Who: Dean Winchester
100deaths_a_day; Dante
albinoidiot [closed]
What: Well, it looks like it's time for some honesty between these two.
Where: Roof of the complex
When: 9th of January
Warning: Their mouths. MANLINESS. TESTOSTERONE.
Status: Incomplete"
(
Honesty is the best policy u.u HOW MUCH WILL BE HERE THOUGH?! )
For almost a month now he had been rolling with a crowd. Willow had guessed his lineage the minute they had met but Dean hadn't. Dean had been Dante's first normal friendship. They weren't business partners in the world of mercenaries, he wasn't some guy that Dante had to hide himself from, he had been a legitimate human. They had hanged out like friends and now he felt it was strained.
Why were they both so worried about this conversation? Seriously?
Alcohol obtained, he had just heard that final ping of the elevator telling him he had reached the roof. It hadn't snowed in a while so the floor was clear. He ignored several floating bots as he made his way towards Dean letting the bags he had filled with several strong liquors go. He had a stern face, out of being nervous.
"Rest assured, this stuff is nice and cold." He muttered pointing at the drinks.
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"so... Demons. It's my job to know about them. It's been my job for a while, actually. I've been interested in them since I was a kid. Family buisness, and all that crap."
"You didn't sound awfully surprised when I said about them... more that I knew. I think someone else has some explaining to do."
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"For you information, I just recently learn about all this crap." He lied. Oh he so definitely lied. "I've gotten close to Willow and she told me about what she was and... then I just started asking questions."
And that was all he was going to say on the subject. He didn't need to lie to Dean more than he was all ready lying to him.
"What do you mean family business. Like, passed on through generations or some sort of problem started it or..."
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Not that he was going to give more then that away. He didn't understand why he was so compelled to tell him very little of the truth, but at least the alcohol could be blamed now?
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"So you've gotten a lot of action, hu?" He took a long swig of the bottle. "You know Willow's not a demon, right? What the hell we're you thinking. I doubt demons can die with just bullets."
And now he was trying to figure out what had compelled the guy to aim a gun at a potential demon. He had seen too many people fall because they assumed that was the way to take one out. If Dean was a hunter as he said, he'd know better.
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Swig. A long one. "And what the hell was I thinking? I was thinking to be safe. I know she's not now, but black eyes are the sign of demon possession where I'm from. The main sign, anyway." Mix that with a little antsy-ness and the belief growing up that everything supernatural was generally evil, and should be killed, and it was a disaster waiting to happen. Grey areas were a fairly new thing too him, considering how long he'd been at this job.
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"Must have been tough, I reckon. Living your life knowing there's something out there." Dante responded more to himself than to Dean. He knew that feeling, he knew how it felt to carry the weight of the world while people passed by with not a care in the world. While other men worried about their job or their love life or hell, buying a new car, Dante was always worried about humanity and whether the world was safe or not. "At least you weren't alone, right?"
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"What about you?"
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"I grew up on the streets, mom was killed when I was six. Dad had disappeared before hand so once she was gone my brother and I were left alone. Unfortunately, the same night I lost my mom I lost my brother. He didn't die or anything we just got separated. I somehow managed to survive and... I'm here now."
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"Starving. No place to live. No nice person to so much as give you a hello. It's fucking tough, I did my best. Got into the mercenary business.I'm not even that bad, aren't I? I'm a nice guy, good looking too."
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Dean's reaction to the truth was a bit strange to the devil. Most people flinched and frowned whenever he told them what he did for a living but this guy just bought it like it was an every day affair. It lifted some weight from his chest, he didn't care if he had partially lied. This just made things all the more easier. It's what the bro-code was all about.
"I'm too bad-ass to be an ass."
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And you make him chuckle again. "Not of their type of ass-ish-ness, anyway."
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