A/N: Dean has business in Eno's capital city...
The Pompatus Box (Chapter 13: A Second Opportunity) by frostygossamer
Downtown a while later, Dean's about to walk in the premier retail centre of Technopolis, when who should he spot but Miss Lisa Braeden coming out. Arms full of fancy store bags, she's clearly been indulging in a little retail therapy. She almost bumps into him on the moving walkway.
"Hi, uh..."
She seems to think a little too long before adding, "...Dean. Nice to run into you."
She sounds like maybe it's not as nice as Dean would have hoped it should be, given the recent fun times they have shared together. He likes to think he leaves each conquest with an unforgettable impression, even a tinge of regret. To be fair, Dean isn't entirely sure whether he wants to renew their acquaintance either. He tries to maintain a strictly love-'em-and-leave-'em policy. It's a little awkward for both of them.
Still, why turn down a heaven-sent opportunity? He turns on the charm.
"Lisa. How're you doing? Maybe we could go get a drink?"
Lisa hesitates and glances around almost furtively.
"I'd, uh, love to, obviously. But, can we-"
She's interrupted by a large black male hand landing on her shoulder.
"This guy bothering you, Lisa?"
"No, uh, no, Matt. It's OK. Captain Dean here was one of the escort pilots on my flight over from Terra. He wanted to check that I'd arrived safely. Isn't that right, Captain?"
Dean stares the large man square in the eye. The guy has a look of ownership about him, ownership of Lisa. For all Dean knows, he has every right to have it. Maybe Dean should be a gentleman and play along. Before he can answer, Matt introduces himself.
"Matthias Matthews, CEO of Matthias Matthews Medical Technologies. Everyone calls me Dr. Matt."
He goes for a handshake. Dean takes his proffered hand and they shake. Dean thinks Dr. Matt's hand is a little big and sweaty for his liking. He can't help wanting to wipe his own hand on his pants afterward, but he resists the temptation. Dean doesn't like the look of this Matt. He hates guys who have too much money and letters after their name, and use them to pull chicks.
"I was asking Lisa here how she was settling into her new job."
Dean deliberately uses the lady's first name back at him. Matt grins broadly.
"I'd say our Miss Braeden is already helping staff so much more than I'd hoped with her marvellous therapy."
Dean guesses the CEO is already making good use of the marvellous tantric therapy on offer. He recognizes the serene look in the guy's eyes from his own mirror. He decides he had better make a dignified exit. He turns to Lisa and gives her the kind of memorable smile he hopes will some day make her look back and regret her choices.
"Lisa, guess I'll maybe see you around." Meaning, like never.
Lisa smiles weakly and shrugs. She allows Dr. Matt to drag her away, giving Dean a little wave over her shoulder as she disappears into the general throng. Dean watches her go. He isn't sure who lost or who gained most from that exchange.
He spends the rest of the afternoon buying supplies and returns to the spacedrome later that evening. Tonight he will have dinner with Bobby then leave Technopolis in his rearview sensor.
=O=
Bobby is recalibrating something on the control panel when Dean returns to Baby. Tools and parts lie all around him as he kneels on the floor, cranking the clockwork. Through the open panels of the console burnished brass fittings, shiny copper piping, scarlet, peacock and violet crystal cells wink and glimmer as Bobby runs through his list of diagnostics.
An old Country and Western ballad is playing on Baby's sound system and Bobby is humming along to the familiar tune. Dean isn't a fan of this type of music but he would never offend the old guy by switching it out on him. His favourite rock legends can wait.
Dean goes straight to the galley to stow his supplies before joining Bobby on the bridge. The engineer's knees complain as he rises to his feet and dusts himself down.
"Ah, Dean, there you are. Pretty much finished up here. Old girl only needed a couple minor adjustments. You been keeping her in great shape."
He knows the ship means the world to Dean. She's his home, his ride, his girl. He suspects Dean wouldn't have survived so long without Baby to rely on. So he does his best to keep her running tight and trim.
Bobby owes his life to his former comrade-in-arms, Dean's father. John saved him from buying the farm more than once. He likes to think he's repaying that debt by watching out for the guy's only son, since John can't be around to do it himself.
Dean preens a little. "I try, Bobby. She's a thoroughbred. Treat her right and she'll run like a dream."
He glances around the deck, noticing they are alone.
"No hassle from my passenger, I hope? He give you any grief?"
Bobby chuckles. "You mean the big guy with the floppy hair? No trouble. Sitting in your library reading when I came aboard. Nodded at me like I was the help and went right on reading. Not one peep outta him. Don't think he likes my musical taste."
Dean is a little relieved that his guest hasn't tried an awkward move on Bobby. The guy still has some ruggedly good looks about him, in a bristly bearish sort of way, and the horny prince has to be in some discomfort by now. He forgot to warn Bobby about that.
He shrugs. "Typical entitled aristo-brat. Bobby, you'll be staying for dinner as always?"
The engineer stretches and pats his empty belly.
"Boy, I could eat a whole damn butter-fed dekaducken."
Dean makes a face. "Dekaducken? What in Hell's name is a dekaducken?"
The food-techs on Eno are always coming up with some new answer to world hunger. It seems like they have another one on the market every year. Bobby has tried barbecuing most of them at least once.
"Oh, uh, it's some weird-ass kinduva GM bird the science boys have come up with. Got ten drumsticks instead of the regular two. Gonna feed the starving kids of Terra, so they say."
Dean shudders. "Ugh! Nothing in my galley gonna have more than the regular number of legs. I'm fixing chilli and I got beer. That do you?"
Bobby begins to pack up his tools. "Sure. You inviting the passenger? Or does he get personal service in his private stateroom?"
There's a note of sarcasm in that last question.
Dean, who is disappearing toward the galley, shouts back. "He eats with us."
As he passes his library he adds, "That's if he WANTS to eat."
A moment later Sam pokes his nose out of the library and looks around, hopeful.
"Someone mention food?"
=O=
They talk about current news over dinner. Living on Eno, Bobby has his own insight on the worsening political tension between Terra and his home moon.
"Eno's the smart kid in the family. Maybe we got a right to expect Momma to take us seriously."
Soon as the meal is over Bobby excuses himself. He has projects waiting on him back at his workshop. He and Dean exchange a quick private hug and shoulder slap thing before Dean guides him to the exit. The old soldier takes a minute for a private word, almost out of Sam's hearing.
"You know, boy, John Winchester woulda been proud of ya."
"Huh, ya think?"
Dean is doubtful somehow that John would have approved of him making a mercenary living in the gray zone of the law. He glances over his shoulder at Sam and lowers his voice.
"And keep it down, Bobby. You know I can't use the family name. Too easy to trace. Got myself new clean ID."
Bobby nods. "And don't think your daddy wouldn't've understood. He'd be glad you made a life for yourself."
The younger man sighs. "Kind of a half-life, I guess."
"Don't put yourself down, boy. You're doing good, helping people. Look at that grumpy kid in there. You saved him from a fate worse than... whatever. Although you'd figure he'da been more appreciative."
Dean laughs. "His grandpa'll be 'appreciative' when I get him home."
Bobby laughs too. "Yep. Muy apreciativo, I bet."
He rubs his thumb across his finger tips, the gesture symbolizing lots of cash.
"THEN maybe you can afford to hire yourself a second-stringer. Working alone's gonna buy you six feet of real estate one of these days."
As usual when Bobby gets on this tack, Dean stomps all over it.
"Don't need no deadweight, Bobby. Work better alone, always have. And if I buy it, who'd cry at my funeral anyways?"
As soon as he says it, he wishes he had stopped himself from running off at the mouth. He knows what Bobby will answer.
"ME, you idjit!"
Dean pats the older man on the shoulder and chuckles mirthlessly.
"Yeah. Just you, I guess. Sorry about that, Bobby."
He ushers his old friend out of the ship and seals the exit hatch. Then he's left alone with Sam, who had been quiet throughout the whole meal and after, listening but never speaking.
=O=
Dean elects to leave the dishes until tomorrow and finish up a pack of beer instead. He kicks back in his chair, with his feet propped up on the dinner table, and his eyes close. Cracking open one eye after a second, he notices that Sam is leaning forward, forearms on the table, staring at him furtively from behind his bottle.
"Keep your eyes in your head, dude," Dean warns. "I ain't on the menu."
Sam shuffles uncomfortably in his seat and mumbles, "I- I wasn't..."
"Yeah, you were. And I can't blame you. This is some fine man-meat sitting right here."
He can't help bragging a little. He has had a several beers and he's still feeling a teensy bit put out over Lisa Braeden and her super-fast recovery from their encounter. It should by rights have spoiled her for other men. At least for a week or two.
Awkwardly, Sam attempts to cross his legs. Dean does notice, but he feels like indulging his cruel streak. He takes the last bottle from the pack and practically sashays past Sam to his cabin door, walks inside and LOCKS it.
Sam takes a deep shaky breath and lets it out with a loud whew.
"Damn it!" he growls. "That guy is a freakin' tease!"
TBC
A/N: Side effects could be a big problem. Or maybe an opportunity? More soon.