,
Out of c-control now,
out of c-control now

Chasing down the raving crowd,
I see someone acting
out of c-control now,
Out of c-control now

Baby, baby won't you help take it down
Tonight, tonight, tonight, tonight
Baby, baby c'mon help me get down
Tonight, tonight, tonight, tonight…

To the raving beat filling the air too-thick with its magic, the three girls surrounded Castiel urging him to dance. Their beautifully painted face glowed in the strobes surrounding them, seemingly unaffected by the pressing heat of bodies around them. At that moment it was just the four of them on that floor, the girls seducing the angel to let loose in a way Dean had never been able to emulate.

As Dean watched the exchange before him, an unfamiliar heat filled his stomach, making the liquor he'd consumed churn uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach. Dammit, that was HIS ANGEL! He fisted the bar, white-knuckling to the point of pain as he watched the girls in turn have their moment with Castiel, hands touching, hips grinding in beat with the music. If he didn't know jealousy before, Dean sure as hell knew it now.

Dean's eyes landed on the angel's face. He was taken aback by the expression that marred his normally stern, beautiful face. He looked absolutely blissed-out, his earlier nerves lost in a sea of groping hands, gyrating hips and mouths attacking fiercely. The hunter swallowed at the sight. What had once been a naïve, shy angel trying to get laid by a girl in a full out brothel was replaced by this wanton creatures; sex-personified as he pulled the blonde close to his front. His hands dipped down to the curves of her ass, bringing her up closer as she tongue-fucked him to the smooth vocals blaring from the speakers above.

'Cause it's Satur-Saturday
Ain't nobody here to take eh, eh, eh
'Cause it's Satur, 'cause it's Satur-Saturday
Everybody wants to play eh, eh, eh

I like to move, it move it, dontcha like to lose it
I like to do it, do it, I like to do it, do it
I like to move it, move it, I'm about to lose it
I like to do it, do it, people like to move it

He was so wrapped up in the sight - (hopefully) surreptitiously pressing a hand to the bulge in his jeans to alleviate some pressure; GOD that angel looked sexy as fuck when he let go- he didn't notice the signs until it was almost too late. He snapped back to attention the moment he saw the girl in red press Castiel into a fiery kiss, the angel melting in her arms. From behind, the blonde girl and the short brunette made quick work of the ties on his shirt, nearly pulling the thin black material off altogether.

Under a particularly bright flash of light, Dean could make out possessive nail marks scratched into the angel's pale chest, marking him before he was wrapped up in the three. Dean was surprised they weren't just fucking right there on the floor. His eyes locked on the angel's face, ignorant of the beautiful facades of the girls before him as he took in the reckless expression on his face, seeking and all-desiring. Kiss-swollen lips puckered to take in more of that desired sensation, eyes blazing dark blue in the exaggerated lights called to Dean as he shifted uncomfortably on the stool.

In his half-aroused state, Dean's mind put two and two together to realize exactly two seconds too late what exactly had happened. One siren wouldn't be enough to take down an angel…

When your dancing up to me girl
You make me go out of c-control now,
out of c-control now
C'mon show me what you've got,
Dancing 'till we're out of c-control now,
out of c-control now

Baby, baby won't you help take it down
Tonight, tonight, tonight, tonight
Baby, baby c'mon help me get down
Tonight, tonight, tonight, tonight

As if knowing they were being watched, the three girls turned their attention towards Dean, eyes flashing triumphantly as one by one, each one took their turn with the angel again, ramping up their performance a notch. Had this been any other situation, Dean would have had eyes only for the girls. They knew what they were doing…

Dean lurched to his feet, staggering over towards his brother with stilted steps. He nearly collapsed against the bar, unable to tear his eyes away from the angel's lust blown eyes, watching his every step. A come-hither gleam flashed in those blue orbs and it took every ounce of willpower in his being to keep away from the seeking glances. It was bad enough he was already in denial about his would-be relationship with his very male friend; it was another thing that he was being exploited. As much as he could have watched Castiel perform for him all night, he had a job to do.

Then maybe he'd do something about his emotions he still to this very moment denied.

Sam looked up, confusedly the moment his brother collapsed on the bar. "Dean? Are you alright, what's going on?"

Dean cleared his throat, finally managing to tear his eyes away from the sight. "Dude, give me the dagger." He rasped out, hating the vulnerable, aroused tone in his voice.

Sam, perpetually confused, only raised an eyebrow.

"Seriously, Sammy. Just give me the goddamn dagger." Dean leaned closer, as if his voice would be heard over the raging bass filling the air. "It's not one siren. It's three…"

Sam balked, glancing over to see for himself. What he saw was enough to make a first-rate prostituted blush. "Uh… Dean…"

At his brother's nervous tone, Dean turned. His face paled, both from every drop of blood rushing south at the sight, and abject rage.

The short brunette was practically straddling Castiel's waist, hand's plunged down the fronts of his pants. In the flashing lights, her arm moved in a decided suggestive manner, and if the utter bliss plastered on Castiel's face was anything to go by, she was doing a fabulous job. The other two girls wrapped themselves around the angel from behind, whispering into each ear as they nipped and suckled the sensitive flesh. Then in a far-too graceful move, the girl in red slithered down his side, ruby lips attacking the exposed hipbone and leaving red smudges in her wake as she sucked the blood to the surface. The blonde moved her ministrations to the side of Castiel's neck, biting the skin hard enough to leave teeth marks, claiming him.

It was too much.

'Cause it's Satur-Saturday
Ain't nobody here to take eh, eh, eh
'Cause it's Satur, 'cause it's Satur-Saturday
Everybody wants to play eh, eh, eh

I like to move it, move it, dontcha like to lose it
I like to do it, do it, I like to do it, do it
I like to move it, move it, I'm about to lose it
I like to do it, do it, people like to move it

Snarling to himself, Dean snatched the bronze dagger from his brother's hands, slipping it up his sleeve in a graceful motion. That was fucking it.

"Dean!" Sam hissed, grabbing his brother's elbow. "Hold up! He's already under their spell, you don't wanna go in guns blazing. He'll just attack you in the middle of the crowd. Get him distracted, cut him with the blade and signal me. I'll take out the girls."

Dean nodded, the words flowing in and out in one smooth motion. He was too busy seeing green to really pay attention. As casually as he could muster, the elder Winchester weaved his way through the crowd, eyes boring on the angel's. He noted, without surprise, that as he neared, the girls unwound themselves from his person, slipping into the crowd with self-satisfied smirks on their faces.

Dean's eyes remained glued to the poison-addled angel. He gripped the pommel tightly, continuing on his warpath. Something about getting him out of the crowd when right over his head as he watched the angel unceremoniously tuck himself back in, the shirt riding high on his waist to expose the bruised, lipstick-smudged skin beneath.

The moment their eyes met, it was electric. Deep down, Dean knew Castiel only saw him as a potential enemy. It still didn't change the fact that that gaze shot right to his groin, his already tumult emotions going into overdrive. His heart raced in his chest as he inched ever closer to the poisoned angel.

Even in the dim lighting, he could see the hate and urge to attack boiling in those lusty blue eyes. He than a brush of fingertips to his forehead, but that's not what the sirens wanted. If they had put on a show such as that, they were expecting some big repercussions. They weren't going to let off without bloodshed.

This left Dean with only one option: break the angel down before he had the chance to overhand him. So much for listening to Sam…

Dean froze in the middle of the dance floor, calling to the angel with only his eyes. His entire body thrummed with repressed excitement as he watched the angel advance, bloodlust heavy in his eyes. Dean held his ground, fisting the handle ever tighter. Just a few feet closer…

We're gonna take over,
I feel the beat tonight,
tonight, tonight, tonight
C'mon get closer,
Closer to me tonight,
tonight, tonight, tonight

Dean felt, rather than saw, the angel raise his hand in attack. Dean easily ducked, wrapping a hand around Castiel's wrist in a vice like grip.

The only good that came from this particular siren attack: the poison, working hard enough to render Castiel vulnerable to its magic, slowed his reflexes.

The moment Castiel realized his attack had been thwarted, he trashed in Dean's grip, the other hand coming up to finish what the other left off.

He didn't even make it past his chest.

Like lightening, Dean yanked Castiel into his grip, wrapping one arm around the back of his shoulders as he pulled him into a vicious kiss. As he did so, the blade in his hand moved simultaneously, piercing the exposed flesh of Castiel's hip, blade digging into the meat of his side.

Castiel gasped, and Dean took the moment to plunge his tongue further into that hot, wet mouth beneath him. He felt the fire-hot rush of blood on his hand, the angel leaning heavily against him as the hunter ravaged his mouth urgently, pouring every possessive, jealous thought into that kiss. All around them, gasps of both delight and surprise came at the sight of these two men locked in such a heated embraced. None of them saw the bloody dagger or the gaping wound in Castiel's side. No one needed to.

Dean continued to kiss the angel fiercely, opening deeper and more hungrily for his probing tongue to reclaim what those bitches had taken away. Had he been in more of his right mind, Dean would have realized one very important thing:

Castiel didn't fight back.

'Cause it's Satur-Saturday
Ain't nobody here to take eh, eh, eh
'Cause it's Satur, 'cause it's Satur-Saturday
Everybody wants to play eh, eh, eh

I like to move, it move it, dontcha like to lose it
I like to do it, do it, I like to do it, do it
I like to move it, move it, I'm about to lose it
I like to do it, do it, people like to move it

Despite this revolution, the realization was lost. The moment Dean broke away to take a breath, things happened much too quickly. Sam bustled into his side, "drunk" off his ass and snatching the dagger from his brother. He then took off into the crowd to dispatch the sirens without causing a scene.

Dean, on the other hand, grabbed his wounded angel and dragged him from the club into the too-cold night and out of the finals strains of the song within.

"Goddammit, Cas…" he growled, wrestling the struggling angel to the parking lot. Once out of sight of any other patrons, Dean whipped around, grabbing Castiel by the shoulders and hauling him into his arms. He knew it wouldn't be long before the sirens were taken care of. Right now, he needed to keep the bleeding angel immobile for as long as possible.

Castiel fought the siren call, hissing in pain as Dean's leather jacket pressed up against the bloody rut in his side. But no matter what he did, in his weakened state, the arms wrapped around him held Castiel firm, unmoving.

"C'mon Sam!" Dean hissed, glaring up at the star-speckled skies above. "C'mon! Hurry the fuck up!" He was beginning to tire, and more than once Castiel had almost broken his grip and taken him down. Just a few more moments…

As if on cue, Castiel fell limp in Dean's arms, face pressed firmly into his chest as the spell finally broke. Panting breaths filled the air as the two came down from their adrenaline rush. It took Dean several moments to realize that he still had the angel bundled in his arms, yet he was loathe to release him. It took him another several moments to notice the incredibly tense posture Castiel stood in.

"Eh… sorry Cas…" Dean murmured, releasing him at long last. He bent to examine the wound, watching with satisfaction as Castiel's grace worked slowly to mend the torn flesh. "Sorry about eh… stabbing you like that."

"I understand it was for our best intentions. I harbor no ill feelings."

Dean nodded, his throat feeling thick. He turned to look away from him shame writ across his face, when Castiel grabbed his elbow and stopped him in his tracks.


The hunter froze, heart beating wildly in his chest. "And eh… sorry about the kiss…" he added quietly.

This only caused Castiel apparent confusion. The angel canted his head to the side in contemplation, watching the hunter before him. "Why are you sorry?"

"Because I kinda over stepped my bounds in there, kissing you. It was a quick in, quick out deal and I eh…" Dean trailed off, eyes meeting the angel's once again. What he saw made him both giddy with joy and embarrassed beyond any repair.

Castiel's eyes shone with mirth, lips quirked in a self-satisfied grin. "I say again… why are you sorry?"

"Son of a bitch." Dean laughed, inching closer. Ever tentative, he waited for Castiel to make the next move and found himself more than quite surprised when the angel swooped him into a heated kiss, arms wrapping around his shoulders.

"I'd say you've waited long enough, Dean Winchester…"

From the back door of the club, Sam burst forth, the dagger held in his hands. "Hey guys! I got the sirens, let's…" he stopped Dean, eyes seeing what could never be unseen again in his lifetime. "Um… wow. Ok. Sorry. I'll uh, meet you guys back at the motel… with separate rooms." And without another word, he slipped off into the night, leaving hunter and angel locked in their kiss.

To the credit of the two, neither of them even acknowledged this little interruption.

All they needed was each other and the moonlight sky on a bitchin' Saturday night.