Fic: I do believe in spooks, Oz outtake

I do believe in spooks
2,400 words, SPN Dean/Castiel slash. Spoilers for all of season 4.
Thanks to lackadaisy.
Outtake from the Welcome to Oz series. Master post of links here. Set during their last month together in Mountaindale.

“Holy fucking Christ on a cracker,” Dean mumbles mostly incoherently as he collapses on top of Castiel,



Sunday

“Holy fucking Christ on a cracker,” Dean mumbles mostly incoherently as he collapses on top of Castiel, thoroughly fucked out and satisfied. Castiel grins back, lazy and warm, and seems pretty content himself. Dean pokes him in the center of the chest though, stopping him from getting too comfortable. “Your turn for clean up.”

Castiel grumbles good-naturedly, and only needs a few more stern pokings before he gets up and returns with a wet washcloth. When they’re both sufficiently clean, Castiel gets back into bed again and tucks himself in close to Dean.

“I’ve never had this much sex in my life,” Dean declares. “There was this one weekend with this chick in Texas, and this week with a guy in Colorado, but man, this has been—what? More than a month?” Castiel shrugs. “Well, whatever. I can’t believe we’ve been doing it this long and you’re still sexy and shit.”

Castiel kisses the base of Dean’s throat affectionately. “Did you think I would lose my appeal?”

“Honestly, yeah,” Dean says, and touches Castiel’s hair, which is sticking up in all directions like he’s been through a wind tunnel. “Everyone else did, mostly. And even the ones who didn’t—it wasn’t like hunting was a life made for long lasting romance.” It hadn’t bothered Dean before, and he’d never wondered what he might have been missing out on. But now that he’s used to seeing Castiel, getting to fuck him on soft sheets and an enormous bed, getting to do other shit Dean always thought was dumb and for suckers who bought into Valentine's Day and Hallmark cards—now he sort of gets it.

“I still do not fully understand the concept of romance,” Castiel says reproachfully, having asked Dean about it more than once (usually after exposure to a movie or book that referenced it) and not yet receiving a satisfactory explanation of it.

“Yeah, I know.” Dean squeezes Castiel a little. “You’re good like that.”

There’s a lull in the conversation when Dean gets distracted kissing up and down the side of Castiel’s neck. Dean’s contemplating whether to continue the kissing lower--into more salacious territory--when Castiel starts talking again. “Do you think you could take a day off from work on Wednesday?”

“Uh,” Dean lifts his head away from Castiel’s shoulder to think if there’s anything special about Wednesday. “I guess, sure, why not. You wanna spend the whole day in bed?” Dean runs his fingers over Castiel’s stomach suggestively.

Castiel chuckles. “You’re already describing our Saturdays and some of our Sundays, Dean.”

“But it’ll be more fun because it’s the middle of the week and we’re skipping work.”

“As tempting as that sounds, I was actually hoping you could come to my school.”

“Hah! I knew I wasn’t the only one getting into the naughty teacher-student fantasy,” Dean crows triumphantly. “There’s another assembly this week?”

“Dean, no.” Castiel’s trying—and failing—to suppress a smile. “I wanted you to come and speak to two of my classes for Career Day.”

“Career Day? As in, I wanna be a cop, a fireman, or an ice sculptor when I grow up?” Dean says. “Dude, I run a store. No one wants to hear about that. Unless you want me to talk about hunting? Oh man, the stories I could—”

“Not hunting,” Castiel puts a hand over Dean’s mouth. “My students are in third grade. I don’t want to send them home with a math lesson and nightmares about succubi and werewolves.”

Dean pouts behind Castiel’s palm, and then licks it. “What a buzzkill.” The words come out muffled and unintelligible, and Castiel finally removes his hand. “That’s some of my best material right there. How about vampires? Your kids know about vamps already, right?”

“I don’t want you to traumatize my students.”

“Traumatize? I grew up knowing all about the things that go bump in the night and I turned out okay.” Castiel gives Dean an incredulous look. “What? I did!”

Castiel sighs as if he already regrets asking. “I have to bring in someone whose work involves math.”

“The most ‘math’ I do is count money and give back change. Not exactly intense numbers here.”

“Exactly,” Castiel says with complete seriousness. “It’ll show the students how vital math is in our everyday lives.”

Now it’s Dean’s turn to give Castiel an incredulous look. “You drank the math teacher Kool-Aid, didn’t you?”

Castiel crosses his arms over his chest. “If you don’t want to come in, I can just--”

“Cas,” Dean sighs. “Come on.”

Castiel raises an eyebrow. “Come on, what?”

“I don’t know what I’m even gonna talk about,” Dean protests feebly, but they both know who’s won here.

Castiel smiles brightly –as if victory had been assured all along--and Dean wonders when Castiel learned to fight so dirty.



Career Day

“… and that’s basically what I do,” Dean finishes, rubbing his slightly sweaty palms together discretely behind his back. He leans against Castiel’s desk as an awkward silence falls, and the class of ten children stare at him with varying degrees of boredom and indifference. One kid towards the back of the room is slumped over in his chair, fast asleep.

After a minute that feels like forever, Castiel gets up and stands next to Dean. “Thank you, Dean. Now does anybody have any questions?” Nobody in the class moves so much as an eyebrow muscle, and the sleeper in the back lets out a soft snore. “Alan,” Castiel says sharply, and the kid jerks awake.

“Was listening, Mr. Novak, I swear,” Alan mumbles, and Castiel sighs.

Dean half-turns to Castiel and mutters under his breath, “Are you sure I can’t tell any stories about--”

“Not a one,” Castiel replies and scans the class. “Nobody has any questions?”

Most of the kids avoid eye contact, and one kid who accidentally makes it with Dean twitches and begins picking at the surface of his desk. The rest of the class stares into some indeterminate space behind Dean’s head with glazed over expressions he recognizes from his own classroom career all too well.

Castiel sighs again, seeming to give up. “Anyone who asks a question gets a piece of candy.” Like magic, half the class perks up. Even sleepy Alan manages to transform a yawn into a raised hand.

“Bribery, huh?” Dean says to Castiel, who shrugs. Dean points at random. “Kid in the red shirt.”

“How come you don’t open on the weekends? My mom’s always saying you should be open longer on weekdays and open on weekends,” the kid in the red shirt says.

“Everyone needs a break from work, kid, including me. Do you wanna be in school on weekends?” The kid’s eyes widen in horror at the idea and Dean nods. “That’s what I thought.”

A blonde girl with pigtails raises her hand. “My dad says all you do is sit around and eat candy all day. Is that true?”

“Uh.” Dean thinks back over the past few weeks and, well, he has eaten a lot of candy. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Wow,” Alan says. “That is so cool! I wish I could sit around and eat candy all day.”

Pigtails frowns. “My dad says you shouldn’t--”

“How about another question,” Castiel steps in. “Stacy?”

“Is it true that you get to come in and go whenever you want?”

“Yeah,” Dean says. “I can even take days off to come talk to you guys.”

Most of the children in the classroom seem pretty impressed by now, and one girl with long black hair raises her hand. “Do you like your job?”

Dean’s about to rattle off some canned answer he prepared with Castiel (they’d done a few rehearsals beforehand to make sure Dean didn’t say anything that would probably lead to Castiel getting fired), but something about the earnestness in her tone and question gives Dean pause.

“You know, I actually think I do,” Dean says slowly. “I’m my own boss, I don’t have to answer to anybody, and I get to shoot the—the breeze with people all day. I only have to go into work five days a week--like you guys--and at the end of the day I get to go home to--” Dean stops and glances over at Castiel, who is watching him. “I get to go home and kick back. It’s pretty great, actually.”

Castiel smiles and ducks his head a moment, before looking up and addressing the class again. “I think that’s enough questions for now. Everybody thank Dean for coming, and the people who asked question get candy tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Mr. Dean,” the class intones and Dean salutes them casually.

“If you come by my store sometime, I’ll give you all free sodas or something,” Dean says as the kids file out of the classroom.

“That went well,” Castiel says once they’re all gone.

“Oh, you mean the part where a kid almost went into a coma from the boredom? Oh yeah, that was awesome.”

“I don’t know how that happened. Alan’s usually so attentive whenever I talk.” Castiel laughs when Dean smacks him. “You know what I mean. Better than the first class, at any rate.”

“Yeah,” Dean shudders at the memory. He’d run out of things to say after about twenty minutes and spent the rest of the class period in an epic, silent staring contest with the class. “Smooth move with the candy, Cas. That woke them up again.”

“Their parents are going to think we’re on a mission to rot their teeth,” Castiel says as he sets about gathering his papers and straightening his desk. “You’re good with them, though. At least, with answering their questions.”

“Yeah, well, they’re not so bad. Some of them, man, they’re like miniatures of their parents though. That girl with the pigtails? I see her parents every week and it’s like a creepy spitting image.”

Castiel’s got his briefcase in hand and opens the classroom door. “You ready to go?”

Dean checks his watch. “A little early for you to be getting out, isn’t it?”

“I cleared my schedule,” Castiel says, and his fingers are a fleeting pressure on the small of Dean’s back. “So we can go home and I can show my appreciation properly.”



* * * * * *


“I still dunno why you invited me to come if you didn’t want me to talk about the cool shit I’ve seen.” Dean relaxes as Castiel sweeps a bar of soap over the back of Dean’s neck and shoulders. “Hunting demons is a hell of a lot more exciting than sitting behind a counter all day.”

“Lean forward,” Castiel says, and Dean obliges, resting his arms on the edges of the tub and propping his chin on top of them while Castiel soaps up and down the rest of his back. “How many of these children are going to grow up to be hunters? How many do you want to see throwing themselves in harm’s way like that?”

“Well, definitely not Alan. That kid’s way too sleepy for the hunting life.” Dean shivers a little when Castiel begins to sluice hot water down his back. “But it’s not that I want them to become hunters like me, it’s just—I don’t want them to think I’m just another boring old guy doing some crappy whatever job.”

“You’re not boring or old,” Castiel says gently. “And I thought you liked your job.”

“I do, mostly. But I was good at hunting, you know? It’s like the only thing in my life I’ve ever been good at.” Dean’s not sure he likes the tone in his voice—it’s a little too raw for his taste, a little too needy or something.

“You’re good at your job now.” Castiel kisses the back of Dean’s neck. “You’re good at many things—you simply never had the chance to do them before, when you were hunting.”

“Maybe.” Dean sighs, not wholly convinced. “But if you wanted someone to teach your kids the wonders of math, you should have invited that guy we know over at the bank. Bob whatshisface.”

“Bob the banker?”

Dean snorts. “Okay, maybe not him. Maybe Diane the banker, I don’t know.”

“I didn’t invite you to my class to teach the wonders of math,” Castiel says calmly as he tugs Dean back against his chest and begins soaping up Dean’s stomach. “Do you remember that story you told me about a month ago? About the old woman who kept coming in everyday, buying a different set of nails every time? And it turned out that the nails she needed were in the back room?”

“Oh yeah.” Dean relaxes back against Castiel. “She needed those special shingle nails you made me order. Couldn’t believe those things would ever come in handy again.”

“And then what did you do when you found out three of the shingles on her roof had blown off?” Castiel asks as his hands—and the soap bar—begin to dip lower.

“I helped her fix her roof. Figured since we’d already done it at our place there wasn’t a point in having her reinvent the wheel on her own.” Dean’s head lolls back onto Castiel’s shoulder when his clever, slippery hands take hold and starts to stroke.

“Did you charge her for it?”

“Huh? No, of course not. It wasn’t that big of a deal, and she thanked me with a slice of pie afterward anyway.” Dean’s breaths come out faster as Castiel begins to pull more firmly, and the other hand begins to massage his balls. “Damn good, ah, pie though.”

Castiel kisses Dean’s shoulder and doesn’t ask any more questions, focusing instead at working Dean thoroughly. The water is warm and relaxing, there are traces of soap still left on Castiel’s palms that make his grip extra slippery, and he does all the things he knows Dean loves, including sucking his neck gently right before Dean comes. “Fuck, Cas,” Dean moans, Castiel’s arms tightening around him and holding him securely through the orgasm.

After Dean’s done and has a pleasant jelly-like feeling throughout his entire body, Castiel takes Dean’s chin and kisses him sweetly. “That’s why I invited you.”

“Wait, what?” Dean tries to recall what they were talking about. “You invited me because I know how to reattach shingles?”

“Because it doesn’t matter whether you’re a hunter or a general store owner, Dean,” Castiel smiles against Dean’s lips. “Because you do the same exact thing here that you’ve always done: you help people.”