Fic: Pest Control (1/1)
Title: Pest Control
Author: Bella Temple
Category: Crack, AU
Rating: light PG-13
Warnings: Crack. Light sexual content, cursing, and drug use. Loose interpretation of the American legal system. Bad pun animal names. Nontraditional structure.
Spoilers: Sort of vaguely through season 5.
Author's notes: This is really probably not what roque_clasique was thinking of when she gave me the following prompt: "Sam and Dean are not hunters, but exterminators. Literally, pest control. Like, fleas and stuff. Sometimes nests of raccoons in people's chimneys." But, well, sometimes you just gotta run with what you got.
Summary: Winchester and Sons Pest Control, established 1983. If it's got fur, feathers, or flies, we'll make it go bye-bye. Also if it has an exoskeleton or scales, but those aren't as alliterative. Dude, that's the worst slogan, ever. It was already the worst slogan ever, Dean. Yeah, well, at least it rhymed.
"Sam! Watch your six!"
"I see it!"
"Take it out! Take it out!"
"I got it man, I --"
"Saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaam!"
"Jesus, Dean. Would you chill? It's just a squirrel."
*
We travel a lot. Comes with the territory, you know? Gotta go wherever the job takes us. I'd say we've probably driven on every road in the county by now, maybe every one in the state.
Yeah, it gets lonely out there sometimes. Everyone needs us, you know, but no one ever wants to cop to it. No one wants to hang out with the pest control. So Sammy and I, we gotta stick together, you know? We're all we have.
Well, okay, and Jo and Ellen, of course. And all the other technicians. And Bobby, our office manager and dispatcher. And Tessa in collections. But on a job? Out there, it's just me and Sam and the open road.
*
"Just a squirrel? Just a squirrel? Are you kidding me, Sammy?"
"Dean --"
"You know what these things can do, man, you've seen it!"
"It's not like it's a vector for disease on purpose, Dean. I'm just saying, maybe we shouldn't panic until we actually know if it has rabies."
*
Our dad started it. Established in 1983, just like it says on the card. I was just a baby, back then, but even as kids, he got Dean and I involved. You ever play Mouse Trap when you were little? Ever try it with actual traps?
Yeah, I didn't think so.
It all started when our mom died.
*
"Take your brother outside as fast as you can and don't look back. Now, Dean, go!"
Dean took his baby brother down the stairs and out the door, the cold November air a sharp contrast to the blasting heat behind him. He couldn't help but turn as his bare feet hit the lawn.
"It's okay, Sammy," he told his squalling brother. But in those bare seconds before the flames burst through the second story window and his father burst through the front door, Dean could swear he saw their tiny bodies scurrying across the roof, bushy, bouncy tails streaming out behind them like smoke from a diesel truck's exhaust pipe.
*
Furry little bastards were nesting in the attic. Chewed right through the power cables for the ceiling fan in Sammy's nursery.
Mom never stood a chance.
*
"You've been listening to her again, haven't you? Haven't you?"
"Her name is Ruby, Dean."
"Yeah? You sure it's not ‘Squirrelina'?"
"Dude, that doesn't even make sense."
*
Ruby's my girlfriend. She's actually really sweet, but Dean hates her. I keep telling him: just because she's a vegan doesn't mean she's evil. PETA does a lot of good work. But Dean's not really what anyone would call a ‘good listener'.
*
"He's mad. I can tell these things, you know."
"He's not -- look, Ruby, it's not his fault, okay? We were raised in all this, and he never got a chance to get out of it, like I did. He just can't see past Dad's issues."
"I know that, Sam. But he'll never accept this. Never accept us."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying -- I'm saying maybe it's time you went your own way."
*
Sammy's sleeping with the enemy. Do you know how many times I've had those PETA people throw shit at my car? They call me a murderer.
I'd like to see how loving and tolerant they are when the bed bugs come for them.
I don't mean that. I wouldn't wish bed bugs on my worst enemy, those things are hell to get rid of.
Sorry. I haven't really been the same since the raccoons.
*
The hour hand on the antique clock ticked over, sending a bird flying out of its home on the top of the clock with a terrible "CUCK-oo! CUCK-oo!" Dean startled, tensing in his seat, then let out a breath and pushed himself to his feet.
"I guess this is it, then."
Bobby gave him a long, solemn look, then tugged on the brim of his ball cap in salute. Sam clenched his hands into fists in his pockets.
"You shouldn't have to do this, Dean. You shouldn't be taking the fall for me."
Dean clapped him on the shoulder and offered him a tight smirk. "It's alright, Sammy. I'm your big brother. I gotta look out for you."
"But you're not the one who relocated those raccoons!"
"Yeah, well, I didn't tell you not to, did I? Dad's gone, and that means I'm the boss now. When something goes wrong, it's my responsibility."
"I can't believe that judge sentenced you to 500 hours community service in a national park," Bobby grumbled. "Whatever happened to a standard fine?"
Sam pulled Dean into a tight hug. "What am I supposed to do without you?"
"Make Dad proud, Sammy. Make me proud. And remember, the way to get a raccoon out of a chimney is to cut off its food supply until it decides to leave on its own."
Sam nodded into Dean's shoulder, arms tightening. "I will, Dean."
Dean pulled away, giving Sam a final thump, then turned towards the door to the ranger station. "What out for the squirrels, man," he called over his shoulder. "Watch out for the squirrels."
*
Dad was killed in a car accident a couple years ago. We were coming back from a big job up-county, a historic mansion with just-as-historic termites. Dad and Dean had gotten a little banged up when the old banister broke on the stairs, so I was driving. We skidded off the road, smacked into a tree.
No, the road wasn't wet or anything. I was, uh. Swerving to miss a squirrel.
Dean blames himself.
*
"Shotgun!"
"Not a chance, kid. Get your ass in the back seat and stretch out that leg."
"Goddammit, Dad."
*
The pigeon cooed, its voice warbling like a cat's purr in Dean's ear. It stared down the squirrel who perched on its hind legs on the balcony railing. The squirrel leaned forward, sniffing at the air. The pigeon hopped on Dean's shoulder, flapping its wings aggressively. The squirrel leaped down from the balcony into a nearby tree and scurried away out of sight.
The pigeon settled and cooed once more, sounding just a little bit self-satisfied.
Dean looked over at Sam.
"Our lives are seriously weird, dude."
*
Yeah, the pigeon. Dean says it followed him back from community service. It, uh. It really doesn't like Ruby.
*
"GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF GET IT OFF GET IT OFF!"
"Aw, come on, Ruby. I thought you loved all things great and small."
"That thing took a crap on my head!"
"It's just ‘cause he's not fuzzy, isn't it? You only like the cuddly looking animals."
"That's it, Sam! I can't stay here a minute longer."
"Ruby, wait --"
*Slam*
"Dammit, Dean."
"What can I say, man? Ted Pigent has taste."
*
Ted Pigent, get it? Yeah, you try thinking of a clever pigeon related pun when your co-community-service dude slipped you a shroom-tea mickey.
Ted's the only decent thing to come out of that whole deal. Three months out in the woods, surrounded by trees and bugs and wild dogs. Too many to get rid of ‘em all. Too many to even keep most ‘em out. And you're tripping balls because the same judge who sentenced you thought it'd be fun to send a crunchy neo-hippie arrested for holding with you. It's like an exterminators' hell.
Though Cas is the one who found Ted for me. He's not such a bad guy. Just don't drink from his canteen.
*
"You are such a hypocrite! You've given me crap for months about Ruby, and now you're hanging out with the bird man of Black Hills?"
"Cas is nothing like Ruby, Sam! He understands that there's a time and a place for wild animals, and that a residential attic isn't one of them!"
"So does Ruby!"
"Ruby stole my traps, Sam."
"She's just trying to protect the sanctity of life."
"They're humane traps!"
"You just can't accept that I'm choosing my own path!"
"Yeah, the path of self-righteous bitchitude! Pest control was good enough for Dad, Sam, I don't know why you don't think it's good enough for you!"
"Most parents would love if their kid became a lawyer!"
"Talk about your pests. . . ."
"That's it. I can't take any more of this. This partnership is dissolved."
"Fine!"
"Fine!"
*slam*
*
"It's for the best, Dean." Cas offered Dean his flask, eyes wide and guileless, voice low and smoke-rough. "Samuel was never meant for the same things you were."
Dean had been staring into his empty beer bottle for ten minutes, now, trying to will more beer into it with the power of his mind. He wasn't even certain when Cas had gotten there. The dude seemed to come and go on a whim, and was silent as a cat when he moved, the only noise signalling his arrival the rustle of Ted Pigent's feathers when he shuffled in greeting.
Dean wasn't certain of much of anything, these days. His brother had left, walked out of the door of the Winchester and Sons Pest Control office just like he had all those years before, when he ran away to college.
"Maybe I'll quit, too," he mused. "I'll sell the place to Ellen and Jo. They can rename it. ‘Harvelle and Daughter Pest Control'. It'll be huge."
"I suspect the business will stay roughly the same size at first," Cas said. "Assuming it doesn't shrink."
Dean groaned, then unscrewed the cap of the flask. He sighed heavily, then raised it to his lips, just as Cas continued.
"It's for the best, anyway," he said. "This will free you up to assist the pigeons in defeating the squirrels once and for all."
Dean spit the sip he'd taken from the flask all over his desk, then groaned. "Dammit, Cas, what have I told you about the shroom tea?"
*
Let me put it this way: a pigeon in your attic will do just as much damage as a squirrel. Not even just to the house, you know? To itself. Pest control isn't just about protecting humans. We're in the business of protecting everybody.
Well. Except for the bed bugs.
*
"It's for the best, Sam." Ruby gently pushed against Sam's chest, sending him backward onto her bed. "You were never meant to do that job. They just kept pulling you back."
"Jess --" Sam started. Ruby shushed him with a kiss.
"That wasn't the squirrel's fault," she chided. "Squirrels don't understand pilot lights."
Sam nodded. "I know. I know that. Dean does, too, he just gets so caught up in the job sometimes --"
Ruby stole another kiss. She straddled Sam's hips, running her hands over his chest. "Shh. It's alright, baby. We always knew this fight was coming."
Sam paused in unbuttoning her shirt. "Wait, what?"
"The squirrels' defeat of the pigeons. You're the one who will champion the squirrelish cause and usher in a new age of squirrel freedom."
"Son of a bitch."
*
Squirrels really can be just plain nasty, you know? I once saw a squirrel jump out of a tree and steal a little girl's ice cream cone. I may not always agree with Dean, but that little girl is probably scarred for life.
*
"Ruby?"
"Broke up with her. She wanted me to become King of Squirreldonia."
"I told you, man, she wasn't right in the head."
"Yeah. Cas?"
"Shipped back out to Black Hills. Sent Ted Pigent with him."
"You loved that bird."
"Yeah, well, then he took a crap on my copy of Zeppelin IV on vinyl."
"Ah."
"Yeah."
"So."
"So."
"Partners?"
"Yeah, Sammy. Partners."
*
"Well ain't that just the cutest thing you've ever seen." Bobby looked up from his ledger book and smirked. "You boys planning on actually working, today? Or should I give this one to Victor and Gordon?"
Dean and Sam broke their hug. Sam shoved his hands in his pocket. Dean rubbed his hand over his mouth.
"Nah, Bobby," Dean said. "We're good. Whatcha got?"
The End
Author: Bella Temple
Category: Crack, AU
Rating: light PG-13
Warnings: Crack. Light sexual content, cursing, and drug use. Loose interpretation of the American legal system. Bad pun animal names. Nontraditional structure.
Spoilers: Sort of vaguely through season 5.
Author's notes: This is really probably not what roque_clasique was thinking of when she gave me the following prompt: "Sam and Dean are not hunters, but exterminators. Literally, pest control. Like, fleas and stuff. Sometimes nests of raccoons in people's chimneys." But, well, sometimes you just gotta run with what you got.
Summary: Winchester and Sons Pest Control, established 1983. If it's got fur, feathers, or flies, we'll make it go bye-bye. Also if it has an exoskeleton or scales, but those aren't as alliterative. Dude, that's the worst slogan, ever. It was already the worst slogan ever, Dean. Yeah, well, at least it rhymed.
"Sam! Watch your six!"
"I see it!"
"Take it out! Take it out!"
"I got it man, I --"
"Saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaam!"
"Jesus, Dean. Would you chill? It's just a squirrel."
*
We travel a lot. Comes with the territory, you know? Gotta go wherever the job takes us. I'd say we've probably driven on every road in the county by now, maybe every one in the state.
Yeah, it gets lonely out there sometimes. Everyone needs us, you know, but no one ever wants to cop to it. No one wants to hang out with the pest control. So Sammy and I, we gotta stick together, you know? We're all we have.
Well, okay, and Jo and Ellen, of course. And all the other technicians. And Bobby, our office manager and dispatcher. And Tessa in collections. But on a job? Out there, it's just me and Sam and the open road.
*
"Just a squirrel? Just a squirrel? Are you kidding me, Sammy?"
"Dean --"
"You know what these things can do, man, you've seen it!"
"It's not like it's a vector for disease on purpose, Dean. I'm just saying, maybe we shouldn't panic until we actually know if it has rabies."
*
Our dad started it. Established in 1983, just like it says on the card. I was just a baby, back then, but even as kids, he got Dean and I involved. You ever play Mouse Trap when you were little? Ever try it with actual traps?
Yeah, I didn't think so.
It all started when our mom died.
*
"Take your brother outside as fast as you can and don't look back. Now, Dean, go!"
Dean took his baby brother down the stairs and out the door, the cold November air a sharp contrast to the blasting heat behind him. He couldn't help but turn as his bare feet hit the lawn.
"It's okay, Sammy," he told his squalling brother. But in those bare seconds before the flames burst through the second story window and his father burst through the front door, Dean could swear he saw their tiny bodies scurrying across the roof, bushy, bouncy tails streaming out behind them like smoke from a diesel truck's exhaust pipe.
*
Furry little bastards were nesting in the attic. Chewed right through the power cables for the ceiling fan in Sammy's nursery.
Mom never stood a chance.
*
"You've been listening to her again, haven't you? Haven't you?"
"Her name is Ruby, Dean."
"Yeah? You sure it's not ‘Squirrelina'?"
"Dude, that doesn't even make sense."
*
Ruby's my girlfriend. She's actually really sweet, but Dean hates her. I keep telling him: just because she's a vegan doesn't mean she's evil. PETA does a lot of good work. But Dean's not really what anyone would call a ‘good listener'.
*
"He's mad. I can tell these things, you know."
"He's not -- look, Ruby, it's not his fault, okay? We were raised in all this, and he never got a chance to get out of it, like I did. He just can't see past Dad's issues."
"I know that, Sam. But he'll never accept this. Never accept us."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying -- I'm saying maybe it's time you went your own way."
*
Sammy's sleeping with the enemy. Do you know how many times I've had those PETA people throw shit at my car? They call me a murderer.
I'd like to see how loving and tolerant they are when the bed bugs come for them.
I don't mean that. I wouldn't wish bed bugs on my worst enemy, those things are hell to get rid of.
Sorry. I haven't really been the same since the raccoons.
*
The hour hand on the antique clock ticked over, sending a bird flying out of its home on the top of the clock with a terrible "CUCK-oo! CUCK-oo!" Dean startled, tensing in his seat, then let out a breath and pushed himself to his feet.
"I guess this is it, then."
Bobby gave him a long, solemn look, then tugged on the brim of his ball cap in salute. Sam clenched his hands into fists in his pockets.
"You shouldn't have to do this, Dean. You shouldn't be taking the fall for me."
Dean clapped him on the shoulder and offered him a tight smirk. "It's alright, Sammy. I'm your big brother. I gotta look out for you."
"But you're not the one who relocated those raccoons!"
"Yeah, well, I didn't tell you not to, did I? Dad's gone, and that means I'm the boss now. When something goes wrong, it's my responsibility."
"I can't believe that judge sentenced you to 500 hours community service in a national park," Bobby grumbled. "Whatever happened to a standard fine?"
Sam pulled Dean into a tight hug. "What am I supposed to do without you?"
"Make Dad proud, Sammy. Make me proud. And remember, the way to get a raccoon out of a chimney is to cut off its food supply until it decides to leave on its own."
Sam nodded into Dean's shoulder, arms tightening. "I will, Dean."
Dean pulled away, giving Sam a final thump, then turned towards the door to the ranger station. "What out for the squirrels, man," he called over his shoulder. "Watch out for the squirrels."
*
Dad was killed in a car accident a couple years ago. We were coming back from a big job up-county, a historic mansion with just-as-historic termites. Dad and Dean had gotten a little banged up when the old banister broke on the stairs, so I was driving. We skidded off the road, smacked into a tree.
No, the road wasn't wet or anything. I was, uh. Swerving to miss a squirrel.
Dean blames himself.
*
"Shotgun!"
"Not a chance, kid. Get your ass in the back seat and stretch out that leg."
"Goddammit, Dad."
*
The pigeon cooed, its voice warbling like a cat's purr in Dean's ear. It stared down the squirrel who perched on its hind legs on the balcony railing. The squirrel leaned forward, sniffing at the air. The pigeon hopped on Dean's shoulder, flapping its wings aggressively. The squirrel leaped down from the balcony into a nearby tree and scurried away out of sight.
The pigeon settled and cooed once more, sounding just a little bit self-satisfied.
Dean looked over at Sam.
"Our lives are seriously weird, dude."
*
Yeah, the pigeon. Dean says it followed him back from community service. It, uh. It really doesn't like Ruby.
*
"GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF GET IT OFF GET IT OFF!"
"Aw, come on, Ruby. I thought you loved all things great and small."
"That thing took a crap on my head!"
"It's just ‘cause he's not fuzzy, isn't it? You only like the cuddly looking animals."
"That's it, Sam! I can't stay here a minute longer."
"Ruby, wait --"
*Slam*
"Dammit, Dean."
"What can I say, man? Ted Pigent has taste."
*
Ted Pigent, get it? Yeah, you try thinking of a clever pigeon related pun when your co-community-service dude slipped you a shroom-tea mickey.
Ted's the only decent thing to come out of that whole deal. Three months out in the woods, surrounded by trees and bugs and wild dogs. Too many to get rid of ‘em all. Too many to even keep most ‘em out. And you're tripping balls because the same judge who sentenced you thought it'd be fun to send a crunchy neo-hippie arrested for holding with you. It's like an exterminators' hell.
Though Cas is the one who found Ted for me. He's not such a bad guy. Just don't drink from his canteen.
*
"You are such a hypocrite! You've given me crap for months about Ruby, and now you're hanging out with the bird man of Black Hills?"
"Cas is nothing like Ruby, Sam! He understands that there's a time and a place for wild animals, and that a residential attic isn't one of them!"
"So does Ruby!"
"Ruby stole my traps, Sam."
"She's just trying to protect the sanctity of life."
"They're humane traps!"
"You just can't accept that I'm choosing my own path!"
"Yeah, the path of self-righteous bitchitude! Pest control was good enough for Dad, Sam, I don't know why you don't think it's good enough for you!"
"Most parents would love if their kid became a lawyer!"
"Talk about your pests. . . ."
"That's it. I can't take any more of this. This partnership is dissolved."
"Fine!"
"Fine!"
*slam*
*
"It's for the best, Dean." Cas offered Dean his flask, eyes wide and guileless, voice low and smoke-rough. "Samuel was never meant for the same things you were."
Dean had been staring into his empty beer bottle for ten minutes, now, trying to will more beer into it with the power of his mind. He wasn't even certain when Cas had gotten there. The dude seemed to come and go on a whim, and was silent as a cat when he moved, the only noise signalling his arrival the rustle of Ted Pigent's feathers when he shuffled in greeting.
Dean wasn't certain of much of anything, these days. His brother had left, walked out of the door of the Winchester and Sons Pest Control office just like he had all those years before, when he ran away to college.
"Maybe I'll quit, too," he mused. "I'll sell the place to Ellen and Jo. They can rename it. ‘Harvelle and Daughter Pest Control'. It'll be huge."
"I suspect the business will stay roughly the same size at first," Cas said. "Assuming it doesn't shrink."
Dean groaned, then unscrewed the cap of the flask. He sighed heavily, then raised it to his lips, just as Cas continued.
"It's for the best, anyway," he said. "This will free you up to assist the pigeons in defeating the squirrels once and for all."
Dean spit the sip he'd taken from the flask all over his desk, then groaned. "Dammit, Cas, what have I told you about the shroom tea?"
*
Let me put it this way: a pigeon in your attic will do just as much damage as a squirrel. Not even just to the house, you know? To itself. Pest control isn't just about protecting humans. We're in the business of protecting everybody.
Well. Except for the bed bugs.
*
"It's for the best, Sam." Ruby gently pushed against Sam's chest, sending him backward onto her bed. "You were never meant to do that job. They just kept pulling you back."
"Jess --" Sam started. Ruby shushed him with a kiss.
"That wasn't the squirrel's fault," she chided. "Squirrels don't understand pilot lights."
Sam nodded. "I know. I know that. Dean does, too, he just gets so caught up in the job sometimes --"
Ruby stole another kiss. She straddled Sam's hips, running her hands over his chest. "Shh. It's alright, baby. We always knew this fight was coming."
Sam paused in unbuttoning her shirt. "Wait, what?"
"The squirrels' defeat of the pigeons. You're the one who will champion the squirrelish cause and usher in a new age of squirrel freedom."
"Son of a bitch."
*
Squirrels really can be just plain nasty, you know? I once saw a squirrel jump out of a tree and steal a little girl's ice cream cone. I may not always agree with Dean, but that little girl is probably scarred for life.
*
"Ruby?"
"Broke up with her. She wanted me to become King of Squirreldonia."
"I told you, man, she wasn't right in the head."
"Yeah. Cas?"
"Shipped back out to Black Hills. Sent Ted Pigent with him."
"You loved that bird."
"Yeah, well, then he took a crap on my copy of Zeppelin IV on vinyl."
"Ah."
"Yeah."
"So."
"So."
"Partners?"
"Yeah, Sammy. Partners."
*
"Well ain't that just the cutest thing you've ever seen." Bobby looked up from his ledger book and smirked. "You boys planning on actually working, today? Or should I give this one to Victor and Gordon?"
Dean and Sam broke their hug. Sam shoved his hands in his pocket. Dean rubbed his hand over his mouth.
"Nah, Bobby," Dean said. "We're good. Whatcha got?"
The End