Destiel Fanfic
The club is Dante's, the room is the Cage, and Dean is only there because he hates himself. He's buzzdrunk from the shots he had at the upstairs bar, and dizzy from the heat. Ugly music thumps his bones, the juddering bassline overlaid with exactly the sort of discordant techno-trash he otherwise wouldn't stomach in a fit. The Cage smells of sweat, sex and spilled beer, the tight space full of half- and near-naked bodies gyrating against each other and – shit, is that guy actually naked? He is, and the two men sandwiching him on the dancefloor look pretty pleased about it. Dean, in his jeans and tee, is practically overdressed, and as he stands there, equal parts aroused and ashamed, he has a brief moment of clarity. Get out. Go home. Stop punishing yourself.

Almost, he does. But through the din and crush, he suddenly feels eyes on him, and when he finds their owner, he remembers why he came.
Words:84007 complete

http://archiveofourown.org/works/2364347?view_full_work=true