What Am I Doing With My Life

"You sure he's coming?" Dean asked, glancing at the clock. The three of them had already been sitting in the restaurant for almost an hour.

"He said he was," Sam replied, shaking his head and picking up a menu to glance over again.

"Can't we just, y'know, do this without him?" Dean said, stealing a fry off of Cas' plate and popping it into his mouth.

"We need him, Dean," Cas replied, pulling his dish a little closer to himself. "He has information."

Dean sighed, resting his chin in his hand. "What's this guy's name anyways, Captain Jackass Heartless?"

"Actually, it's Jack Harkness. But you can call me Jack."

Everyone at the table looked up to see the stranger who had approached the table. He was shorter than they were, but his confident stance made up for it. He pulled back the empty chair next to Sam, taking off his trench coat in a swift movement and setting it on the back of it. Underneath his coat he wore a tight blue button-down and stark red suspenders.

Dean raised his eyebrows. "I think you're in the wrong era."

Jack chuckled, taking a seat. "Says the one in the leather jacket."

Dean readjusted his jacket at this, reaffirming to himself that it was cool. He cleared his throat, shaking his head slightly. "So, Hardnips, what's the deal with these killings? You said you knew something about them."

"It's Harkness, sweetheart," Jack said, reaching to slide his phone out of his jacket pocket. "But if you're more of the beauty type, I get it."

The man turned to Sam, sliding his thumb across the touch screen. "I'm assuming you're the brains of the operation here?"

Sam glanced across the table at Dean and Cas before nodding. "I'm the one who called you yesterday."

Dean looked slightly offended at this, but Cas didn't seem to be paying attention. He was staring intently at Jack's face, a guarded look in his eyes.

"We were wondering if you could tell us about the killings that are taking place in the city?" Sam asked as Jack paused his scrolling.

"You mean these?" Jack said, holding up the phone so that everyone could see the picture that was being displayed.

"Yeah," Dean nodded, seeing the familiar shape of the creatures they'd seen the other day. "What the hell are they, mutant salt shakers?"

Jack looked at him as though he was a small puppy, clueless about how the world worked. "They're called Daleks," he explained, swiping to show more pictures. "They're not from this planet."

"What, you mean like aliens?" Dean joked.

The man nodded, watching as Dean's eyes widened in surprise. "You can't be serious."

"Afraid I am, darling," Jack said, putting his phone back into his pocket.

"So how do we kill them?" Sam questioned, drawing Jack's attention back to him.

"Not much will damage them, they're armor's too strong. However, I do have some new guns at my place that will probably do the trick."

Dean's face perked up at the mention of weapons. "Hey, guns, now we're talking."

"If you'd, uh, like to come back with me to get them, I'd like the company," Jack asked Dean, winking.

"Sure," Dean said, shrugging, obviously not understanding Jack's intent.

"Great," Jack replied, standing. "Pretty boy and I will go and get the goods, then meet back here later?"

Cas, who had remained silent throughout the conversation, now stood. "Thank you, but we're fine on our own."

"What the hell, Cas?" Dean said under his breath.

Jack looked confused for a moment, but then his eyes brightened. "Oh, you two- I didn't realize- Don't worry, I can go get them myself and meet you back here in an hour."

Cas nodded at this offer, giving a slight wave as Jack exited the restaurant. He sat back down next to Dean, who seemed lost. "What was that all about?" Dean demanded.

"Oh, nothing," Cas responded, catching Sam's eye across the table. Sometimes Dean could be so oblivious. He pushed his plate toward Dean. "Want another fry?"