Destiel prompt: Badass, very smart, MOL librarian! Cas and Hunter! Dean. (Bonus point if both have messed up pasts. For example, Cas, like Mick, was an orphan who was found by the BMOL) (Bonus points x2 if Eileen is a hunter who hunts with Sam and Charlie is an IT girl who is Cas's best friend)
Couldn’t fit all your prompt in, but I tried! Hope you like it!
“You don’t have to like it, Castiel,” Dr. Hess said sternly. “You only have to do it. It’s one hunt.”
“But the Winchesters,” Castiel began. Dr. Hess immediately cut him off. She glared at him over her bifocals.
“Have you forgotten that I saved you?” she asked. “I could have left you on the street as a child, to die of starvation or disease. I took you in. Trained you.You’re one of the best Men we’ve got, but obstinance will not be tolerated. Is that understood?”
Castiel gritted his teeth. He looked to his feet. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. Now, what are you still doing here?”
The Men of Letters had been watching the Winchesters for some time. They were good hunters, for Americans. Brutal, inefficient at times, but they got the job done. That didn’t mean Castiel wanted to work with them.
Dean Winchester was about Castiel’s age, though he dressed and acted like he was still a twenty-something smhmuck. He winked at the waitress and ordered a meal that made Castiel’s blood pressure rise.
“What?” Dean said over his burger. “I need the protein.”
Castiel just shook his head and looked back at his laptop. “If the pattern follows, the next werewolf attack will be tomorrow. We need to get moving.”
“Dude, it’s a werewolf. I can take one out in my sleep.” Dean talked with his mouth full and sucked the sauce of his fingers. “God, why’d they have to stick me with the librarian?”
“No offense dude. I’m sure you’re nice and smart, but this is the big boy’s playground. Okay? You know all the books, that’s nice, but it’s nothing like being out in the field.”
Castiel chewed on his lips. “I’ve been with the Men of Letters since I was twelve. I’ve been hunting just as long. Trust me, Mister Winchester. I have my experience out in the field.”
Dean chewed for a moment. “Okay then.” He grinned. “Guess you’ll show me what you’ve got then.”
Okay, so maybe it wasn’t a good idea to piss off the hot librarian, especially when they were supposed to be working together, but in Dean’s defense, he didn’t know. Sam and Eileen were on an extended date night, and with the Men of Letters coming into America more and more, they insisted Dean have a partner on this case they found.
They were staked out, waiting for any sign of the werewolf. Castiel had his gun of silver bullets ready by his side. He was looking through a pair of binoculars.
“So,” Dean said, clearing his throat, hoping to break the awkward silence. “How did the Men of Letters find you?”
“On the street,” Castiel said.
“My parents supposedly died when I was a child. I don’t anything about them. I’d been living on the streets for as long as I could remember when Dr. Hess found me.”
“Oh,” Dean said. Castiel didn’t offer anything else. “You know, this is where you ask me about how I got into the life.”
“I know how you got into the life,” Castiel said. “The Men have an entire file on you.”
“Your mother was killed in a mysterious accident when you were four. The police report said it was an accidental fire, but you know that it was a demon, Your father took you and your brother hunting from then on, while falling further and further into into a depressive alcoholic state until he too died by a demon’s hand.”
Dean swallowed. Okay. Hearing his past spilled out like that, so perfunctory, hurt a little, but he was an adult. He opened that can of worms.
Castiel did have a nice voice, at least. Low and deep, it was a nice rumble.
“I see movement,” Castiel said. Dean stood up, reaching for his own gun. Castiel pointed towards something and Dean saw the movement. It was fast, the figure tall and lanky. Dean cocked his gun.
They raced down the hill, guns ready. Dean’s heart beat in his chest. For the first time, he began to feel nervous. He rarely hunted with anyone other than Sam. He and Sam had developed all sorts of silent communication: hand signals, a look in the eye, nods. He didn’t know this Castiel guy. He had a vague idea of how the Men of Letters worked, but he hadn’t worked with them before. Dean only had Castiel’s word on how good a hunter he was.
The werewolf darted in front of Dean suddenly. It zoomed past Dean, but it managed to catch Dean off balance. He tripped over his feet and tumbled down the rest of the hill. Castiel couldn’t stop to assist–he had to get the werewolf. Dean grunted. He was okay, but he was going to be bruised in the morning.
He heard Castiel fire a shot. The werewolf growled again. Dean could see its yellow eyes piercing through the night. He fumbled for his gun, ignoring the burn in his shoulder.
“Dean,” Castiel said. The tone in his voice made Dean freeze. “Don’t move.”
Castiel stood off with the werewolf. It was straight out of one of Dean’s Western movies. The werewolf was growling and foaming at the mouth. Its hair was standing on end.
Werewolves were fast. If Castiel reached for his gun, the werewolf would lunge before he could fire the shot.
Castiel tapped his fingers against his thigh and suddenly Dean understood. The werewolf wasn’t looking at him.
Castiel reached for his gun. The werewolf lunged, knocking Castiel to the ground, hard, snarling and snapping. Dean grabbed his gun and fired. The shot echoed in the night. The werewolf was still on top of Castiel.
“Cas?” Dean put his gun up and raced towards his ally.
“I’m okay,” Castiel groaned, shoving the dead werewolf off him. His face was scratched and bleeding sluggishly. Dean got to his knees. He gingerly touched the wound. Castiel hissed.
Dean took off his outer jacket and bundled it up. He pressed it to the wound.
“Guess I owe you an apology,” Dean said. “That was pretty badass, letting the thing attack you like that.”
“For a librarian.” Dean grinned and was surprised to see Castiel return it. Then he noticed for the first time how blue Castiel’s eyes were. They sparkled, full of adrenaline.
“You’re not so bad yourself, Dean,” Castiel said. “For a hunter.”
“So, job well done?” Dean helped Castiel to his feet. Dean slowly pulled his jacket off Castiel’s wound. It didn’t look like it would need stitches, but head wounds always bleed forever. He pressed the jacket back to the wound.
“Job well done.” Castiel grabbed Dean’s collar and pulled him closer. He kissed Dean. He tasted sweet and Dean returned the kiss enthusiastically.
When they broke, Dean gulped for air. “Well, that was a pleasant surprise.”
Castiel grinned. “Don’t get used to it,” he said and let go. “Come on. Let’s go.”
Dean decided that these Men of Letters probably weren’t so bad after all.
