A Scene About a Hunter in a Pretty Tie
Title: A Scene About a Hunter in a Pretty Tie
Author: Nikki Loza (
calcium_yeah )
Rating: PG
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel. Preslash.
Spoilers: 4x17 “It’s A Terrible Life”
Warnings: None.
Word Count: 1,305
Summary: Dean Smith meets Castiel during “It’s A Terrible Life.” Cas tries to give him a push in the Winchester direction.
Notes: I’m in the middle of writing two longer fics, and wanted to take a break and do something simpler, so this is a short scene for mrstotten . X-posted to
deancastiel .
Out of habit, Dean checked his Blackberry when he stepped off of the elevator, still rolling his eyes at the IT guy and his lame attempts at picking him up. He’d never regretted spending so much time at work, but it sucked to realize that a socially awkward giant in a yellow polo shirt talking about his dreams was the closest he’d come to social interaction in a while.
He thought about going to a bar after work, or even just to that salad place around the corner. Maybe he’d meet a nice woman who didn’t want to engage him in conversations about ghosts and vampires. Or at least if she did, she’d be nice to look at while she did it.
Dean flipped through his emails as he walked to his office, navigating by memory, and avoiding other people by the sight of their shoes. He was at the door to his office when he realized that one of those pairs of shoes had been walking in sync with his own, and he looked up to see a man wearing a beige trenchcoat over a dark suit and tie.
The man looked him over for way too long, mouth hanging open, in a manner that made Dean look down at himself to see if his pants were open.
“Business wear suits you.” The man said seriously, and Dean was tempted to laugh at the pun, but it didn’t seem that the man was aware of it, and he didn’t want to encourage what seemed to be another bad attempt at flirting.
“Is it the tie?” Dean sighed, trying to determine why women weren’t flinging themselves at him with such frequency.
The man tilted his head, squinting at Dean curiously, but not responding and it made Dean nervous.
“Seriously, guys keep on hitting on me today-is it the tie?” Dean picked his tie up, and the man looked down at it for a moment before looking back up in confusion.
“I’m not sure what you mean. It’s colorful. I’m used to…” The man seemed to change his mind about finishing his sentence, and pointed to his own dark blue tie instead. “I’m used to darker clothes.”
“Right. Well. This is awkward.” Dean laughed, scratching his head before shrugging it off. “I’m sorry, it’s been a weird few days. Can I help you?”
“I believe you can. May we speak in your office?” The man’s voice was flat, but his eyes were almost too wide, looking at Dean with an intensity that creeped him out. Dean stepped to the side to put some distance between himself and where the other man stood beside his office door.
“I’m not sure that I’m the person to speak with. Are you sure you’re in the right department?” Dean tried to recall if this was somebody he was supposed to know, but he didn’t look familiar. The guy’s hair looked like he’d just gotten out of bed, and everything about him was slightly off-like he’d just been fired from Accounting and he was out for revenge. Dean looked over him, half expecting to see a shotgun sticking out from under his coat.
“No. I’m here to speak with you.” The man looked at the plaque with Dean’s name and title on the office door, then back at Dean.
“I’m sorry? Did we have a meeting?” Dean looked around, raising his hand to signal for an assistant, but nobody was paying attention.
“I would not have been able to arrange a meeting.” The man became slightly less composed, looking around the hall. “Your boss can’t know that I’m here.”
“No offense, buddy, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to take appointments with people who tell me not to tell my boss about something.” Dean moved to walk away, but the man grabbed his wrist. Dean looked down at the hand gripping him, and he tried to pull away, but his assailant didn’t budge.
“Of course you’re good at following orders now.” The man mumbled under his breath before sighing and opening his jacket to reveal a pistol and a knife. “We need to talk, Dean. Alone.”
A wave of déjà vu washed over Dean, but the sight of the weapons was more pressing; he knew something had been strange about the way this guy had approached him.
“Please.” The man tilted his head at the office door, pulling Dean towards it.
“Hey, that’s fine, we’ll just step inside, and we’ll talk about whatever you want to talk about, alright?” Dean opened the door, and when they were inside, the man let go of Dean’s wrist and reached for his phone. Once he’d received it, he made quick work of drawing a symbol on the inside of the door in what appeared to be blood, though Dean didn’t see him bleeding.
Dean was internally bemoaning the damage to his door when the man spun around and pulled the gun out.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Dean jumped back, bumping into his desk, and reaching back to balance himself. “I don’t know who you are-”
“You call me Cas.” The man said evenly, walking towards him, gun remaining at his side.
“Okay, Cas. Cas, why don’t you put the gun down?” Dean was at an angle, leaning back away from Cas. He lifted his hands in front of him, trying to placate the crazy man who kept walking towards him until their shoes were almost touching. Dean was surprised when Cas placed the gun in Dean’s right hand.
“This is yours.” Cas sandwiched the gun between their palms, pressing it in so that Dean felt the full weight of it as the other man spoke. “It has been modified, filled with rock salt. Keep it with you. If anything seems strange, you are to use it. You seem more comfortable with following orders now. Please…follow these.”
“Right.” Dean nodded, thinking that this was damn strange as far as he was concerned. Maybe this was a guy trying to commit suicide like the others, but too scared to do it himself. Was he just setting Dean up to shoot him?
“I would help you if I could. Even this is a risk.” Cas lifted his free hand to clasp Dean’s shoulder, and Dean tried to jump backward again, but he only succeeded in sliding backward until he was sitting on the desk. Cas looked into Dean’s eyes, and Dean was pretty sure all he saw there was Dean being absolutely freaked out. “Your instincts are there. Pay attention to them. Be safe.”
Cas sighed before letting go of the gun, stepping back slowly, as if expecting Dean to attack him. That was Dean’s instinct. Point the gun. Pull the trigger. Cas stood there, not saying anything, as if he was waiting for it.
Dean’s mind was all over the place, unsure if he should just call security, if he should shoot the guy, if this was some kind of a test.
“You’re a hunter, Dean. Hunt.” Cas said before disappearing from where he was standing and reappearing next to Dean so fast that Dean couldn’t even register what had happened.
Dean spun to his right and pulled the trigger. He watched as a white powder exploded from the gun, and a hole ripped through Cas’ trenchcoat directly over his heart. Dean hadn’t even had time to aim, and he’d hit the guy in the heart. Except Cas remained standing, as if the force of being hit hadn’t even affected him. Even if the gun really was just filled with rock salt, it should have done something, right?
“What the hell?” Dean panted, wondering if he was having a panic attack.
“Guess again.” Cas smiled for the first time during their conversation, and Dean was hit with that wave of déjà vu again.
Author: Nikki Loza (
calcium_yeah )
Rating: PG
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel. Preslash.
Spoilers: 4x17 “It’s A Terrible Life”
Warnings: None.
Word Count: 1,305
Summary: Dean Smith meets Castiel during “It’s A Terrible Life.” Cas tries to give him a push in the Winchester direction.
Notes: I’m in the middle of writing two longer fics, and wanted to take a break and do something simpler, so this is a short scene for mrstotten . X-posted to
deancastiel .
Out of habit, Dean checked his Blackberry when he stepped off of the elevator, still rolling his eyes at the IT guy and his lame attempts at picking him up. He’d never regretted spending so much time at work, but it sucked to realize that a socially awkward giant in a yellow polo shirt talking about his dreams was the closest he’d come to social interaction in a while.
He thought about going to a bar after work, or even just to that salad place around the corner. Maybe he’d meet a nice woman who didn’t want to engage him in conversations about ghosts and vampires. Or at least if she did, she’d be nice to look at while she did it.
Dean flipped through his emails as he walked to his office, navigating by memory, and avoiding other people by the sight of their shoes. He was at the door to his office when he realized that one of those pairs of shoes had been walking in sync with his own, and he looked up to see a man wearing a beige trenchcoat over a dark suit and tie.
The man looked him over for way too long, mouth hanging open, in a manner that made Dean look down at himself to see if his pants were open.
“Business wear suits you.” The man said seriously, and Dean was tempted to laugh at the pun, but it didn’t seem that the man was aware of it, and he didn’t want to encourage what seemed to be another bad attempt at flirting.
“Is it the tie?” Dean sighed, trying to determine why women weren’t flinging themselves at him with such frequency.
The man tilted his head, squinting at Dean curiously, but not responding and it made Dean nervous.
“Seriously, guys keep on hitting on me today-is it the tie?” Dean picked his tie up, and the man looked down at it for a moment before looking back up in confusion.
“I’m not sure what you mean. It’s colorful. I’m used to…” The man seemed to change his mind about finishing his sentence, and pointed to his own dark blue tie instead. “I’m used to darker clothes.”
“Right. Well. This is awkward.” Dean laughed, scratching his head before shrugging it off. “I’m sorry, it’s been a weird few days. Can I help you?”
“I believe you can. May we speak in your office?” The man’s voice was flat, but his eyes were almost too wide, looking at Dean with an intensity that creeped him out. Dean stepped to the side to put some distance between himself and where the other man stood beside his office door.
“I’m not sure that I’m the person to speak with. Are you sure you’re in the right department?” Dean tried to recall if this was somebody he was supposed to know, but he didn’t look familiar. The guy’s hair looked like he’d just gotten out of bed, and everything about him was slightly off-like he’d just been fired from Accounting and he was out for revenge. Dean looked over him, half expecting to see a shotgun sticking out from under his coat.
“No. I’m here to speak with you.” The man looked at the plaque with Dean’s name and title on the office door, then back at Dean.
“I’m sorry? Did we have a meeting?” Dean looked around, raising his hand to signal for an assistant, but nobody was paying attention.
“I would not have been able to arrange a meeting.” The man became slightly less composed, looking around the hall. “Your boss can’t know that I’m here.”
“No offense, buddy, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to take appointments with people who tell me not to tell my boss about something.” Dean moved to walk away, but the man grabbed his wrist. Dean looked down at the hand gripping him, and he tried to pull away, but his assailant didn’t budge.
“Of course you’re good at following orders now.” The man mumbled under his breath before sighing and opening his jacket to reveal a pistol and a knife. “We need to talk, Dean. Alone.”
A wave of déjà vu washed over Dean, but the sight of the weapons was more pressing; he knew something had been strange about the way this guy had approached him.
“Please.” The man tilted his head at the office door, pulling Dean towards it.
“Hey, that’s fine, we’ll just step inside, and we’ll talk about whatever you want to talk about, alright?” Dean opened the door, and when they were inside, the man let go of Dean’s wrist and reached for his phone. Once he’d received it, he made quick work of drawing a symbol on the inside of the door in what appeared to be blood, though Dean didn’t see him bleeding.
Dean was internally bemoaning the damage to his door when the man spun around and pulled the gun out.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Dean jumped back, bumping into his desk, and reaching back to balance himself. “I don’t know who you are-”
“You call me Cas.” The man said evenly, walking towards him, gun remaining at his side.
“Okay, Cas. Cas, why don’t you put the gun down?” Dean was at an angle, leaning back away from Cas. He lifted his hands in front of him, trying to placate the crazy man who kept walking towards him until their shoes were almost touching. Dean was surprised when Cas placed the gun in Dean’s right hand.
“This is yours.” Cas sandwiched the gun between their palms, pressing it in so that Dean felt the full weight of it as the other man spoke. “It has been modified, filled with rock salt. Keep it with you. If anything seems strange, you are to use it. You seem more comfortable with following orders now. Please…follow these.”
“Right.” Dean nodded, thinking that this was damn strange as far as he was concerned. Maybe this was a guy trying to commit suicide like the others, but too scared to do it himself. Was he just setting Dean up to shoot him?
“I would help you if I could. Even this is a risk.” Cas lifted his free hand to clasp Dean’s shoulder, and Dean tried to jump backward again, but he only succeeded in sliding backward until he was sitting on the desk. Cas looked into Dean’s eyes, and Dean was pretty sure all he saw there was Dean being absolutely freaked out. “Your instincts are there. Pay attention to them. Be safe.”
Cas sighed before letting go of the gun, stepping back slowly, as if expecting Dean to attack him. That was Dean’s instinct. Point the gun. Pull the trigger. Cas stood there, not saying anything, as if he was waiting for it.
Dean’s mind was all over the place, unsure if he should just call security, if he should shoot the guy, if this was some kind of a test.
“You’re a hunter, Dean. Hunt.” Cas said before disappearing from where he was standing and reappearing next to Dean so fast that Dean couldn’t even register what had happened.
Dean spun to his right and pulled the trigger. He watched as a white powder exploded from the gun, and a hole ripped through Cas’ trenchcoat directly over his heart. Dean hadn’t even had time to aim, and he’d hit the guy in the heart. Except Cas remained standing, as if the force of being hit hadn’t even affected him. Even if the gun really was just filled with rock salt, it should have done something, right?
“What the hell?” Dean panted, wondering if he was having a panic attack.
“Guess again.” Cas smiled for the first time during their conversation, and Dean was hit with that wave of déjà vu again.