"Ben, can you get that?" Dean shouted as the sound of his ringtone trailed into the basement, letting him know his phone was not actually in the pocket of his jeans. He continued his struggle with the washing machine door, prying at it with a kitchen spatula - the handle, and the wire clothes' hanger he'd originally tried to replace it with, had broken off so long ago he couldn't remember ever having opened it another way.
Ben shouted back who it was right as the door popped opened with a thud. Dean didn't quite hear him, but he figured it had to be Sam. He'd been playing phone tag with him for the better part of two days, desperately trying to get some feedback about the whole nanny thing.
"Great. Ask him to help you with that long division nonsense you've got," Dean shouted back as he uncapped the detergent.
"Really?" Ben replied skeptically.
"Yes, really. Do your goddamn homework," Dean shouted. "I'll be up by the time you brainiacs have something figured out."
When Dean set a basket of warm, unfolded towels down on the coffee table five minutes later, he found Ben kneeling against it scribbling out what looked like a zillion numbers, though his current struggle seemed to be against 48989/17. He was glad Sam had the patience and the aptitude for explaining this because he really didn't.
He settled into the worn fabric of the couch only to hear a voice that definitely wasn't his brother's crackle through the phone, "Prime numbers can be intimidating, if you let them be."
Dean's eyebrows shot up. "Is that ... Cas?"
"I told you it was before," Ben said.
"Yeah, well, that machine's loud," Dean grumbled as he plucked the phone out of Ben's hand.
"Cas? Hey, I didn't mean to make you do my kid's homework or anything," Dean said.
"It was no trouble, Dean," Castiel said. "I do frequently work with numbers."
"'Course you do. You're at the frickin' IRS," Dean mumbled. "So what's up?"
"You met Grace, but you did not meet Hannah. The other nannies have wished to meet both of the children before choosing whether or not to accept the position."
"So you want me to come back?" Dean asked.
"I could also offer you information about your salary and where you and Ben would stay," Castiel continued.
"Did you want to meet Ben too?" Dean asked.
"I believe I just did," Castiel said.
"And, I don't know, make sure he's not a gremlin or something?" Dean continued. "He'd be living with your breakables and all."
"I don't think gremlins are typically given math assignments," Castiel said. Dean couldn't tell if it was meant to be a joke.
"Okay...so what? You want to do like joint family dinner or something?" Dean asked.
"I think that would be a good idea, yes," Castiel said.
"So...when were you thinking?" Dean asked.
"Tomorrow at 6," Castiel said.
"There?" Dean asked.
"Here," Castiel agreed. Then, without so much as a goodbye, he hung up.
"Don't invite Paul over tomorrow," Dean said to Ben. "We've got invitations to the castle."
"You're not going to call it that if we actually live there, right?" Ben asked.
Dean flicked Ben's hair with a towel before beginning to fold it. "Finish your homework."
XXX
"There's got to be a catch here, Sammy," Dean said when he finally managed to get in touch with him, after round three of checking that Ben wasn't using a flashlight to read Batman under his covers. "No one just asks you and your kid to move into their mansion and offers you asalary. Dude, with the jobs I've had, I'm not even sure I've heard the word salary. You think maybe the other kid drove all the old nannies away or something?"
"Didn't this Cas guy say he's been hiring a new one every year?" Sam asked.
"Well, yeah," Dean said.
"Then I doubt it's a kid making them leave," Sam said. "A lot of people quit jobs after a year. It's just like an experience thing."
"Okay... so, let's say everything seems up to snuff, there's no demon child or anything, you think I should really think about this?" Dean asked.
"I think if you're asking me about it, you already are," Sam said. "So call me back when you actually know what you're getting into. I've got to go feed Sammy before he wakes Jess back up."
"Really not calling him Junior, huh?" Dean asked, mostly because he knew it would piss Sam off.
"Yeah, and we're not going to," Sam said with an irritated huff. Dean was sure he was rolling his eyes.
"I can't keep calling you both the same thing," Dean whined.
"Yeah, Dean, you can," Sam said before the line abruptly disconnected.
Dean huffed, knowing he'd been hung up on. He immediately texted Sam. Bitch
Jerk
XXX
The next day found Dean hesitating a few feet away from an open checkout lane while Ben gazed longingly at the M&Ms. The cashier huffed and rolled her eyes before beginning to spray her conveyor belt down with industrial cleaning solution.
"Just get them both, Dad," Ben insisted as Dean inspected the cheap bottle of red wine and boxed apple pie for the umpteenth time. Neither felt like appropriate offerings, but he hadn't had time to bake and the good stuff wasn't in his budget. "We're gonna be late, and I'm starving."
Dean ignored Ben's advice and lifted the wine bottle up again. "Soda, maybe? Not like you and the other kids are going to drink this stuff anyway. There something you want?"
"Yeah, dinner," Ben said rolling his eyes as he started back towards the aisles.
"Everyone likes Coke, right?" Dean asked, handing the wine bottle back to the cashier with a winsome smirk. She took it with a sigh and shook her head. He turned to follow Ben.
He found him halfway down the soft drink aisle, holding a two liter of regular Coke in one hand and Diet Coke in the other. Dean took one of the bottles with his free hand as Ben asked, "Why is this such a big deal?"
"It's not," Dean said, turning back for the front of the store.
"Yeah, it is," Ben said as he jogged in front of Dean and headed towards the self-checkout. "You're being weird."
"I'm not," Dean insisted, pulling out his wallet. "It's not."
"Dad, come on. I know it is," Ben said. "So tell me."
"Okay, fine. You got me," Dean said. "I do this, we're on the other side of town, so closer to Uncle Sam and Aunt Jess, you get away from that stupid school of yours, and I stop driving the crappy cable van. Everyone wins. So maybe Cas doesn't give a hoot if I show up empty handed, but I don't want to give him a reason to change his mind if I don't, alright?"
"Alright. I'll try not to give him a reason too," Ben agreed. He frowned contemplatively before adding, "You won't lose another job because of me."
"Because of you...?" Dean nearly dropped the pie before setting it down on the self-check. He crouched down and gripped Ben's shoulders. "Hey, you listen to me, that was not your fault. Nothing that happened with the garage was your fault. Don't you dare go thinking it was, alright? And any of this gets screwed up, it's on me, not you. You got that?"
Ben nodded, turned around, and started pulling the groceries over the scanner.
"Ben," Dean said as he swiped his credit card through the reader, "you got that?"
"Yeah, got it," Ben said.
Dean scrubbed his hand down his face as they walked out of the store wondering how exactly he was supposed to help raise other people's kids when he was doing such a bang up job with his own.
XXX
"The third thing has broken," Castiel greeted ominously, pulling the door open before Dean could even think about knocking. "Dinner is not ready."
"Okay," Dean said raising an eyebrow as Cas pulled the pie and soda from his hands. "That's cool. Something go kaput in the kitchen or something?"
A thin thread of smoke, as though in response, trailed into the hallway.
Dean immediately switched gears. "Ben, go wait by the car. Cas, where are your girls?"
"I believe Grace is pretending to be a knight on the playset in the backyard, though she may be a princess this time. I'm never certain. Hannah is doing her homework there as well," Castiel said thoughtfully, ignoring Dean's increasingly insistent glare. "Why?"
"Why? Uh, I don't know, Cas, because your house might BE ON FIRE," Dean said.
"Oh." Castiel looked up and gave the smoke a slightly bemused and thoroughly unconcerned glance. "It's not. Mr. Crowley is simply learning a lesson about improperly cleaned ovens."
"Well, sorry if I don't just take your word for that," Dean said as he pushed Castiel out the door after Ben.
Castiel tripped down the two steps from the porch, dropping the soda and pie in the process. The former proceeded to fizz and explode across Castiel's suit and the driveway, while the latter crumbled into the spill.
Dean just barely saw Ben helping Castiel, who was regarding his surroundings with a slightly surprised but mostly curious head tilt, up before running towards the smoke.
It led him closer and closer to the sound of clattering pans and a distinctly British accent muttering a continual string of, "Bloody hell."
Once he was standing two feet from the double stacked ovens in Castiel's kitchen, Dean reluctantly had to admit that the smoke really was merely symptomatic of a shoddy cleaning job.
He batted at it until he clearly saw a short, scruffy faced man wearing a kiss-the-cook apron violently throwing a variety of metal cookware out of a cabinet and across the linoleum.
"Uh, need some help there, buddy?" Dean asked.
"Ah. The cat dragged in fresh meat," the man said, immediately pulling himself up and brushing at his apron before raking his eyes lasciviously over Dean. "I see dear ol' Cas went more lumberjack than Sadie Hawkins this time."
"Excuse me?" Dean said, hoping to god that this sleazy, temper-tantrum throwing, grown-ass man wasn't Castiel's butler.
The man waved his hand dismissively. "Not that I give a rat's ass, of course. You're not on my dime."
"Tell me you ain't Crowley," Dean said.
"Ding, ding, ding," Crowley said, as he applauded mockingly. "Somebody get the boy a prize."
"'The hell did Cas even find you?" Dean asked, part of him thinking that, had the house really been on fire, maybe leaving the guy here wouldn't of been such a bad thing.
"Terrible business showing you my cards so early in our partnership," Crowley said.
"Partnership?" Dean repeated doubtfully. "Dude, I met you like two minutes ago, and I already ain't gunning for one."
"Pity," Crowley said, reaching for a copper bottomed sauce pan. "However, we may soon be sharing living quarters, and I expect you like being fed. So I recommend you hand me those frozen grease pies."
Dean glanced at the bag of frozen hamburger sitting on the island counter then back at the saucepan. "You know you can't make burgers like that, right?"
"You have a better idea?" Crowley asked doubtfully.
"Matter of fact, yeah," Dean said as he picked up a cast iron skillet from the collection on the floor and set it on the stove. Shortly after, he was too engrossed in looking for spices to notice Crowley slithering from the room.
When, fifteen minutes later, a now casually dressed Castiel led Ben, Grace, and an unfamiliar older girl through the kitchen and instructed them to sit around the dining room table, Dean, still dutifully standing at the stove, with Crowley nowhere in sight, realized he'd been had.
Castiel returned to the kitchen and moved unnecessarily close to Dean before needlessly informing him, "The house appears to still be structurally sound. I brought the children back inside."
Dean nodded as he carefully measured out another handful of seasoning. "Yeah, uh, sorry about that and, uh, about your suit," he mumbled as he gestured aimlessly, "I, uh, I take fires kind of seriously."
"Yes. Ben informed me about the death of your mother," Castiel said.
Dean nodded again, turned back towards the steaming skillet, and started to flip the burgers. "Think I owe you a pie or something too."
"I believe these hamburgers will suffice as a gift of hospitality," Castiel said. Then, somehow, leaning in even closer he said, "There is a reason that Mr. Crowley is not cooking them?"
"Doesn't know how to make 'em right," Dean said, trying to shoulder Cas out of his personal space. "Least I didn't think he did."
"He has successfully made them before," Castiel said, not really taking the hint to move and squinting at the stove. "His methods do not appear to be significantly different than yours."
"That right?" Dean asked, quirking an eye. Now he knew he'd been duped.
"He may use more salt," Castiel said, squinting even harder at the stove, like he was determined to tell Dean the exact differences.
"Dude, you gotta move before I burn you," Dean said, shooing Cas back to the dining room with his spatula.
XXX
Dinner itself, considering what preceded it, was a remarkably uneventful affair.
It turned out that, before their parents had died, Grace and Hannah had also lived on the other side of town, and Hannah had attended what was currently Ben's school. The two were already thick as thieves bemoaning it before beginning an elaborate Superman versus Batman debate.
Dean, meanwhile, was trying not to get involved in said debate as Cas alternated between listing Dean's forthcoming duties as nanny and encouraging Grace to eat her food - if the evidence wasn't right in front of him, Dean never would have guessed a kid wouldn't eat a hamburger.
Then, once the dishes had been cleared from the table, Hannah led Ben up to her room to play with a new video game as Grace trailed after them insisting she wanted to play too. So, if nothing else, Dean knew the kids were going to get along just fine.
"So guess that leaves you to be my tour guide, huh?" Dean said to Castiel as he put the last of the plates on the kitchen sink.
"Of the house?" Castiel asked.
"No, of the Starship Enterprise," Dean said, rolling his eyes.
"I'm not familiar with that," Castiel said. "Is it in Chicago?"
Dean stared at Cas for a full thirty seconds, refusing to dignify that with a reply. "Yes, of the house, Cas."
"Oh," Castiel said. "Follow me then."
He led Dean, who was trying, and failing, to not outright stare at everything, through a series of corridors that he felt certain had to contain a secret passageway or three before stopping behind a closed door Dean would have otherwise assumed was a closet.
It turned out to contain a winding staircase that likely headed for the turret on the far side of the house.
As they began climbing up it, Castiel explained that since he'd inherited the house, and the generation prior had been considerably larger, much of the house, especially on this side, was left unused.
"Your family never drops in for like holidays and stuff?" Dean asked. Cas tensed, and he knew immediately it was the wrong question.
"No," Castiel said shortly before gesturing for Dean to keep following him. Then, after what appeared to be careful consideration, he offered, "My brother Gabriel does occasionally come here unexpectedly and unannounced. I believe he enjoys being irksome."
Dean snorted, sensing that Castiel found Gabriel about as irksome as he found Sam, which was to say a brotherly amount.
"The children are unreasonably fond of him," Castiel added, which only confirmed Dean's theory.
Once they reached the top of the turret, Castiel moved to the window seat. "I do not come up here as often as I would like, but this is my favorite part of the house."
Dean glanced out the window himself and saw why. Beyond Castiel's decently sized backyard, there was a small pond followed by a beautiful expanse of wooded area.
"That's a great view," Dean whistled as he pulled back.
Castiel's lips drew together in what might have been a smile before showing Dean to the turret's other door and into a confusing maze of corridors and staircases.
By the time Castiel announced that the rooms beside him would be his and Ben's, Dean had sort of lost track of where they were.
Nevertheless, Dean cracked the first door open, revealing a room that was more spacious than any bedroom in his own house. "So, who's is who's?"
"That is up to you," Castiel said. "They are similarly sized and furnished, but one of them has, uh, I believe Crowley told me it's called a "Jack and Jill" bathroom?"
"Okay." Dean frowned. "So?"
"It is attached to my bedroom. One of you will share a bathroom with me," Castiel said. "Unless you would prefer I move you to another hallway, but you would be further away from the girls there."
"It's cool, Cas," Dean said, clapping his hand around his shoulder. "We can be teeth brushing buddies."
Dean tried not to overthink what else that would entail.