If you're ever in Houston, well, you better do the right;
You better not gamble, oh you better not fight,
Or the sheriff will grab ya and the boys will bring you down.
The next thing you know, boy, Oh! You're prison bound.

- "Midnight Special," Creedence Clearwater Revival

"You realize glaring at me has zero effect, right?"

On any other day, this situation would be terrible. Dean would be tense, prepared to fight and miserable. That's the whole 'being arrested' thing, it's fairly well known for being a sucky experience. As it stands, he's comparatively pretty damned chipper. Probably because the second Cas was getting cuffed, Dean decided being arrested was exactly what he needed to round out today's shittiness. And hey, here he is, shoulder to shoulder in the back of a patrol car with Cas. Mission accomplished.

Despite the fact that he's. . . well, being arrested and cuffed and booked. . . that means he's back in control, because he chose to be here. Sam and Cas had his best interests in mind, Dean has no doubt. But he's been taking care of himself without their overbearing protective gestures just fine for years.

"I would go into how you're incapable of following simple, common sense directions, but I'm afraid I would incriminate myself legally speaking." Castiel growls, and Dean smirks in response. Oh, that's right. Cas can't even chew him out for not staying out of sight, because Cas was therefore encouraging someone with a warrant issued on them to hide from the cops, and helping them.

"Spared a lecture by the law. Who says the system is useless?"

"Yes, let's look at this as a thorough examination of the legal system for recreational purposes, Dean. Are you always this infuriating when people try to help you, or are you making a special effort for me?"

Dean purses his lips, blowing Cas a kiss mockingly. "That's just me, doc. You reconsidering yet?"

"No." Cas replies honestly and immediately. No, he's just as smitten now as he was half an hour ago. Perhaps more so. "But had I known you were by nature this oppositionally defiant I would have changed tactics."

"Wouldn't have worked." Dean assures him cheerfully, and shifts on the seat to give his cuffed hands more room to move behind him, shoulders braced low on the seat back, and he twists to let him hook his fingers into Cas's similarly cuffed hands, squeezing Cas's fingers between his gently. It's a little bit of contortionism, but it's worth it for how the air rushes out of Cas all at once, how he slouches down in the seat to return the gesture.

"So, newlyweds?" The officer in the front seat asks, raising his eyebrows at Dean and Cas in the rearview, visible through the protective grate separating them from the front of the cruiser. He's an older guy, a bit gone to seed, and seemed to have been nursing a travel mug of coffee and a magazine while waiting for Cas to come back. "No offense, guys, but you already bicker like an old married couple."

"It's a skill." Dean grins at the cop, entirely shameless. "Aren't you supposed to be dickishly telling us to shut the fuck up or something? I was all ready to rail against oppression."

"Why the hell would I do that?" The cop snorts, shifting into drive. "Contrary to reputation, not all cops are dicks. I didn't have to chase anyone to make an arrest, and I'm apparently pretty much set for entertainment for the rest of the ride, at this rate. So nope. You two keep bitching, it's funny stuff."

Dean turns to Cas, a triumphant smirk painted across his features, and jerks his chin at the cop. "See? He thinks I'm funny."

xXx

The booking officer is less tolerant, but at this rate Dean's pretty much decided they can all go to hell if they have a problem with him. His last encounter with the police of Lawrence has left him with the clear understanding that the few good cops they may have doesn't change that their policy on Omegas means as a teenager they decided he must have asked for what happened to him.

He won't admit it, but it's slightly comforting that he's going through this all side-by-side with Cas now. From the regular glances Cas steals at him while being fingerprinted and asked questions at the next table by another officer, he's not the only one. The whites of Cas's eyes are too visible, his eyes a bit too wide, and whatever risks he's taken in his professional career one time stealing breakfast was enough to let Dean know this would be his first brush with being a criminal. So, he does his best to be nonchalant and comforting to Cas, just by being there.

Dean gives his name, birthdate, confirms his address, lets them roll his fingers in ink, smirks for the camera, and then answers the personal questions with half an ear for Cas's own.

"Gender Designation?"

The hatchet faced Alpha officer in front of him already knows this. Dean can tell. It hasn't been half an hour since he was in the back of his car with Cas, making out and planning to drag the doctor upstairs and screw his virgin brains out, and he hasn't had a shower since. . . well, their showerthat afternoon. He's not covered in engine grease, or masked by the pungent soap he usually favors, and that works against him. Any Alpha with a nose can probably smell exactly what Dean is, and that he's been stewing in arousal since Cas joined him on the hood of the car.

Dean knows what this guy is from the way his pupils dilate, and this asshole just wants him to say it, wants to force the confirmation.

"Omega Male." Dean supplies dryly, staring the officer down without blinking, without ducking his head in unconscious submission to his authority, challenge clear in the cant of his jaw.

The pen flicks over the square it was already hovering over, and the officer sneers faintly as he asks the next question.

"And for the protection of yourself and others, when is your next Heat, or when was your last?"

It's an invasive question from a guy getting off on being invasive. Cas has fallen silent down the line of tables, his head turning to scowl at the officer in front of Dean, his hands curled into fists in his cuffs. The camera flashes. Yep, Cas is going to have scary sex-haired, pajama-wearing, psycho serial killer looking mugshots at this rate.

"Today's Sunday? Figure about Thursday, then." Cas's eyes widen impossibly, turning to Dean now, and Dean snorts and addresses him without shifting his challenging stare at the officer. "Down, boy."

It does raise painful questions, though. He's been aware of how close his heat was since his father's accident dragged him back to Lawrence. The thought's crossed his mind a few times as he found himself terrified of the pull between him and Cas, but the plan was always to finish up at his Dad's place, pack up, and haul ass back to Sioux Falls. Cas threw a wrench in that. Facing charges is going to prove a bigger complication because he can't leave until this is off the table.

The officer in front of him notices the interaction (how could he not, Cas is less than subtle) and his gaze swings to Castiel, dismissing Dean in front of him. He opens his mouth to ask the next question to Cas, as if now that he knows they're together he can get the answers from Dean's mate or whatever the fuck, and Dean grits his teeth together. "I'm right here. You don't have shit you need to ask him unless you've got hispaperwork in front of you, jackass."

The officer's angry eyes snap back to Dean's face, and he offers his most infuriating bared-teeth grin.

Bring it, fucker.

xXx

They bring Dean to a separate room to pat him down, and he tenses the second he's out of contact with Cas, waiting in a stall facing the wall, still cuffed. He knows its procedure. They can't stick them in a cell and then have them pull a knife or something, but he doesn't want that asshole's hands anywhere near him. But instead of Hatchet-Face, it's the arresting officer who steps in, offering him a faint tip of the head and a lefthand smile.

"My favorite self-arresting comedian criminal of the day. There's a speech I could give you, but it comes down to 'we don't want to be sued or accused of wrongful arrest practices,' and there's some lawyer already in our lobby asking about you, so they're being careful. So, we don't have an Omega officer on staff, or we would ask if you wanted to wait to be frisked by him. I'm here to ask if you want us to try and get someone from the next county, which could take a couple hours, or if you are comfortable with one of us here doing the honors. I've already got a pretty good idea from watching tapes that you're ruling out. . ."

"The asshole. Yeah, no thanks there. Don't need anyone getting their jollies off with a body cavity search." Dean narrows his eyes at the officer, faintly confused by him. "Beta?"

"Technically I don't have to answer that since I'm not the guy under arrest, but yep. That's me. The boring pheromone-free officer of the evening. You're alright, but you're just not doing it for me, sorry man." Glancing behind him at the open door of the stall, he lowers his voice. "My niece is an Alpha Female, kid. You should see the kind of shit she gets, too. And to tell you the truth, I'm only volunteering to do this because it means I'm pretty much off for the rest of my shift doing paperwork and eating pizza at my desk and watching my bosses squirm, and then I get to go home in time to get some sleep before my weekend."

"Well, can't fault your honesty I guess." Dean smirks at the officer, shrugs and turns to face the wall. "Better you than him, and I'm thinking the longer this drags out the more anxious the guy who came in with me's gonna be."

"Your boy's pacing a hole in holding." The officer confirms in amusement. "Kinda impressive in a concrete box with bare feet. Let's not even talk about the suit who you've got here. I think my sergeant is shitting himself right now. I knew you'd be a fun one."

xXx

It's Officer Hatchet-Face, not Officer Uncle, who directs Dean into the county hold. The cuffs bite into Dean's skin enough to be purposeful as he twists them slightly before removing them, half shoving Dean into an empty holding cell.

"Dean, are you okay?"

The metal door clangs shut behind Dean, and he turns to tip an imaginary hat at the police officer with a sneer. "Pleasure doing business with you."

"Dean. Are you okay." Cas has his hands wrapped around the bars between the cells, eyes fixed on Dean, and he repeats himself sharply, trying to snap Dean away from his staring match. Behind him in the other holding cell, there's a few wolf whistles and cat calls, four others against the bars as well, and Dean can see Cas's jaw bunching, his knuckles whitening.

"I'm good." This is holding, three community cells for drunks, petty crooks, and to hold everyone else until a judge decides if they're jail bound. It's legal limbo. Considering one had to sign the warrant for them, the fact that they're here instead of real jail means they're trying to figure out how to handle the abrupt legal representation harassing them upstairs. Dean's pretty sure he can see Sam's fingerprints on the fact that he's in a cell alone, while on one side of him a single female Beta with mascara smeared down her face is sleeping something off, and on the other side of him every other male drunk, crook and idiot they've picked up this weekend is crowded in with Cas, leering at Dean through the bars. "You?"

"The accommodations leave something to be desired." Dean grins at Cas, and if nothing else he's taught Castiel the art of being sarcastic in the face of shitty circumstances. He'd kiss the guy through the bars, or try to, if getting that close to the other assholes around him wouldn't turn this into some kind of sick Caged Heat Omega porno. He perches on the empty bench against the wall, instead, where he can watch all of the barred sides of his pen and keep Cas's gaze. Cas is holding on by a thread, and Dean's not sure when he learned to read his stoicism so well that a twitch of his eye and the cant of his jaw shows how angry he currently is. "Unfortunately, relocating them all involved that. . . officer" He manages to make it sound like a curse word, spitting it angrily. ". . . making it completely clear why they were being moved to one cell."

"C'mon over here bitch, ass to the bars, I'll show you a good time. . ." One drunk slurs, and Dean keeps his eyes on Cas and shakes his head slightly, warning him down before he can complicate things by trying to defend Dean's nonexistent honor.

"Let it go, man. There are cameras and you're already in here for assault. I'm used to it."

"Which makes it all the more reprehensible. And makes me that much more livid." Castiel growls tersely in response.

". . . take you in a line up, let you milk us all dry. . ."

"Yeah, well, you don't exactly expect the best of humanity in a jail do you, Cas?" Dean's trying to maintain his humor, keeping Cas's eyes on him, and it's the first time he's ever had to work to keep Castiel's attention. "Pretty much what I figured. Hell, all told, this could be worse."

"You shouldn't be here at all."

Dean grins at him again, trying to tune out the other guy, trying to will Castiel to as well. "Still pissy about that? Ship's kinda sailed there, man."

". . . plug you up, pump you so full you'll be leaking for days, leave you with a little reminder of us in nine months, bitch. . ."

"Shut up!" Dean grimaces as Cas snaps and shoves himself to his feet quickly, coming closer to the bars and wrapping his hands around Cas's as best he's able, keeping him in place, keeping him from lashing out physically. He can feel Cas literally shaking with anger, trying to control himself. "If you speak to him again I will . . ."

"Cas. Dean." Dean's not sure he's ever been so happy to see his little brother. Sam is immaculate in his funeral suit, long hair tamed back, broad shouldered and imposing as he scowls into the cells, Officer Uncle by his side with the keys. "I'm getting a judge to set a bail, we're getting you out of here. . ."

"Get him out of there." Dean commands, still holding onto Cas's hands just in case, though Cas has his forehead against the bars now and is piecing together his admirable self-control. It's against Sam's instincts too, when everything would have him free his brother first. Dean knows the score. They're stuck here until some judge decides how likely they are to run, and how much they're worth if they do. But Sam can still take them aside one at a time, do the legal counsel crap in some mirrored room somewhere, warn Cas not to talk to the cops or discuss finances or whatever the fuck he needs to do to get Castiel out of that cell before he punches someone.

Sam's a professional. Cas is a client now. There's a moment though where it's just Dean's little brother, looking torn and being forced to make a decision he doesn't like, begging Dean not to make him leave him in a cell. ". . . I need to speak to Doctor Novak regarding the charges . . ."

Dean tries to convey his thanks and assure his brother he'll be okay in a look and a nod, before squeezing his hands over Cas's on the bars and lowering his voice to a rough whisper. "Go, Cas. I got this."

As the officer directs Cas out of the cell and towards his brother, Dean steps away and puts his back to the wall again, sliding down to sit on the bench with his knees drawn up, elbows resting across them, and tries to tune out the drunken leers. The sympathetic officer comes by once to bang his nightstick across the bars yelling at them to shut up, but then he's gone, his shift over as he'd said, and Dean is left alone to listen to the same bullshit he's dealt with his entire adult life.

He rolls his eyes before closing them, leaning his head back against the wall, and casually flips off the other cell. "Yeah yeah. Get some new material, assholes."

He pretends to sleep.

xXx

"Sit down, Castiel. You're not helping Dean by pacing." Sam sounds too reasonable, too collected, and Castiel glares at him in response. "You think I'm not worried too? He'll be fine. He's on camera, he's in a separate cell, and I've got my assistant heckling everyone with any pull over this on the phones over their Sunday dinner as we speak." Sam is belying his own calm demeanor, though, checking his cell phone for reception to make sure if he gets a call back from the judge, it'll come through to him without waiting for the jail to tell him. "Okay, so a Nathan Hardey's your primary concern here. He's claiming you attacked unprovoked and left him with . . ."

"I am a doctor, Sam, I know precisely what I did and I knew it when I attacked him." Castiel interrupts abruptly, without stopping his pacing, tugging at the sleeves of the Henley he's changed into. Cas doesn't have to imagine what a throat strike could do, he knows. "He had been harassing Dean the night before. He was the ringleader. I was interested in ending the fight as quickly as possible. In interest of full disclosure, I'm certain nearly everything I am accused of is entirely accurate in some respect. My interest in hiring you as my attorney is not in proving my own innocence, it's establishing Dean's."

"Self defense. I'm going to get that tossed out, trust me. We're going to get pictures of Dean's injuries, that'll tell a pretty clear story. I'm more worried about you, legally speaking. Best way I have to do this is to turn it around on them." Sam flips a folder open on the table before him, and sighs. "It's not just the criminal charges. I'll get those dropped, though it'll take some work. They're suing. They're going after the hospital and they're going after you, too, in civil court. . . They're not naming Dean in the civil suit, likely because he . . ."

"Doesn't have money. Whereas the hospital has deep pockets and so does my family, though I'm not certain how they found that out."

Sam looks up in surprise at that, and Castiel shrugs uncomfortably. He's had to tell this story already to a Winchester today. He is not happy doing it again. "Suffice to say, I will need to make a phone call to my eldest brother, who manages the estate, but you are hired to defend me as you see fit. You may be approached by another brother of mine who will attempt to claim family interest in taking over my defense, but I have no desire to indebt myself to them or reestablish contact. For the most part, I do not want those. . . men rewarded after what they did to Dean, and what they tried to do again. I want them to regret it deeply for the rest of their lives. I assumed in that, our interests align most closely."

Sam leans back in his chair, arms folded over his broad chest, and his brow furrows as he stares at Castiel, who stops to face him. "Let me get this straight. You want to go after them with everything, turn it around, and legally rip them apart for hurting my brother. And you want to. . . you're seriously trying to hire me to do that for you?"

"Precisely."

Sam's smile is beautiful.

xXx

It is Jo standing outside of Dean's cell with an armful of clothes and a cream colored skirt suit on that draws Dean back to his feet, as another officer opens the door for her, the catcalls interrupted by activity. "Mister Winchester. . ." There's a glint in Jo's eyes, something to her posture and tone that makes him raise his eyebrows. "I'm here representing your attorney. We're waiting for bail to post, but I was informed by your attorney that you would need a change of clothes and. . ."

Dean doesn't know if he wants to kiss Jo or smack her, or if Sam was involved in this or not. He lets Jo bat her lashes at the officer, and as soon as he and Jo are deposited in another room he gives up and hugs her.

"Where the hell did you get a suit, kiddo?"

"JC Penney. Where'd you think I got it, magical 'I need to look like a lawyer' elves? They're too busy following your brother around and fixing his perfect hair. It was on sale when I bought the dress for the funeral. Seemed a great time to break it out. Unless you just really wanted to sit around in there a couple more hours."

"I'm good, thanks." Dean mutters, and takes the clothes from her hands. He settles for stripping off his button up shirt and shrugging carefully into the t-shirt that smells like laundry detergent and pungent dryer sheets, with Jo scowling at his bruises the entire time. "I'm fine." And he isn't going to screw with jeans for now, when anyone could be watching and Jo isn't going anywhere. "What's going on?"

"Your brother's kicking every hornets nest he can find. Town like Lawrence, no one wants to do crap on a Sunday night, so we're stuck waiting. The judge drinks at the Roadhouse, though, so Mom's doing her thing too and hunting down where he is tonight. You're going to be stuck here until they get the legal crap sorted out, though, so. . . do you want us to help clearing out John's place, or do you want to crash upstairs, or. . .?"

Dean rubs the back of his neck, and pulls out a chair at the interview table, slumping into it. Just as well, if they were pretending she was his lawyer's assistant, in case people were watching. They can't listen to anything legal, but it's still better to look the part. "No, I . . . uh. I think I could probably just crash with Cas?"

"Is that a question, or are you telling me?" Jo teases, and plops herself down into the other seat, arms folded as she watches him. "How serious are you two?" Dean shrugs again. "You realize I'm not a cop, and I'm going to get answers out of you, right?"

"Well, it is an interrogation room." Dean agrees, rolling his eyes. He loves Jo. She's the little sister he never realized he wanted until he couldn't get rid of her. But he's not going to start talking 'boys' with her now. "This really the time?"

"You going to leave here with him and not even show up for dinner when invited? Yep. I think this is the time."

"Still not a chick, Jo. Not going to do the girly gossip thing." Stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankle, he jumps when a high heel kicks him beneath the table, stooping to grab his shin and glare at her.

"Sunuvabitch! Did you not see how many bruises I have already?"

"You said you were fine, I took you at face value. You don't get to have it both ways for sympathy. And I barely nudged you! Quit whining, Winchester." She tuts at him, unrepentant, and braces her chin on her fist. "And I'm girly suddenly? You of all people about to use that like it's a bad thing? I just want to know you're being careful. You don't usually go for dudes, dude."

"Those shoes are evil. And I'm not going to talk about my sex life with you."

"So it's a sex life, huh?" Jo grins, bright and triumphant, and Dean groans and lays his head on the table.

"Wake me up when the paperwork comes through, brat."

xXx

In the parking lot when the cops finally lead them back out into the rain, their paperwork gone through to release them on bail, it's a toss-up as to whether Sam or Cas is going to get to Dean first. Dean watches Cas physically restrain himself, letting his little brother drag him in and hug him, before Sam smacks him on the back of the head lightly. "If you'd have listened I was saying that we could get the judge on the phone and you wouldn't have to do any of this crap."

"Still losing me at the part where you thought I was going to actually listen." Dean smirks, but squeezes his brother before letting him pull back entirely. "Thanks for coming through, Sammy. You got a plan to get me out of this mess, or. . .?"

He doesn't like the look Sam exchanges with Cas. That spells out trouble for him.

"Yeah. A couple ideas. We can talk about it tomorrow, Dean. It's getting late, and I want to get Jess back to the hotel room, she's still at Ellen's." He's right about the time. It feels like a week since John's funeral, let alone breakfast that morning at the hotel, and this is going down as the longest week in history overall. "You mind if I ride with you, Jo?" Sam tosses Dean the keys to the Explorer, looking to the petite blonde who is digging in her purse beside Dean.

"Nope, that sounds good, long as you can contort those stork legs to fit in my passenger seat."

"She's still sensitive about her height." Dean confides to Sam with no attempt to conceal his whisper, and Jo flips Dean off without looking up from where she's apparently excavating to find something at the bottom of her purse. "Smartass."

"Always. Alright. See you two tomorrow, then." Jo looks up, triumphant, and then Dean finds himself with an armful of blonde little sister type.

"Yep. See you then, Dean." She's pressing something into his palm, and when she pulls away she beams at him and doesn't give him time to look or question it. Which is how Dean finds himself holding a round compact container of birth control pills in the parking lot of a police department, completely aware of the fidgeting doctor behind him waiting for him to turn and face him or say something, as if afraid he's done something wrong.

Dean blinks, pockets the pills mechanically, turns to face Cas, and finds himself immediately cocooned in a hug. It's apparently hug Dean Winchester day, and he'd pretend to be annoyed by it, but he can't; Castiel practically clings to him as if to assure himself that Dean's safe. Cas feels like safety, feels like halving the burden of this crap, and Dean's so damned screwed because yeah. Feelings. "I'm okay, Cas. No one was going to actually hurt me in there, I just didn't want you to have to go through all that crap alone because of me."

"Stop blaming yourself." Cas mumbles into Dean's shoulder, and Dean snorts and tightens his arms around Cas in return, pressing a kiss to his hair. The idiot still is trying to defend Dean, even from himself.

"Don't order me around. I'm oppositionally defiant, remember?" He teases, but Cas doesn't look capable of laughing right now. When he raises his head, Dean searches his face for a moment before cupping a hand to his cheek, resting their foreheads together. "C'mon. Get in the car, Cas. Let's go home."

xXx

Dean doesn't realize he has now called Castiel's home his own. Cas, however, recognizes the significance immediately. Dean claimed in their conversation atop the Impala that he was invading Castiel's life. He just doesn't recognize that from the moment they met, Cas has been inviting him into it.

This time, it's Cas that feels guilty for something not his fault.

Castiel didn't want Dean to leave. And now, Dean has to stay for a while longer. Whatever else this mess does to their lives, he has to thank it for that.