Warnings and tags: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Hitman!Castiel, Hitman!Dean, escort!Dean, Fluff, Smut, Gore, Dean Winchester Wears Panties, Noir romcom, Rivals to Lovers
Summary: Castiel is The Shadow: an infamous hitman with a perfect record, a poison for every occasion, and absolutely no time for amateur hitmen who steal his jobs and look like underwear models while doing it. Dean Winchester is a loud, gorgeous problem with a messy approach to murder-for-hire, a long criminal rĂ©sumĂ©, and a habit of stealing Castielâs jobs⊠and his attention. When Dean ends up on Castielâs hitlist - thatâs one way to hit a man up - the plan goes sideways. The poison ends up in the wrong hands (and veins), and what shouldâve been a quick in-and-out turns into a candlelit dinner, bad decisions, and a lot of sexual tension⊠And the in-and-out part? Well, it turns out to be less about murder. A dark-roast rom-com about rival assassins, professional pride, and toxic shock that turns out to not be so toxic after all.
Excerpt: The good news: Castiel finds his target. The bad news: said target is already dead, blood and brains splattered across his Egyptian cotton sheets on his king-size bed. It reminds him of the Rorschach test they made him take back in school. All he ever saw back then was death and destruction too. Go figure. Again, this job was high-profile, but it was supposed to be simple. Actually â Castiel sneaks a glimpse at his watch â he couldâve been on his way home by now, job well done. Instead, heâs staring at someone elseâs second-grade artwork. A gun with a silencer. Whoever this person is, they probably eat the fucking crayons. How is he going to explain this to his client? Itâs not uncommon for clients to hire more than one hitman â if they really want their scorned lover, business rival, or mother-in-law dead, they might hire up to a handful. Castiel has run into colleagues mid-job before. He has just never actually been beaten. Heâs mad. Furious, actually. And he has a cyanide-flavored needle on his person. He has a temper, but before he gets into unprompted (and unpaid(!)) homicide, he should determine which inexperienced, good-for-nothing newbie just beat him at his own game. The Shadow doesnât get outshined. Out-shadowedâŠ? He mentally locates the lancing pen in his pocket â the one containing a needle dipped in poison. He might not kill for sport, but thereâs an armed professional somewhere in the apartment. Or â who knows â a serial killer. The flush of the toilet sounds from the ensuite bathroom, and when Castiel turns toward the sound, he finds himself face to face with⊠a killer?
This guy is too cute to be a killer. Itâs gritty, dirty work. Itâs immoral, unethical, perverse. This supermodel with the face of ancient artwork shouldnât be here. With a silenced gun. âOh, hey. Sorry, I already ate the chocolate on his pillow,â the stranger says easily. Castiel stares at him. âGobsmackedâ doesnât even begin to cover it. He studies the stranger as said stranger opens Romanâs closet and starts browsing his suits. âYouâre getting DNA everywhere,â Castiel grits out. âDonât care, sweetheart,â the stranger says, throwing a sassy smile over his shoulder at Castiel.
[...]
ââŠHello,â Castiel says. âYouâre on my list.â He can hear Dean grin when he replies. âOh yeah, I put myself there.â âYou did what?â Castiel asks. âHad to get your attention somehow,â Dean says, and Castiel swears he can hear him wink through the phone. Castiel blinks at nothing, not sure how to reply to that. âCome and get me, big boy,â Dean teases and hangs up.
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