Chapter Text
Boston’s downtown is known for many a historical and cultural landmarks, but one of its less known streets is home to Angel’s Massage Parlor—which was just as unknown as the street it lay on.
This parlor was located down a short side alley inside a red brick building. There were no signs or any indicators that the side door of this brick building would have led to the parlor. This was due to the fact that the owner, a man by the name of Cas, believed if people were destined to meet, it would happen. All of his clientele were simply people who had stumbled their way into the parlor while exploring the alleys of downtown. He did not need to worry about his limited clients, as they were very faithful to his services and visited often. It also helped that they paid very generously.
Cas was a 28 year old with very handsome features. He wanted to open a massage parlor, because he felt satisfied when other people were happy; and giving someone the pleasure of a massage made them happy. He did not mind being both the boss and the sole employee—he found the work very rewarding. And he was good at the art of massage. Even customers who had experienced a most unagreeable day would be cured of their troublesome feelings. On a gloomy and rainy Sunday, Cas would meet a man who was in much need of one of these massages.
The wooden door creaked open and gentle chimes twinkled. Cas had heard them and made his way down the stairs to the main level, finding the man who had just entered.
“Hey there, welcome to Angel’s Massage Parlor. You are one of the lucky few to have stumbled upon it. By the looks of your hair and clothes, that seems to be the rain’s doing.”
Standing before Cas was a hunk of a man with dripping ash-brown-colored hair and a soaked long-sleeved waffle-knit shirt and jeans.
“What’s lucky is that I didn’t get struck by lightning. All the stores on this street were closed today, but thankfully your door was open. You got any towels?”
Cas thought this beautiful man was not from around the Boston area based on his accent and husky voice.
“Yeah, I got a towel. If you need to dry your clothes also, there’s a dryer in the back room that you can use.”
“No, I’m fine. I wouldn’t want to bother you during work.”
“Nonsense. I can get you a robe and have your clothes dried while you wait for this downpour to pass. I usually don’t have customers anyway on Sundays.”
“I s’pose it is a bit gross to stay in wet clothes. Maybe I’ll take your offer…Mr.?”
“The names Castiel, but the cute ones just call me Cas.”
Dean smirked.
“Well Cas, nice to meet you, most people call me Dean—at least when their mouths aren’t full.”
Cas liked his new acquaintance’s bantery way of speaking.
“Nice to meet you as well Dean—come with me and I’ll get that towel. What brings you to Boston…I don’t mean to assume or anything—it’s just that your way of talking is a bit different.”
“Is it that obvious? I’m from Kansas, but I thought a vacation in Boston might be nice.”
“If you like your vacations to be rainy—it is.”
“I didn’t plan for this weather, y’know.”
“I can tell by the steam radiating off of you.”
Cas handed Dean a towel used for massages. Dean took it and rubbed it around on his hair, flinging water droplets across the room. His ash-brown hair was now tousled from the friction.
“Thanks.”
“Sure thing,” Cas said, taking the towel from Dean’s hands and setting it on the dryer. “You better change before you get too chilly.”
Cas grabbed the robe from the storage room next door and handed it to Dean.
“How soft,” Dean said while grinning and rubbing his fingers over the gray fabric.
“I’ll leave you to it.”
Cas started to walk away when Dean began to take his shirt off, revealing the broad shoulders and arms that had been stretching the material. His chest and abdomen were well defined with healthy muscle—and the very slightest bit of tummy—which Cas would consider one of his weaknesses. His front side had a respectable dusting of hair that trailed toward the center then down toward his pants. He also had a tattoo on his upper left pec, which added another layer of mystery to the man.
“Thanks again Cas. Oh, and you said this was a massage parlor?”
Cas turned around just in time to see him in all his shirtless glory while he was unbuckling his wet jeans.
“Ye…Yeah. That's why I have those nice belts—uh…robes and towels.”
“What do you charge for a session? I have nowhere to be anytime soon and wouldn’t mind warming up a bit—if you had time of course.”
“Sure, and usually clients will pay after the session depending on what they want during it. But make sure you’re dry first.”
‘Oh my god,’ thought Cas. ‘This very attractive man just asked me to massage him. And it’s not like I haven’t given a massage to attractive people, it’s just that there’s something different about him. Maybe it’s his accent. Maybe he’s just my type—with his short, spiked, Ivy-League cut and charming green eyes.’
Cas went up two flights of stairs to the main parlor room and lit the incense. He was about halfway through lighting the candles when Dean entered the room in his robe.
“I’m ready Mr. Masseuse.”
‘ I am not going to be able to get through this, am I?’ thought Cas.