FIC: A Mighty Dark Night - Chapter VII
Title: A Mighty Dark Night
Author: blue_fjords
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Word length: ~74,000
Warnings: violence, language and sex
Summary: Detective Dean Winchester meets Homeland Security Agent Castiel James over a corpse.
Chapter VII
Drove him to the coffin like a hammer and a nail
Ms. Rosen, or Becky as she breathlessly told Dean when she slid into the backseat, was a bit of a surprise. Somewhere in her mid-twenties, a bottle blonde, and dressed like a Japanese schoolgirl, she also apparently lacked a 'quiet' mode.
"You're Castiel's Detective Winchester?" she asked, leaning over the seat and coming dangerously close to spilling her frappaccino on his baby's upholstery. She frowned at his glare. "Okay, I guess you're grumpy enough, but I thought you'd be taller. And clean-shaven." Clean-shaven? "Anyhow, Castiel, I've got loads to tell you. Can I speak freely in front of the dick?"
Dean slammed on the breaks. "Dick? Listen, lady, I'm the one hauling your ass around town. It's Detective Winchester, not 'dick'. This ain't Shaft."
"I am sure Ms. Rosen meant no disrespect," Cas said, holding up his hand to prevent Becky from speaking. "And to answer your question," he continued, giving her a piercing look, "anything you would tell me you may tell Dean."
That was more like it.
"Good we got that settled. Now where am I heading?" Dean shot Becky a smug look in the rearview mirror.
"It's a couple blocks from Catholic University," Becky answered and took a loud sip through her straw. "So, Castiel. I'm sorry I couldn't meet you; it was horrible at work. Nancy was murdered!"
Cas looked at her sharply. "Why?"
"I don't even know. She didn't know anything about Lilith. A total sweetheart - if you turn right here it's a shortcut," she interrupted herself as they passed through an intersection. "Or we could go out of our way."
"Dude, a little warning!" Dean protested. "So wait, your co-worker was murdered? Do you actually work for Lilith?"
"Well, sort of. It's a front company, you see, totally legit. I had no idea she was a flesh peddler when I signed on, trust me! Nancy and I worked the front desk at 'War in My Soul' - it's this New Age self-help place."
Dean stopped at a red light. "I think I've seen their ads in the metro. Looks like a load of tripe."
"Excuse me, but that's my job you're talking about!" Becky said huffily.
"For a madam and God knows what else?" Dean cocked one eyebrow up at her. She pursed her lips and nodded. One point to Dean.
The light turned green and he focused back on the road.
"Anyhow, Castiel, I had wanted to bring you those files you asked for, but I needed both mine and Nancy's key to get into War's office-"
"Wait, the guru calls himself War? Seriously? What a douche!"
"Dean," Cas said a bit testily. "Please hold your opinions until Ms. Rosen has been able to relay all of the information."
"Sorry," he mumbled. That time he did not look up at the mirror. Becky probably would have been smirking.
"But never fear, I was a total stealth ninja! The cops showed up at the office before I was supposed to meet you, right, and said, 'oh, sorry, sweet Nancy is dead, can you take us to her place?' And of course I said yes, and we went over there and when the cop dudes weren't looking," she paused to draw breath, "I stole her key! Nancy would've wanted me to have it. You know what was weird? Nancy was hit by a truck, which must be a horrible way to die, but she didn't have her phone with her! We went back to the office, and it was in her desk drawer. I was helping the cops pack up her stuff, but they weren't really paying attention. I think they thought it was totally an accident, but I'm sure it was murder. I switched her phone with mine, which is why you couldn't reach me, and I brought you her phone. You'll find out who did it, right? Nancy was a total sweetheart. I think she was even a virgin! It's so sad!" She burst into tears.
Dean exchanged an alarmed look with Cas, but before either of them could try out a 'there, there,' Becky continued her story.
"And then I had to wait until yesterday to get the files, because there were all these strangers in the office. You know, about Nancy. I think they worked for Lilith. They may have been watching me to see if I was disloyal! Though really, I don't know how Nancy could have possibly known about Lilith. But she must've, because those assholes totally murdered her!" She clenched her little fist and nodded fiercely.
Dean glanced at Cas again. Though it sounded to him like Nancy had legitimately been hit by a truck, there were way too many coincidental deaths in this case.
"And you have to turn left at the next light," Becky interrupted his train of thought. She sucked air loudly through her straw and gave the near-empty plastic cup a mournful look. "So anyway, let me give you the stuff." She reached into her purse and pulled out a tube of lipstick and an iPhone and passed them over the front seat to Cas. "Second right, Detective Dean, and then he's the fifth house on the left."
"Yes, ma'am," Dean muttered, but Becky ignored his sarcasm. He was on a familiar street, come to think of it. He'd taken his Confidential Informant home from a bar a couple of times. Chuck Shurley lived down this street, in a house with green peeling paint and a poorly-cut lawn. It was, in fact, the fifth house on the left.
***
"I can't believe you'd cheat on me."
Chuck was squirming again, but Dean didn't care. Chuck was his CI, dammit, and his best one, despite the alcoholism. Who the hell else was he selling secrets to?
"It's not - it's not cheating, Dean, see, you and Agent James are on the same side, right?" Chuck rubbed at the back of his neck and shifted from foot to foot in the middle of his kitchen, slipping a bit in his oversized wool socks. The frayed belt of his ratty bathrobe trailed the ground, digging a trench through the top layer of food and dust scuzz on the kitchen floor with each shift of Chuck's feet.
"What about all the others?" Dean turned his glare on Cas. "Did you know about this?"
"Contrary to your favorite opinion, Dean, I do not exist to make your life miserable or, how would you put it - 'play with your toys.'" Cas gave him a disgusted look, and Dean flushed a bit. He probably deserved that.
"Sorry, Cas," he mumbled.
"Everyone needs to stop yelling at my boyfriend. He's done you both loads of favors. And he doesn't talk to other cops. They're pigs." Becky stalked right through their little stand-off to get to the fridge. "Chuck, where's my tea? Did you drink all my tea? There's no whiskey in it!"
"I wouldn't drink your tea, Becky!" Chuck protested. "That tea is special lady-tea!"
"It's just tea! How can you be so sexist?"
Dean caught Cas's eye and nodded his head at the hallway. They left Chuck digging himself deeper into a hole of sexist tea.
"How long have you known Chuck?" Dean asked from the living room.
"Chuck Shurley and I attended elementary school together."
Dean blinked. That would be… probably thirty years or so. Okay, he was going to lose the Chuck Affection Battle.
"He has been an informant for me for the past several years," Cas continued. "I did not know he was also working with you, else I would not have asked him to follow you two nights ago."
"Wait, what? Chuck was our tail? This Chuck?" He didn't wait for Cas's nod, but barreled down the hall and into the kitchen, calling Chuck's name. "CHUCK!"
Chuck and Becky broke off their argument, Chuck's face blanching at the expression on Dean's. "I see you figured… in my defense, it was really awkward for me, too."
"You should have told me you knew who you were tailing, Chuck," Cas said. Dean hadn't heard Cas behind him, but he was there now, frowning for all he was worth at Chuck.
"I didn't know how to say that! How do you tell a dude - no, a friend! - how do you say, 'Hey, sorry, man, but your boyfriend is totally stepping out on you with a chick'?"
Dean ground his teeth together. What was with everyone lately? "First off," he gestured with his fingers between him and Cas, "we're not together. There is nothing here, here. And second, how could you not tell me you were following me!"
Chuck stared at him a moment, eyes opened wide. "Um. This is uncomfortable."
"Forget it, Chuck." Cas's voice was frosty. "Dean and I must leave anyway, now that Ms. Rosen is safe with you."
"Hey, I wasn't finished-" Dean started.
"Yes you were."
He turned on his heel and stalked out of the kitchen. The front door slammed a moment later. Dean looked back at Chuck and Becky. Chuck was avoiding his gaze, but Becky seemed to have forgotten her anger at Chuck in favor of glaring at Dean.
"If you break his heart, I will cut out your tongue," she said ominously.
"Anyone ever tell you you're nuts?" Dean asked. He gave his shoulders an irritable hitch. Cas could damn well wait for him, giving out orders like he was Big Man on Campus. "And don't make a habit of telling law enforcement you're going to cut out their tongues. A petty man would throw you in lock-up for that."
Becky shook her head at him. "I have no idea what he sees in you."
You and me both. He turned to Chuck. "We'll talk about this later. I need to go save the world now."
"Good luck with that," Chuck said seriously.
Cas was already sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala, seatbelt buckled and hands folded in his lap, when Dean stomped down Chuck's front steps. He was wearing the inscrutable look again. It seemed to fit more naturally than Dean's old shirt.
"After we interview Joel," Cas said as Dean turned the key in the ignition, "I will take a cab to a hotel."
Dean's hand froze on the gear shift, the car still in park. "What?"
"It is clear to me now that I am a burden to you, and I do not appreciate feeling this way. My injuries are much better now. I will simply lay low in an inconspicuous hotel until such time as this case is wrapped and I may return to work."
"Fuck, Cas, I didn't mean-"
"Yes, you did. Else you would not have said it." Cas looked out the window, his jaw tight. "I am a grown man. It is foolish for me to feel something for someone who cannot return it. I would prefer to be alone."
Becky was going to cut out his tongue. He wanted to say something, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what he wanted to say. Tell Cas it might not be hopeless, that he was already seeping under Dean's skin and invading his daydreams? Or agree that it was best if they just kept everything strictly professional between them? Cas took the decision away.
"Do you need directions to Joel's house?" he asked.
"I can figure it out." It was about the only thing he could.
***
Joel was dead, according to his landlady, committed suicide the same day Ronald Reznick was killed. She barely glanced at Dean's badge before unlocking his apartment for them. Dean cursed under his breath as he stood in the middle of the third floor apartment.
It was completely empty - walls painted over, carpet replaced, even the fridge was new.
"Standard policy," the landlady said. "Besides, Joel had hisself a little dog. Shat all over the damn carpet before you people came and got his body. Going crazy in here. Fucking rude of Joel, blowing his brains out over my walls and leaving that yippy mongrel here."
Cas glared at her. Dean suspected Cas was more of a cat person, but the mental image of the abandoned dog was pretty powerful, he'd admit.
"Where can we find the dog?" Dean asked. The landlady looked at him blankly.
"You want a dog? Big men like you ain't gonna want a lap dog."
"We are not that kind of partner," Cas said icily. "And we want to see this specific dog."
The landlady blinked at Cas several times. Dean guessed she was the type of landlady who reveled in her power and didn't really deal with complaints.
"Sherri. Second floor," she said finally. "She was a little sweet on Joel. Not that they were fucking, mind you, Sherri was way out of Joel's league. But she thought he was a nice old man. Old, my ass, he was forty, maybe. Me, I'm sure he was a total pervert. Worked for politicians, and all them be perverts."
"Thanks so much for your help," Dean cut her off. "We'll be sure to let you know if we have any more questions."
"Yeah, okay, but I'm going out tonight. I have plans. With a gentleman friend."
"We have no interest in your plans," Cas said. He pushed by her to leave, heading for the stairs.
"Uh," Dean said. It was weird being the polite one. He and Rufus traded being the socially-acceptable one whenever they had to deal with assholes, but whenever Dean was out with Sam, he let Sam take care of smoothing ruffled feathers. What would Sam say here? "Thanks for your… kind… assistance." There, that was polite. "You'll have to forgive my partner, someone pissed in his cereal this morning," he added.
"You should keep your dick out of his cereal, mister," she huffed.
Well, really, that was going too far. Dean had a fully loaded firearm in a shoulder harness in plain sight. He hitched his shoulders as he walked by her and looked pointedly at the exposed radiator along Joel's back wall. It looked damn old, and rusty. "Nice pipes," he said over his shoulder, and followed Cas down the stairs.
Cas was waiting on the landing outside the second floor apartment.
"I apologize for my rudeness," he said stiffly.
"She deserved it. Look, Cas, you don't have to-"
Cas raised his hand and knocked on Sherri's door. A dog started yapping from inside the apartment. Cas moved to knock again, but Dean caught his arm.
"Stop it," he hissed. "And forget this dumb idea about going to a fucking hotel. You saved my life yesterday. That trumps… whatever. We're staying at Bobby's."
"I do not want your pity, Dean!" Cas lashed out, eyes flashing.
"Good, 'cause you don't have it!" Dean shot back. Cas was right in his face, he could smell the other man's toothpaste (the same as his) and aftershave (from his dad's bottle that'd been sitting in Bobby's spare bathroom since John Winchester died, and why did it still smell good, didn't those things expire?). Dean's thoughts were babbling at him, distracting him. He was fighting with Cas; he needed his wits about him. But Cas was all sharp angles when he was angry, the only softness present in the downturn of his mouth, the bow of his lips.
Dean took the next step, lips parting.
The door opened, and Dean sprang back from Cas.
"Sorry it took me so long; it takes forever for me to get Robot to calm down." A pretty strawberry-blonde, presumably Sherri, stood in the doorway holding a Chihuahua. Her smile faltered as she looked from Dean to Cas and back again. Dean could all-too-easily imagine what she was thinking. "Um. Did you knock on my door?"
"Guilty as charged." Dean whipped out his badge and a charming smile. "Detective Dean Winchester, this is my partner, Castiel James, and we were hoping you could tell us a few things about your deceased neighbor. Joel, from upstairs. Was Robot his dog?"
Dean got it all out in a rush, hoping she wouldn't think to ask where he was a detective, as he had no jurisdiction in the District, or to see Cas's badge, as it was better if no record existed of an AWOL Homeland Security Agent out investigating a case. He needn't have worried. The charming smile did its job.
"Ye-essss," she breathed out, smiling up at Dean a little starry-eyed. Robot let out a yelp, and Cas cleared his throat.
"May we come in?" At least his tone was a couple degrees warmer than it'd been with the landlady. A December day instead of a January day.
"Yes, sorry, I should have asked you in already." She held the door open wide, but not so wide she didn't brush up against Dean as he followed Cas inside. "Please pardon the mess. I just got home from my shift."
Dean glanced at her skirt - it had some kind of name in women's fashion, but to him it was a generic business skirt - and her blouse - buttons done up to acceptable level, one higher than he would have preferred. High-heeled shoes were lying on their sides by the door. White-collar job with shifts that end by 3:00. She was either a librarian, a bank teller, or a call-girl for a very specific clientele. He took a chance.
"Are you a bank teller, ma'am?" he asked.
She looked floored. Some people were really impressed by that trick.
"Are you a psychic detective?" she asked. "I work at the Federal Credit Union!"
"You don't say!" He could practically hear Cas rolling his eyes from where he stood by the couch.
"Were you Joel's banker as well as his neighbor, Ms…?" Cas asked, cutting to the chase as usual.
Sherri's smile faltered a bit and she bent to set Robot on the floor, her hair falling over her eyes. Robot went tearing off into a back room. "Sherri," she said. "My name's Sherri. And yes, Joel was a member of the FCU. He worked in the Capitol, you know."
"That sounds impressive," Dean said.
She smiled at him again, a sad little smile, as she sat on the couch, pulling her legs up beneath her. Dean took it as an invite and sat in the opposite corner, draping one arm over the back of the couch. Cas, of course, stayed standing ramrod straight. Dean felt a flicker of annoyance at his dour expression. He hoped Cas's presence wouldn't prevent Sherri from spilling her guts. It was almost as bad as questioning witnesses with Rufus's sour mug hanging over his shoulder.
"Joel was a janitor there," she said. "Not glamorous, but still kind of cool. He had keys to the tunnels beneath the buildings. The big ones are all supposed to be connected underground, in case of attacks and stuff. Joel showed me the ones for the Capitol."
"Very cool," Dean agreed, trying to keep his voice casual. He could feel excitement roiling off of Cas, but the other man seemed to have finally picked up on the vibe in the room and let Dean ask the questions. "You could go from the Capitol to the White House without having to deal with tourists. Sounds good to me."
"Yeah. Though Joel didn't have keys to the interconnecting tunnels. You know, for security."
"Right. Security." That was a minor relief, though once Lilith's people got underground, he doubted they'd really let the need for another set of keys stop them. "So Joel sounds pretty friendly," he said, changing tracks. "Was it shocking for you, what he did?"
"Yeah!" Sherri looked down at her hands. "I mean, okay, he was a loner, and he didn't have family around, at least that I knew of, but he had his hobbies, and Robot. I don't know why he would kill himself!"
Dean exchanged a look with Cas.
"He didn't mention maybe meeting anyone new to you, by any chance? Did his behavior change at all?"
Sherri looked back up, startled. "Wait, why? Are you thinking… he might not have committed suicide?" Her voice rose to a squeak at the end.
"We have no evidence to suggest he was murdered," Dean assured her. Her face grew even whiter. Dammit, he'd been doing so well.
"Sherri," Cas interrupted, and she started at the whip-crack of his voice. "Did he seem odd to you in the week leading up to his death, or not?"
"Yes, sir," she answered quickly. "He was a little… on edge. But if anything weird was going on with him, he would have told his friend, Ron. Ron was his best friend, the only one I ever saw come here. Ron would know."
Fuck a duck.
Dean leaned forward and placed his hand on her knee. Sherri watched him with big doe eyes, her lips parting. She really was quite attractive. Dean could imagine her slipping him her number, could imagine calling her in a week or so, could imagine taking her out for a couple of beers, could imagine undoing the buttons on her blouse, could imagine nibbling her lower lip… feeling rough stubble against his cheek as a strong hand gripped his cock and blazing blue eyes stared into his own. Oh, Hell, no.
He hadn't said anything, and the moment was quickly becoming awkward, Sherri growing confused, Dean flustered and Cas annoyed.
"Thanks, Sherri," he mumbled finally, and patted her knee. Like a damn grandfather. Jesus, he didn't have a leg to stand on with accusing Cas of being socially inept. He was saved from further humiliation by Robot running back into the room, a squeaky, fuzzy bone in his mouth. He stopped in front of the couch, and, firmly gripping one end in his sharp little teeth, started banging the opposite end on the floor. He was so small his body jumped back a bit with each pounding he gave the bone. The strangest noise echoed around the living room. Dean's eyes opened in wonder. Cas was laughing.
Cas looked about ten years younger when he laughed, crinkles around his eyes and flashing teeth, genuine amusement lighting his eyes. Dean's hands shook with the desire to touch that mouth, feel the muscles in Cas's stomach clench and release with each laugh. It was fucking scary.
Dean pulled a card out of his wallet instead, and handed it over to Sherri. "Anything else occurs to you, please give me a call." He stood up and looked away from the disappointment in her eyes, gaze landing on Cas again. Cas had reached down and was playing tug-o-war with Robot. Dean's stomach gave a lurch. Most likely from indigestion.
It was high time to leave this building.
"Take care of Robot," Cas commanded Sherri as they left. Dean had to put a hand in the small of his back to propel him out the door. He left it there as they walked down the stairs and back out to the road. It felt good to be so possessive, to be allowed to be possessive. Damn, he was so screwed. He finally dropped his hand when they reached the Impala. Cas turned into his personal space.
"I'll go back to Bobby's," he said.
***
He made Cas take some painkillers and a nap when they made it back to the farmhouse. He looked through his notes and drew several diagrams and charts, then squinted at them. He may as well have been finger-painting. He had separate branches for Crowley & Brady and Alistair & Company under Lilith. Homeland Security was a knot beside them, with Cas and Gabriel as their own off-shoot from the dick actions of their colleagues. Then there was Ronald Reznick, his tape and his ties to Joel, who was in turn tied to Congress. Congress, who Cas and Uriel were supposed to be protecting. And somehow, this was connected to Lilith's businesses and possibly another death in Becky's co-worker, Nancy. Lilith did seem to be the sun the rest of them were revolving around.
But how to follow all the dotted lines and connect-the-dots? He picked up his phone.
"Sammy? You got plans for tonight?"
"My plans consist of not breaking into abandoned buildings with you, Dean."
Dean grinned into his phone. "Good, then you can totally come to Bobby's! You did an estate planning course in law school, right?"
"What? Yeah a few years ago. Why? Dean, is something wrong with Bobby?!" Sam sounded panicked. Whoops.
"Calm down, Samantha, he's strong as an ox. I just need your help with some finances is all. And you can see Bobby for yourself. You'll come?"
"Dean, jeez, one of these days you're going to give me a heart attack, I swear. Yeah, I'll come, if only to punch you in the face."
"Perfect. See you soon, princess."
He hung up before Sam could get the final word in edgewise and called Henriksen to touch base.
"What the hell is going on, Winchester?"
Dean chewed his lip. How to say that they might be dealing with a potential attack on Congress, to be carried out through their water supply, by a group of thugs working for a madam/drug dealer/terrorist, and said group had infiltrated Homeland Security so they didn't know who to trust? Oh, and also, he was falling hard for a male DHS Agent. How were tricks at the station?
"Well. I think I'll have a clearer idea after tonight. You drink bottled water, right?"
Henriksen paused for a long moment. "I don't really want to know what that was about, do I? Never mind, just shut up for now, that other prick from DHS - Raphael something-or-other - was snooping around here earlier. I want us steering clear of any pissing contests in DHS, you hear me? You keep doing your job. I'll contact you tomorrow afternoon."
"Yes, sir."
Fuck, Raphael Finnerman was poking around the station. Though Dean would pay good money to see him try to get Gordon to jump through hoops for him.
Ash showed up soon after and enlisted Dean's help to carry in "some shit." "Some shit" turned out to be a couple of laptops, a couple external hard drives, and a few machines Dean wasn't quite sure did what. Sam came in while Ash was running wires, and they kicked Dean out of the room by virtue of his techno-aversion.
"Geek Squad give you the cold shoulder?" Bobby asked when he wandered into the kitchen.
"Yeah. Dweebs." He glanced at the counter. Bobby was forming hamburger patties. He had quite a pile going, next to a small box of frozen veggie patties for Sam. "You need anything?"
"Start the fire, then you can go wake Sleeping Beauty."
"You calling me a prince, Bobby?"
Bobby snorted. "Not likely. More like a caveman. Get outta here, idjit."
Dean threw a grin at him over his shoulder and clomped out to the porch to build up the fire in the grill. Now this was manly work, not like setting up computers. He could hear Sam and Ash arguing about power strips as he made his way up the stairs to check on Cas.
Cas was still asleep. He must have been more exhausted than he'd let on, and Dean kicked himself for letting him come with him all day instead of resting. Dean closed the bedroom door behind him, and Cas jolted awake, dark eyelashes fluttering open as he struggled to sit up.
"It's just me, Cas!" Dean assured him, taking a step forward. The blanket slid off Cas's shoulders as he sat fully upright, and Dean stared.
Cas had unwound the bandages and the bruises were more vividly colored today compared to yesterday.
"Shit, Cas," he breathed, sitting on the bed and stretching out a hand. Uriel deserved a lot worse than he'd got, and Dean was going to personally wipe out Lilith's goons. Cas shied back from his touch, and Dean went cold. He'd been the one pushing Cas away earlier. Of course Cas would think Dean was just pitying him now. He swallowed roughly.
"I'm not pitying you, Cas, Jesus."
"Then what do you want?"
"I - I don't know, man. I want lots of things." He did. Some things he was proud of wanting, and some things he was scared shitless of desiring. "I want to figure out what's going on with this shit case and stop the attack. I want to find out who's responsible and destroy them."
Cas looked at him calmly. "Those are all very noble things, Dean." His lips glistened slightly in the late afternoon light coming through the blinds. Dean's hand was shaking as he brought it up to cup Cas's jaw. If Cas hadn't sighed and leaned into the touch, Dean didn't know what would have happened. Would they have sat there, just barely touching, until the sun went down?
But Cas did lean into the touch, and Dean shifted closer, and Cas kissed him. It was tender and unhurried, unlike anything that had been between them before. Dean's lips parted and Cas's tongue darted in, gently probing.
The screen door slammed, the distant sound breaking the spell.
Dean leaned his forehead against Cas's as he caught his breath. "I don't know what I'm doing," he confessed.
"Then don't do anything," Cas said.
"What?"
Cas pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, then softly pushed Dean's hand away from his neck and stood up. "We'll stop the attack. We'll destroy those responsible. And then you'll figure out what you want."
Dean held his gaze and nodded slowly.
***
Rufus pulled into Singer's Salvage Yard an hour later.
"Honey, I'm home!" he yelled as he stomped up the porch steps. Dean greeted him at the door.
"Get in here, you graceless pig, soup's up." He made a grab for the thick folder clutched in Rufus's left hand, but the other man pulled it tight to his chest. "Come on, share."
"This is post-dinner reading, kid," Rufus said, and refused to relinquish his prize. Dean shrugged his shoulders irritably. The good thing about inheriting all of his father's friends was the loyalty factor. The bad thing was they were his father's friends, and tended to treat him as a child. Bobby was a special exception, and Dean loved him all the more because of it.
Rufus followed him into the kitchen and stopped abruptly. "It's a bit crowded in here."
"We're all putting aside our anti-social tendencies for the evening, old man." Dean gestured at the three men sitting around the kitchen table. "And you already know Sam, you've known him since he was in diapers." Sam shot him a look, no doubt concerned for his dignity. Dean grinned back. "And Ash you know, you met him at that thing at Pamela's house, remember?"
"Oh, shit, was that you?" Ash tipped back in his chair, squinting up at Rufus and ignoring Dean's gesture to shut the fuck up. "Yeah, okay, you're the old black man that-"
"And over here is Castiel James, of Homeland Security," Dean interrupted, laying a hand on Cas's shoulder, before Rufus's eyebrows could climb any higher. "Cas, Rufus here is my partner."
Cas rose slowly to his feet and held out his hand. "It must be very difficult working with Dean. I admire your tenacity."
Rufus stared at him a moment before snorting and shaking his hand. "I was expecting you to have breasts."
How is this so fucking obvious to everyone else? Dean could feel the heat in his cheeks, and Cas was opening his mouth, probably to say that, technically, all men had breasts.
"Diplomatic as ever, Rufus," Bobby said, stumping into the kitchen with a platter of burgers and shoving it into the middle of the table. "Add your own fixings, this ain't Red Robin."
Dean let out a sigh of relief and strategically maneuvered around the table until Rufus was sitting in between Sam and Bobby. Ash was thankfully distracted by a piece of cheese and would hopefully forget the dumbass thing he was going to say to Rufus. Cas's knee accidentally bumped against his own under the table. Dean shot him a quick look, but Cas was king of the poker face.
Sam carried the dinner conversation, for which Dean was grateful. He was acutely aware of Rufus's eyes on him and Cas, and tried to ignore Cas in favor of Ash, sitting on his left. That was an exercise in futility, though, as Ash eating a burger was one of the Top Ten Grossest Things - ever. Dean finally had to turn his back on the sight, just in time to catch Cas's expression as he bit into his own burger. The rapturous expression on his face made Dean's mouth go dry.
Dinner ended when Ash let a spectacular burp and everyone else lost their appetites. Bobby enlisted Sam's help in cleaning up, Ash was banished to the yard to work out his issues, and Dean, Cas and Rufus withdrew to the study to dig into the file Rufus had put together on Tyson Brady.
Rufus sat at Bobby's desk and thumbed the file open. "One thing," he said, leaning over the papers and blocking them from sight. He glanced up at Dean and Cas. "What the hell is up with Homeland Security, huh?"
"You wanna be more specific, old man?" Dean asked, dragging over his usual chair and straddling it. Cas stood, arms crossed, frowning down at Rufus. This might not go as smoothly as Dean had hoped.
"Just this: when we met Agent James here, he had himself a partner. Now his partner's dead, some joker from his office pissed Gordon off, another DHS agent bought the farm, and today we got Agent Happy Sunshine Himself." Rufus jutted his chin out at Cas. "Who the hell is Raphael Finnerman and why the hell did you piss in his porridge? He's got nothing good to say about you, kid."
Porridge, not cereal. Huh.
"Agent Finnerman is attempting to lay his crimes at my feet," Cas answered, eyes narrowed. "I assure you, I am no traitor."
"Well, Dean?" Rufus barked. "You trust him?"
"Yeah," Dean answered immediately. He cleared his throat. "Yeah, I trust him. Now how about you share the Brady file?"
Rufus gave him a 'We Are Not Amused, Young Man' look, but sat back in the desk chair, revealing the contents of the file. Both Dean and Cas leaned in, heads nearly touching.
Tyson Brady, age 29. Born in Pasadena, California, parents now deceased. Started online pet medicinal company in 2004 with college roommate, now deceased. Took over Niveus Pharmaceutical in 2008. Implicated, but never charged, in arson for fire that destroyed ex-girlfriend's apartment. Ex-girlfriend now deceased.
Dean let out a low whistle.
"Though I agree that these facts reinforce our perception of Brady as a 'bad' man, I see nothing here that links him or Niveus to Lilith," Cas said. "What happens on the next page?"
"Tyson Brady meets Meg Masters, aka Meg Drac," Rufus answered.
Dean froze. Meg. Shit.
"Meg Drac was one of those ladies you all were keeping from us, wasn't she?" Rufus asked Cas, but Dean answered.
"I killed her, Rufus," he blurted out. "She was going after Cas, and I grabbed her, and she fell and didn't get up."
He could still see her face, her insolent smirk, her heavy lidded eyes. In his mind's eye, she murdered Ronald Reznick again then turned to face him, giving him a jaunty wave. Cas laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly.
"Meg Drac was a murderer," he said. "And I would be dead if not for your actions."
Dean groped for Cas's hand on his shoulder and gave it a brief answering squeeze. "Thanks, Cas," he mumbled. Rufus was watching them, Dean knew, and he dropped his hand back down to the back of the chair. Cas didn't move his hand, though, and Dean surprised himself by not being embarrassed.
"So were they business partners, or something more?" he asked, steering the conversation back towards safer waters.
"Bit of both, I'd say," Rufus answered. "Not that anyone here'd have any experience with that."
Fuck, now I'll have to tell him to fuck off.
"Fuck off," Cas shot back. Dean choked back a laugh.
Rufus's eyebrows knitted together, and Dean half-expected him to leap out of his chair and across the desk to close his fist around Cas's throat. Then he started laughing.
"Fair enough," he said, shoulders shaking. "Oh, Lord, there's two of them now. Damn!"
It was disconcerting watching Cas and Rufus work together after that. Their prickly personalities seemed to mesh. Which was great, Dean knew it was great, not to mention lucky for him, but he felt almost like the third wheel. Cas would ask a question, Rufus would posit a theory, and then the two of them would look through the file together for the answer.
And then they gave Dean a marker to write their timelines and connections on the wipeboard Bobby hauled into the study. Ash and Sam joined them, balancing laptops on their knees, and Dean found himself thrust into the role of official unofficial secretary. Soon the whiteboard was filled with circles and arrows, dates and dollar amounts, and way too many names. Dean knew he'd lost his train of thought when he found himself doodling 'Get the Led out' in a corner of the board.
"Wait, wait, wait!" Ash cried. "We're looking at this all wrong. We need to make this simpler. And what's the simplest, truest thing of all?"
"Killing," Rufus answered. Sam looked at him askance.
"Family," Dean answered.
"No, no, no. Sex." Ash heaved a great sigh. "Are you men, or are you turnips? Lilith's a madam. She was having an affair with Crowley-"
"We don't know that," Dean interrupted. Seriously, sex? This was about way more than sex. Sex was quick and easy and didn't mean anything. At least, that was how it had been two days ago. Dean's thoughts on the matter had gotten a bit obscured since the night before.
Ash shot him a wounded look. "Work with me here, Deanarino. She's having an affair with Crowley, but she's also sleeping with… a Senator or Houseman, right, and Crowley gets jealous. So he comes up with a plan to poison Congress to bump off his rival! Only Lilith finds out about it, okay, and she sends her three best fighters to take Crowley out - BAM! - and that's an end to the alleged terrorist attack."
Everyone else stared at him for a moment.
"By 'Houseman' do you mean 'Congressperson'?" Sam asked finally.
"Your theory stinks," Rufus said bluntly. "What about all the different crime families Lilith is uniting? What about her being a drug dealer? What about all these payoffs - who are they for? For what? Who's paying them?"
"Okay, okay! Sheesh. You know something, you are one unpleasant old man."
Dean tuned them out as Ash and Rufus bickered in the background, looking instead at the transactions he'd scribbled on the whiteboard. Ruby had said to follow the money trail, after all. Not that he trusted her, but maybe there was something there. Payments from Crowley to Brady, and Crowley was a cautious bastard…
"Be quiet." Cas's voice cut across Ash's lazy drawl and Rufus's barking replies. "Dean has something to say."
Dean's eyes snapped back to Cas, surprised. So he had something to say, did he? Well maybe he did.
"I was thinking about Crowley," he said slowly. "He was giving Brady money for the drugs. Here." He pointed to three different amounts. "They all came from the same account, which was different from the one he used to pay Alistair, and the one for revenues. He kept everything separate. I don't even know what some of this shit was for."
"I may have a better idea of that now," Sam spoke up. "Those files from the… motivational speaker's office? Blackmail."
"What kind of blackmail?" Dean asked.
"Um. Well, she is a madam."
"You've been sitting here all night looking at porn? Sam!" Dean protested. "I called you here to look at financial shit. You were supposed to leave the porn for me."
"Trust me, Dean, the dudes she's blackmailing are old and saggy. I did you a favor."
Dean wrinkled his nose. "Say no more." He looked back at the board. On the couch, Ash was gleefully switching external hard drives with Sam. Pervert. "So she hid blackmail material at Becky's office, and Crowley hid the money in these accounts," he indicated a series of numbers. He had no idea if they were the right numbers, but that wasn't the point, the point was, "which are different from over here," another string of numbers, "which had money from her legit businesses, and so on and so forth."
Dean chewed his lower lip for a moment. Beside him, Cas frowned at the board. "That is fairly standard practice for money launderers, Dean. The more it is spread around, the harder it is to trace back to its source. But you believe he did this for another reason besides security, do you not?"
"Oh, no, it's security all right. Just not Lilith's security." Dean turned to face Cas. "Crowley made himself fucking irreplaceable. He was buying his own damn security."
Cas frowned. "Crowley was murdered."
Dean brushed that aside with a wave of his hand. "Yeah, so it didn't work for him."
"And Crowley did not command the loyalty of Lilith's… family. He did not unite Serbians and Croatians-"
"Yeah, Cas, I get that!" Did he have to be so argumentative all the time? It was annoying. "I still think Crowley had a failsafe or something related to the money!"
"He did," Sam said quietly.
"What?" Dean looked over at his brother, his heart thumping.
Sam looked up from the laptop. "Those three transactions? All had to be made in person at the bank. There was one more scheduled for today, but it has no info. And it doesn't because Crowley wasn't there to make it."
***
The water supply hadn't been poisoned yet. Crowley had paid Brady for manufacture and transport, Alistair for security, but the final payment, the delivery, had not been paid. Ash and Sam had dug through their accounts and found a code name for the delivery man - Pestilence, how very fitting - which had led to a heated debate as to his real name. Personally, Dean felt that Lilith wouldn't have left something that important up to a mere delivery man. Ash was sure it had to be someone at Homeland Security. Sam wondered if it was someone who'd already been killed in the whole fiasco. Cas put forth the theory that it was a PG County cop, perhaps one Crowley, who had dealt exclusively out of PG County, had been paying off to look the other way on his dealings. Rufus had decided he wasn't quite as buddy-buddy with Cas after that.
The idea disturbed Dean, but not as much as it would have a week ago. Corruption was something all police departments had to contend with; PG County was no different. They'd even had a large Internal Affairs sting a year ago, resulting in several arrests and then a few promotions for promising officers. Still, until he'd stood in the Fort Totten Metro Station with a pay phone up to his ear, he was willing to give all his fellow cops not his trust, but at least the benefit of the doubt. No longer. Cas had changed that.
The thought haunted him. How easily Cas had wormed his way into Dean's thoughts and influenced his actions. No one had done that… well, ever. The family Dean had made for himself had always been his - his little brother, his aunt and cousin, and then Bobby, Rufus and Missouri, his father's friends. But now Dean was letting Cas inside, a man he'd known less than a week. His skin crawled with the knowledge of the power he was giving Cas.
Dean sighed up at the ceiling in his childhood room. The floor was damn hard. He had no idea what lunacy had caused him to offer Cas the bed. Well, no, he knew exactly what it was. He was not going to force a man with Cas's injuries to sleep on a wooden floor. At least he could use the uncomfortableness of his position to help him take his mind off how much he wanted to reach across the space between them and rub himself against Cas's body, thrust his tongue into Cas's mouth, feel Cas's arms around him - the wooden floor was no longer working.
"Dean?" Cas was a terrible whisperer.
"Sh. What?" Dean whispered back, displaying proper technique when one's little brother was just down the hall, not to mention one's partner across the hall and then the two other men somewhere downstairs.
"You can have this bed. I do not believe Ash was planning to sleep; I can rest on the couch downstairs." His voice was a modicum lower.
"Dude, no, it's fine. Go back to sleep."
"I was not asleep. I find it difficult to sleep with you in such close proximity," Cas confessed. "I find it aggravating," he continued, his voice more of a growl.
Dean sat up and peered through the murky darkness at Cas on the bed.
"This was a bad idea," he said finally. "I can't sleep in the same room as you." He gathered up his blankets and thin pillow and marched over to the closet.
"What are you doing?" Cas asked, sitting up.
"I'm going out to the shed to sleep. Lie back down," he answered, finding the whorl and pressing against the back of the closet.
"You are an impossible creature, Dean Winchester."
"Don't I know it," Dean muttered. He didn't look back.
It'd been years since he'd made the trek through the secret passage, but the Captain America flashlight still hung from the hook on the wall. Bobby must have kept the batteries fresh. Dean flicked it on and picked his way as quietly as possible down the stairs. He had to bend over to avoid hitting his head on the dirt ceiling of the passage.
The shed was cold, but he was able to make a decent nest out of some bales of hay. "Much better than the floor," he muttered to himself as straw poked him in the back.
He had to do something about Cas. He wasn't freaking about the sex-with-a-man aspect. Well, not really, especially after their conversation about Jimmy. It was the fact they'd had that conversation at all. He was telling Cas things. People who opened themselves up like that shouldn't be surprised when others raided them and left. He dealt with assholes and scumbags and betrayers every damn day. It was stupid how quickly and totally he was trusting Cas. Very stupid. His eyelids closed of their own accord.
It didn't feel like a dream, but he was back up in his room, so it must have been. And he was in his bed, flat on his back, and sweet Jesus, he was letting Cas fuck him. The whole bed was shaking fit to wake the dead, but it was nothing compared to Cas's voice. "Let me in, you fuckwad!" he rasped, pistoning his hips and shoving in so hard, Dean could feel a jolt all the way up his spine to his brain and his body slid across the bed, which was now approximately the size of Bobby's kitchen. "I'm the one who says 'fuckwad,'" he slurred lazily. "You are in, fuckwad. Fuck me harder."
Cas seized his shoulders and Dean crossed his ankles around Cas's lower back, and then Cas was coming, fucking him hard through the mattress until it started to rip apart, and Dean stared up at Cas's Big-O face, struck by the collision of pleasure and pain written across his forehead and in the tone of his voice as he panted, "Impossible creature, let me in."
Dean woke with a start, flushed and hard and with a mouth as dry as the desert.
"Dammit," he croaked, shoving his hand into his boxers and imagining it was Cas's mouth.
He awoke again about six hours later to the door creaking open. He blinked groggily. His hand was still down his pants and he had no weapon except for the flashlight. Fuck. He hurriedly drew his hand out and wiped it off on some straw.
"Dean? You in here?" Sam called softly. His feet appeared in Dean's vision, polished leather of his dress shoes crunching the dry straw. "The shed? Really?"
"I love the shed," Dean mumbled. "What's your excuse?"
Sam rolled his eyes and crouched down. "I was going to offer you first dibs on the shower, but you weren't in your room. Just Castiel, looking like death warmed over. You guys get in a fight?"
Dean grunted noncommittally. Sam was giving him That Look again, Sam's patented 'I feel your pain' wide eyes of empathy. It was way too early for that shit. Sam sighed and stood up.
"I have to leave if I'm to make it to the office on time. Will you call me if you want to talk about it?"
"Jesus, Sammy, he's not some girl I'm making calf eyes at!" Dean exploded.
"I know he's not a girl," Sam said calmly.
"You - what the hell do you mean by that?" Dean glared up at his brother. He should stand up, Sam already had an unfair height advantage without Dean sitting on the floor, but if he stood the remains of his dream might be evident on his pajama bottoms.
"Dean, it's just - it'd be okay. If you, you know." He made a weird gesture, that didn't look anything like sexual congress, but from the red blush staining his cheeks, it was quite obvious what he meant.
"Fuck, Sam." Dean was suddenly more tired than before he'd slept. He drew his knees up to his chest and rested his head on them. "I don't know what the fuck I'm doing."
Sam was quiet for a moment. "I like him," he said.
"Great, I'll be sure to go buy us some promise rings now. Get them engraved with 'Sam approves.'" Dean snorted, and stood up, drawing his blanket around him. "Whatever. I'm going back in. You better have left me some hot water."
"Nope, all gone," Sam replied, a smile beginning in the corners of his mouth. "I ate all the eggs, too."
"You're an ass," Dean shot back, leading the way out of the shed. Weak, Winchester, weak.
"You have straw in your hair, big brother."
Sam's chuckle followed him into the house.
Dean managed to avoid running into Cas for the next half hour, while he showered, dressed and wolfed down cereal instead of eggs, damn Sam. He was out on the porch, watching Sam's taillights disappear in the distance, when he felt a presence on his right and knew it was Cas.
"I enjoy your brother's company," Cas said.
Dean grunted in response.
"Did you enjoy sleeping in the shed last night?" There wasn't even a hint of reproach in Cas's voice. That almost made it worse.
"Cas-"
"You said when this was over, then you'd figure it out," Cas spoke over him. "I should respect that."
Dean leaned into his presence, drawn like a moth to a flame. Cas was in his personal space again, so close he could feel his breath on his cheek, but he was getting used to it now. It felt almost comfortable. Dean's lips parted. When it came to Cas, he had zero willpower, it seemed.
A car pulled in at the end of the long drive, shattering the moment. Cas turned to chart its progress with him, his hand going to his hip and the holstered gun there.
"Easy," Dean murmured. "That's Pamela's car. She's a friend."
A friend he'd slept with a time or two, to be precise. She was one of Bobby's friends, sans benefits or at least Dean hoped so. Bobby joined them on the porch as Pamela pulled up in front of the porch.
"Oh, good. Pamela's here," he said.
"You're a master of the obvious, Bobby. What's she doing here?" Dean asked out of the corner of his mouth. Pamela stepped out of her car and slammed the door. She threw a wink over her shoulder as she bent to get something out of the back seat. The woman had a magnificent ass. Cas's eyes narrowed, and Dean noted that he'd never taken his hand off his gun. Awesome.
"Pamela's a healer, and Castiel here could use someone giving his ribs a check-up," Bobby answered. Dean threw him a startled look. Yeah, Pamela was a healer, but New Age type stuff. This was not going to go well. Pamela straightened up and slammed her rear door, too, and slung a brightly colored cloth bag over one shoulder.
"Morning, Dean!" she called. "Looks like you've got yourself another Grumpy with you."
Cas's eyebrows shot up.
"Relax, that's just what she calls Sam," Dean said quietly to him. "Don't worry, Pamela," he said as she joined them on the porch. "This is his happy face. He's smiling on the inside."
Cas shot him A Look as Pamela laughed.
"I'll have to call you Little Grumpy. Unless you'd be offering a lady a name?" She held out her hand to Cas and gave him a coquette-ish flutter of her eyelashes.
"Agent Castiel James, Homeland Security." His handshake was as brusque as his intro. "What are you a lady of?" Dean gave an inward wince.
"The night, Agent James," Pamela laughed. "And all its mysteries."
"I have no need of a lady of the night."
Okay, this was getting weird, and from the look on Bobby's face, he agreed with Dean. It was time to put the kibosh on this conversation.
"Yeah, so Pamela here is a healer," Dean conveniently left out the part about her also being a psychic, "so let's take this inside and start healing." He rubbed his hands together enthusiastically. Cas and Pamela both gave him odd looks. Bobby snorted and led the way inside, his cane thumping.
Pamela made Cas sit at the kitchen table and take his shirt off. Dean leaned against the sink and watched. From the living room, he could hear Bobby prodding Ash off the couch, using his cane.
Cas's bruises still made Dean flinch, but Cas's face remained expressionless as Pamela gently touched his chest. Cas was so leanly muscled, completely misleading considering his strength. Dean watched her hands touching his skin and fought back a wave of jealousy. Cas wasn't even looking at Pamela, Dean realized. He was staring at Dean, and continued while Pamela reached into her bag and pulled out a salve that she smeared over his bruises. Dean swallowed hard.
"Well!" Pamela crossed over to the sink and bumped him away with her hip. "Normally, I would say you should really take a day of bedrest, Grumpy, but from the looks you two are exchanging, I have a feeling your bedrest would be more athletic than most people running around."
Dean fought the blush with every fiber of his being and wrenched his gaze from Cas to glare at Pamela. She smirked right back at him.
"Bisexuality is the natural state of being, Dean. It's time you explored yours."
"He already has," Cas informed her.
"We're not talking about this," Dean said firmly. "Back to Cas's ribs." He ignored the gleeful look on Pamela's face and spoke to a spot over her left shoulder. "You think he should stay here today?"
"Dean," she sighed. "I think he would kill me if I said yes."
"He's a stubborn bastard," Dean acknowledged.
"I am sitting right here," Cas complained. "And I am going with you, Dean."
Dean huffed a breath. It'd be easier going with Cas, that was sure. Rufus was planning to do a little poking around at the precinct, see if he could tie anyone to Crowley. Dean wanted to look into the bowels of Congress itself, and to do that, he'd need Gabriel. Cas would be a help there.
Dean's phone rang, and he glanced down, welcoming the distraction. Chuck.
"Dean!" Chuck greeted him a little breathlessly when he accepted the call.
"Two-timer," Dean replied.
"Er. Yeah, are you not going to let that go…?"
Dean stayed silent, letting him suffer. Chuck cleared his throat.
"That makes this call a little awkward 'cause I kind of need a favor."
"Here, talk to Cas. You've known him your whole life." Dean thrust the phone in Cas's face. He was maybe taking this a little too far, but Chuck had always been a pushover and Dean had always liked pushing him.
"How is Cas really?" he asked Pamela in a low voice, keeping an eye on Cas at the table, frowning into Dean's phone.
Pamela shrugged. "I wouldn't want to go running around like that," she said, "but then I've never been a fan of the Martyr Complex. You see me putting my life on the line, you tell me to go running the other way, got it?"
He looked down at her. He sincerely doubted Pamela had ever run from a fight in her entire life. It just wasn't in her nature. "Sure," he said. "I'd tell you."
She smiled up at him. "The bruises look bad, and his muscles are sore, but he should be fine, as long as he doesn't go diving in front of moving vehicles or anything." His eyes wandered back to Cas's bare chest as she spoke, and he nodded absently to her advice. "Then you can get back to drooling over that lean, taut chest of his."
Busted. "Pamela-" he started, attempting to bluff his way out.
"Dean!" The kitchen chair scraped loudly across the linoleum as Cas quickly pushed back from the table. "We have to go now. One of Raphael's people has tracked Chuck to his mother's house in Laurel. We must get him back."
He believed in a God that could raise the dead>
Author: blue_fjords
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Word length: ~74,000
Warnings: violence, language and sex
Summary: Detective Dean Winchester meets Homeland Security Agent Castiel James over a corpse.
Chapter VII
Drove him to the coffin like a hammer and a nail
Ms. Rosen, or Becky as she breathlessly told Dean when she slid into the backseat, was a bit of a surprise. Somewhere in her mid-twenties, a bottle blonde, and dressed like a Japanese schoolgirl, she also apparently lacked a 'quiet' mode.
"You're Castiel's Detective Winchester?" she asked, leaning over the seat and coming dangerously close to spilling her frappaccino on his baby's upholstery. She frowned at his glare. "Okay, I guess you're grumpy enough, but I thought you'd be taller. And clean-shaven." Clean-shaven? "Anyhow, Castiel, I've got loads to tell you. Can I speak freely in front of the dick?"
Dean slammed on the breaks. "Dick? Listen, lady, I'm the one hauling your ass around town. It's Detective Winchester, not 'dick'. This ain't Shaft."
"I am sure Ms. Rosen meant no disrespect," Cas said, holding up his hand to prevent Becky from speaking. "And to answer your question," he continued, giving her a piercing look, "anything you would tell me you may tell Dean."
That was more like it.
"Good we got that settled. Now where am I heading?" Dean shot Becky a smug look in the rearview mirror.
"It's a couple blocks from Catholic University," Becky answered and took a loud sip through her straw. "So, Castiel. I'm sorry I couldn't meet you; it was horrible at work. Nancy was murdered!"
Cas looked at her sharply. "Why?"
"I don't even know. She didn't know anything about Lilith. A total sweetheart - if you turn right here it's a shortcut," she interrupted herself as they passed through an intersection. "Or we could go out of our way."
"Dude, a little warning!" Dean protested. "So wait, your co-worker was murdered? Do you actually work for Lilith?"
"Well, sort of. It's a front company, you see, totally legit. I had no idea she was a flesh peddler when I signed on, trust me! Nancy and I worked the front desk at 'War in My Soul' - it's this New Age self-help place."
Dean stopped at a red light. "I think I've seen their ads in the metro. Looks like a load of tripe."
"Excuse me, but that's my job you're talking about!" Becky said huffily.
"For a madam and God knows what else?" Dean cocked one eyebrow up at her. She pursed her lips and nodded. One point to Dean.
The light turned green and he focused back on the road.
"Anyhow, Castiel, I had wanted to bring you those files you asked for, but I needed both mine and Nancy's key to get into War's office-"
"Wait, the guru calls himself War? Seriously? What a douche!"
"Dean," Cas said a bit testily. "Please hold your opinions until Ms. Rosen has been able to relay all of the information."
"Sorry," he mumbled. That time he did not look up at the mirror. Becky probably would have been smirking.
"But never fear, I was a total stealth ninja! The cops showed up at the office before I was supposed to meet you, right, and said, 'oh, sorry, sweet Nancy is dead, can you take us to her place?' And of course I said yes, and we went over there and when the cop dudes weren't looking," she paused to draw breath, "I stole her key! Nancy would've wanted me to have it. You know what was weird? Nancy was hit by a truck, which must be a horrible way to die, but she didn't have her phone with her! We went back to the office, and it was in her desk drawer. I was helping the cops pack up her stuff, but they weren't really paying attention. I think they thought it was totally an accident, but I'm sure it was murder. I switched her phone with mine, which is why you couldn't reach me, and I brought you her phone. You'll find out who did it, right? Nancy was a total sweetheart. I think she was even a virgin! It's so sad!" She burst into tears.
Dean exchanged an alarmed look with Cas, but before either of them could try out a 'there, there,' Becky continued her story.
"And then I had to wait until yesterday to get the files, because there were all these strangers in the office. You know, about Nancy. I think they worked for Lilith. They may have been watching me to see if I was disloyal! Though really, I don't know how Nancy could have possibly known about Lilith. But she must've, because those assholes totally murdered her!" She clenched her little fist and nodded fiercely.
Dean glanced at Cas again. Though it sounded to him like Nancy had legitimately been hit by a truck, there were way too many coincidental deaths in this case.
"And you have to turn left at the next light," Becky interrupted his train of thought. She sucked air loudly through her straw and gave the near-empty plastic cup a mournful look. "So anyway, let me give you the stuff." She reached into her purse and pulled out a tube of lipstick and an iPhone and passed them over the front seat to Cas. "Second right, Detective Dean, and then he's the fifth house on the left."
"Yes, ma'am," Dean muttered, but Becky ignored his sarcasm. He was on a familiar street, come to think of it. He'd taken his Confidential Informant home from a bar a couple of times. Chuck Shurley lived down this street, in a house with green peeling paint and a poorly-cut lawn. It was, in fact, the fifth house on the left.
***
"I can't believe you'd cheat on me."
Chuck was squirming again, but Dean didn't care. Chuck was his CI, dammit, and his best one, despite the alcoholism. Who the hell else was he selling secrets to?
"It's not - it's not cheating, Dean, see, you and Agent James are on the same side, right?" Chuck rubbed at the back of his neck and shifted from foot to foot in the middle of his kitchen, slipping a bit in his oversized wool socks. The frayed belt of his ratty bathrobe trailed the ground, digging a trench through the top layer of food and dust scuzz on the kitchen floor with each shift of Chuck's feet.
"What about all the others?" Dean turned his glare on Cas. "Did you know about this?"
"Contrary to your favorite opinion, Dean, I do not exist to make your life miserable or, how would you put it - 'play with your toys.'" Cas gave him a disgusted look, and Dean flushed a bit. He probably deserved that.
"Sorry, Cas," he mumbled.
"Everyone needs to stop yelling at my boyfriend. He's done you both loads of favors. And he doesn't talk to other cops. They're pigs." Becky stalked right through their little stand-off to get to the fridge. "Chuck, where's my tea? Did you drink all my tea? There's no whiskey in it!"
"I wouldn't drink your tea, Becky!" Chuck protested. "That tea is special lady-tea!"
"It's just tea! How can you be so sexist?"
Dean caught Cas's eye and nodded his head at the hallway. They left Chuck digging himself deeper into a hole of sexist tea.
"How long have you known Chuck?" Dean asked from the living room.
"Chuck Shurley and I attended elementary school together."
Dean blinked. That would be… probably thirty years or so. Okay, he was going to lose the Chuck Affection Battle.
"He has been an informant for me for the past several years," Cas continued. "I did not know he was also working with you, else I would not have asked him to follow you two nights ago."
"Wait, what? Chuck was our tail? This Chuck?" He didn't wait for Cas's nod, but barreled down the hall and into the kitchen, calling Chuck's name. "CHUCK!"
Chuck and Becky broke off their argument, Chuck's face blanching at the expression on Dean's. "I see you figured… in my defense, it was really awkward for me, too."
"You should have told me you knew who you were tailing, Chuck," Cas said. Dean hadn't heard Cas behind him, but he was there now, frowning for all he was worth at Chuck.
"I didn't know how to say that! How do you tell a dude - no, a friend! - how do you say, 'Hey, sorry, man, but your boyfriend is totally stepping out on you with a chick'?"
Dean ground his teeth together. What was with everyone lately? "First off," he gestured with his fingers between him and Cas, "we're not together. There is nothing here, here. And second, how could you not tell me you were following me!"
Chuck stared at him a moment, eyes opened wide. "Um. This is uncomfortable."
"Forget it, Chuck." Cas's voice was frosty. "Dean and I must leave anyway, now that Ms. Rosen is safe with you."
"Hey, I wasn't finished-" Dean started.
"Yes you were."
He turned on his heel and stalked out of the kitchen. The front door slammed a moment later. Dean looked back at Chuck and Becky. Chuck was avoiding his gaze, but Becky seemed to have forgotten her anger at Chuck in favor of glaring at Dean.
"If you break his heart, I will cut out your tongue," she said ominously.
"Anyone ever tell you you're nuts?" Dean asked. He gave his shoulders an irritable hitch. Cas could damn well wait for him, giving out orders like he was Big Man on Campus. "And don't make a habit of telling law enforcement you're going to cut out their tongues. A petty man would throw you in lock-up for that."
Becky shook her head at him. "I have no idea what he sees in you."
You and me both. He turned to Chuck. "We'll talk about this later. I need to go save the world now."
"Good luck with that," Chuck said seriously.
Cas was already sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala, seatbelt buckled and hands folded in his lap, when Dean stomped down Chuck's front steps. He was wearing the inscrutable look again. It seemed to fit more naturally than Dean's old shirt.
"After we interview Joel," Cas said as Dean turned the key in the ignition, "I will take a cab to a hotel."
Dean's hand froze on the gear shift, the car still in park. "What?"
"It is clear to me now that I am a burden to you, and I do not appreciate feeling this way. My injuries are much better now. I will simply lay low in an inconspicuous hotel until such time as this case is wrapped and I may return to work."
"Fuck, Cas, I didn't mean-"
"Yes, you did. Else you would not have said it." Cas looked out the window, his jaw tight. "I am a grown man. It is foolish for me to feel something for someone who cannot return it. I would prefer to be alone."
Becky was going to cut out his tongue. He wanted to say something, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what he wanted to say. Tell Cas it might not be hopeless, that he was already seeping under Dean's skin and invading his daydreams? Or agree that it was best if they just kept everything strictly professional between them? Cas took the decision away.
"Do you need directions to Joel's house?" he asked.
"I can figure it out." It was about the only thing he could.
***
Joel was dead, according to his landlady, committed suicide the same day Ronald Reznick was killed. She barely glanced at Dean's badge before unlocking his apartment for them. Dean cursed under his breath as he stood in the middle of the third floor apartment.
It was completely empty - walls painted over, carpet replaced, even the fridge was new.
"Standard policy," the landlady said. "Besides, Joel had hisself a little dog. Shat all over the damn carpet before you people came and got his body. Going crazy in here. Fucking rude of Joel, blowing his brains out over my walls and leaving that yippy mongrel here."
Cas glared at her. Dean suspected Cas was more of a cat person, but the mental image of the abandoned dog was pretty powerful, he'd admit.
"Where can we find the dog?" Dean asked. The landlady looked at him blankly.
"You want a dog? Big men like you ain't gonna want a lap dog."
"We are not that kind of partner," Cas said icily. "And we want to see this specific dog."
The landlady blinked at Cas several times. Dean guessed she was the type of landlady who reveled in her power and didn't really deal with complaints.
"Sherri. Second floor," she said finally. "She was a little sweet on Joel. Not that they were fucking, mind you, Sherri was way out of Joel's league. But she thought he was a nice old man. Old, my ass, he was forty, maybe. Me, I'm sure he was a total pervert. Worked for politicians, and all them be perverts."
"Thanks so much for your help," Dean cut her off. "We'll be sure to let you know if we have any more questions."
"Yeah, okay, but I'm going out tonight. I have plans. With a gentleman friend."
"We have no interest in your plans," Cas said. He pushed by her to leave, heading for the stairs.
"Uh," Dean said. It was weird being the polite one. He and Rufus traded being the socially-acceptable one whenever they had to deal with assholes, but whenever Dean was out with Sam, he let Sam take care of smoothing ruffled feathers. What would Sam say here? "Thanks for your… kind… assistance." There, that was polite. "You'll have to forgive my partner, someone pissed in his cereal this morning," he added.
"You should keep your dick out of his cereal, mister," she huffed.
Well, really, that was going too far. Dean had a fully loaded firearm in a shoulder harness in plain sight. He hitched his shoulders as he walked by her and looked pointedly at the exposed radiator along Joel's back wall. It looked damn old, and rusty. "Nice pipes," he said over his shoulder, and followed Cas down the stairs.
Cas was waiting on the landing outside the second floor apartment.
"I apologize for my rudeness," he said stiffly.
"She deserved it. Look, Cas, you don't have to-"
Cas raised his hand and knocked on Sherri's door. A dog started yapping from inside the apartment. Cas moved to knock again, but Dean caught his arm.
"Stop it," he hissed. "And forget this dumb idea about going to a fucking hotel. You saved my life yesterday. That trumps… whatever. We're staying at Bobby's."
"I do not want your pity, Dean!" Cas lashed out, eyes flashing.
"Good, 'cause you don't have it!" Dean shot back. Cas was right in his face, he could smell the other man's toothpaste (the same as his) and aftershave (from his dad's bottle that'd been sitting in Bobby's spare bathroom since John Winchester died, and why did it still smell good, didn't those things expire?). Dean's thoughts were babbling at him, distracting him. He was fighting with Cas; he needed his wits about him. But Cas was all sharp angles when he was angry, the only softness present in the downturn of his mouth, the bow of his lips.
Dean took the next step, lips parting.
The door opened, and Dean sprang back from Cas.
"Sorry it took me so long; it takes forever for me to get Robot to calm down." A pretty strawberry-blonde, presumably Sherri, stood in the doorway holding a Chihuahua. Her smile faltered as she looked from Dean to Cas and back again. Dean could all-too-easily imagine what she was thinking. "Um. Did you knock on my door?"
"Guilty as charged." Dean whipped out his badge and a charming smile. "Detective Dean Winchester, this is my partner, Castiel James, and we were hoping you could tell us a few things about your deceased neighbor. Joel, from upstairs. Was Robot his dog?"
Dean got it all out in a rush, hoping she wouldn't think to ask where he was a detective, as he had no jurisdiction in the District, or to see Cas's badge, as it was better if no record existed of an AWOL Homeland Security Agent out investigating a case. He needn't have worried. The charming smile did its job.
"Ye-essss," she breathed out, smiling up at Dean a little starry-eyed. Robot let out a yelp, and Cas cleared his throat.
"May we come in?" At least his tone was a couple degrees warmer than it'd been with the landlady. A December day instead of a January day.
"Yes, sorry, I should have asked you in already." She held the door open wide, but not so wide she didn't brush up against Dean as he followed Cas inside. "Please pardon the mess. I just got home from my shift."
Dean glanced at her skirt - it had some kind of name in women's fashion, but to him it was a generic business skirt - and her blouse - buttons done up to acceptable level, one higher than he would have preferred. High-heeled shoes were lying on their sides by the door. White-collar job with shifts that end by 3:00. She was either a librarian, a bank teller, or a call-girl for a very specific clientele. He took a chance.
"Are you a bank teller, ma'am?" he asked.
She looked floored. Some people were really impressed by that trick.
"Are you a psychic detective?" she asked. "I work at the Federal Credit Union!"
"You don't say!" He could practically hear Cas rolling his eyes from where he stood by the couch.
"Were you Joel's banker as well as his neighbor, Ms…?" Cas asked, cutting to the chase as usual.
Sherri's smile faltered a bit and she bent to set Robot on the floor, her hair falling over her eyes. Robot went tearing off into a back room. "Sherri," she said. "My name's Sherri. And yes, Joel was a member of the FCU. He worked in the Capitol, you know."
"That sounds impressive," Dean said.
She smiled at him again, a sad little smile, as she sat on the couch, pulling her legs up beneath her. Dean took it as an invite and sat in the opposite corner, draping one arm over the back of the couch. Cas, of course, stayed standing ramrod straight. Dean felt a flicker of annoyance at his dour expression. He hoped Cas's presence wouldn't prevent Sherri from spilling her guts. It was almost as bad as questioning witnesses with Rufus's sour mug hanging over his shoulder.
"Joel was a janitor there," she said. "Not glamorous, but still kind of cool. He had keys to the tunnels beneath the buildings. The big ones are all supposed to be connected underground, in case of attacks and stuff. Joel showed me the ones for the Capitol."
"Very cool," Dean agreed, trying to keep his voice casual. He could feel excitement roiling off of Cas, but the other man seemed to have finally picked up on the vibe in the room and let Dean ask the questions. "You could go from the Capitol to the White House without having to deal with tourists. Sounds good to me."
"Yeah. Though Joel didn't have keys to the interconnecting tunnels. You know, for security."
"Right. Security." That was a minor relief, though once Lilith's people got underground, he doubted they'd really let the need for another set of keys stop them. "So Joel sounds pretty friendly," he said, changing tracks. "Was it shocking for you, what he did?"
"Yeah!" Sherri looked down at her hands. "I mean, okay, he was a loner, and he didn't have family around, at least that I knew of, but he had his hobbies, and Robot. I don't know why he would kill himself!"
Dean exchanged a look with Cas.
"He didn't mention maybe meeting anyone new to you, by any chance? Did his behavior change at all?"
Sherri looked back up, startled. "Wait, why? Are you thinking… he might not have committed suicide?" Her voice rose to a squeak at the end.
"We have no evidence to suggest he was murdered," Dean assured her. Her face grew even whiter. Dammit, he'd been doing so well.
"Sherri," Cas interrupted, and she started at the whip-crack of his voice. "Did he seem odd to you in the week leading up to his death, or not?"
"Yes, sir," she answered quickly. "He was a little… on edge. But if anything weird was going on with him, he would have told his friend, Ron. Ron was his best friend, the only one I ever saw come here. Ron would know."
Fuck a duck.
Dean leaned forward and placed his hand on her knee. Sherri watched him with big doe eyes, her lips parting. She really was quite attractive. Dean could imagine her slipping him her number, could imagine calling her in a week or so, could imagine taking her out for a couple of beers, could imagine undoing the buttons on her blouse, could imagine nibbling her lower lip… feeling rough stubble against his cheek as a strong hand gripped his cock and blazing blue eyes stared into his own. Oh, Hell, no.
He hadn't said anything, and the moment was quickly becoming awkward, Sherri growing confused, Dean flustered and Cas annoyed.
"Thanks, Sherri," he mumbled finally, and patted her knee. Like a damn grandfather. Jesus, he didn't have a leg to stand on with accusing Cas of being socially inept. He was saved from further humiliation by Robot running back into the room, a squeaky, fuzzy bone in his mouth. He stopped in front of the couch, and, firmly gripping one end in his sharp little teeth, started banging the opposite end on the floor. He was so small his body jumped back a bit with each pounding he gave the bone. The strangest noise echoed around the living room. Dean's eyes opened in wonder. Cas was laughing.
Cas looked about ten years younger when he laughed, crinkles around his eyes and flashing teeth, genuine amusement lighting his eyes. Dean's hands shook with the desire to touch that mouth, feel the muscles in Cas's stomach clench and release with each laugh. It was fucking scary.
Dean pulled a card out of his wallet instead, and handed it over to Sherri. "Anything else occurs to you, please give me a call." He stood up and looked away from the disappointment in her eyes, gaze landing on Cas again. Cas had reached down and was playing tug-o-war with Robot. Dean's stomach gave a lurch. Most likely from indigestion.
It was high time to leave this building.
"Take care of Robot," Cas commanded Sherri as they left. Dean had to put a hand in the small of his back to propel him out the door. He left it there as they walked down the stairs and back out to the road. It felt good to be so possessive, to be allowed to be possessive. Damn, he was so screwed. He finally dropped his hand when they reached the Impala. Cas turned into his personal space.
"I'll go back to Bobby's," he said.
***
He made Cas take some painkillers and a nap when they made it back to the farmhouse. He looked through his notes and drew several diagrams and charts, then squinted at them. He may as well have been finger-painting. He had separate branches for Crowley & Brady and Alistair & Company under Lilith. Homeland Security was a knot beside them, with Cas and Gabriel as their own off-shoot from the dick actions of their colleagues. Then there was Ronald Reznick, his tape and his ties to Joel, who was in turn tied to Congress. Congress, who Cas and Uriel were supposed to be protecting. And somehow, this was connected to Lilith's businesses and possibly another death in Becky's co-worker, Nancy. Lilith did seem to be the sun the rest of them were revolving around.
But how to follow all the dotted lines and connect-the-dots? He picked up his phone.
"Sammy? You got plans for tonight?"
"My plans consist of not breaking into abandoned buildings with you, Dean."
Dean grinned into his phone. "Good, then you can totally come to Bobby's! You did an estate planning course in law school, right?"
"What? Yeah a few years ago. Why? Dean, is something wrong with Bobby?!" Sam sounded panicked. Whoops.
"Calm down, Samantha, he's strong as an ox. I just need your help with some finances is all. And you can see Bobby for yourself. You'll come?"
"Dean, jeez, one of these days you're going to give me a heart attack, I swear. Yeah, I'll come, if only to punch you in the face."
"Perfect. See you soon, princess."
He hung up before Sam could get the final word in edgewise and called Henriksen to touch base.
"What the hell is going on, Winchester?"
Dean chewed his lip. How to say that they might be dealing with a potential attack on Congress, to be carried out through their water supply, by a group of thugs working for a madam/drug dealer/terrorist, and said group had infiltrated Homeland Security so they didn't know who to trust? Oh, and also, he was falling hard for a male DHS Agent. How were tricks at the station?
"Well. I think I'll have a clearer idea after tonight. You drink bottled water, right?"
Henriksen paused for a long moment. "I don't really want to know what that was about, do I? Never mind, just shut up for now, that other prick from DHS - Raphael something-or-other - was snooping around here earlier. I want us steering clear of any pissing contests in DHS, you hear me? You keep doing your job. I'll contact you tomorrow afternoon."
"Yes, sir."
Fuck, Raphael Finnerman was poking around the station. Though Dean would pay good money to see him try to get Gordon to jump through hoops for him.
Ash showed up soon after and enlisted Dean's help to carry in "some shit." "Some shit" turned out to be a couple of laptops, a couple external hard drives, and a few machines Dean wasn't quite sure did what. Sam came in while Ash was running wires, and they kicked Dean out of the room by virtue of his techno-aversion.
"Geek Squad give you the cold shoulder?" Bobby asked when he wandered into the kitchen.
"Yeah. Dweebs." He glanced at the counter. Bobby was forming hamburger patties. He had quite a pile going, next to a small box of frozen veggie patties for Sam. "You need anything?"
"Start the fire, then you can go wake Sleeping Beauty."
"You calling me a prince, Bobby?"
Bobby snorted. "Not likely. More like a caveman. Get outta here, idjit."
Dean threw a grin at him over his shoulder and clomped out to the porch to build up the fire in the grill. Now this was manly work, not like setting up computers. He could hear Sam and Ash arguing about power strips as he made his way up the stairs to check on Cas.
Cas was still asleep. He must have been more exhausted than he'd let on, and Dean kicked himself for letting him come with him all day instead of resting. Dean closed the bedroom door behind him, and Cas jolted awake, dark eyelashes fluttering open as he struggled to sit up.
"It's just me, Cas!" Dean assured him, taking a step forward. The blanket slid off Cas's shoulders as he sat fully upright, and Dean stared.
Cas had unwound the bandages and the bruises were more vividly colored today compared to yesterday.
"Shit, Cas," he breathed, sitting on the bed and stretching out a hand. Uriel deserved a lot worse than he'd got, and Dean was going to personally wipe out Lilith's goons. Cas shied back from his touch, and Dean went cold. He'd been the one pushing Cas away earlier. Of course Cas would think Dean was just pitying him now. He swallowed roughly.
"I'm not pitying you, Cas, Jesus."
"Then what do you want?"
"I - I don't know, man. I want lots of things." He did. Some things he was proud of wanting, and some things he was scared shitless of desiring. "I want to figure out what's going on with this shit case and stop the attack. I want to find out who's responsible and destroy them."
Cas looked at him calmly. "Those are all very noble things, Dean." His lips glistened slightly in the late afternoon light coming through the blinds. Dean's hand was shaking as he brought it up to cup Cas's jaw. If Cas hadn't sighed and leaned into the touch, Dean didn't know what would have happened. Would they have sat there, just barely touching, until the sun went down?
But Cas did lean into the touch, and Dean shifted closer, and Cas kissed him. It was tender and unhurried, unlike anything that had been between them before. Dean's lips parted and Cas's tongue darted in, gently probing.
The screen door slammed, the distant sound breaking the spell.
Dean leaned his forehead against Cas's as he caught his breath. "I don't know what I'm doing," he confessed.
"Then don't do anything," Cas said.
"What?"
Cas pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, then softly pushed Dean's hand away from his neck and stood up. "We'll stop the attack. We'll destroy those responsible. And then you'll figure out what you want."
Dean held his gaze and nodded slowly.
***
Rufus pulled into Singer's Salvage Yard an hour later.
"Honey, I'm home!" he yelled as he stomped up the porch steps. Dean greeted him at the door.
"Get in here, you graceless pig, soup's up." He made a grab for the thick folder clutched in Rufus's left hand, but the other man pulled it tight to his chest. "Come on, share."
"This is post-dinner reading, kid," Rufus said, and refused to relinquish his prize. Dean shrugged his shoulders irritably. The good thing about inheriting all of his father's friends was the loyalty factor. The bad thing was they were his father's friends, and tended to treat him as a child. Bobby was a special exception, and Dean loved him all the more because of it.
Rufus followed him into the kitchen and stopped abruptly. "It's a bit crowded in here."
"We're all putting aside our anti-social tendencies for the evening, old man." Dean gestured at the three men sitting around the kitchen table. "And you already know Sam, you've known him since he was in diapers." Sam shot him a look, no doubt concerned for his dignity. Dean grinned back. "And Ash you know, you met him at that thing at Pamela's house, remember?"
"Oh, shit, was that you?" Ash tipped back in his chair, squinting up at Rufus and ignoring Dean's gesture to shut the fuck up. "Yeah, okay, you're the old black man that-"
"And over here is Castiel James, of Homeland Security," Dean interrupted, laying a hand on Cas's shoulder, before Rufus's eyebrows could climb any higher. "Cas, Rufus here is my partner."
Cas rose slowly to his feet and held out his hand. "It must be very difficult working with Dean. I admire your tenacity."
Rufus stared at him a moment before snorting and shaking his hand. "I was expecting you to have breasts."
How is this so fucking obvious to everyone else? Dean could feel the heat in his cheeks, and Cas was opening his mouth, probably to say that, technically, all men had breasts.
"Diplomatic as ever, Rufus," Bobby said, stumping into the kitchen with a platter of burgers and shoving it into the middle of the table. "Add your own fixings, this ain't Red Robin."
Dean let out a sigh of relief and strategically maneuvered around the table until Rufus was sitting in between Sam and Bobby. Ash was thankfully distracted by a piece of cheese and would hopefully forget the dumbass thing he was going to say to Rufus. Cas's knee accidentally bumped against his own under the table. Dean shot him a quick look, but Cas was king of the poker face.
Sam carried the dinner conversation, for which Dean was grateful. He was acutely aware of Rufus's eyes on him and Cas, and tried to ignore Cas in favor of Ash, sitting on his left. That was an exercise in futility, though, as Ash eating a burger was one of the Top Ten Grossest Things - ever. Dean finally had to turn his back on the sight, just in time to catch Cas's expression as he bit into his own burger. The rapturous expression on his face made Dean's mouth go dry.
Dinner ended when Ash let a spectacular burp and everyone else lost their appetites. Bobby enlisted Sam's help in cleaning up, Ash was banished to the yard to work out his issues, and Dean, Cas and Rufus withdrew to the study to dig into the file Rufus had put together on Tyson Brady.
Rufus sat at Bobby's desk and thumbed the file open. "One thing," he said, leaning over the papers and blocking them from sight. He glanced up at Dean and Cas. "What the hell is up with Homeland Security, huh?"
"You wanna be more specific, old man?" Dean asked, dragging over his usual chair and straddling it. Cas stood, arms crossed, frowning down at Rufus. This might not go as smoothly as Dean had hoped.
"Just this: when we met Agent James here, he had himself a partner. Now his partner's dead, some joker from his office pissed Gordon off, another DHS agent bought the farm, and today we got Agent Happy Sunshine Himself." Rufus jutted his chin out at Cas. "Who the hell is Raphael Finnerman and why the hell did you piss in his porridge? He's got nothing good to say about you, kid."
Porridge, not cereal. Huh.
"Agent Finnerman is attempting to lay his crimes at my feet," Cas answered, eyes narrowed. "I assure you, I am no traitor."
"Well, Dean?" Rufus barked. "You trust him?"
"Yeah," Dean answered immediately. He cleared his throat. "Yeah, I trust him. Now how about you share the Brady file?"
Rufus gave him a 'We Are Not Amused, Young Man' look, but sat back in the desk chair, revealing the contents of the file. Both Dean and Cas leaned in, heads nearly touching.
Tyson Brady, age 29. Born in Pasadena, California, parents now deceased. Started online pet medicinal company in 2004 with college roommate, now deceased. Took over Niveus Pharmaceutical in 2008. Implicated, but never charged, in arson for fire that destroyed ex-girlfriend's apartment. Ex-girlfriend now deceased.
Dean let out a low whistle.
"Though I agree that these facts reinforce our perception of Brady as a 'bad' man, I see nothing here that links him or Niveus to Lilith," Cas said. "What happens on the next page?"
"Tyson Brady meets Meg Masters, aka Meg Drac," Rufus answered.
Dean froze. Meg. Shit.
"Meg Drac was one of those ladies you all were keeping from us, wasn't she?" Rufus asked Cas, but Dean answered.
"I killed her, Rufus," he blurted out. "She was going after Cas, and I grabbed her, and she fell and didn't get up."
He could still see her face, her insolent smirk, her heavy lidded eyes. In his mind's eye, she murdered Ronald Reznick again then turned to face him, giving him a jaunty wave. Cas laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly.
"Meg Drac was a murderer," he said. "And I would be dead if not for your actions."
Dean groped for Cas's hand on his shoulder and gave it a brief answering squeeze. "Thanks, Cas," he mumbled. Rufus was watching them, Dean knew, and he dropped his hand back down to the back of the chair. Cas didn't move his hand, though, and Dean surprised himself by not being embarrassed.
"So were they business partners, or something more?" he asked, steering the conversation back towards safer waters.
"Bit of both, I'd say," Rufus answered. "Not that anyone here'd have any experience with that."
Fuck, now I'll have to tell him to fuck off.
"Fuck off," Cas shot back. Dean choked back a laugh.
Rufus's eyebrows knitted together, and Dean half-expected him to leap out of his chair and across the desk to close his fist around Cas's throat. Then he started laughing.
"Fair enough," he said, shoulders shaking. "Oh, Lord, there's two of them now. Damn!"
It was disconcerting watching Cas and Rufus work together after that. Their prickly personalities seemed to mesh. Which was great, Dean knew it was great, not to mention lucky for him, but he felt almost like the third wheel. Cas would ask a question, Rufus would posit a theory, and then the two of them would look through the file together for the answer.
And then they gave Dean a marker to write their timelines and connections on the wipeboard Bobby hauled into the study. Ash and Sam joined them, balancing laptops on their knees, and Dean found himself thrust into the role of official unofficial secretary. Soon the whiteboard was filled with circles and arrows, dates and dollar amounts, and way too many names. Dean knew he'd lost his train of thought when he found himself doodling 'Get the Led out' in a corner of the board.
"Wait, wait, wait!" Ash cried. "We're looking at this all wrong. We need to make this simpler. And what's the simplest, truest thing of all?"
"Killing," Rufus answered. Sam looked at him askance.
"Family," Dean answered.
"No, no, no. Sex." Ash heaved a great sigh. "Are you men, or are you turnips? Lilith's a madam. She was having an affair with Crowley-"
"We don't know that," Dean interrupted. Seriously, sex? This was about way more than sex. Sex was quick and easy and didn't mean anything. At least, that was how it had been two days ago. Dean's thoughts on the matter had gotten a bit obscured since the night before.
Ash shot him a wounded look. "Work with me here, Deanarino. She's having an affair with Crowley, but she's also sleeping with… a Senator or Houseman, right, and Crowley gets jealous. So he comes up with a plan to poison Congress to bump off his rival! Only Lilith finds out about it, okay, and she sends her three best fighters to take Crowley out - BAM! - and that's an end to the alleged terrorist attack."
Everyone else stared at him for a moment.
"By 'Houseman' do you mean 'Congressperson'?" Sam asked finally.
"Your theory stinks," Rufus said bluntly. "What about all the different crime families Lilith is uniting? What about her being a drug dealer? What about all these payoffs - who are they for? For what? Who's paying them?"
"Okay, okay! Sheesh. You know something, you are one unpleasant old man."
Dean tuned them out as Ash and Rufus bickered in the background, looking instead at the transactions he'd scribbled on the whiteboard. Ruby had said to follow the money trail, after all. Not that he trusted her, but maybe there was something there. Payments from Crowley to Brady, and Crowley was a cautious bastard…
"Be quiet." Cas's voice cut across Ash's lazy drawl and Rufus's barking replies. "Dean has something to say."
Dean's eyes snapped back to Cas, surprised. So he had something to say, did he? Well maybe he did.
"I was thinking about Crowley," he said slowly. "He was giving Brady money for the drugs. Here." He pointed to three different amounts. "They all came from the same account, which was different from the one he used to pay Alistair, and the one for revenues. He kept everything separate. I don't even know what some of this shit was for."
"I may have a better idea of that now," Sam spoke up. "Those files from the… motivational speaker's office? Blackmail."
"What kind of blackmail?" Dean asked.
"Um. Well, she is a madam."
"You've been sitting here all night looking at porn? Sam!" Dean protested. "I called you here to look at financial shit. You were supposed to leave the porn for me."
"Trust me, Dean, the dudes she's blackmailing are old and saggy. I did you a favor."
Dean wrinkled his nose. "Say no more." He looked back at the board. On the couch, Ash was gleefully switching external hard drives with Sam. Pervert. "So she hid blackmail material at Becky's office, and Crowley hid the money in these accounts," he indicated a series of numbers. He had no idea if they were the right numbers, but that wasn't the point, the point was, "which are different from over here," another string of numbers, "which had money from her legit businesses, and so on and so forth."
Dean chewed his lower lip for a moment. Beside him, Cas frowned at the board. "That is fairly standard practice for money launderers, Dean. The more it is spread around, the harder it is to trace back to its source. But you believe he did this for another reason besides security, do you not?"
"Oh, no, it's security all right. Just not Lilith's security." Dean turned to face Cas. "Crowley made himself fucking irreplaceable. He was buying his own damn security."
Cas frowned. "Crowley was murdered."
Dean brushed that aside with a wave of his hand. "Yeah, so it didn't work for him."
"And Crowley did not command the loyalty of Lilith's… family. He did not unite Serbians and Croatians-"
"Yeah, Cas, I get that!" Did he have to be so argumentative all the time? It was annoying. "I still think Crowley had a failsafe or something related to the money!"
"He did," Sam said quietly.
"What?" Dean looked over at his brother, his heart thumping.
Sam looked up from the laptop. "Those three transactions? All had to be made in person at the bank. There was one more scheduled for today, but it has no info. And it doesn't because Crowley wasn't there to make it."
***
The water supply hadn't been poisoned yet. Crowley had paid Brady for manufacture and transport, Alistair for security, but the final payment, the delivery, had not been paid. Ash and Sam had dug through their accounts and found a code name for the delivery man - Pestilence, how very fitting - which had led to a heated debate as to his real name. Personally, Dean felt that Lilith wouldn't have left something that important up to a mere delivery man. Ash was sure it had to be someone at Homeland Security. Sam wondered if it was someone who'd already been killed in the whole fiasco. Cas put forth the theory that it was a PG County cop, perhaps one Crowley, who had dealt exclusively out of PG County, had been paying off to look the other way on his dealings. Rufus had decided he wasn't quite as buddy-buddy with Cas after that.
The idea disturbed Dean, but not as much as it would have a week ago. Corruption was something all police departments had to contend with; PG County was no different. They'd even had a large Internal Affairs sting a year ago, resulting in several arrests and then a few promotions for promising officers. Still, until he'd stood in the Fort Totten Metro Station with a pay phone up to his ear, he was willing to give all his fellow cops not his trust, but at least the benefit of the doubt. No longer. Cas had changed that.
The thought haunted him. How easily Cas had wormed his way into Dean's thoughts and influenced his actions. No one had done that… well, ever. The family Dean had made for himself had always been his - his little brother, his aunt and cousin, and then Bobby, Rufus and Missouri, his father's friends. But now Dean was letting Cas inside, a man he'd known less than a week. His skin crawled with the knowledge of the power he was giving Cas.
Dean sighed up at the ceiling in his childhood room. The floor was damn hard. He had no idea what lunacy had caused him to offer Cas the bed. Well, no, he knew exactly what it was. He was not going to force a man with Cas's injuries to sleep on a wooden floor. At least he could use the uncomfortableness of his position to help him take his mind off how much he wanted to reach across the space between them and rub himself against Cas's body, thrust his tongue into Cas's mouth, feel Cas's arms around him - the wooden floor was no longer working.
"Dean?" Cas was a terrible whisperer.
"Sh. What?" Dean whispered back, displaying proper technique when one's little brother was just down the hall, not to mention one's partner across the hall and then the two other men somewhere downstairs.
"You can have this bed. I do not believe Ash was planning to sleep; I can rest on the couch downstairs." His voice was a modicum lower.
"Dude, no, it's fine. Go back to sleep."
"I was not asleep. I find it difficult to sleep with you in such close proximity," Cas confessed. "I find it aggravating," he continued, his voice more of a growl.
Dean sat up and peered through the murky darkness at Cas on the bed.
"This was a bad idea," he said finally. "I can't sleep in the same room as you." He gathered up his blankets and thin pillow and marched over to the closet.
"What are you doing?" Cas asked, sitting up.
"I'm going out to the shed to sleep. Lie back down," he answered, finding the whorl and pressing against the back of the closet.
"You are an impossible creature, Dean Winchester."
"Don't I know it," Dean muttered. He didn't look back.
It'd been years since he'd made the trek through the secret passage, but the Captain America flashlight still hung from the hook on the wall. Bobby must have kept the batteries fresh. Dean flicked it on and picked his way as quietly as possible down the stairs. He had to bend over to avoid hitting his head on the dirt ceiling of the passage.
The shed was cold, but he was able to make a decent nest out of some bales of hay. "Much better than the floor," he muttered to himself as straw poked him in the back.
He had to do something about Cas. He wasn't freaking about the sex-with-a-man aspect. Well, not really, especially after their conversation about Jimmy. It was the fact they'd had that conversation at all. He was telling Cas things. People who opened themselves up like that shouldn't be surprised when others raided them and left. He dealt with assholes and scumbags and betrayers every damn day. It was stupid how quickly and totally he was trusting Cas. Very stupid. His eyelids closed of their own accord.
It didn't feel like a dream, but he was back up in his room, so it must have been. And he was in his bed, flat on his back, and sweet Jesus, he was letting Cas fuck him. The whole bed was shaking fit to wake the dead, but it was nothing compared to Cas's voice. "Let me in, you fuckwad!" he rasped, pistoning his hips and shoving in so hard, Dean could feel a jolt all the way up his spine to his brain and his body slid across the bed, which was now approximately the size of Bobby's kitchen. "I'm the one who says 'fuckwad,'" he slurred lazily. "You are in, fuckwad. Fuck me harder."
Cas seized his shoulders and Dean crossed his ankles around Cas's lower back, and then Cas was coming, fucking him hard through the mattress until it started to rip apart, and Dean stared up at Cas's Big-O face, struck by the collision of pleasure and pain written across his forehead and in the tone of his voice as he panted, "Impossible creature, let me in."
Dean woke with a start, flushed and hard and with a mouth as dry as the desert.
"Dammit," he croaked, shoving his hand into his boxers and imagining it was Cas's mouth.
He awoke again about six hours later to the door creaking open. He blinked groggily. His hand was still down his pants and he had no weapon except for the flashlight. Fuck. He hurriedly drew his hand out and wiped it off on some straw.
"Dean? You in here?" Sam called softly. His feet appeared in Dean's vision, polished leather of his dress shoes crunching the dry straw. "The shed? Really?"
"I love the shed," Dean mumbled. "What's your excuse?"
Sam rolled his eyes and crouched down. "I was going to offer you first dibs on the shower, but you weren't in your room. Just Castiel, looking like death warmed over. You guys get in a fight?"
Dean grunted noncommittally. Sam was giving him That Look again, Sam's patented 'I feel your pain' wide eyes of empathy. It was way too early for that shit. Sam sighed and stood up.
"I have to leave if I'm to make it to the office on time. Will you call me if you want to talk about it?"
"Jesus, Sammy, he's not some girl I'm making calf eyes at!" Dean exploded.
"I know he's not a girl," Sam said calmly.
"You - what the hell do you mean by that?" Dean glared up at his brother. He should stand up, Sam already had an unfair height advantage without Dean sitting on the floor, but if he stood the remains of his dream might be evident on his pajama bottoms.
"Dean, it's just - it'd be okay. If you, you know." He made a weird gesture, that didn't look anything like sexual congress, but from the red blush staining his cheeks, it was quite obvious what he meant.
"Fuck, Sam." Dean was suddenly more tired than before he'd slept. He drew his knees up to his chest and rested his head on them. "I don't know what the fuck I'm doing."
Sam was quiet for a moment. "I like him," he said.
"Great, I'll be sure to go buy us some promise rings now. Get them engraved with 'Sam approves.'" Dean snorted, and stood up, drawing his blanket around him. "Whatever. I'm going back in. You better have left me some hot water."
"Nope, all gone," Sam replied, a smile beginning in the corners of his mouth. "I ate all the eggs, too."
"You're an ass," Dean shot back, leading the way out of the shed. Weak, Winchester, weak.
"You have straw in your hair, big brother."
Sam's chuckle followed him into the house.
Dean managed to avoid running into Cas for the next half hour, while he showered, dressed and wolfed down cereal instead of eggs, damn Sam. He was out on the porch, watching Sam's taillights disappear in the distance, when he felt a presence on his right and knew it was Cas.
"I enjoy your brother's company," Cas said.
Dean grunted in response.
"Did you enjoy sleeping in the shed last night?" There wasn't even a hint of reproach in Cas's voice. That almost made it worse.
"Cas-"
"You said when this was over, then you'd figure it out," Cas spoke over him. "I should respect that."
Dean leaned into his presence, drawn like a moth to a flame. Cas was in his personal space again, so close he could feel his breath on his cheek, but he was getting used to it now. It felt almost comfortable. Dean's lips parted. When it came to Cas, he had zero willpower, it seemed.
A car pulled in at the end of the long drive, shattering the moment. Cas turned to chart its progress with him, his hand going to his hip and the holstered gun there.
"Easy," Dean murmured. "That's Pamela's car. She's a friend."
A friend he'd slept with a time or two, to be precise. She was one of Bobby's friends, sans benefits or at least Dean hoped so. Bobby joined them on the porch as Pamela pulled up in front of the porch.
"Oh, good. Pamela's here," he said.
"You're a master of the obvious, Bobby. What's she doing here?" Dean asked out of the corner of his mouth. Pamela stepped out of her car and slammed the door. She threw a wink over her shoulder as she bent to get something out of the back seat. The woman had a magnificent ass. Cas's eyes narrowed, and Dean noted that he'd never taken his hand off his gun. Awesome.
"Pamela's a healer, and Castiel here could use someone giving his ribs a check-up," Bobby answered. Dean threw him a startled look. Yeah, Pamela was a healer, but New Age type stuff. This was not going to go well. Pamela straightened up and slammed her rear door, too, and slung a brightly colored cloth bag over one shoulder.
"Morning, Dean!" she called. "Looks like you've got yourself another Grumpy with you."
Cas's eyebrows shot up.
"Relax, that's just what she calls Sam," Dean said quietly to him. "Don't worry, Pamela," he said as she joined them on the porch. "This is his happy face. He's smiling on the inside."
Cas shot him A Look as Pamela laughed.
"I'll have to call you Little Grumpy. Unless you'd be offering a lady a name?" She held out her hand to Cas and gave him a coquette-ish flutter of her eyelashes.
"Agent Castiel James, Homeland Security." His handshake was as brusque as his intro. "What are you a lady of?" Dean gave an inward wince.
"The night, Agent James," Pamela laughed. "And all its mysteries."
"I have no need of a lady of the night."
Okay, this was getting weird, and from the look on Bobby's face, he agreed with Dean. It was time to put the kibosh on this conversation.
"Yeah, so Pamela here is a healer," Dean conveniently left out the part about her also being a psychic, "so let's take this inside and start healing." He rubbed his hands together enthusiastically. Cas and Pamela both gave him odd looks. Bobby snorted and led the way inside, his cane thumping.
Pamela made Cas sit at the kitchen table and take his shirt off. Dean leaned against the sink and watched. From the living room, he could hear Bobby prodding Ash off the couch, using his cane.
Cas's bruises still made Dean flinch, but Cas's face remained expressionless as Pamela gently touched his chest. Cas was so leanly muscled, completely misleading considering his strength. Dean watched her hands touching his skin and fought back a wave of jealousy. Cas wasn't even looking at Pamela, Dean realized. He was staring at Dean, and continued while Pamela reached into her bag and pulled out a salve that she smeared over his bruises. Dean swallowed hard.
"Well!" Pamela crossed over to the sink and bumped him away with her hip. "Normally, I would say you should really take a day of bedrest, Grumpy, but from the looks you two are exchanging, I have a feeling your bedrest would be more athletic than most people running around."
Dean fought the blush with every fiber of his being and wrenched his gaze from Cas to glare at Pamela. She smirked right back at him.
"Bisexuality is the natural state of being, Dean. It's time you explored yours."
"He already has," Cas informed her.
"We're not talking about this," Dean said firmly. "Back to Cas's ribs." He ignored the gleeful look on Pamela's face and spoke to a spot over her left shoulder. "You think he should stay here today?"
"Dean," she sighed. "I think he would kill me if I said yes."
"He's a stubborn bastard," Dean acknowledged.
"I am sitting right here," Cas complained. "And I am going with you, Dean."
Dean huffed a breath. It'd be easier going with Cas, that was sure. Rufus was planning to do a little poking around at the precinct, see if he could tie anyone to Crowley. Dean wanted to look into the bowels of Congress itself, and to do that, he'd need Gabriel. Cas would be a help there.
Dean's phone rang, and he glanced down, welcoming the distraction. Chuck.
"Dean!" Chuck greeted him a little breathlessly when he accepted the call.
"Two-timer," Dean replied.
"Er. Yeah, are you not going to let that go…?"
Dean stayed silent, letting him suffer. Chuck cleared his throat.
"That makes this call a little awkward 'cause I kind of need a favor."
"Here, talk to Cas. You've known him your whole life." Dean thrust the phone in Cas's face. He was maybe taking this a little too far, but Chuck had always been a pushover and Dean had always liked pushing him.
"How is Cas really?" he asked Pamela in a low voice, keeping an eye on Cas at the table, frowning into Dean's phone.
Pamela shrugged. "I wouldn't want to go running around like that," she said, "but then I've never been a fan of the Martyr Complex. You see me putting my life on the line, you tell me to go running the other way, got it?"
He looked down at her. He sincerely doubted Pamela had ever run from a fight in her entire life. It just wasn't in her nature. "Sure," he said. "I'd tell you."
She smiled up at him. "The bruises look bad, and his muscles are sore, but he should be fine, as long as he doesn't go diving in front of moving vehicles or anything." His eyes wandered back to Cas's bare chest as she spoke, and he nodded absently to her advice. "Then you can get back to drooling over that lean, taut chest of his."
Busted. "Pamela-" he started, attempting to bluff his way out.
"Dean!" The kitchen chair scraped loudly across the linoleum as Cas quickly pushed back from the table. "We have to go now. One of Raphael's people has tracked Chuck to his mother's house in Laurel. We must get him back."
He believed in a God that could raise the dead>