I'm thinking I'm going to make this a series. Each chapter will work as a stand alone. No posting schedule for now, just whenever I can :)
Dean loved his job. They paid him to draw all day and yell at kids (though to be fair, he didn't do much yelling). He loved coming into school and greeting his first hour class cheerfully, only to have his students grumble about his enthusiasm. Cliché as it sounded, he loved watching his kids get better and better at their craft. He loved most of the kids and all the clubs he ran after school.
He did not love Principal Zachariah Adler. Dean hated that motherfucker.
Currently, the asshole was interrupting Dean's third hour painting class to tell him he was going to shut down the GSA, which not only happened to be one of Dean's clubs, but was also, in Dean's very queer opinion, arguably one of the most important clubs Lawrence High offered.
"What the hell?" he demanded.
Adler gave him a look. "Language, Winchester."
Dean jerked his head towards the hallway.
A few of his students looked up as he half stormed across the room to the door, Adler behind him.
"Keep working, I'll be back in a minute," Dean said to their curious glances. He tried to keep the tension out of his voice, only half succeeding. No doubt he'd be asked about it when he came back in.
He stepped into the hall, closing the door behind Adler with a snap. Then, he whirled to face him.
Adler raised his hands imploringly. "I know how this might sound—"
"Yeah? Well—"
"—but we really don't have a choice," Adler said, raising his voice over Dean's. "We don't have the funding—"
"The funding?" Dean cut him off. "You don't fund GSA— I pay for the stuff we do in that club out of my own pocket!"
"We don't have the resources, either," Alder said calmly.
"We don't use any school resources besides my classroom, and no one else is using it. No one else needs to use it; I'd know because they'd talk to me," Dean said coldly.
"What about electricity?" Alder asked. "That costs money, and if you're staying after hours—"
"There are plenty of other clubs that stay after school and use electricity. Why aren't you on their asses?"
Adler raised an eyebrow. "Do I have to remind you again, Winchester, that crude language isn't welcome on school grounds?"
Dean couldn't believe this guy.
"If you have to shut down a club, shut down forensics. Or the cooking club. Or that needlepoint crap. Not GSA. We'll hold meetings outside if your fu— stupid electric bill means that much to you," Dean said. "But we can't shut down."
"Actually," Adler started, but Dean kept going.
"Some of those kids don't have another place where it's safe for them to express that part of themselves, and you want to take that away from them? It's two hours every week that they get to feel accepted, and I dunno about you, but I think that's far more important than a dozen kids sitting around memorizing the periodic table for decathlon or building robots out of paperclips or some shit. And you know what else? I think for even considering dropping this club, you're a—"
"I would think very carefully about what you say next, Mr. Winchester," Adler said dangerously.
If Dean opened his mouth, he'd probably lose his job. As much as he wanted to tell Adler what a big bag of dicks he was, he wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of firing him, so instead, Dean shot him his most venomous nothing-would-bring-me-more-joy-than-disassembling-your-kneecaps-with-a-hammer-then-shoving-them-up-your-ass glare and turned on his heel.
"Make sure to tell the rugrats that the last meeting is this Thursday!" Adler called after him pleasantly.
Dean shut the door in his face.
The sound made his students look back up.
"Mr. W? What's up with Adler?"
Dean was still fuming. "Dr. Evil is being a douche, as per-friggin-usual."
"Obviously," Claire said, rolling her eyes. "But what'd he do this time?"
Dean sighed. He couldn't quite meet any of their eyes. "He's canceling GSA."
It was silent for a moment, then—
"What?" Claire demanded. "He can't do that!"
"Why?" Jack frowned.
"That son of a bitch!" Krissy swore vehemently.
Dean jabbed a finger half heartedly at her. "Language, Chambers. But yeah. I'm with you."
"We can't just let him!" Claire said.
"My hands are tied here," Dean said, and he hated that that was true. "Unfortunately, I can't call him out for being a bigot without losing my job. If you guys can get him to change his mind, or find a way to get his head honcho to shoot him down, I'll help how I can. Otherwise… last meeting is Thursday."
The handful of kids that were in the GSA whispered to each other for the rest of the hour. When the bell rang and they walked out, they didn't look all that optimistic.
Dean didn't feel all that optimistic, either. He was in a bad mood for the rest of the day, which was only made worse by the smug smile Adler flashed him when Dean passed the office while leaving.
That sonofabitch.
It wasn't like there was anything he could do, though. Unfortunately, homophobic assholes typically had the right of way, not to mention that he was Dean's boss. There wasn't anything he could do through the school. Maybe if he made the club as something outside of the school. They'd have to hold meetings somewhere else; for now, outside would work, but then what in the winter?
Dean gave Adler the finger when he turned around, then pushed past the doors, making his way to his car. He spent the drive back home to his apartment blasting Metallica, as though that would help him find a solution. By the time he was parking the Impala, he wasn't any closer to one; instead, he was just more pissed.
He muttered every curse known to man as he lugged his stuff up to the second floor, fumbling around in his pockets for his key. Then, he trudged inside, closing the door behind him with a tired click.
Dean had projects to grade and adult shit to do, but right now, all he wanted was to have a beer, watch some Dr. Sexy, eat takeout, and preferably do all of the above while cuddling with his boyfriend.
Thinking about Cas almost made him smile. Cas was enigmatic in all the best ways, and one of the few things that let Dean relax completely. He was grumpy and serious as hell with a stoic, electric air, and simultaneously was the cutest guy Dean knew. Ask him anything about pop culture and he was hopeless, but he had an encyclopedia's worth of knowledge about the weirdest things, like botany in South America or the mating rituals of honeybees. He also could go from emitting intensity to rival Steven Spielberg to being a huge dork in two seconds. Cas had range.
Dean was pulling out his phone to shoot him a text when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned to face the couch.
Cas was sitting there, bundled in his bulky trench coat, regarding Dean solemnly.
Oh, yeah. Cas just randomly appeared in his apartment sometimes. Locks be damned, the bastard showed up without leaving so much as a clue as to how he'd done it. There were nights where Dean would be sitting in the living room watching tv, then stand up and turn around to grab a beer from the fridge and Cas was just there. Not that Dean was complaining, but how the fuck did he do that?
"Hello, Dean," Cas said.
The corner of Dean's mouth turned up. "Hey, babe." He dropped his bag on the ground. A few seconds later, he was curled up next to him, leaning over to press a chaste kiss to Cas' cheek.
Cas hummed appreciatively, then caught Dean's chin and gently guided him into another.
"Glad you're here," Dean said, leaning their foreheads against each other. "Work was shit today. I was thinking takeout, if you're interested?"
"I would be amenable to takeout," Cas said. "So long as you don't force me to sit through that medical drama you're obsessed with."
"It's a guilty pleasure!" Dean said defensively, pulling back.
Cas' eyes were sparkling with amusement. "Whatever you say, Dean."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Fine. No Dr. Sexy." He sighed dramatically. "The things I do for my boyfriend…"
"Your boyfriend appreciates it," Cas said dryly.
"He'd better," Dean muttered, but there wasn't any real heat behind it. "Le Gong?"
"Sure. What happened at work?" Cas asked.
Dean launched into a rant as he stood up. "The day started out fine— biggest problem was Marie and Siobhan going at it during first hour— then Adler comes in and tells me he's going to fucking stop GSA."
"What?"
"Yeah! Apparently we use too much space and electricity." Dean snorted derisively. "That's his excuse. Actually, he's just a huge fucking homophobe." He moved towards the kitchen. "Couldn't even call him out on it— the asshole would've fired me. He's a dick. Some of these kids don't have another space where it's safe for them to— Cas?"
Cas was out of his seat, halfway to the door. If Dean had been able to see his face, he was gonna guess it would be what Dean had affectionately nicknamed his smite-y face.
"Excuse me, Dean," Cas said. "I'll be back in no more than an hour."
"Where are you going?" Dean asked dumbly.
"Zachariah Adler's home," Cas said.
"Do you even know where he lives?"
"No, but it won't take long for me to find out." Cas turned to face him, hand on the doorknob, and yup, those were definitely his smite-y eyes.
Dean put a hand on Cas' elbow, smiling a little. "Don't get me wrong, Cas, I love that you're willing to go scare the dude into not shutting us down, but I don't think it's gonna help."
"I'm not going to scare him," Cas said gravely. "I'm going to kill him."
Dean laughed. "Yeah, me—" He stopped, the smile dropping off his face. "Wait. You're not joking?"
Cas just kept looking at him.
"You're not joking." Dean nodded a few times. "Okay. Cool." Cool cool cool cool cool cool cool.
Cas squinted at him. "Yes. I'm very good at my job."
Dean's eyes widened. "Your what?"
"You're acting very strangely," Cas noted. He frowned. "Are you feeling okay?"
Dean waved him off. "I'm fine. Cas…. What are you talking about?"
"My job. I'm the head of the mob in Sioux Falls."
He was what?
Cas was still looking at him, evidently confused. "I already told you."
"I— I thought you were joking!" Dean sputtered. Because yeah, when he'd asked Cas what his job was, he had said, completely deadpan, I'm a mob boss, Dean. But whose boyfriend was actually an honest to god mob boss?
Dean's, apparently.
"Why would I joke about that?"
Dean just shook his head. "Fuck. Okay. Gimme a minute."
"Of course, Dean," Cas said sincerely.
Okay. So Cas, Dean's boyfriend, was a legitimate gangster in charge of the Sioux Falls Mob. He was a mob boss. And he was also standing in Dean's kitchen, willing to use his mafia skills to kill Zachariah Adler for Dean. That should probably raise a few red flags. Instead….
Dean groaned.
Cas tilted his head. "What?"
"That should not be as hot as it is," Dean told him.
Cas looked far too smug about that. Which did nothing to help the direction Dean's blood was flowing.
"Perhaps we can do something 'hot' when I get back," Cas said suggestively.
Dean opened his mouth to agree, then—
"Hold on a minute, sweetheart. You're staying here," he said.
"I have to take care of Adler," Cas said.
"You're not taking care of Adler," Dean said, grabbing Cas' hand that was on the doorknob.
Cas' brow creased. "I'm very good at my job, Dean. I won't get caught, and there will be no way for law enforcement to trace it back to you."
Dean smiled. "I'm sure you are, babe. You're practically a ninja. But you're not killing him."
Cas full-out pouted. "But Dean, I can— Dean? Dean, why are you laughing?"
Dean was practically doubled over. In between gasps, he managed, "Cas— you're like— like a kid. Like a little baby mobster in a trench coat. Fucking— adorable."
Cas scowled at him. "I'm not adorable. I'm a perfectly capable crime lord."
That just made Dean laugh harder.
When he did get control over himself, he dragged Cas back over to the couch. "Okay, Corleone. Here's what's gonna happen. I'm gonna order us takeout. We're going to throw on a movie while we eat, and then we're going to make out for a while. Sound good?"
"Killing Adler isn't part of your plan," Cas said.
Dean shook his head. "Nope. Not worrying about Adler tonight. Tonight, I just wanna hang out with my boyfriend."
"Can I kill him tomorrow?" Cas asked.
"No killing him," Dean said.
Cas hummed thoughtfully. "If you insist."
"I do," Dean said. He dropped a kiss to the top of Cas' head. "So, what do you want me to get?"
"General Tso's," Cas requested. "And fortune cookies."
Dean grinned. "You've got it."
Ten minutes later, the takeout was ordered, and Dean was popping a disk into his DVD player.
"What are you putting on?" Cas tried peering over his shoulder, but Dean shooed him away.
"It's not Dr. Sexy," he assured him.
"Is it Days of Our Lives?" Cas said.
"C'mon, man. That was one time!"
Cas scooted over to make room for him on the couch.
Dean leaned up against him and hit play.
It wasn't even a minute before Cas sighed deeply. "Dean."
Dean looked up at him innocently. "What?"
"This is the movie you picked?" Cas said, unimpressed.
Dean glanced over at the tv, where the title card of The Godfather is displayed. "Sure is!"
"You're incogitable," Cas grumbled.
Dean shushed him, leaning his head on Cas' shoulder. It wasn't long before Cas' mumbled complaints ceased, and he quieted and dropped his head onto Dean's.
When Dean went into school the next day, he was in a better mood. Still pissed, but in a good enough mood that even Marie and Siobhan's arguing wasn't as annoying as it could be.
Then third hour came, Adler walked in, and Dean's semi-improved mood evaporated.
"Winchester," Adler said, looking at him with a mix of disgust and… was that discomfort?
Before Dean could do anything more than glare at him, Adler continued, "Due to some… recent developments… your club will not be terminated. Consider yourself lucky." With that, he turned on his heel, leaving Dean staring after him.
"Well," Dean said a few moments later, turning back to the class, "GSA is back on, guys."
"Hell, yeah," Claire said, pulling her phone out of her pocket. "Kaia's going to be relieved."
"Did you talk to him?" Jack asked.
Dean looked back towards the door. "No," he said distractedly, "I didn't…."
Cas was waiting for him when he got home.
"So," Dean said.
"How was work?" Cas didn't even blink. Damn his poker face.
"Oh, you know. The usual," Dean said. "Drawing. Painting. Adler."
"Adler?" Cas said.
"Yeah. Guess he changed his mind about GSA." Dean raised an eyebrow. "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"
"Perhaps," Cas said. "Did he give you a hard time?"
"No. Cas," Dean prompted.
"Good," Cas said, notably pleased. "I didn't threaten to kill him, if that's what you're wondering. I just blackmailed him."
Dean moved towards the window, turning away from Cas to hide his amusement. "Really?"
"Yes," Cas said matter-of-factly, "I told him to consider where his genitals have been before he considered shutting down your club."
Dean huffed a laugh. "Damn, Cas. Remind me not to get on your bad side."
"That's impossible," Cas said solemnly, "unless you force me to sit through The Godfather again."
"It's a classic!" Dean argued. "And you're—"
His boyfriend cut him off with a kiss.