Chapter Text
“Fuck, Pop-pop! Baba fuck!”
“TRRRRR-uck! Garbage TRRRRR-uck, Jack.”
“Fuck!” The not quite three-year old launched himself bodily against the back of the sofa and slapped the window with a pudgy hand, adding to the streaks and hand prints already there from earlier in the week. Castiel had given up and resigned himself to not having sparkling windows until his son outgrew his exuberant fascination with the garbage truck that came by twice a week. “Baba fuck!”
Castiel shook his head and slurped from his mug of coffee. At least this time Jack was yelling fuck in the privacy of their home. Last time, he and Jack were out when a fire truck came blaring by and the enthusiastic toddler announced to all the diners sitting outside of Sweet Emotions Cafe that there was indeed a “fa fuck” going by. And of course the diners outside just had to be the old biddies having their book club. Pearls were clutched, wrinkled and too brightly colored lips were pursed, and dirty looks were given. Castiel watched the joy on his son’s face as he watched the sanitation crew at work. He set the mug on the coffee table, took up his camera, and began snapping away. There was still plenty of time before they had to be out of the house - Jack to daycare and Castiel to shape young minds in math class at Bonnie Augustine Elementary School - so there was time to capture Jack for posterity.
“Our fan club of one is back, Chief,” Benny observed as he wrangled a trash bin into the truck’s lifting mechanism. Dean paused on pulling another bin to look at the window and when he saw a tiny hand slap the glass, he straightened and waved. The tiny hand began waving frantically which made Dean chuckle. In the bottom corner of the front window, Dean noticed a progress pride flag sticker, which gave him a moment’s pause. Mentally shaking himself back into the task at hand, he dragged the bin into place, thumbed a button, and the bin was lifted over the top of the garbage truck.
“Poor kid’s gonna be disappointed next year. New trucks might be able to automatically pick up bins, but they ain’t gonna wave to him.”
“Just give it time, Dean. The generation of self-collecting garbage trucks that can wave isn’t too far off. Autobots, roll out!” The Cajun banged the side of the truck and motioned at the side view mirror. The large truck lurched forward and the two men jogged ahead to the next house. Dean’s morning coffee was suddenly burning a hole in his gut at the reminder that the Lawrence Department of Sanitation was going to be switching to a fleet of “automated” trucks in the near future, which would see a crew of three whittled down to just one - a driver. He wasn’t in panic mode just yet, as his art had been steadily gaining traction and selling in the past two years, and he knew that Benny had a restaurant to fall back on. But there were plenty in the department who were going to be forced to either take an early retirement or scramble to find new jobs.
“Hey, that’s a good idea for the next movie marathon at Charlie’s,” Dean mused out loud as he rolled the next bin into the lifting system.
“I’m in, as long as we can skip the ones with Shia La-whatshisname,” Benny replied, pressing the start button.
“That’s like, half the franchise, dude!”
“Then start without me, and call me when you’re getting ready to watch Age of Extinction.”
Dean shook his head, made a forward motion with his hand at the driver’s side view mirror, signaling to Garth to move forward. The two friends spent the rest of their route bitching at each other about the merits and faults of the various Transformer movies while they hauled bins.
Once the truck moved on, Jack quickly lost interest in the outdoors. He turned as Castiel lowered the camera, and jumped fearlessly onto his father’s lap.
“Oof!” Castiel exhaled as the small human narrowly missed landing on something sensitive. “Okay, Jack, it’s time for breakfast and then we need to get dressed. You’ve got Miss Donna’s and I’ve got school.”
Jack slid off Castiel and pulled his father to the kitchen. The toddler climbed onto his chair and waited while Castiel got a container of plain yogurt from the fridge, as well as preparing a small bowl of blueberries and banana slices. Jack began eating, while Castiel made scrambled eggs and toast. The two Novaks dug into the food, Castiel occasionally helping Jack manage the scrambled eggs.
With breakfast out of the way, Castiel parked his son in front of the TV with an episode of Sesame Street playing. He’d passed the point of feeling guilty about using the television as a babysitter long ago, after an especially harrowing morning that saw him arrive to work with his dress shirt buttoned wrong, his tie backwards, and wearing two different shoes.
Castiel checked his phone while he buttoned up the latest dress shirt and pressed play on a voice message his cousin, Gabe, had left the night before. He folded his tie over and under and over and through while listening to the message.
“Hey, Cassie,” Gabe’s voice could be heard over the more muted background conversations going on. “I’ve got a favor to ask. I plan on starting a trivia night once a month, and I’d like to make it inclusive, so I was hoping you’d be able to emcee it, where you’d ask the questions verbally and in ASL. I think it would be a big draw. Anywho, I figure we’d do it in 2 weeks on a Friday. I’ll advertise here at The Tipsy Scribe, at the university, the hospital… other places. Lemme know what you think and I’ll even pay for Jackie’s babysitter.”
Castiel considered his cousin’s proposal as he finished getting dressed, pocketing his phone and heading into Jack’s room to get his son clothes. The Tipsy Scribe was the bookstore/bar Gabe half-owned and fully operated. And since Castiel was the other (silent) half-owner, it really was in his best interest to see that trivia night was a success. With a grumble, he sent a text to his go-to babysitter, Alex, and asked if she’d be available. With the hours Gabe kept running the bar, Castiel knew it would be too early to message his cousin. He also knew he’d be hearing from Gabe until he actually gave his answer, so needing to remember to get back to Gabe wasn’t nearly as important as booking a sitter. With that out of the way, Castiel went to wrangle his toddler into his clothes, get his lunch packed, and get himself and his son out the door.