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lord protector of jon snow's vale ([personal profile] xylodemon) wrote2016-06-24 11:19 am

spn fic: A Reasonable Amount of Trouble [Friday]

A Reasonable Amount of Trouble


Friday

"What do you think?" Cas asks.

Dean leans over Cas' shoulder and squints at the monitor. He scans the article again, but it doesn't really tell him anything. It's just a clumsy rehash of the headline – Five Bloodless Bodies Found in Church Basement. Whoever wrote it must've had a minimum word count.

"Vampires," he says finally. "It's too far north for a chupacabra. Too far north and too many bodies."

Cas hums under his breath. He copies the article's link and emails it to himself like there's anything useful in it. Then he says, "I'll know when we get there. I'll be able to smell it."

"Show off," Dean says. He hides a kiss behind Cas' ear. "We can drive out there tonight."

"We can fly there tomorrow morning."

"Nope. No way." Dean straightens and sits on the edge of Cas' desk. "We agreed – anything under three hundred and fifty miles, I get to drive."

Cas sips his coffee. He gives Dean a flat look over the rim of his mug. "Sioux Falls is three hundred and eighty miles from here."

"Close enough," Dean says, shrugging.

"We can't leave tonight," Cas points out. He pauses to close out his email. His desktop background is a picture of two kittens sleeping in a hammock. "You haven't finished that Ramos thing."

Dean doesn't want to talk about the Ramos thing. It's an embezzlement gig, and Dean is tired of looking at invoices and bank statements. He is not a fucking accountant.

"And," Cas continues, like he knows Dean is about to complain about not being a fucking accountant. "Henriksen wants us to look at that body the police found in the river."

Dean snorts. Finding out monsters are real is a three-stage process – first denial, then paranoia, then acceptance. Henriksen is still on the "jumping at shadows" part of the curve. His river stiff is probably a drunk who took a long walk off a short pier.

"Okay. We'll leave in the morning." Dean snags Cas' coffee only to find it's practically empty. "Early, so I can drive."

"That works."

The office phone rings. Kevin picks it up and drones, "Winchester and Winchester Investigations," like he'd rather be doing anything else. After a very long pause, he says, "Sure. I'll see if they're available."

Another pause. Then Kevin's chair creaks. He shuffles away from his desk and opens the office door. He pokes his head in with his hand over his eyes because he's an asshole. It was one time. And Dean and Cas weren't even doing anything. They were just kinda/sorta making out a little.

"You two decent?"

A car alarm starts wailing. Dean sighs and asks, "Who's on the phone?"

"Madge Carrigan."

Dean's eye twitches. Madge Carrigan is their latest divorce job. Dean's glad she's getting out – her husband is a state senator on his third or fourth hookers-and-blow scandal – but the whole thing is so screwed up he almost misses the Starks.

"It's your turn," Cas says, scratching the back of his neck. "She had me on the phone for an hour this morning."

"Nope." Dean shakes his head. "She trapped me here for two hours yesterday."

A smile tugs at Cas' mouth. He grabs the front of Dean's shirt and tugs Dean down for a kiss. He nips at Dean's lips and touches the hollow of Dean's throat. Then he zaps out right in Dean's face.

After blinking for a second, Dean looks up at the ceiling and shouts, "Coward!"

Kevin sighs deeply. "You're always surprised. It's like you forget that he can do that."

"Whatever. Why're you still here?"

"Madge Carrigan."

"Oh, yeah. Tell her –" Dean pauses to glance at the clock. It's almost noon. "Tell her to stop by after lunch."

Kevin says, "Sure thing, boss," and lets himself out.

Dean walks over to his desk and sinks into his chair. His computer perks up; his desktop background is a wide-angle of the Impala at sunset. He moves his mouse so he won't bump it again and digs up his office bottle. If Madge Carrigan is coming by, he's going to need it.

He slops one finger of whiskey into Cas' nearly empty mug. Just one – he promised Cas he'd ease up a little. He kicks his legs up and leans back until his chair threatens him with a creak. Sunlight is streaming through the window, painting a yellow-white rectangle across the middle of Cas' desk. Cas' green jacket is hanging on the back of his chair. It used to be Dean's green jacket, but Cas stole it during a stakeout last month and refuses to give it back.

Hey. Dean smiles. Bring back some burgers for lunch.




End

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