At the pedestrian crosswalk outside the elementary school, the Impala's engine idled behind an SUV and a crossing train of second graders. Dean caught Castiel by his backwards tie and pulled him in for a lip crushing kiss. "We got it man. First quest. You were awesome. Freaking Doberman."
Castiel smiled indulgently.
"Slap up lunch, Cas?"
Dean got a firm nod in agreement. He hit I-35 and stayed steadily at the max speed limit for the hour down to North Branch. From long experience he knew it was better to get the hell out of dodge as soon as a job was done, even if the target had been co-operative. Dean parked Baby in shaded spot at Denny's. Cas pointed at the everyday burger and fries, but Dean wasn't having it. They were celebrating, so he got to watch Castiel deconstructing a Bacon Slamburger while Dean blissed out eating his own.
I believe the addition of potato hash was a step too far, Dean. I would prefer to have my potato items accompanying my main in future
"Duly noted," Dean gave a smirking nod, "Now how about I order us the apple pie, or do you want to pick an inferior dessert?"
Castiel just rolled his eyes. He let Dean steal pieces of his portion when the hunter shoveled his own piece in record time. Dean figured Cas must love him, giving up your pie was a sure sign.
They hit Des Moines after the rush hour, which was the second best time to drive into a city in Dean's opinion. The dead of night being the very best. Back to hunter standard levels of comfort, Dean checked them into a paint peeling motel off the highway.
Castiel lay back on the distinctly lumpy queen bed. Dean stuck out his lip and huffed at things being back to normal. "OK Cherry Pie, we need to hit the town."
Castiel sat up and tilted his head.
"I need you on this one Cas. Two man gig." Dean rooted in his duffel for his newish black Henley and best denims. "You need to put on the red shirt, no undershirt. You can keep the dress trousers. I'll give you my dual purpose black Fed overcoat.
++++++++++++++++++++SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN+++++++++++++++
Dean found his target location downtown near the Marriot. It was a green canopied wine bar with outdoor seating, pumping music, and socially climbing douches in Armani. His jeans nearly drew a blank with the doorman but Dean leaned into Castiel and rubbed his bicep. The bouncer took a closer look at Castiel's apparel and nodded them in.
It was perfect. Obviously the place to be seen. Dean kept Castiel's hand in his. He didn't want to lose him in the crowd of predatory power suited cougars and tie-loosened bankers.
In a nook by the vast mounted plasma TV, Dean pulled Castiel close. A passing dickass hooted at them, but Dean wasn't going in for a kiss. "We are going to move thorough the throng, starting at this end of the bar and ending by the restrooms. You stay at my back and whatever I slip you, you put it straight into the pockets in the lining. You got it?"
Castiel narrowed his eyes but he nodded.
That was enough acknowledgement. Dean started with a buzz headed jerk who elbowed a lady to get to the bar. It was like taking candy from a baby. He stayed back where the mob was three deep from the bar and kept a keen eye on his marks' hands. Castiel played his part like a dream.
At the restroom Dean tugged Castiel into a cubicle. He pulled open the coat and saw six bulges of concealed wallets, "Man, you were class…"
Castiel punched him.
Dean tested his jaw and blinked his eyes.
Castiel winced and shook out his fingers.
"What was that?" The words were blurted out of Dean's confused mind, part of which was concerned that Cas had hurt his hand.
Castiel poked Dean's chest firmly with a finger and crowded him up against the partition wall, before taking a brown leather Hilfiger and flipping it open. Dean sighed as the painful pressure of Castiel's finger was removed from his sternum to point at a photograph of a dark haired Hispanic woman with a baby and a Pekinese.
"No wait, Cas. You've this all wrong." Dean pleaded. "Let me set you straight."
The replying laugh could only be described as disbelieving.
"Why do you think we are in the mensroom and not booting it back to our piss stinking motel?"
Cas shrugged but he was listening.
"It's not all card sharking, pool hustling and mail fraud, that puts the ice cream with the pie or gives us trips to the garden center. We do this." Dean took the brown wallet. He curled his lip at the douches who put everything on credit. It only held two twenties and a dollar. He pocketed the cash. Had a quick look for anything else useful, like a work ID or such that they could change the picture on later, but came up blank. He didn't touch anything personal, especially the single condom in its wrapper, or the credit cards, which could get him banged up like a hot potato. Once he was done he placed the wallet on the cistern and held his hand out for the next one.
Castiel made a circular 'O' with his mouth, passed over a black ladies Radley one complete with the little puppy charm. Dean got $170 in that one and a €50 note. Cas got $105 out of his one. The next two only yielded $80 between them. Last one was a beaut. It had no famous designer label but belonged to a die hard cash carrier. $370 in a money clip, and six loose dollar bills, and wait until Sam got to use this one, a hologrammed employee ID for Drake University Library.
All the wallets lined up on the toilet top. Dean led Castiel back through the bar. There was a bouncer by the emergency exit. Dean shouted in his ear over the loud beat, "There is trouble in the mensroom."
"See Cas, the guy will find the stash before any opportunist steals it," Dean said, "And now we run."
At the Impala, Dean risked a moment to do a mental tot up. "$772 Cas, and a European fifty. All for the trouble of dressing up like yuppies and twenty minutes of our time."
Castiel didn't look as thrilled as Dean felt, but he didn't seem angry anymore. Dean figured he'd put the whole gig down as a win.
He parked the Impala directly outside their motel room door and pulled Cas down the avenue to The Hole In The Wall Bar and Grill. Castiel was still pissy. Dean hissed at him that the douche-bag bankers probably had been reunited with their Pekinese photos and Amex cards by now. Castiel half turned his back to watch the coverage of the unprecedented plant growth in the Amazon basin. Dean's crack about idle hands and keeping the Devil busy didn't provoke any response, so he downed two whiskey chasers and let Cas work through whatever dumb moral objections his newly human brain was throwing up. The bartender was Irish, and more friendly than Dean's main BFF, who freaking sipped at some sort of rum and mixer. Somewhere around the time Dean's vision started to blur, the bartender gave him sixty bucks for his €50 note. Dean thought he might have been losing out on the deal but he was too buzzed to care.
There was a vague memory of Castiel half carrying him back to the motel. Dean was forever going to deny he had belted out I'd Like to Teach the World to Sing, under the drunken logic that he was a New Seeker. He woke late morning to a glass of water, two ibuprofen and a note being pressed into his hand.
It took another glass of water, a hot shower and a vicious scrubbing of his teeth for Dean to be even capable of reading Castiel's note.
With his towel wrapped around his waist, Dean emerged in a cloud of steam to the bedroom. Their duffels were packed and ready by the door. Cas had his chinos and red shirt on and was seated at the table picking at his nails. He had laid out Dean's jeans, black tee and faded green shirt on the bed. Dean was too hungover to protest that he could choose his own clothes, thank you very much. He slumped over and picked up the note, not feeling so hot.
Good Morning Dean,
I would prefer to be warned before you take me on morally dubious acts of criminality. I am not unaware of your methods of obtaining the money necessary for your and your brother's survival. I admit I find the pickpocketing more objectionable than the pool and playing cards because those acts have willing if foolish participants. However I will not continue to lecture you when you are no doubt in a state of tenderness.
I will ask you to keep your grizzled after alcohol mood to yourself.
Dean chuckled, making his head pound and stomach flip. Cas had a point. He put on his tee and the legs of his jeans. He stood up to finish dressing, "Tender and grizzled. I sound like a cross cut piece of beef steak."
Castiel huffed. He came over to stand directly in Dean's personal space. Dean gulped like the old days, unsure of Castiel's intentions, but he got a kiss on his forehead before Cas turned to heft the duffels out to the car.
Later Dean told himself he should have known from its beginnings that it was not going to be a good day. They got to Grand Island by late afternoon. Dean waited for his replica amphora to be packaged up. Castiel went to the restroom. The lights flickered. Dean pulled out his colt, but realized his error. It was the demon knife he should have reached for. There was the sound of doors slamming shut. The newly black-eyed shop employee and old security guy cracked their necks. Miss Demon-cashier leaned over the glass counter and sneered, "The Queen is wondering what a Winchester wants in this hokum junk house. I am going to enjoy the process of getting that information from you."