Chapter Text
The cement floor was fucking cold on Dean’s ass.
Sighing, he shifted position where he sat on the floor, crossing and recrossing his ankles. His back was flat against the wall of the small basement cell he was locked in, facing towards the stairs of the decrepit room. Could this space really be called a basement? It was pretty damn small, barely bigger than a small bedroom. Maybe calling it a cellar would be a better fit?
Christ. Not like it really fucking mattered. There was nothing in this cell except for the small twin sized mattress (which, rude, Dean was an adult man thank you very much, although that was out of said basement owners preference), a fucking bucket (real original) and the bars of the cell. Blank, white, sterile walls were his only other company as he stared at the stairwell harder, glare sharpening.
He was bored and a bored Dean. Well, that wasn’t good for anyone. It definitely wouldn’t be good for the asshole who had locked him up.
Dean had no one to blame for his current situation for himself, really. He may have gotten a tad over excited and sloppy. Seriously, considering he had been doing this for the better part of a decade (or was it longer? Time was hard to tell sometimes, it’s not like he had a fucking job where he had to wear a monkey suit and be up and at it Monday to Friday, he didn’t always pay attention to when or even where he was unless he was hunting). Regardless, he had been doing this long enough he should know better. Dean wasn’t known as the Righteous Man for no reason, one of the most active serial killers currently operating in the good old United States of America. The serial killer who specifically hunted and killed other serial killers, and other monsters too.
But. Well. He just really hated this guy specifically.
Alastair was the bastard in question, and he was his least favorite type of monster. The man liked young boys, and he specifically went after underage prostitutes. The kind of victim the police didn’t really give a shit about, and well, Dean knew what it was like to be on the other side of that.
Once, long ago, Dean had done what he needed to do to survive, to take care of his brother when his father couldn’t, wouldn’t. The fact Alastair took advantage of them, those kids who were only doing exactly what they needed to survive? Yeah. That made Dean fucking mad.
Hence, his slip up. And subsequent capture. Alastair had been a little too thrilled with capturing the Righteous Man. Which, Dean would like to clarify was not a name that he came up with himself thank you very much.
Sighing once again, Dean tilted his head skyward (Roof ward?). Considering he was in a basement he wasn’t sure exactly how long he’d been here but if he had to guess, he’d say probably less than a week. He hadn’t seen the bastard since, and while the hunger was getting annoying, it wasn’t at like, unsafe levels yet. Still, damn Dean would kill for a fucking burger. At least hunger wasn’t something he was unfamiliar with, though it had been many years since he had been subjected to the feeling to this intensity.
Ah, well. Dean figured Alastair would get impatient eventually.
As if on cue, the basement door swung open. A part of Dean tensed, his muscles ready to leap into action but Dean knew better. He forced himself not to move, to remain at least a picture of calm.
Until a body was flung down the stairs.
Dean blinked.
Blinked again.
“Well that's new,” he mused out loud to himself. And then he realized it was Alastair. He hummed, jumping to his feet. “Definitely new.”
A set of footsteps started down the steps and he waited with bated breath, not quite sure what the hell was going on but eh. He’d learned to roll with the punches.
And boy, what a punch this was.
It hit him right in the gut even.
The man walking down the stairs was beautiful. Dean couldn’t tell at first. All he saw was a ridiculously clean pair of black oxford shoes, and really? Then black slacks that were covering a pair of thick thighs. A black long sleeved turtle neck (which, hilarious murder outfit, and hot. Very, very hot). Not to mention that broad chest, those shoulders.
And that was before his face. Dean could feel his sharp inhale as it came into view. Five o’clock shadow, sharp jaw, wild messy sex hair…
And blue. Blue, blue eyes.
Those eyes caught on him, and they blinked back at him. Even from here Dean could see the shadow of his eyelashes as they kissed his high cheekbones.
“Well, you’re not his type.”
Jesus fuck that voice. Whiskey on the rocks and the gravel road under his Baby’s wheels.
This was a very inconvenient time to pop a semi.
“What are you doing here?” The stranger asked, tilting his head. It gave him the look of a curious bird which was so out of sorts to the fact that he was wearing that outfit, and you know. Pushed Alastair down the stairs. Into Alastair's murder basement.
“Oh, I just like to lock myself in pedophiles’ basements for fun. What, you don’t have hobbies?” Dean quipped back, unable to help himself as he felt the wide grin cross his face.
Blue eyes blinked and his eyes narrowed. “Hilarious.”
“I know, I’ve been told.” Dean added a wink and watched as the hot ass stranger rolled his eyes, somehow managing to roll his whole body with the movement. Dean was impressed.
“Why are you here?” Dean asked.
“Oh, I just like to break into pedophiles' homes and push them down the stairs for fun,” the man quipped back.
Dean barked a laugh. “Good pastime, can’t blame you for that one.”
Blue eyes sparkled at him. “It could certainly be worse.”
“Like being locked behind bars. Hey, think we could fix that?” Dean felt like his face was going to split from how wide he was grinning. What a turn this had taken.
“You know, you’re being remarkably calm for a man locked in a basement, witnessing someone pushing a body down the stairs.”
“Dude I was fucking locked up by him, you think I give a shit if someone pushes him down some stairs?”
Blue Eyes paused, hand scrubbing across his jaw. Dean stared at the movement, god this guy was hot. So very, unfairly hot.
“I suppose that's a fair point,” Blue Eyes finally said.
Dean was undeniably curious about this man. Something inside of him felt like it was reaching out towards Blue Eyes, a pull he felt deep in his gut and couldn’t explain. Dean knew he was fify shades of fucked up, this certainly wasn’t the weirdest thing he’d ever experienced. It wasn’t even the first time he’d felt an undeniable pull towards a stranger, though that one he had never met, not really…
Blue eyes were staring into green, and Dean could almost feel that thread between them going taunt, he was pretty sure Blue Eyes could feel it too. Dean opened his mouth to say something, he wasn’t even sure what when a groan from the prone body next to the stranger interrupted him.
Right. Dean had almost forgotten about Alastair.
Blue Eyes moved so fast Dean almost missed it during his blink, and suddenly he was grabbing Alastair by the collar of his shirt. He slammed Alastair into the ground, once, hard and holy shit. His head cracked against the floor, not enough to kill him Dean knew from experience, but at least enough to make him be quiet so they could continue talking.
His semi turned into a fully erect cock so fast he almost felt dizzy with it. His sharp inhale caught Blue Eyes attention and that gaze flew up to him. Well. To his erection.
That gaze sharpened and one dark brow rose slowly. His gaze dragged up Dean’s body and it felt like a physical caress against his skin, until a heated gaze was locked back onto Dean’s face.
“Really?” he asked dryly.
Dean shrugged. “Not even sorry man.”
The chuckle that earned caused goosebumps to flash over his skin and Dean licked his lips. “Where were we on getting me out of here?” His voice was notably deeper and raspier.
“I suppose I could be persuaded, but how do I know you won’t go to the cops?”
Dean looked at the stranger. He felt his own brows rising incredulously as he looked at the hot ass stranger with those god damn eyes and slowly dragged his eyes to Alastair. Who was still wearing his police uniform, obviously having just got home from work. He gave Blue Eyes a pointed look.
“Gee. Seems like a really reasonable idea.”
Blue Eyes gave a real laugh at that and Dean almost moaned at the sound. “Fair point. You know where the keys are?”
“Oh yes. He was real original. Check his key ring, shirt pocket.”
Blue Eyes dug into the pocket and pulled out the key ring. He stood slowly and god. Dean felt electric as he watched him stand up, he could just tell the power that lay underneath those clothes that all but strained against his form and boy he wanted that all over him. It was strange, it had been quite awhile since he’d felt desire. Even longer since he’d acted on it. Every step towards Dean was deliberate and he had the strangest thought that this was a defining moment in his life. He’d had a few.
The first was the fire that he had carried his brother out when he was four. The second was the first time he had ever sold his body to provide for Sam. The third was the first kill he had made when he was seventeen, feeling his fathers blood running down his skin, covering his hands. Washing it away had been a revelation, a monumental change.
Point is, Dean had had many moments that had felt this way. Somehow, this one felt even more important.
The clang of the lock pulled him out of his thoughts and as the cell slowly slid open, Dean took careful steps out. Every step forward, Blue Eyes stared back, not moving an inch. He stayed right there, letting Dean advance towards him.
“What’s your name?” Dean was breathless.
“Seems a bit of a bad idea to share those, don’t you think?” Blue Eyes sounded just as affected as Dean came to a stop in front of him, so very close.
“Fine. Your alias then.” Dean was uncomfortably close to begging, he just had to know who he was.
That dark brow flew up again. “How do you know I have one?”
Dean felt the way his lips slowly curled up into a wicked smile. “Let’s say, one artist can always recognize another.”
Dean got the satisfaction of seeing Blue Eye’s pupils blow wide at the words, lust running across his expression. They weren’t touching, but were so close that Dean could feel the heat radiating off of him.
“I’ll even go first,” Dean offered. “To be fair, it isn’t what I picked for myself, keep that in mind.”
“I won’t hold it against you,” Blue Eyes promised, eyes sweeping across his face.
“The Righteous Man.” Dean felt his expression twist as the words came out. He hated the name, and didn't feel like it fit but well, the papers had given it to him.
Blue Eyes gasped and Dean smiled at the reaction, enjoying the surprise, and something else that was deeper and Dean couldn’t hope to name with how brief it was, that was flicking across his face. “I assume you’ve heard of me?” Dean couldn’t quite keep the smugness out of his voice.
“Yes,” Blue Eyes breathed and then Dean was the one who was surprised. He grabbed the lapels of Dean’s leather jacket and pulled hard until their bodies slammed into one another . Dean let out a surprised sound but that was soon swallowed. Hot, demanding lips were consuming him and Dean’s head spun. He didn’t know what this was, but it felt like there was a click somewhere deep inside him, a space that had always been hollow suddenly not anymore. Maybe not hollow, maybe that space never had been, but waiting for this.
The tongue tracing his lips caused a moan to escape Dean and Blue Eye’s took advantage. That tongue swept inside, dominating, claiming and Dean was lost. All he could do was grip the man's hips, kissing him back with everything he had.
They separated minutes, hours, god maybe a lifetime later. Dean didn’t know. Didn’t give a fuck. He felt undeniably changed in a way he’d only felt with one other person.
Finally, Blue Eyes pulled back. He looked fucking debauched and Dean was so hard it was painful. His cheeks were flushed pink, lips swollen and spit slick. There was only a ring of blue around his pupils and he was smiling so wide and beautiful.
“Dean,” Blue Eye’s breathed. Dean felt his whole body tense for a second before it hit him.
There was only one person who would know that was his name and who his alias was.
Five years ago, Dean had found himself in a bit of… friendly competition with another serial killer. He had been labelled the Angel of Death, and like Dean, they both had a preference for the evils of the world. The first time Angel had stolen a kill from him, Dean had been pissed. By the third time, Dean had been intrigued. It didn’t take him long after that to figure out that Dean had done the same, stolen Angels kills from him. Eventually, Dean had started noticing the signs of when Angel was close, and with those victims instead of disposing of them like he usually did well…
Five years was a long time to leave love letters to someone Dean was pretty sure was the love of his life.
It had only been a year since Dean had started leaving the clues for Angel. He had known it was a risk but after four years of their game, and never meeting him, well. Dean couldn’t care, had to take the risk. And it had been worth it, because as soon as he had finished spelling out his name, he had gotten one in return.
“Cas?” Dean breathed.
Lips were on him again. This was hilarious, since Dean had actually been planning to use Alastair's death to start another message.
A message to Cas, a place to meet because he had been ready to meet his angel, and now he was here , in Dean’s arms.
Dean started laughing against Cas’ lips, pulling back with a wild grin. “This is fucking crazy. I can’t believe you’re here.”
Cas was smiling back, just as wide. “I can’t either.” A frown flitted across his face. “Wait, how did you get caught?”
Dean huffed a laugh, one hand coming to rub at the back of his neck. “Got kind of… impatient. You know how I feel about the perverts.” And surprisingly, despite the fact they had never actually talked Dean knew this was true. “Funnily enough, I was going to use him for exactly this.”
Cas titled his head, hand creeping up to cup Dean’s face. “What do you mean?”
Dean felt his face suddenly heat and knew that his face was turning red. “Well, uh… Well. I was going to give you coordinates.”
An answering flush was creeping across Cas’ face. “Really?”
Dean shrugged. “If you were interested in meeting me.”
Alastair groaned again and Dean shot him a scowl. He really needed to stop fucking interrupting them.
Cas turned to face him, before turning back to Dean, licking his lips. “How about we deal with this, and then maybe you can still give me those coordinates?”
Dean pulled Cas close, brushing his nose across Cas cheekbone to speak into his ear. “Yeah?”
Cas shuddered, breath hitching. “Yeah.”
Dean pulled back with a smile. “Okay, angel. Let me see you work.”