Title: Angels In The Service Box
Summary: Supernatural/Psych/Death Note crossover. Castiel makes some new friends in Heaven. Racquetball is played, and shortcake is discussed. Crack.
Notes: Character death spoilers for both Death Note and Psych are contained within.
If Dean Winchester had suddenly begun spouting Biblical verses, Castiel could not have been more surprised. His surroundings had changed abruptly; he stood under a sunny sky, on an open court with one lone wall, and in his vessel's appearance, no less - entirely unnecessary, as it was obvious he was still in Heaven. He was also wearing a strange white uniform, as were the two men who stood next to him.
"Opponents. Excellent," said the man with glasses. He had mousy hair, and his glasses were set over staring eyes and a faintly pleased expression. In contrast to him, the other man was hunched, with dark, messy hair and even darker eyes. He held a plate of strawberry shortcake in his hands and looked only mildly surprised at being there.
The bespectacled man cleared his throat. "I," he said, without any preamble or explanation, "am Mary Lightly. I was a criminal profiler for the police."
The dark-haired man looked interested. "I am known as L," he said. "I was a detective."
"The L?" Mary asked, eyes widening. He spoke almost reverently.
L nodded, taking a bite of shortcake.
"You're dead?"
L swallowed. "Apparently."
"My apologies," Mary said humbly. "You were legendary in our circles." He extended his hand in the strangest way, but L seemed unperturbed. They shook.
Castiel found himself unable to leave. His natural ability to teleport would not work, even when he strained, and he frowned at his new companions, wondering what in his Father's most holy name was going on.
"You are?" Mary asked him.
Castiel pondered the situation. Dean would most likely tell him to go along with whatever was happening and get answers that way. Cas decided it was worth a try.
"My name is Castiel," he said. "I am an angel of the Lord."
Mary did not look as impressed as he had with L, but there was still respect. "A pleasure to meet you," he said, extending his hand.
Castiel stared. "Is this a new handshake I am not aware of?" he inquired politely.
"No," said Mary.
Remembering what Dean's advice would probably be, Cas gingerly shook his hand.
Mary was evidently pleased. "I didn't think I would get two such interesting opponents." The way he said 'interesting' did not sound quite right coming from him - it was more like he wanted to dissect them or something equally unpleasant. "I assume you know how to play racquetball?"
L nodded. "It's similar to tennis, I believe." He took another bite of shortcake, chewing thoughtfully.
Castiel frowned. "Is this a human sport?"
Mary looked slightly disappointed. "I suppose you wouldn't know. I can teach you." He began to gather the equipment at his feet and handed some of it to L, who didn't look happy about setting aside his shortcake.
"Wait," Castiel said, raising a hand to forestall the equipment Mary was trying to give him. Clearly, Dean's probable advice was not working, and Cas made a mental note to inform Dean of that fact the next time they met. "What am I doing here?"
"I asked for opponents," Mary said simply, as it was the most obvious thing in the world. "And you appeared."
After a moment, Castiel accepted the equipment that Mary was holding out for him and raised his eyes upward in frustration. This was his Father's idea of a joke, no doubt. The Creator had a peculiar sense of humor, one that Cas was not appreciating at the moment.
There was little he could do about it, however. He would truly have to go along with it in order to leave.
Mary began to explain the rules of the game, often getting sidetracked and starting on other, strange conversations from which it was hard to retrieve him. Throughout his entire explanation, L ate his way steadily through his strawberry shortcake, of which there seemed to be no shortage. Even Castiel, who had limited knowledge of the human digestive system, was slightly alarmed at the amount he was consuming.
"Do you like shortcake?" Mary asked the detective.
"Very much," L replied. "It's one of the perks of being dead. I can eat as much as I want."
Mary looked impressed. "Can I have some?"
"Certainly," said L, who gave the impression that ordinarily he would never have shared. However, a plate seemed to detach itself from the one he was carrying and fill up with shortcake even as he handed it to Mary, and the two munched in silence, racquetball quite forgotten for the moment.
"Would you like some too?" L asked the angel.
"No," said Castiel.
When they had finally finished, Mary picked up his equipment. "Shall we begin, then?" he asked enthusiastically.
With some regret, L lay aside his shortcake once more, slid on his gloves, and picked up a racquet. Castiel did the same, very glad that the Winchesters were not there as witnesses.
"We'll be playing Cutthroat," Mary said. "Which means it's every man for himself."
The game was dizzying, much faster than Castiel had expected. L soon proved to be a better player than Cas and Mary combined. His un-athletic appearance was quite misleading, because he could easily run circles around the other two. All of Castiel's angelic abilities didn't add up to much with his lack of experience, while Mary seemed to be past the beginner stage but not yet at a level of mastery.
The angel had promised himself he wouldn't become involved too heavily in the game, that he would play only enough so that Mary would be satisfied and Cas would be allowed to leave. However, Castiel's interactions with the Winchesters meant he was more human than most angels, and a competitive side showed itself in him soon enough.
"You are mistaken," he said forcefully. "I was within line, and you were not. The serve belongs to me."
"It bounced twice," Mary said, just as vehemently. "The serve goes to me."
"Because you interfered with it! That is a foul."
Mary took a deep breath. "Why don't we ask L? He can be our referee for this." He turned around, but L was not there. While Cas and Mary had been arguing, the detective had slipped to the side to eat some more cake - which, incidentally, had become a pile of sweets instead.
"Do you ever cease eating?" Castiel asked, reminded of Dean.
"No," said L.
When presented with the debate, L considered it. "Sorry," he said to Mary. "You interfered with the ball. Castiel still has the serve."
Mary looked deeply hurt. "And we shared shortcake," he said.
L merely shrugged and suggested they continue playing, subtly shifting attention away from the fact that Mary had been catching up to him in points.
And so the game continued. Castiel and Mary continued to lose to L and argue over certain moves, until at last Mary called an end to it.
"That's enough," he said, panting. "Clearly, you've got some skill." This was to L, who had once again grabbed his plate of sweets as soon as he had ascertained that the game was over.
"I was a tennis champion in England, and being dead seems to have increased my skills exponentially," L said, by way of explanation.
Castiel was frowning at the court, his racquet, and everything in general, wondering how he had managed to get pulled into this strange event. He was startled out of his reverie when Mary extended his strange handshake once again.
"Thank you very much for playing," the man said. "It was a good game."
Castiel shook his hand, still not quite able to understand the handshake itself. He felt he should say something polite back, but what was one supposed to say when one had been dragged into it unwillingly yet had still found some sort of strange enjoyment nonetheless?
L shook his hand as well, and suddenly Cas found that he could teleport again.
Needless to say, the Winchesters were more than a little surprised when Castiel brought up racquetball.
"Have you ever played?" the angel asked, almost eagerly.
Dean and Sam shared looks that were identical in bafflement. "No," Sam said hesitantly. "Never been interested."
"Oh," Castiel said, looking rather disappointed. "Perhaps we could play one day." After another awkward moment, he vanished.
The Winchesters were quite astonished. Dean shook his head. "That angel is so weird," he said fondly.