A/N: And now the rest of the scene in Meg's office. Dean and Meg are wrestling on the floor when assistance appears at the door...
The Pompatus Box (Chapter 26: Lightning Bolt) by frostygossamer
The new brunette Miss de'Mon struts in, with two brawny guys from Security behind her. Replacement Ruby is clearly amused by seeing the two wrestling on the carpet. She folds her arms and snickers. She's wearing a military blouson over matching hot pants and thigh-length black leather boots with evil-looking dominatrix heels. She cuts a scary figure, petite but deadly like a black widow spider.
"Should I break this up, Miss Masters? Or are you enjoying yourself too much?"
The two Security guys pull Dean off of Meg while this darker Ruby helps her employer to her feet, retrieving and returning one of the lady's designer stilettos in the process. Meg collapses into her chair, fanning herself with her shoe.
"Phew! That was FUN! We must do that again sometime, honeybunch."
The two guards have hold of Dean by his upper arms. He shrugs them off and straightens his suit vest, brushing down his jacket and adjusting his tie.
"What do you want us to do with him, Miss Masters?" Ruby asks.
Meg waves a dismissive hand. "Take him away and lose him. I don't wanna see him again."
Dean acts surprised. "Seriously? And I thought we'd be so ON for a second date."
Meg sighs. "What can you do? You've got nothing."
Dean grins. "Sure I have-"
He turns and sucker-punches one Security guy then shoves the lunkier one, causing him to topple over and get tangled up in the coat stand with Dean. Before either goon recovers, Dean scrabbles to his feet and makes a run for the picture window. He shoulders it and drops out feet first like a cat, disappearing from sight in a blink.
Aghast, everyone runs to the window, Lunar wind blasting their faces through the gaping Dean-shaped hole.
"Sweet lord! That's gotta be thirty storeys!" gasps Ruby.
Then they jump back as Dean's recently acquired hovertank, which has been hovering out of sight a level below, peels off and soars away into the distance. He leaves the bad guys to curse and grind their teeth.
Meg takes a fast, worried scan around her office.
"Damn it!" she fumes. "He got the Pompatus Box."
How the heck did Dean work out where it was?
"If I EVER see that guy again he's gonna be HAMBURGER meat!"
=O=
Baby's airlock opens to admit her pilot with a welcoming purr. As always, she sounds pleased to see him home and, also as always, she's prepared for immediate take-off.
"I'm back, Baby!"
Dean can't help feeling faintly disappointed that there isn't another human being waiting to greet him, but he shrugs it off. The rocketship vibrates with a deep rumble as she rises, speeding them away from Meg and her futile wrath.
He takes the Pompatus Box from Meg's purse and places it on a pedestal table, discarding the bag.
How HAD he worked out where it was? Well, Dean prided himself on being a VERY good judge of the female sex and what makes them tick. And THIS particular lady, he was sure, would simply NEED to keep her future-proofing with her 24/7. So, short of sewing it into her brassiere, the next best place for it was in her always-at-hand capacious purse, which he immediately noticed was central to her field of view at all times. Thusly...
Running his fingers over the raised gold lettering on the top of the box, he wonders what Pompatus actually means. He could sneak a peek in the box and find out, but he says to himself "No" and goes instead to wash up.
Rolling around on the floor with vermin has made him feel kind of icky.
=O=
He strips, leaving a trail of clothes behind him on his way to shower, not so much a neat freak since Sam. He lets the steaming hot water relax his body and mind, until unbidden memories of Sam's big hands massaging his hurt away cause stress tears to form in his eyes.
He remembers how, back in the orphans' asylum, the shower would be the only safe place to cry. It's a bittersweet memory. But he was a kid then. He's not a kid anymore. He needs to man up. This is just a phase. He'll get over it.
How many times has he woken from sleep lately with the ghostly feel of Sam's hand splayed on his belly, Sam's tongue on his nipple, Sam's arousal pressed against his thigh? The chicks he has been hooking up with lately couldn't wipe THAT sense memory from his brain.
He has GOT to pull himself together.
He re-emerges from the shower room wrapped only in a long, white silk dressing-gown, drying his hair with a towel. He drapes the towel around his neck and pours himself a well-earned whiskey. It's time to message Jo and tell her she should contact her mother.
Yummy. Big payout on the horizon.
=O=
Dean makes sure he's presentable before he makes contact with Convoy Control. He informs Jo that the target has been acquired and they need to arrange a discreet handover. She is more than glad to hear it.
"Mom's gonna be so relieved this thing is finally over. And I'm glad to see you came through unhurt. Everything OK your end?"
It's sweet of Jo to show her concern, but then Dean knows she's a nice kid. It's nothing he needs to take personally.
Dean yawns as he sits down at his command console.
"Sure. A-OK."
That is true from a physical viewpoint at least. Jo smiles kindly.
"You look beat, Dean."
Dean stifles another yawn. He hasn't slept too well since... since he's been alone.
"When this job's over I'm gonna wanna lay in bed for days."
Jo rejoices. "After Mom gets this Pompatus thing back where it belongs, you can sleep as long as you want. With whoever you want."
Dean grins mischievously. "Long as I get my money, that last one shouldn't be a problem. Got a long list of ladies waiting on a call, everyone a babe."
Jo laughs at that because it's so Dean. He has a way of keeping her at arm's length. Jo already knows she has been friend-zoned in the nicest way. She leans conspiratorially toward her mic, lowering her voice.
"You opened it yet?"
Dean acts like that was a professional insult.
"Jo, you know I NEVER interfere with a package. That's an unwritten law."
Jo laughs again. "Aw, Dean, that's so you. No sense of childlike whimsy. You're all business, huh?"
Dean shrugs. When HE was a child, 'whimsy' would have gotten you a smack on the head.
=O=
After Jo signs off, Dean sits there for a minute or two longer, finishing his drink. Maybe she has a point? Setting down his empty glass, he wanders over to the pedestal table and checks out the box that has been the centre of all these shenanigans. He spells out the name on the lid.
"P. O. M. P. A. T. U. S. What the hell DOES that mean?"
He has never let inquisitiveness get the better of him before.
But, someplace in his mind, Sam's voice asks, "So you're not even a tiny bit curious?"
Dean has no doubt Sam would have the thing opened in a heartbeat. The big kid's all about emotional gratification. But, hey, even if Dean wanted to open it, it's locked and he doesn't have the key. No one has the key. Except Death maybe? Or Henriksen, the official military escort? His mental cogwheels are turning.
Meg had a duplicate box made. Maybe she also had an identical duplicate key? Shame he didn't think to grab it with the box. Then again, did he look in her purse? Dean snatches the discarded purse from the floor and hunts around. He comes up with a heavy keychain full of keys. That bitch sure likes to keep her secrets secure.
One key stands out. It's a simple brass blank but it has a tiny fancy 'P' stamped on the flat. 'P' for Pompatus? No way.
Dean is triumphant. "Gotcha!"
Euphoric at his discovery, he has fitted the key in its lock, turned it and is flipping open the shiny brass catches before he even stops to think. He pauses for a second before swinging the lid open. Does he want to do this? Well, in for a penny. He opens the lid.
Dean stares into the box in silence for the longest time. At first his brow creases into a what-the-heck frown, and then he curses.
Slamming the box shut, he runs onto his bridge and sets a direct course for Terra.
TBC
A/N: What IS in the Pompatus Box? And why is Dean rocketing back to Terra? Next instalment soon.