Splatter

22. The Date 2731

As the sun was setting Castiel awoke full of vigour. Dean had laid out breakfast/dinner. It was a simple meal of leftover chow mien, which Dean was eating wrapped up in a white corn tortilla. He had woken earlier than Castiel, his back choosing consciousness over discomfort.

"I didn't mean to kick you out of your own bed," Castiel said apologetically, stretching as he went to grab a shower.

"That's okay Cas, you obviously needed the rest," Dean raided the linen cupboard for his softest fluffiest towel and handed it over.

"The water pressure is amazing and it's continuous on demand hot water," Castiel called out to Dean. "I think I love you! They don't even have hot plumbing in the exclusion zone. Most folk don't care about cold showers."

Dean tried not to get too stuck on Castiel's exclamation. His cheeks were still burning when Castiel emerged in a haze of smoke and pink flesh. Dean's hand only shook a little when he handed over the coffee cup. Castiel's praise for Dean's brew was copious and liberal. He ate the meal with gusto and kept smiling at Dean over the rim of his mug, as if he was very pleased with himself.

"I like your apartment," Castiel said conversationally as he dressed, casually digging through Dean's closet.

Dean dared to follow Castiel into the bedroom, where of course the sheets and quilts were shaped into a nest once more. The pile looked inviting. The room had that slightly dry smell of deep slumber, Castiel had opened a window through which the dusk streamed pink and coral and powder blue. It must have been a beautiful day when they had both been sleeping off their night shift.

Since Dean's building was in the centre of town, it had more luxurious features and generous proportions. The elevator was big enough to ride up in on the MAPS motorcycle. Dean had parked it in the spacious hallway, where its scratched paintwork and muddy wheels looked artful and imposing. Pulling on their leather jackets, Dean climbed on and Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean's stomach. They rode all the way down together in the elevator, out of the garage and onto the highway. The last golden rays of the afternoon gilding the smooth bitumen road, the buildings giving way to mangroves. The coastal wall diminishing behind them as the swamps barrier reared up ahead.

* * *

"It looks like experimentation," Castiel said, sticking his gloved hand down the bathtub drain.

This was what passed for a Mer motel. A wooden shed, partitioned by scrap-wood, tubs and drums and barrels in each room, just big enough for a single occupant. The room they were in was on the back end of the shed, in a makeshift structure that was entered via a second exit. It was more cramped and filthy than the others.

"No one heard anything?" Dean said, looking around in disbelief.

"Everyone was out the night it happened," Castiel said quietly. "Religious ceremony."

Dean blinked. "Even you?"

"Yes," Castiel rolled his eyes. "It was our mating. So I was somewhat preoccupied."

"Why was he here then?" Dean wondered.

"His name was Arthur Ketch, liked to call himself Mr Ketch. He was a mercenary who enjoyed the economic opportunities the exclusion zone offered," Castiel rattled off the information.

The tub had not been cleaned since Ketch was found inside it weeks ago. Dean's stomach roiled when Castiel had approached it, standing a few feet back and breathing through his mouth. Castiel had grasped the edge of the tub and then with a skillful heave emptied the whole thing out. The liquid gushing down the open drain at the back of the cubicle. An emerald layer of sludge was left in the bottom of the barrel, which Castiel stirred with a gloved hand. Dean had been impressed by Castiel's strength given the size of the tub and how heavy it must have been with all that water inside. Though even more impressive was Castiel not holding his nose as he went through the ordeal. Now Castiel was half clambered inside the bath and gleefully examining every handful of gunk he pulled out of it.