Jul 15, 2014
All righty; CCTV Shenanigans is now fully updated on Ao3. One more chapter and I'm done. Also, I'm never doing this weekly update thing again. Too stressful. D:
seen from Germany
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seen from Yemen
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Canada
seen from Sweden
seen from Germany
seen from China
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from Yemen
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
All righty; CCTV Shenanigans is now fully updated on Ao3. One more chapter and I'm done. Also, I'm never doing this weekly update thing again. Too stressful. D:
CCTV Shenanigans, Part XVII
Previous chapters now posted on Ao3 here.
There is exactly one segment left. :D
Castiel woke up with a groan and two Benny’s hovering over him. Grimacing, he felt behind his head, touching the bruise. “That fucker,” he growled, taking Benny’s hand and sitting up. Bad idea; his head swam and he nearly pitched over. Taking a few heavy breaths, he eventually pushed into a standing position, his hand flat against the wall. “Where’d he go?” he demanded, eyes shut.
“Up the ladder.”
“Up the --?” Squinting, Castiel looked and frowned. The guardpost? “Why’d he do that?” He couldn’t hear anything above. It was still suffocatingly quiet around him. He was going to shoot the asshole, though.
“All he said was ‘Get him out of here’.” Benny shrugged and pointed down the tunnel. “He made a bunch of noise topside. My guess is he’s captured by now.” He tugged on Castiel’s arm, leading him away. “If we’re lucky, we can make use of that.”
Diversion? Castiel frowned, his head throbbing. That seemed stupid, even for Dean. He growled again, resisting the urge to press on the lump at the back of his head. “That fucking idiot.” He fumbled for his phone, dialing Bobby. Fuck all this shit. He wasn’t going to skulk around in tunnels while Dean ran around like an idiot, getting himself shot.
He’d finally been able to kiss the stubborn asshole and damn if he wasn’t going to do it again.
Bobby picked up on the second ring, his gruff hello music to Castiel’s ears. “We have a situation,” Castiel began. He peered at Benny. Now would be the time to blow Benny’s supposed cover. Castiel found he didn’t quite care at the moment. He had more pressing matters to attend to.
“What’d you do, Novak?”
Huffing, Castiel gave him the rundown, leaving out Benny and Balthazar and their joint subterfuge. Bobby might figure it out on his own but Castiel wasn’t going to reveal it himself. He leaned against cold concrete, resting his head against it gingerly. The movies always made getting hit in the head seem like something a person could just shake off. Castiel felt like his head was going to explode and he hadn’t yet stopped seeing dual Bennys in front of him.
“Shit,” Bobby sighed. “That goddamn kid.”
Castiel perked up at that. “You know him, don’t you? Personally?”
When silence met the question, he almost asked it again but Bobby saved him the trouble. “Knew his dad before the dumb bastard died. Then Dean lit out of there with Sam. I’d hear stuff; none of it good. Wasn’t until he started pulling this shit.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He and Bobby weren’t close like family but still, Castiel figured he’d earned the gruff man’s trust at some point.
“Because I was hoping you’d get his dumb ass to stop pulling this garbage. Figured you’d be damn near as stubborn as he is.” He snorted. “No surprise the idjit gets himself tangled in this shit.”
“He isn’t an idiot,” Castiel retorted. Ignoring the fact that he himself was referring to Dean as such just a scant second ago, he scowled, staring blindly ahead.
“Hmm.” More silence. “Turn on your GPS. I’ll send out backup soon as I can.” Another pause. “Don’t let that boy die before I can yell at him.”
Castiel grinned faintly. “Of course, sir.” He hung up the call and scrolled through his phone, setting off the GPS. He didn’t know how well it would reach out of the rock around him but give he’d been able to call out, he stood a good chance. He tucked the phone away and reached for his gun, belatedly realizing Dean had stolen it.
Benny reached behind his back and pulled out a smaller pistol, handing it over. “I’m better with knives, brother,” he grinned. He flicked his wrist and a wicked blade slid out of its sheath into his palm. He inclined his head toward the darkened end of the tunnel. “I ain’t waitin’ for Bobby’s shindig; you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” Castiel muttered, checking the gun.
They crept through the rest of the tunnel, barely risking breathing as they neared its end. At an iron grate, Benny held up a hand and toyed with the door. He crouched down, pulling out a set of lockpicks and the old gate sprung open with a flick. As old as it was, it protested the slow push and Castiel winced with each creak.
Blinking at the bright light, they found themselves in yet another garage, this one well lit and clean. Two cars of indiscriminate worth sat at the end of the garage. From his vantage point, Castiel could see no one else; not that it didn’t mean they were alone. He looked at Benny and gestured toward the door across the way.
Silent still, they padded to the wall closest and sidled along its length, pausing every step or so, breath held tight in their throats. At the door, Castiel leaned against it, pressing his ear to its surface. He could hear something; whether voices or not remained to be seen. He reached up with his free hand, testing the door knob. It turned easily and he pushed the door open, remaining in a crouch, pistol out.
He waited a full five minutes before peeking around the edge. Two men stood at the end of the hall, their backs to Castiel. One carried a semi-automatic in his hands, strap tight around his shoulders. He waved at Benny, holding up two fingers.
The other man nodded, his jaw tight.
Castiel’s head throbbed and his vision blurred but he managed to remain in a crouch and edge his way down the hall, pausing when Benny did the same. The hallway, unlike the garage, had little light and both guards had yet to turn their direction. Gritting his teeth, Castiel rose from his crouch, knees popping and back aching. Fuck, he might finally be too old for this crap.
He made the slightest gestured toward the guards when Benny moved, sprinting down the hall. Castiel was surprised; the man moved like the damn fog given his speed. He slit the throat of the armed man, throwing his elbow out and catching the other in the throat before he could shout in alarm. He gurgled, clawing at his crushed trachea. Impassive, Benny slit his throat as well, swiping his knife against the man’s coat as he stood.
Impressed, Castiel held the gun down at his hip. He raised his eyebrows, looking at Benny silently. The other man grinned and shrugged, pointing to the door they’d been guarding. He nodded, wishing he hadn’t. The room tilted and he wobbled, the floor rushing up on him. He didn’t quite make it there since Benny’s arm had wrapped around his chest, halting his fall.
“You should wait here,” he hissed in Castiel’s ear.
Annoyed, Castiel shoved at Benny. “Fuck you and open the damn door,” he spat back.
Benny blinked and shrugged again, testing the door. Like the garage, it turned and the heavy oaken door swung open, the hinges silent. Castiel yanked Benny back just as he heard a voice. The heavier man stumbled almost falling. Waving him silent, Castiel switched places, crouching low against the door.
“He truly cannot pick good help these days,” a soft voice purred.
Risking a look, Castiel caught a dark-haired man at the other end of the room. It looked like a library or study given the low light and high shelves. He was most concerned, however, with Dean, perched in a hardback chair. The view had been fast but he was almost certain the man was tied up.
Serves him right; fucking idiot. The other man must be Crowley, then. What had Dean been thinking?
“I suppose, he does make one desperate with his . . . finicky behavior,” Crowley commented. Castiel could just make out the gentle click of small items. The coins? Had Dean honestly thought he could sneak in and just snatch them?
“Fuck you,” Dean growled. He hissed in pain and Castiel’s hand tightened on his gun.
“Rude,” Crowley retorted. His shoes clicked quietly on the smooth floors. “I wasn’t all that pleased you’d dared to steal from me. I thought the matter closed when I regained what was mine.” He chuckled. “You’re rather dim, even for an American.”
“You done?” Dean taunted, his voice strained.
Castiel wanted to see what had happened but another look might register in Crowley’s periphery. If he knew how far out Bobby was, he might be able to surprise the man. Though, he didn’t know what Crowley carried as a weapon. He and Benny could jump right in to a bullet between the eyes.
“Hardly.” Another squawk of pain from Dean. “You see, I want you to serve as a reminder to dear Alastair, that he can never take what belongs to me.” Crowley paused, his shoes squeaking as he turned. “I paid him for his talents and he should be pleased with that.”
Confused, Castiel furrowed his brow. He looked at Benny, crouched beside him, seeing the same befuddlement. Crowley spoke as though he and Alastair were partners, not rivals. So why had Alastair sent Dean after those coins?
Castiel tensed when he heard another door open but this one came from within the library Dean was being held in. This time, he did risk a second look and nearly growled when he recognized Alastair’s lanky face. He pulled back, mouth tight. What the fuck was going on?
He could hear Dean ask the same. He held still, waiting for the answer.
“You’re very bad at this game,” a new voice chided. Alastair. “I send you in and you get caught?” He clucked his tongue like one would to a child. “I was hoping it was a fluke. That you were still a good, obedient little boy. You have to understand, this was for your benefit.” Tearing cloth. “You weren’t coming through any longer. Your hauls were so pitiful.” Dean yowled, panting harshly. “And you were such a pretty toy, Dean.”
“Can we move on?” Crowley asked, clearly annoyed. “I’m quite tired of dealing with this man and would like to get back to business as usual.”
Alastair sighed. “Fine. He’s no fun any longer.”
Castiel’s eyes went wide. His legs burned from his hunched position and he still couldn’t quite see straight but damn if he was about to let Dean fall victim to these men. He shoved open the door, barely announcing Interpol before a bullet whizzed past his head. He dove for the floor, coming up and firing, hearing a bullet hit flesh before he was up and running. He tackled Alastair to the floor, driving him away from where he had hovered over Dean.
Alastair grinned up at him. “Ooh, I like you!”
Castiel slugged Alastair in the jaw, falling back with a yelp when the man bucked him off. He lost hold of Benny’s gun, the weapon sliding over hardwood under a table nearby. He flailed when a hand gripped his hair. As Alastair dragged him across the floor, he clawed at the man’s wrist, his legs tangled underneath him as he struggled to gain footing.
Alastair smirked. “I know who you are, little agent. You were hunting my toy before.” He gripped Castiel’s chin. “Maybe you want to join him?”
Ignoring the flare of pain in his head, Castiel jerked to left, hard, mouth open. He snagged two of Alastair’s fingers, biting down. Alastair howled in pain and Castiel spit out blood and flesh. He gagged, scrambling to his feet, wiping at his mouth. “You dare . . . to touch him again . . . I’ll kill you.”
Cradling his injured hand, Alastair heaved for breath. “What if he’s already dead?” he cackled. His lips pulled back in a sneer. “Couldn’t save the toy, could you?”
Castiel lost all sense then. He lunged across the room, grappling with Alastair. His hands grew slick with blood as he reached for the man’s throat. Something sharp drove into his side and he roared at the spike of agony. Grunting in pain and anger, he shoved at Alastair’s chin with one hand, grabbing the top of his head with the other. With a painful wrench, he pulled, the snap of bone unbearably loud in his ears.
He stumbled back, panting. His face stung where Alastair had scratched him. Looking down, his eyes unfocused, he could see a blade in his side. That was probably bad. He tugged on it and whimpered. Yup, definitely bad. And his head pulsed with agony. Vision going black, he wobbled his way to Dean, finding the man’s green eyes fevered with pain but open.
“Cas?” he croaked.
Quiet still, he looked over and found Benny, his retrieved pistol in hand, Crowley on his knees. Swallowing, he turned back to Dean and patted the man down. He found the shotgun wound from before reopened, torn by the bloody knife on the floor. His jeans were damp with blood. A jagged knife wound that looked messy but not deep. He looked up, meeting Dean’s eyes again.
“I . . . I wanted . . . to keep you safe. I’m sorry.” He winced, fidgeting against the ropes. “I thought I could make a deal or something. Just . . . get him to back off. I screwed up. Again.”
Castiel grinned, wiping his face a second time and kissing Dean hard. Beautiful, stupid, arrogant Dean was alive and safe. He didn’t give a damn how the rest of the day went; his Dean was safe. With a sigh, he straightened up as best he could, the blade in his side leaving a void of numbness along his left.
Dean caught the sight of it and his eyes widened. “Cas! Jesus Christ! You’ve been stabbed!”
Castiel looked down and nodded. “So it seems,” he slurred. He grinned at Dean. “Oh, before I forget.” Using what strength remained, he pulled back and cracked his fist into Dean’s jaw, watching with satisfaction as the man slumped over where he was tied. Swaying, Castiel wiped his hands deliberately on his jeans.
He smiled serenely at Benny’s stunned expression.
“And now,” he rasped, “we’re even.” He didn’t even feel the floor hit his head this time.
CCTV Shenanigans, Part XVI
Previous chapters now posted on Ao3 here.
Super short update tonight; mostly because it's almost done. :3 Probably two more segments?
The “silence of the tomb” had never been a more apt description than when Castiel followed Dean and Benny through the tunnels, nearing Crowley’s main building. Crowley was either paranoid or crafty; Castiel couldn’t be certain. What he knew of the man, he knew Crowley had his fingers in more than one field of crime. Mostly gun running. Tunnels like these would be perfect for such events.
However, the echoing silence fast became something that could only last for a few minutes longer before Castiel lost his damn mind. He let his flashlight play over the old concrete walls of the tunnel and murmured, “What do you plan on doing when we get there, Dean?”
“Does it matter?” he remarked. “You’re helping me get there; after that, you don’t really need to worry, right?”
Frowning, Castiel looked over to see Dean glaring at him though the man glanced away quickly. “I’m sorry,” he growled. “Care to repeat that?”
Dean sneered. “You heard me. You feel like you owe me – no idea why – but as soon as I get there, I’m out of your hair; aren’t I?” He snorted and shook his head. “Don’t worry your pretty head about what I plan on doing.”
Fed up and still a bit shaky over his near grope in the car, Castiel grabbed Dean by the shoulder and slammed him into the wall of the tunnel, arm pressing against Dean’s throat. He had a moment’s pang of guilt when Dean wheezed, his injured shoulder likely not taking the abuse well. “I am risking my career and my life to help you, Dean. I trust that would earn a bit more respect.”
Benny chuckled. “Boy, oh boy,” he crooned. “Bal sure wasn’t wrong about you two.”
Startled, Castiel lost his grip on Dean and stumbled, colliding with the man’s warm, broad chest. To his further surprise, Dean’s arm looped around his back, catching hold of him and keeping him upright. Face disturbingly warm, he looked up, finding dim green watching him. He could barely see Dean in the low light of the tunnels but he could still see that familiar, brilliant color.
“Ahem,” Benny interrupted. “Can ya’ll get a move on? I don’t want to be down here much longer.” He pointed with his flashlight to a short ladder to their left. “And be quiet; guard post is up there.”
Castiel fumbled, planting a hand on Dean’s chest and pushing up, avoiding the man’s eyes as he did. “Er, y-yes. Of course. Lead on. Please.” He halted when Dean latched onto his wrist. He glanced down and then up, confused. “Dean?”
Dean squeezed his wrist. “I know what you’re risking, Cas,” he rasped. “I don’t know why. I really wish you weren’t.”
He frowned. “That’s my decision to make, Dean. I told you that before.”
“Yeah, I know,” he husked, glancing toward Benny. “Just . . . I ain’t worth that.” He swallowed audibly. “And for what it’s worth, I’m real sorry, Cas.”
“Sorry? What fo—“ he lost the words when Dean pulled him into a kiss, his arm a warm, iron band against Castiel’s back. His eyes shut almost immediately and he whimpered, returning the embrace, his free hand tangling in the collar of Dean’s shirt.
Goddammit. Of course he was an amazing kisser. Of course Dean tasted like honey. Of course he smelled amazing. Of course Castiel was completely and forever fucked in that moment. He drowned in it, oblivious to anything and everything but Dean and his devilish touch. He didn’t even feel Dean’s other hand let go of him.
So, it was somewhat understandable that he never noticed his gun leaving its holster and barely heard Benny’s shout of alarm before something hard and heavy hit the back of his head.
Goddamn jewel thieves.
CCTV Shenanigans, Part XV
Previous chapters now posted on Ao3 here.
Shorter than normal update as I'm tired. D: And frankly, these weren't supposed to be normal chapter lengths. I think I'd started at five paragraphs an update? Yeah, blew that up fast. :3
Keeping Dean in front of him, Castiel gestured for Benny to lead them on. The man gave him an insufferable smirk but nodded.
“This way, boys,” he stated, pushing at the wrecked door of the garage.
Castiel pulled out his gun, checking the clip. “Tell me, Benny; why has Crowley not secured this access point?”
Benny looked over his shoulder, eyes landing on the gun. “Never said that,” he mused. “I only said he don’t use it any longer.” He grinned. “It’s still sealed off; gonna take some work to get past the block.” He dug though his pants, coming up with a set of keys and a small USB stick. “Takes these two keys; we’ll get through it.” He turned away then, pushing and pulling harder at the busted door.
Dean leaned in and whispered, “You really don’t trust him, hm?”
Castiel took a step away, shivering slightly. He could still feel Dean under him. He’d almost kissed the man. Like an idiot. Not looking up, he merely nodded. “Nope. Not at all. Balthazar might but I don’t know him.”
“Huh.” Dean cleared his throat. “Hey, Benny?”
The man grunted as he shoved the door way, wiping his hands on his jeans. “What?”
“How’d an American end up working for Crowley?”
Benny grinned. “Trade secrets, brother.” He winked and stepped back, sweeping his arm out. “Boys?”
Castiel clenched his jaw. “I’m running under the assumption you aren’t trying to deceive Balthazar as well.” He held up his gun, waving it slightly, muzzle pointed skyward. “I, however, don’t trust you.”
To his surprise, Benny merely shrugged. “If ya’ll trust Singer, that should be enough.” He smirked again as Castiel snorted. “Look, I trained under Singer. If ya really need assurance, call him.” He folded his arms. “I’ll wait.”
It might not be the brightest idea but Castiel pulled out his cell phone, finger hovering over Singer’s number. It might pay off to find out how Singer knew Dean as well. He looked up, finding both Dean and Benny watching him patiently. He licked his lips. “All right. If you trained under Singer, who’s his favorite fictional character?”
Both Benny and Dean chimed in with “Ricardo.”
Castiel blinked, looking first at Benny and then Dean. He glared at Dean. “Why’d you answer?”
Dean winced. “Um . . . lucky guess?”
His eyes narrowed. Only people close to Bobby Singer knew about his love of that ridiculous Spanish soap opera. While it assuaged his suspicions of Benny, it only increased them for Dean. “You know Singer personally, don’t you?”
“Uh, no?” He took a step away from Castiel. “I, uh, keep tabs on all you guys. Need to . . . um . . . stay a step ahead?”
Which frankly, sounded like bullshit. He’d bet his pension that Dean was familiar with Singer. Probably for longer than Castiel. Though, why hadn’t Singer ever told him? The man was fairly open with Castiel. In fact, he’d always been the one to make certain that Castiel was on Dean’s cases. He never tried to warn him away and never asked him for leniency with Dean. But an argument for another time, likely. Still glaring at Dean, he addressed Benny.
“Fine. I’ll go on your word. For now.” He turned then. “You do one thing, however . . .”
Benny shrugged. “This ain’t my first rodeo, boy.” He gestured again to the hole to his left. “Can we get moving?”
Castiel nodded and grabbed Dean’s arm, shoving him forward. “Both of you; I’ll follow.”
“Suspicion is an ugly look on you,” Dean teased.
“And smugness doesn’t suit you,” he retorted. He regretted it almost instantly given how quickly Dean’s gleeful smirk faded. He almost took it back when Benny interrupted, thrusting small flashlights into their hands.
“Dark as sin, boys; we go this way.” His light clicked on and Benny trudged off, his footsteps echoing in the dusty garage. He crossed to a far wall, pushing hard against it. It creaked and groaned, eventually falling back, exposing another walkway. His light wavered, “Keep movin’; guards won’t be coming by tonight since they were part of that crew we left behind.”
At least there was that, right? Castiel sighed and inclined his head toward Benny’s path. “Go on,” he murmured.
“Hey, Cas?” Dean asked, voice low. “Um, about what happened back there . . .”
Castiel stiffened, making certain to keep his eyes forward. He didn’t want proof that he’d messed up. He’d wanted Dean in the middle of fleeing from a gunfight. How messed up was his life? Castiel wasn't anything to Dean beyond a constant thorn and pest. All the past teasing was probably little more than Dean trying to get a rise out of him, or get him to back off. There certainly wasn't feeling in it.
“Back where? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
When silence met the remark, he looked over, just making out Dean’s expression in the dark. Hurt. The man actually looked hurt? Confused, Castiel blinked rapidly. “Dean?”
“Uh, wha?” He grinned suddenly, teeth flashing in the low light. “Never mind; it’s all good, Cas.” He faced forward, sweeping his light along the ground. “Just think, in a few short hours, you’ll be rid of me.”
Castiel didn’t respond, feeling sick to his stomach instead as they trudged after Benny, closer to Crowley’s estate.
CCTV Shenanigans, Part XIII
Previous chapters now posted on Ao3 here.
"This is a fucking bad idea," Dean muttered. He sat between Balthazar and Castiel, handcuffed again, in the back of a police lorry.
Bad idea? Maybe. Difficult? Certainly. Castiel rubbed his forehead, feeling sweat begin to bead. "Enough, Dean." He sat back and glanced at the younger man. "Balthazar's right; we need Crowley to think you out of the game."
"You think that will get him to let his guard down?" Dean sneered. He fidgeted, bracelets jangling. "You keep me like this for too long, Alastair might do something."
The latter was an accurate fear. Castiel shoved it aside, however. "You told me yourself that Alastair has broken you out in the past. Including when I arrested you." Dean blushed but nodded. "We merely need to show you being transferred to the station near Crowley's compound. He's bound to have ears in the area and he'll know you've been nabbed."
Balthazar pulled out his phone, humming. "Not to mention, I have a man on the inside."
Both Dean and Castiel turned, staring at Balthazar. "What?!" they snapped in unison.
Balthazar barely looked at them as he scrolled through his phone. "Oh, didn't I tell you?" He grinned as he lifted the phone to his ear. "Can't imagine why I'd do that." He winked and his smile lessened as his call appeared to connect. "Ah, hello, luv."
Castiel yelped when Dean turned on him, both hands fisted on his collar. He winced as the movement pulled at his injuries but shook Castiel once. "Who the fuck are you allied with?" he hissed.
Swatting at the man's hands, Castiel coupled it with a quick swat to the back of Dean's head. Before he could respond, Balthazar clucked his tongue.
"Children. Cease." He smirked, gesturing out the window. "I'm afraid there is about to be a bit of a firefight."
"Wha?" Shit, maybe going to Balthazar was the wrong idea. He felt his stomach twist. "What have you done, Balthazar?"
The detective inspector rolled his eyes. "Oh, bloody hell. Must I spell it out for you?" He held up one hand, folding a finger down. "One. We will arrive in town as scheduled." Two fingers. "Two. As we arrange the transfer on some loose idea of a theft you've committed last year, my stalwart inside man will arrive with gang in tow, attacking the station." He sighed. "It's a small one and frankly, one day, it will happen; I'm just thankful it'll be under my direction."
Castiel frowned. "How does that help us?"
Balthazar folded down a third finger. "Three. Benny will take the two of you in the midst of the chaos in an unmarked police vehicle. You both will be . . . forgotten while we deal with the thugs that Benny has so conveniently taken care of with accidental gas cans."
Balthazar smiled smugly, settling back in his seat.
That . . . that might actually work. Castiel glanced at Dean and found the same grudging acceptance on the man's face. "Why didn't you tell us at the station?"
The light blue eyes suddenly hardened. "Because I am well aware of the leak in my office. I see no reason to give her more fuel for this nonsense."
Startled by the venom in Balthazar's voice, Castiel sat back, blinking. "I see," he murmured. Unable to help his curiosity, he asked, "How does this . . . leak not know about Benny?"
"Because Benny talks only to me and even my superiors are unaware of the action." He snorted. "In fact, it's your director who's been helping me."
Bobby? This was getting stranger and stranger. "Director Singer?"
"Bobby?" Dean echoed.
Castiel turned, staring at Dean. "How do you know him?" Castiel was certain he'd mentioned Director Singer around Dean but he'd never used the man's given name. In fact, if he had, he'd have used the more formal 'Robert' rather than the tone of familiarity that Dean used.
Dean blushed and shrugged. "Lucky guess?" He squawked when Castiel grabbed his injured shoulder, digging his thumb in. "Ow! Fuck, you sadist!" he growled. He jerked out of Castiel's grip, pouting almost. "Jesus. Goddamn asshole."
"How do you know him?"
The lorry shuddered to a stop and Dean perked up, grinning. "Oh, darn! We have a gunfight to get stuck in!"
Balthazar rolled his eyes. "My lord. You two are disgusting." He pushed open the back of the door and hopped down. With one hand on the wide door, he pointed at Dean and then Castiel. "I do hope, that by the end of this, the two of you will lock yourselves in a room and not come out until the furniture is broken." He shook his head and stalked away a short distance, arms folded.
Castiel's face must have burst into flame given how hot his skin felt. It only burned hotter when Dean turned seemingly innocent eyes on his.
"I can't imagine what he's getting at, Cas," Dean chirped. His small smile shifted to a wolfish grin, eyes sharp. "Your hotel furniture looks pretty damn sturdy." He stood, back hunched in the cramped confines of the lorry, cuffed hands dangling. "Hey, is that why you woke up so . . . happy this morning?" He winked and bounced out, following Balthazar.
Given that no meteors plummeted out of the sky to wipe him from the earth, Castiel managed to stand and shuffle out of the van. He looked up the road and could just make out two cars hurtling their way. If I'm lucky, someone's a bad shot and I'll take one to the head. He looked over to find Dean still smirking and Balthazar leaning in to whisper something that just made the man wink in his direction.
Anything's better than this. He pulled out his gun, checking the bullets. If he survived this escapade with his job and life intact, he was retiring to a village in Antarctica.
Penguins were far better than this shit.
CCTV Shenanigans, Part XII
Previous chapters now posted on Ao3 here.
Castiel turned a deaf ear on Dean’s threats, calmly calling a car to collect them and take them to Balthazar. He had to admit, though, that Dean was getting very inventive with his promised vengeance. Most involved utensils and setting him on fire. A-plus for effort, for certain.
Dean fell silent as soon as they pulled in though, gaze averted and foot tapping nervously. Castiel felt a bit of pity toward Dean. But, frankly, he had to keep up the idea that this was a ruse on his part. He needed Dean to react as though actually being arrested. If they went in calm, Balthazar would immediately be on edge.
He led Dean through the halls to Balthazar’s office, finding the blond busy at work, head bowed over his desk. Castiel shut and locked the door, stiffening when he heard the man drawl, “A threesome so early in the morning? My, you are full of surprises, Novak.”
He looked up, glancing at Dean and then Castiel. Taking in the sight of handcuffs, he set down his pen and leaned back. “Shall I keep guessing or will you let me in on the fun?”
Castiel unlocked Dean’s cuff, pushing him toward the chair in front of Balthazar’s desk. The man complied though he looked up at Castiel in confusion.
“Allow me to introduce Dean Winchester.”
Balthazar smirked. “Ah, yes. Your dear thief.” He chuckled when Castiel squeaked. “Oh, please. You’re like an open book, lad.” He said nothing further, merely focused on Dean. “I take it there’s a reason you brought him here, first?”
Swallowing his own nervousness, Castiel gave Balthazar the rundown on Dean’s issue. More than once, he’d had to snarl at the man to shut up and eventually, Dean hunched down in his chair, stewing. Castiel knew that telling Balthazar this entire scenario would likely piss the younger man off or make him run; frankly, he had little choice. Balthazar knew London and he knew its threats. He’d be an asset.
If he helped.
“And here I thought my day would be boring,” he mused.
Dean glared at Castiel and then Balthazar. “Don’t listen to him. He’s full of shit,” he muttered.
Balthazar blinked and then smiled. “Oh?” He leaned forward. “You don’t want our charming Interpol agent involved?”
Dean reared back in his chair, hands clenched. “Uh. No. It . . . I . . . I got it under control. He’s just . . .” he looked at Castiel. “He’s just . . . got the wrong idea.”
To his surprise, Dean stared down at his feet, blushing brightly. Castiel jerked his head up when Balthazar chuckled.
“Oh, my. You two . . . so much more entertaining than anything the BBC can concoct.” He picked up the mug at his elbow and took a healthy swallow. “So. I assume you’re here because you’d like aid, hm?” When Castiel nodded, his lips thinned. “You do understand that if I did so, I’d be threatening my own career? Not to mention, should this be found out, you are good as gone, Cassie.”
Much as he hated to admit it, Balthazar was right. If he failed in this or if it got back to Director Singer, Castiel was finished as an agent. And if Balthazar decided the threat wasn’t worth it, he was finished now. But, this was Dean. Thief or not, Dean was . . . well, weirdly, Castiel considered him a friend. Even if he was on the other side of the law. And the threats against him weren’t something a thief of his caliber should ever have run across.
He couldn’t let Dean fall victim to these two men. If it meant his job, so be it.
He nodded again. “I’m aware,” he said finally, feeling Dean’s green eyes bore into the side of his head. “I know what I’m asking, Balthazar. I’ve no right to it, but still . . . I’m asking for help.”
Balthazar sighed and leaned back, head resting on the back of his chair. “And to think, we Brits consider ourselves dramatic.” He sat up again, waving a hand. “Sit your arse down, you fool. Tell me what you know.”
Castiel grinned in relief, nearly falling into the chair beside Dean. He glanced over at the man, finding a stunned expression on Dean’s face.
He smiled, reaching over to pat the man’s hand. “I told you, Dean. I’m not letting you do this alone.”
“You’re an idiot,” he rasped. He swallowed and repeated the word before a faint, crooked smile pulled at his lips.
Castiel chuckled. “You’re welcome.”
“Enough flirting, lads; shall we work?”
Castiel wasn’t sure of the choking noise came from him, or Dean.
CCTV Shenanigans, Part XI
Previous chapters now posted on Ao3 here.
Castiel scrambled, nearly flailing as he hurried to dress. Not again. Not again! The little bastard had slipped free of him after all. Probably thinking he needed to be some self-sacrificing hero or other nonsense in regards to this theft. If he ever caught up with Dean again, he’d definitely have to shoot him in the knee to keep him from running.
Grabbing his phone, he bolted from the room, sprinting down the hall to the elevator. He jammed a finger against the down button, muttering to himself all the while. He couldn’t be far. Dean didn’t have that much of a head start on him. Twenty minutes, maybe? Though, with the Tube nearby . . . shit.
The door binged open and he barely glanced at the other occupant before selecting the first floor, jiggling on tense feet as he waited for the bloody thing to descend. He heard an obnoxious slurping noise and then a drawled, “We goin’ somewhere?”
He twitched and spun, nearly falling over. Dean grinned at him, holding out a second coffee cup. “Figured you’d need it.”
Castiel glared at the cup and then at Dean. “You shit,” he snapped, taking the cup. “You . . . fucker.”
Dean blinked and sipped from his coffee as the elevator opened on the first floor. Striding out, he mused, “You really are grumpy in the morning.” He turned, walking backward, and winked. “I offered to help you with your problem, you know.”
Face red, Castiel choked on his coffee. He licked his burned lips and snarled, “You say one word about that and I’ll –“
“—shoot me in my other shoulder. Yeah. Heard you the first time.” Dean took a deep swallow from his coffee and sighed, plunking himself down in the plush arm chairs in the hotel lobby. He raised his eyebrows until Castiel did the same. Once seated, he spoke.
“I wanted to run,” he admitted. “Almost hailed a cab, actually.” He toyed with his cup, glancing once at Castiel. “Didn’t think it fair, though. I mean . . . you’re really the only one I trust, Cas.” He set his cup down and dug in his jacket, pulling out an envelope. “You might not believe me, but this isn’t what I wanted to do with my life.” He held out the item to Castiel. “It was just an easy way to get what I needed.”
Frowning, Castiel took the envelope. It was old and well-worn; folded multiple times. He opened it, pulling out a bank statement and a real estate listing. He squinted. The bank statement was a healthy one and the lot indicated on the paper, just under that price. He folded them back up and returned it to Dean. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”
Dean tucked both away and picked up his cup. “Auto restoration. You know; classics?” He sipped from his cup and shrugged. “I’d rather be doing that. I want to be doing that.” He chewed his lip. “Just . . . Alastair won’t let me.”
Ah. Castiel leaned back, sighing. He glanced toward the lobby front desk but the concierge was otherwise engaged. He turned to Dean, resting his chin on his hand, elbow propped on the soft leather. “How did you manage to cross him?”
“It was stupid,” Dean muttered. He stared downward, shoulders hunched. “I’d heard about this set of jewels. Real high-end ones. In Portugal. Easy as hell to break into.” He rubbed his face, looking tired. “Should have known better.”
“A trap, I take it?”
Dean nodded, finally glancing at him. “Yeah. Alastair held me there for two days while he dug up my record. Found out about Sam. All my, uh, weaknesses.” He coughed. “Said if I didn’t start dealing with him, he’d start picking off people in my life.”
Castiel sipped from his coffee, finding it all too easy to understand. Men like Alastair understood vulnerability and how to exploit it. For all his brash ego, Dean was just as susceptible. “So rather than get out and buy this land of yours, you feel stuck?”
Dean nodded. “I can’t go to Sam. I don’t want him involved.” He reddened. “He thinks I’m an airline pilot and that’s why he never sees me.” He toed the carpet under his feet. “So. There you have it. I was stupid and now I’m paying for it.”
Frowning, Castiel shook his head. “You were far from stupid, Dean. Alastair took advantage. Granted, had you not been a thief in the first place,” he began, smiling at Dean’s glare, “this would be a non-issue. But his interference is not your fault.”
Rubbing the back of his neck, Dean shrugged. “Whatever,” he muttered.
Probably the closest to an agreement that he’d get out of the younger man. Taking another swallow of coffee, Castiel leaned back in his chair. “So. Friday. You have to sneak into where, exactly?”
“Uh, I assume Crowley’s compound. If I can hit up my contacts, I might be able to see where he’s taken those jewels.”
More trouble. Castiel tapped the arm of chair, mind moving. It would be wise to bring Balthazar in. As flirty and obnoxious as the man was, Castiel was certain he wouldn’t report the two of them. He didn’t think. If he could phrase it properly, he might be able to gauge the man’s charity.
He finished off his coffee, gasping at the burn. Though, he might have to do one thing to get the man's attention before he spilled everything. Standing up, he gestured for Dean to do the same. A quizzical expression on his face, Dean complied, still nursing his paper cup of coffee.
“First thing’s first,” Castiel stated, moving to toss his cup away.
“And that is?”
Castiel grinned. Oh, he was going to enjoy this. He pulled out his handcuffs, slapping one on Dean’s wrist and the other on his own. “You’re under arrest.”
“You fucker!”
CCTV Shenanigans, Part IX
Late posting this week. Sorry, all! Been a rough day.
It took some coaxing and a few threats with his gun to get Dean to spill the location of his rendezvous point with this Alastair fellow. They stopped at a small, late night clothing store to pick up a clean shirt for Dean and with the wound bandaged, he looked none the worse for wear.
Castiel insisted on accompanying Dean to his meeting place, ignoring the barked threats and general snarls of annoyance from his reluctant companion. Oddly, the location was closer than he'd expected, on the South Bank in front the Eye. It seemed strange that a man who held a thief like Dean in his clutches would want to meet in such a public area. Granted, it was now nearly midnight; the wheel itself wouldn't be operating but the banks of the river wouldn't necessarily be empty.
They rode the tube to Waterloo station, Dean fidgeting and rubbing his arm the entire way. Castiel didn't understand the agitation beyond the general sense of obligation this man demanded. This Alastair was unknown to him as an Interpol agent. Castiel himself would be a non-entity. Besides, he'd stay out of sight, the small set of binoculars in his pocket his only available method of keeping Dean in sight.
"This is stupid," Dean muttered.
Eyes half shut, Castiel leaned back and yawned. "As you've said. Ten times by my count. You need a new argument, Dean."
The man glowered, rubbing his arm and wincing. "I'm supposed to go alone."
"And you will. Remember? We'll both get off at the station and take separate routes, on the off-chance he has the tube monitored." He yawned again, scratching his jaw. He needed a shave and badly. Returning to the matter at hand, he added, "I'll cross past the Eye and find a good vantage point and keep an eye on you."
"But I don't get why, Cas." Dean almost seemed to be pouting but he'd stopped digging at his injury. "I'm . . . this is my issue, right?"
Castiel shrugged. "Perhaps. But I need to bring you in alive, not full of holes. Therefore, I'm merely insuring my job is done with fewer complications in the future."
Dean snorted, turning his head away. "So . . . just for the collar, huh?"
Blinking, Castiel glanced at Dean, surprised to see the man hunched over defensively. He frowned slightly. Odd reaction. Of course it was for a collar. His entire job here in London was to arrest Dean. And, if this Alastair was as much trouble as Dean seemed to hint at, why not two birds with one stone?
He opened his mouth to say as much but snapped it shut quickly. No, that wasn't entirely true. Yes, he was here to arrest Dean but the idea that he actually wanted to arrest the man wasn't quite accurate. As annoying and deceptive as Dean was, he managed to be relatively entertaining. And the notes, while clearly meant a distraction, were something that Castiel had come to enjoy as well. It might even be fair to admit he'd miss Dean if the man ever ended up behind bars instead of bouncing around from country to country, taunting Castiel.
Not that he could say that. How foolish would it be for him to admit to a wanted criminal that, ideally, he wanted nothing more than to let him run rampant if only to keep chasing him. The tease. It was all in that damn tease and those green eyes and that charming grin.
Oh, Lord, he thought, rubbing his forehead. He was smitten. That was the bloody problem. Completely and utterly smitten with this little shit of a man. Supposedly there were worse things but Castiel had trouble thinking of any.
Sighing, he returned to Dean's question. "Not . . . entirely," he admitted, unwilling to say more. He was saved by the tube coming to a stop and the doors binging open. He leaned in and whispered, "Go opposite me and don't look back," before darting away, whistling.
He didn't pause to see if Dean listened or if he even got off the train. With a start, he realized he was taking a lot on faith at the moment. For all he knew, Dean could have concocted the entire story, simply to slip free from cuffs. He nearly bit his tongue at his own naivete.
You did it again, didn't you, Dean? he thought with irritation. If this was the second time the bastard slipped free of him . . . his whistling faded as his jaw clenched. He found a good vantage point away from the Eye and tucked himself in behind a shuttered cafe's wall. He pulled out his binoculars and to his surprise, found Dean easily, the man's large frame pacing back and forth.
He smiled faintly, the action vanishing as soon as a second man stepped into view. He didn't recognize him. Tall and thin. Patchy facial hair. Balding head. Threatening, though, given how Dean seemed even more tense, even given the distance between them.
Castiel stiffened and growled when the man grabbed Dean by the throat, leaning in close. Why the fuck hadn't he grabbed his sniper rifle? What a damn fool he'd been. He'd let Dean walk into an obvious trap without a weapon to defend himself! Of all the bloody, stupid things he'd done lately.
To his relief, though, the man let go of Dean relatively quickly. Not that the situation seemed better. Dean looked more shaken than before. The man patted Dean's cheek, sharply, considering the way Dean's head snapped back. But he left, strolling away in the same direction he'd arrived.
Castiel waited a tense fifteen minutes before ducking out from his hiding place. He found Dean pacing at Waterloo, head bent, his other hand rubbing manically at his wounded shoulder.
"Dean?"
His head jerked up, green eyes wild. He calmed slowly, though, swallowing. "He . . . uh . . . he told me I need to get the jewels back from Crowley. By this Friday."
Another, shuddering breath. "Or he gives the order to the guys watching Sam to shoot."
That . . . was unexpected. Four days to repeat what he'd done? Digging for the phone in his pocket, Castiel stated, "Dean, let me call my director. He can get men to Sam's home immediately."
Dean frowned, shaking his head sharply. "No! He said if he sees anything weird, he'll take Sam out. He . . . he might be lying but . . . it's my brother. I can't . . ." He shrank in on himself a bit. "I can't risk Sam, okay? I mean . . . shit. I haven't seen him in so long because I was afraid this would happen."
Castiel rubbed his face, sighing. Absolutely nothing in his life remained uncomplicated these days. He wondered if he'd go prematurely gray following this case. "So, our only recourse at the moment is this theft?"
"Not ours," Dean interrupted. "Mine."
"Wrong again, Dean," Castiel began. He shoved Dean toward the tube as the doors opened. Pushing the younger man down onto one of the benches, he yawned. Christ, he was tired. And hungry, apparently, given the way his stomach started rumbling. "It became ours the moment you bled on my floor."
"Not really your floor," Dean pointed out, grinning faintly.
He tweaked Dean's ear, smirking at the yelp. "You also owe me about a hundred pounds for digging into my mini-bar. Therefore, you're not to leave my sight until this Alastair is dealt with."
Rubbing his ear, Dean scowled. "You're making a mistake," he muttered.
Castiel plopped down on the plastic seat beside Dean and draped his arm across the man's shoulders. "I'm quite good at those, I admit," Castiel replied.
Dean sagged against him. "This won't stop Alastair," he warned.
Nodding faintly, Castiel murmured, "I'm aware. We'll take care of that as well, Dean."
"I don't want you fixing this for me," Dean protested. He glared at Castiel but didn't move away from him. "This is my deal. I'll fix it. I'll fix all of it."
"Enough, Dean," Castiel growled. He softened quickly. "Dean, whether you like it or not, I am helping you; so cease fighting me." He patted Dean's shoulder and went on. "If we're unable to reach Sam, fine; we'll solve the problem here in London."
"Cas --" Dean began.
Castiel yawned yet again. "Dean. Shut up. Do not speak to me again until the morning." He smiled serenely at Dean as he pulled his arm back and reached up to stroke his cheek, distantly aware that it was the same cheek Alastair had touched. "If you fight me one more time, I will shoot you in your other shoulder."
"You're an ass."
"Yes. Yes, I am. Now, shut up."