A/N: First a quick catch-up with Sam. Sam never was lucky in love...
The Pompatus Box (Chapter 24: Masters Inc.) by frostygossamer
The morning after Dean returned the wilful Prince Sam to his ancestral abode...
After his first breakfast back home, Sam showers and dresses in the trendy threads he hasn't worn in what seems like decades, a tunic shirt and kilt in the latest polka dots. His filibeg swirls freely as he descends the stairs to seek out his grandfather Samuel, the Grand Duke.
He finds the older man parked behind the enormous gilded oak desk in his office. He's occupied with signing papers that deal with the official business necessary for the smooth running of Campobello. The tedious side of government. It's a job that Sam never wanted but he always expected would be his someday.
Samuel at first doesn't notice Sam's approach. "Grandfather?"
The Grand Duke glances up from his paperwork and smiles warmly.
"Ah, Sam. You're up and about. Excellent!"
He jumps up to greet his grandson. He's wearing a kilt in the Campobello royal tartan, as per usual. It's a style he was born to wear. He has great calves. Striding around the desk, he puts his hands on Sam's shoulders.
"You look well, my boy."
Sam smiles weakly. "Someone has been taking good care of me."
Samuel nods. "Yes, I met him. Seemed like a very, uh, efficient young man. Expensive, but well worth it now we have you back."
Sam shrugs. "Didn't intend to ever come back."
His grandfather is aware of that, and he understands, after a fashion.
"I know, Sam. I do know that. But, now you ARE back, things will be better, I promise you. I have great plans for your future."
Sam sighs. He guesses he may as well accept his fate. At least, unlike his new love interest, the Grand Duke seems to want him around. And he can guess what plans await him.
Wedding plans.
=O=
Moons later, Dean is sitting in his command chair with his feet up on the dashboard enjoying a drink. Baby is speeding toward Luna and what Dean hopes is the end of his quest. With nothing better to do than monitor dials, his mind turns to a Satellite News item he spotted in the Enodrome Diner. Sam is getting married.
Sam is getting MARRIED. Dean should be happy for him.
It's a while since he reunited Sam with his family and Dean doesn't miss him at all. Not even slightly. Not when he arrives back on Baby and is welcomed by nothing more than a hospitable digital peeping. Not when his intimate injuries are assessed and treated with the cool efficiency of a top-of-the-range auto-care machine with its cold, inhuman touch. Not when, stretching out in the bed he again has all to himself, his fingers and toes find only the cool, empty corners of the mattress.
No, he's not missing Sam. At all.
Leastwise, things are finally coming together on the case. It looks like Dean has at last pinpointed the location of the Pompatus Box and he has communicated as much to Captain Harvelle.
Ellen was more than relieved to hear about it. The unfortunate diplomatic courier, Mr. Death, has already had to elaborate his faked bout of the collywobbles into a faked hospitalization, to cover for the awkward-to-explain delay. If retrieving the box takes much longer, Death is looking at some faked surgery. It's likely that he would rather succumb to the faked knife than own up to the real situation so late in the day.
Dean has gotten the case pinned down and Death shouldn't need to wait much longer.
For a while, the chances of any sort of happy ending to the Pompatus Box saga have looked pretty slim. But, as Dean sets Baby down in the Dianapolis business district, he can almost feel the damn box in his hands.
What can go wrong?
=O=
The new Masters Inc. building in Dianapolis is not merely a work of fine architecture it's also uniquely tall, its head high in Luna's clouds. The last few months, Meg has been steadily, and surreptitiously, moving her interests from Terra and from Eno to this new headquarters.
Descending from his rocketship clad entirely in inky black to match his mood, Dean heads downtown. Camouflaged in a single-breasted pinstripe three-piece suit, shirt and tie, he moves through the crowds of business people like a panther through a herd of oblivious cattle.
He vaults the entrance steps of the building three at a time and strides across the foyer with an unchallengeable determination. Ignoring Lobby Security, he enters the executive elevator and angrily punches the number for the penthouse. The owner Miss Masters' office occupies almost the entire top floor.
One of the new guys of Lobby Security moves to stop him, but his older partner checks him with an arm. With the latest in detector technology installed, no one packing heat is going to even get INTO the building. Today Dean is armed only with his charm, his resolve and his cunning.
=O=
Meanwhile upstairs, Meg is visiting her new office for the first time. She dumps her big purse and vintage real mink coat on the coat stand and hurries to the enormous floor-to-ceiling panoramic window to admire its magnificent view over the city.
Her office has been furnished with a large desk with a deep-cushioned leather armchair and a smaller matching, deliberately uncomfortable, guest chair. In one corner, a sprawling davenport sofa and a polished walnut coffee table make up a chill-out zone. A series of native American woodcarvings occupy niches along two sides of the room. The decorator cost a bundle.
After a moment of contemplation, Meg moves to sit in her creaky leather executive chair behind her heavy oak desk. The surface of the desk is occupied by a collection of exquisitely expensive desk furniture that she has acquired from here and there throughout an acquisitive lifetime.
Starting on the left, there's a small clockwork orrery of the Terran system mounted on a burlwood base, and a book slide holding several beautifully bound tomes of business law. An antique silver embellished inkwell and matching pen are mounted on a solid stand, beside a rack of monogrammed stationary with a locked letter drawer beneath. A miniature compass and sextant are displayed atop their own case, next to that framed etching that was in her spaceship cabin. It's something that always travels with her.
Meg is admiring each of her lucky pieces in turn, squaring them up along the top of her desk, when a sudden crash interrupts her concentration. The door shudders against the wall as Dean bursts into her office, primed to have this out once and for all.
TBC
A/N: OK. So any of you play hidden object games? Study this picture. Next chapter coming soon.