For @violetlyvanilla, the first place winner of my 1k fic giveaway!
Out on the very edges of the solar system, past the point where any civilian would dare to venture, Dean Winchester pilots the vessel 1MP4L4 towards one of the most notorious prisons in the galaxy.
Someone has to draw the short straw of doing the bi-monthly cargo run out to the prisoners and staff, and this time, that unlucky motherfucker is Dean. It’s a week-long trip in the old, slow spacecraft that the Alliance allocates to the lower-ranked corrections staff, and by now, Dean is so bored that he would give anything to be back at his desk filling out paperwork instead.
All it is is a routine cargo run.
At least, that’s what it was supposed to be.
Out of the emptiness of space, the prison slowly comes into view, a tiny speck that first blends in amongst the stars but finally solidifies itself as an actual structure. It’s remarkably unremarkable; dark metal against grey rock, built on a chunk of space debris orbiting an ancient moon. From looking at it, it’s almost impossible to discern that the prison houses only a small handful of the most dangerous enemies to the Alliance in the entire galaxy.
Dean knows better, though.
Once he’s almost in contacting distance, he settles himself into his pilot seat and buckles in, then prepares to engage the manual controls. Just an hour’s work of moving the cargo, and then he can begin the long trip back to civilisation. He rolls out his neck, reaches for the joystick, then flips the switch to engage his controls.
Nothing happens.
The ship doesn’t slow, doesn’t respond. The manual light doesn’t even turn on, so it’s not even pretending to be working. Instead, the 1MP4L4 continues to hurtle towards the prison at a speed suitable for interspace travel, but most certainly not ideal for approaching his destination, let alone a finicky docking routine.
“What the fuck,” Dean mutters, flicking the switch off and then on again. When it doesn’t work, he swears again, louder and more creatively. Dean reaches for the comms button and presses it with one hand, the other still frantically trying to engage the manual control. “Detainment Facility Delta, this is cargo envoy One-India-Miko-Four-Lima-Four, manual controls have failed and I cannot override the autopilot. I repeat, manual controls have failed and I cannot override the autopilot.” There’s no response, just crackling static from the prison’s end, but suddenly that becomes the least of Dean’s problems.
An error appears on his screen, and Dean’s eyes widen as he reads it.
Foreign control identified. Manual override unavailable.
“Mayday, mayday!” he shouts, trying every possible solution he knows as his ship hurtles towards the prison that is now growing rapidly larger in his front window. If he can’t shut it down, he’s royally fucked. This is not how he wanted to go—smashed into tiny pieces against the side of the most remote prison in the galaxy, just because his ship refused to obey him.
He’s frantic now, pressing any button that might even remotely help while shouting into his comms unit, but none of them help. In fact, none of them have any effect at all. Something else is in control of Dean’s ship now, and it’s all he can do to brace himself and hope that he makes it out alive.
The prison looms closer and closer, and the ship doesn’t stop, just keeps hurtling directly towards the prison wall. Dean watches as he passes through the outer shield, the gravity zone, the oxygen bubble. There’s no hope, now.
He braces himself against the control panel and closes his eyes—
The ship brakes at the very last second, just enough to lessen the impact slightly, but it’s far too late.
There’s a bang, and a split second where Dean feels all his forward momentum just stop, and then everything goes black.
~
The dust is slow to clear as Castiel Novak stands in the very back corner of his cell and uncovers his face to reveal the aftermath of the crash.
His little computer, cobbled together from reused tele-screen and cleaning robot parts, lies discarded in the corner, no longer of use. It served its purpose of hacking into both the mainframe of the cargo ship and in overriding the locking mechanism of his cell, and now freedom is within his grasp.
The dust from his half-destroyed cell wall settles to reveal the nose of the cargo ship where it intrudes into Castiel’s cell. The old ships are slow but sturdy, and Castiel had hoped that it would be enough to break through, but actually seeing his success is so much more invigorating than he could ever have planned.
The front window looks a little cracked, and he can see the silhouette of the pilot inside, slumped in his chair, but neither of those facts concern him right now. As long as everything holds together long enough for him to make it to the nearest port and disappear, he’ll be home scot-free.
Not wanting to waste any time before the wardens arrive at his cell and find that it can’t be unlocked, Cas clambers over the stones from the wall and hits the button for the ship’s hatch to open. For the first time in six months, he’s going to be free again, and he can’t wait.
He’s quick to make his way through to the cockpit, barely giving the pilot a second glance as he leans over the control panel and does a quick assessment of the damage. Cracked window, as he’d suspected, and a few failed shield-points, but nothing crucial to his escape. “You’re a sturdy lady,” he murmurs, then sets about priming the ship for take-off.
Now that Castiel’s device is no longer blocking communications, the warden’s voice and threats come crackling through the speakers, but he simply switches them off. He needs to focus, despite the satisfaction in hearing that he’s bested the Alliance once again.
The ship’s computer lights up, telling Castiel that he’s ready to depart, and he can’t keep the grin off his face as he wraps his fingers around the joystick. He’d told the wardens that they wouldn’t be able to hold him, and they’d laughed at him, but now…
Once again, all of space is his oyster.
Castiel pulls back on the joystick, settles into the controls of his stolen ship, and gives the prison a middle finger salute as he speeds away.
~
It’s only once he’s been flying for about an hour and put a decent amount of distance between himself and the prison that Castiel lets himself consider the man still strapped into the pilot’s seat behind him.
From the shallow rise and fall of his chest, it’s clear that he’s still alive, at least, but whether he was injured in the crash, Cas can’t be sure. There’s a cut on his forehead that’s been bleeding sluggishly, and he still hasn’t come to, but the longer he can stay unconscious, the better that is for Castiel.
Unfortunately, the guy doesn’t stay out for long.
Castiel has just finished tying his hands together behind the chair when he begins to stir, his head lolling and eyelashes fluttering. He’s pretty, Castiel had noticed earlier—skin dotted with freckles, nice cheekbones, full lips. And when his eyes open, slowly and hazed with confusion…
They’re a shade of green that Castiel hasn’t seen in so long that it takes his breath away.
“What th’ fuck…”
Castiel takes a sharp step back as the man’s bleary gaze focuses on him. The guy squints, his nose crinkling, and in that moment before the realisation kicks in, he’s truly beautiful.
And then his eyes widen, and he sucks in a quick breath.
“Castiel Novak.”
Castiel should have known that his reputation would precede him, especially among those who work for the Alliance. Hell, he’s been paid to kill so many of their corrupt administration so many times that he’d be surprised if he wasn’t mentioned in the training of new cadets as public enemy number one. But seeing this beautiful man close off before his eyes…
It stings a little.
“That’s me,” he says, lips quirking up in a quick, tight smile. “And you are?”
The man pulls against the ropes binding his hands—sluggishly, like he still isn’t fully conscious yet—and scowls. “Winchester,” he bites out after a few moments. Castiel raises his eyebrow and waits patiently for a handful more seconds, until the guy adds a reluctant;
“…Dean.”
“Well, Dean,” Castiel says, turning back towards the control panel. “Nice to meet you. I wish it wasn’t under these circumstances, but…” He shrugs one shoulder, tapping the computer screen and making a few adjustments to the autopilot’s trajectory. “Desperate times and all that. And now that you’re aiding and abetting my escape, I doubt you really want me to let you go. So I’m very sorry, but you’re stuck with me.”
The guy—Dean—blinks at him. Castiel hopes that it’s the concussion slowing his thought processes and not the fact that he’s been saddled with an idiot, otherwise he’s going to let him off at the nearest port, pretty face or not.
“You’re really that dangerous that the Alliance would rather kill me than accept me back into their ranks, huh?” Dean says quietly, leaning his head back against the chair and watching Castiel with an unreadable expression.
Castiel rolls his eyes and leans one hip against the control panel—he doesn’t miss the way Dean’s gaze follows the movement, or the way his eyes flick over his silver jumpsuit, to his lips, up to his eyes. Interesting. “Trust me, Dean,” he murmurs, “I’m more dangerous than anyone you’ve ever met. If you want to be let off at the next station and risk your luck with the Alliance, fine by me. But I’ve killed members of the Alliance, and I’ve killed for members of the Alliance, so you might want to listen when I tell you that you’re better off sticking with the interplanetary assassin than you are going back to your employers. Especially if they think you were even partly responsible for my escape.”
Dean stares at him, his thoughts clearly processing behind those pretty green eyes. It’s a lot to lay on someone all at once—and to be honest, Castiel isn’t even really sure why he’s giving the guy this option. He should just be getting rid of him, but there’s something about this man; whether it’s his attractiveness or the way he’s watching Castiel, thoughtfully, with an edge behind his eyes that suggests that he might be able to keep up with Cas instead of slowing him down.
Either way, he’s intrigued.
For a few long moments, the only sound between them is the humming of the ship’s engine and the quiet whirr of the control panel. Dean bounces his leg as he thinks, but his gaze never leaves Castiel’s face.
Finally, he nods. “Yeah,” he says, quietly at first, and then more decisively. “Yeah, okay. I’ll stay with you at least until I see how the Alliance reacts to your escape—but if I change my mind, you’ll let me go, yeah?”
Castiel shrugs, allowing himself a pleased smile at Dean’s decision. “Of course. But—“
He cuts himself off as the computer screen flashes with an Alliance-issued emergency announcement. Two photos flash up: one of Castiel’s mugshot, and the other of Dean’s staff ID photograph. Dangerous fugitives, the text reads. Apprehend at all costs.
Dean pales slightly as he stares at his own photograph, whereas Castiel just chuckles. He pats Dean on the thigh as he circles around the chair, then pulls his knife out of his belt and slices through the ropes binding Dean’s hands.
“Would you look at that,” he murmurs next to Dean’s ear. “Looks like you’re an outlaw now.”
