#criminal!cas

He entered the bedroom as Dean's dom, collected and completely put together, calm, even though he wanted to grab the man at his neck again and throw him into something for being dumb enough to take Castiel for a fool. Instead he tossed the well used pair of handcuffs at the naked figure kneeling next to the bed, watches him catch them single-handed. There was a short, slightly confused glance upwards that made Castiel's eyes harden as he nodded a single time. Dean scrambled to is feet, a second later he was on the bed, fumbling to wrap the cuffs around the bar at the headboard, clicking them shut around both wrists. Eager, but it didn't impress Castiel anymore, he didn't let it impress him, even as a familiar warmth floods his chest.

Now was not the time for pride. It was time to take out his gun and set it down on the bedside table, a silent threat, a stern warning. Dean's gaze shot up again, this time not just slightly confused, but Castiel ignored it as he settled down on the bed right next to his sub, not touching him. Just waiting a few moment until the realization hit that this was not a scene by all means.

"Cas, what's the-" "Your assignment's still active. You are still active." A few minutes of silence again until Dean's brows twitched and he groaned. "Course I am! Told them I'd try and infiltrate your circle, find out who you're working with, where your hideouts are. Needed more time after our first encounter, more time and a heart still beatin' to get near you! You think I wanted them after me, too?" "I guess you expect me to believe you..." His answer was immediate and he got up slowly, reached for the gun, not intending to kill Dean right away. There was more to this, to him and that brother of his who'd vanished from the archives. However the situation at hand needed to be dealt with and he wasn't yet sure what exactly the right course of action would be.

"For the record: I don't. Not a word. I think you've lied to me all this time. They'd never let someone who failed their job as miserably as you did work on something the like. You've been set up for this from the start, am I right? Oh you're good, so much better than you acted the first time we met. Of course, part of the plan. Should've just killed you right in that alley."

Castiel started pacing, the gun clutched tightly at his side to keep his fingers from trembling. "I also think there's no Sam Winchester. You wanted to lead me right into a trap, correct? But why not just - ohhh." Suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks and spun around to look at Dean, still naked and chained to the bed, intently listening to the words of his almost-partner, blinking lazily. "They don't want me dead."

For a second he just stared at the other man, thoughts racing. Then he stormed out of the bedroom, threw the door shut behind him, ignored the voice calling "Wait Cas, I can ... Cas, where're you going?" The number was dialed as soon as he held the phone in his hand. Four or five times the free-line signal beeped, made him more and more nervous each time until he was pacing again, up and down the short corridor, then into the living room where he threw the gun aside and pulled the laptop out.

"Cassie, what's the matter?", Balthazar sounded surprised and a little worried, never getting called by his cousin in the evenings. "They know about the chip. Dean's set up to infiltrate my circle and lure me into a trap, they don't want me dead, they want the chip back." Cramming the small phone between ear and shoulder he logged onto his computer and opened a program. "Wait, slow down. First: Told you he's a bastard. Second: What chip?" With just a few hot keys a list was loading, consisting of ten names with matching e-mail addresses, Gabriel, Meg and Balthazar among them. He pressed enter, sending ten identical e-mails out to the people on his list, e-mails written while he'd done his last big job, the one that earned him ten million dollars. E-mails to let his former partners know something crucial had come up.

It has only been three days when he got an e-mail from Samandriel. At least he thought it was from the hacker, not signed or any indication who might have sent it, but the words were so carefully chosen and stiff, there was no other person to reach him that way who sounded like they hyperventilated while typing a message. It was short, just a time and server he should break into, not the ones they agreed to share the gathered information on. Besides he'd given the boy five whole days, not just three and he knew the hacker did his work thoroughly. Maybe something had come up.

At seven o'clock that evening he opened the laptop he'd tucked away safely in the storeroom of the apartment. It was a habit to leave old but working computers and laptops in some of his apartments for when he might need them and today it seemed like his habit payed off once again. Dean was probably already kneeling in the bedroom when Castiel got ready to break through the firewall of the server and whatever security measures might lie after that and for a brief moment he wanted to leave the living room and join his dutiful sub. However this could be very important and he tended to address upcoming issues as soon as possible before giving in to his more carnal needs. Breaking into the server took him the better part of twenty minutes and he was actually slightly impressed when the screen flashed white except for elegantly curved letters appearing at the very bottom.

- This is Samadriel. I'm glad you could make it. Please do not worry about the accessibility to our conversation through any third party, I have taken care of everything. After we have finished here I will erase this server and any trace of our discussion with it.

He'd had guessed right after all, who would ask him to break into a server to exchange the current status but cute, blushing Samandriel. It was almost like he could read the trembling of those delicate fingers as clear as the words.

- Before we get started please confirm your identity by answering the following question: The very first time we worked together I asked you a favor. What was it?

Castiel smiled fondly when remembering their first encounter. At that time he'd been working for a big fish, industrial espionage, after that job he'd quit that line of work and began doing things his own way. Fingers already lying on the keyboard he began typing.

- After the job was finished you asked for a photograph, not of my face but my hands. You got it. Even though I got the impression what you really wanted was to be my sub for a night.

The sentence just appeared on the screen, the memory pulling the little detail with it to the surface and he liked the picture suddenly flashing in his head way too much to not hit send. The boy had blushed so prettily, stuttered, played with his fingers when he asked for that photograph, claimed he knew how awful it sounded and swore he'd never show it to anyone and Castiel had believed him in an instant. He'd given in to the boy's pleas because he'd simply seen no reason not to. What harm, could a photograph of hands do? And if the little hacker wanted to jerk off to it, imagine them wrapped around his slender neck, he saw no problem with it.

- I have not asked you to contact me so we can surround ourselves with old stories and assumptions.

So that was a yes then. Interesting. Until now Castiel was under the impression it had only been his set of mind that made the leap to Samandriel as a pretty sub. That boy sure would do great and whoever was allowed to give him what he needed was a lucky man. Or woman.

- You have confirmed your identity. Let us get to business.

- Sure.

- I have searched their every data base, public, protected, secret. There is nothing on either a Samuel, Sam or Sammy Winchester. Well, almost nothing. I found Sam Winchester listed under the apprentices of an instructor going by the name Ruby. After that the trail went cold, no further references to him.

What a curious turn of events. Typically the corporation was very strict and had a conservative way to archive all of their personnel, actions and any kind of business. Even the illegal ones. Finding nothing but a single listing of a name was more than unusual. Either Dean had lied to him or there was something the corporation wanted more than anything to hide...

- However I found several entries on Dean Winchester. Mostly normal assignments, racketeering and the like. But did you know he was sent to kill you?

- Yes, I am aware of that.

- The assignment is still listed as active and you know they keep the archive up to date and how they proceed with traitors, so you might want to have a word with your partner.

Few days later Castiel made four short calls, using three different mobile phones he bought in different shops and burned the SIM cards immediately after hanging up the last time.

Speaking with Gabriel didn't serve real purpose other than let him know his younger brother might have to step up a little bit, leave his ambushes and take care of some business. This call was too inform him it might get a little hairy and if he saw something about Castiel on the news, it didn't have to be because someone fucked up badly. Some help to get him back into hiding afterward, when everything had gone according to plan, would be greatly appreciated and was offered only a heartbeat before he had to explicitly ask for it.

The next man Castiel called was Samandriel, barely a man at all, blushing, freckled IT-boy at day, genius hacker at night or so they said. They hadn't spoken for ages and the boy sounded antsy and completely starstruck, still remembering that one time they worked together and Castiel had saved his cute ass with sheer luck and some willpower to match it. Samandriel would break into the corporation's network for him and find out any information they had on Samuel, Sam or maybe even Sammy Winchester, so they had something to work with when getting to make a plan that was worth sticking to. In addition, the IT-boy/genius hacker would get Castiel everything that could be found on Dean Winchester. Soon they'd no longer just have an affair but work together and Castiel liked to know everything there was to know about his partners, no matter how short the period of time he'd spend with them. Dean practically lived with him so maybe he'd better start getting his information together now. Samandriel stuttered a few confirmations and gave him a web address and exact time Castiel could break into the connection to download all the information he'd need, then the boy wished him luck, gave him three other numbers to call if something didn't work out and just hung up on Castiel, as he wanted to thank him for his help.

Balthazar was the third on his list. The conman obviously wasn't expecting his cousin to call so soon after their last encounter, a female voice mumbling something sweetly in the background and the rustling of sheets as she was assured with a soft voice that she wouldn't have to wait for long. When Castiel told him about his plan, all he got for a whole lot of five minutes was exasperated laughter and the sound of two doors closing. However he was having none of it and asked for another meeting in a week, to get over the rough draft of the plan and maybe work the information Samandriel should've gotten until then through, both on Sam and on Dean. Of course Balthazar agreed. After his last and until now considered final strike against the corporation Castiel hadn't even attempted to piss anyone off as badly as he planned to do now and his cousin wouldn't miss his chance of a front row seat. Their meeting would also determine whether something happened at all or if the risk was too great. Maybe Samandriel would find something on Dean and they'd have to kill him together - even though Castiel could do so very well on his own but knew Balthazar wouldn't let that opportunity slip either. So they soon had a time and date set, until then Balthazar would talk to a few more people and find out about the overall situation at hand.

The last name on his list was the last for no other reason than his utter resistance to call at all. Meg Masters had worked at the corporation for the better part of her life and knew it like no other employee ever would, including schedules of any kind and top secret information she had no business with at all. She was the one that helped him escape after his last intrusion and having her on their side was a better life policy than the help of Gabriel, Samandriel and Balthazar combined. However she would also want something in return and whatever it was, Castiel would be a lot more reluctant to give it to her than he had been calling her in the first place. There was no sign of surprise in her voice, only sweetness, as he outlined his intention as roughly as possible while giving her the best idea she needed to be a convenient ally. Of course she didn't tell him what she'd ask for once this job was done, she never did right away, only agreed and gave him two new ways to contact her as soon as the plan was set so they could arrange the details of her part.

When Castiel entered the bedroom of one of his fancier apartments in this part of town that night, Dean was already kneeling next to the bed, his head bowed nicely, the faintest smile on his lips. He knew what Castiel was willing to do for him by now and he took pride in it, rather than let it fuel arrogance and a reason to be smug. He'd be at his best tonight, he'd make Castiel proud. And Castiel wanted to be made proud after all.

Four days ago they'd left Atlanta in another stolen car and switched twice on their way to Washington, the first a new Mercedes, rather conspicuous, that Castiel kept for about half the way, the second and third older again, low-key.

His encounter with Balthazar went according to plan, they'd met up in a bar neither of them ever went to before, talked for about an hour and agreed on New York as the next meeting point, in a month, late august.

Dean had become more and more quiet on the trip. Where he'd asked questions about Castiel's approach of several difficulties they had to overcome, his past, his motives, his everything, he was silent but fast and efficient. Deadly even, that one time the cashier at the gas station had recognized Castiel and reached for the panic button. Before the elder could even draw his gun she fell backwards against the shelves behind the counter, a knife embedded in her chest. Within seconds Dean had rounded the counter, pulled the knife he'd thrown with impressing accuracy out of her ribcage and dragged her over to the supply closet he locked from the outside using her key, sliding it into his pocket afterwards. They left when he'd deleted the security footage, with a dispraising "I don't approve of violence if not strictly neccessary", from Castiel and a proud grin on Dean's face.

The sudden professionalism hadn't surprised him at all, he'd come to the conclusion that the boy had much more to offer than he'd ever shown, weeks ago. This evening, he would get a few long due answers. He took Dean out to a bar. Of course not just to show him a good time, have a few drinks and laughs and go back to the apartment come time for some casual sex - scening while intoxicated was never a good idea.

No, he wanted to teach him a lesson in knowledge of human nature, a reward for his appropriate behavior on their journey here. What was a better reward than something Dean craved every second they spend together, some snippet of Castiel's expertise? So he took him to a bar, sat them down in the far corner and began to talk, expecting no disruption. "Let us start adequate to the things I have told you so far. Remember the last time we went to the city and I asked you to observe the people around you. Remember how important it is to be aware of your surroundings at all times. Remember what I told you about causes of defect, how to detect them and avoid any distractions. Now take a look at the bartender and tell me what type he is. Only watch him for as long as I say, you never have much time. Stop."

Dean averted his gaze from the man behind the bar, currently talking with a rather inebriated woman. "He's in charge of this place, there's nothing going down here he doesn't know about and man, there are things going down here I tell you. He's watching the door, possibly waiting for someone but also pretends not to so maybe it's - "

He stops mid sentence and jumps to his feet, throwing himself at a man that's come gradually closer to their table since they arrived. Castiel had been aware of him but seen no reason to intervene until now that he suddenly pulled a gun from somewhere under his coat. Dean was faster though, knocking him to the ground with a heavy swing of his fist, the knife he used to kill the cashier clutched in his other hand. As soon as the gun hit the floor he kicked it back to Castiel who picked it up and shoved it into the deep pocket of his coat, watched by every pair of eyes currently occupying the room that had went from filled with conversations to dead silence in a matter of seconds. The fact that no one screamed or panicked said enough about this establishment.

Falling down to his knees Dean straddled the attacker's chest and pressed the sharp blade against his throat, causing a few drops of blood to spill. "Who sent you?", the growl was deep and animalistic, sending a pleasant chill down Castiel's spine as he watched the scene unfold with interest. A pained groan, a sharp blow to the face with his free hand, then a second time: "Who sent you?" The attacker had the audacity to grin and sputter a few unintelligible words, but no names. "You disgusting piece of scum better talk or I'll make you wish - "

That was enough. There was no doubt who'd sent the man, only one of his enemies was desperate enough to hire someone who'd do their job this poorly, in the middle of a crowded bar. Castiel stepped up, grabbed Dean's neck and pulled him up and out of the bar. They rounded a few corners, his hand remaining where it was, forcing Dean to stumble along next to him, spitting a string of curses and trying to wriggle out of his grip until he threw the boy roughly against a brick wall.

"Who are you really and what do you want from me?" He was sick of this game, sick of Dean pretending to be some poor lost boy looking for advice. They'd played long enough and now was time for some answers. "I will not ask again", he warned in a low voice, knowing what effect if had on the other man who still held the knife loosely in his hand but showed no signs of wanting to use it against him.

"Okay, I'll talk. But let me go." Castiel complied, well knowing it had no bad consequences for him. Dean actually put the knife away, not before wiping the blood off on his jeans, and took a deep breath.

"It's the same guys that're after you, some complicated bullshit I got myself into. Worked for them a few months. Point is, now they got my brother. I don't know where he is but have to get him out of there. Figured having you on my side might not hurt." It was a veiled plea for help, Dean's love for that brother of his clearly visible in his eyes even as he avoided looking at Castiel.

He did not yet know what to do with this plea, whether to agree to help him or kick him out to take care of this on his own. He moved in for a kiss nonetheless, drawn by that look in the man's eyes and in a way, there was already an answer in the manner their lips moved against each other, almost gentle, almost something near loving, assuring, almost a promise.

They have switched towns twice by now, the first time taking a train, thick sunglasses pushed up on their noses, scarves thrown around their necks. Then, after almost two weeks, Castiel had went and stole a car, an old, inconspicuous thing and drove them over to Chicago, ditching the car a few miles early and switching it for another they abandoned again as soon as they'd arrived in town.

He still didn't know why he took the risk of keeping Dean by his side, his company wasn't exactly pleasant most of the time, he was loud and nosy, asked way too many questions and left evidence wherever they went, for Castiel to clean up after him.

He also was the best sub Castiel ever had, stunningly beautiful, especially when kneeling at his master's feet. He was witty and enthusiastic and ever willing to please, submissive but far from meek, taking everything that was given to him and taking it with pride. Of course there were precautions to take care of. Castiel searched him every day for communication devices of any kind, never let him go out alone and locked him inside the bathroom when there was business to take care of on his own.

Most of all Dean was allowed to stay due to the thieve's excellent instincts that had never fooled him. They told him the boy could be trusted, if he kept him on a short leash and that he did - sometimes literally. He also had a feeling there was more to Dean wanting to be with him but admiration and the wish to learn from him. But time would reveal the little secret simmering deep down in his favorite pet. Someday he would spill what this was really about. Until then he knew his place and would thankfully take it, along with everything else Castiel gave him.

Today he'd left the boy chained to the bed instead of the heater next to the shower, when he went out to meet some informant. The people that had hired Dean and many more before to kill him seemed to have lost his trace somewhere back in Minneapolis, the second town he'd visited with Dean in tow. That was good news but also meant he'd better keep moving for another few cities as the radius of his possible whereabouts grew.

His informant, Balthazar, seemed concerned when he told him he wasn't traveling alone anymore but it was none of his business whose company Castiel sought. Nevertheless they agreed to meet up in Atlanta in three weeks, just to check in on each other. Balthazar was also on their most wanted list, now that he'd changed sides and confederated with Castiel. But he could take care of himself, maybe even better than his cousin could and there was no reason to worry about him. They parted ways after barely an hour, couldn't risk to be seen together even if there was little chance they already had someone onto them again.

Castiel returned early this evening to one of the two flats he'd rented in this town, the one he'd taken Dean to. There was no reason for the boy to know each and every one of his hideouts, just in case his instincts betrayed him and he turned out to be a threat after all. Dean was sat on the bed, cross legged, one of the few books Castiel left for him in the hand that wasn't chained to the bedpost. A quick glance and a black eyebrow was raised: The Divine Comedy. He hadn't exactly taken his pet for the type...

Dean closed the book, not before sliding a book mark between the thin pages, and put it down on the bedside table. He was clad only in a pair of sweatpants, had wriggled out of his shirt all on his own before getting chained to the bed, claiming to feel hot but it still wasn't any harder to see through him than the first time they met. He wanted to please Castiel without even getting as much as an order. It hadn't been his master's intention to turn this simple precaution into some part of a scene but the boy was too eager for an opportunity like this to pass and so he'd ended up half naked on the bed. Castiel was proud.

"What'd the guy say? We safe?" He strolled over to the bed, hands buried in the pockets of his dress pants, before reaching out for the book on the bedside table and flipping it open. "Yes, for the moment. I'll meet up with him again in three weeks. We'll have to leave this city soon, though." As he skimmed the pages Dean had read last a smile crept onto his lips. He wanted the boy in the study, bent over the desk and reciting Dante. Fortunately Dean always gave him exactly what he asked for.

"So, what'd you do that they're after you? Made some pretty damn powerful enemies up there." Castiel wasn't exactly sure why he'd taken the man with him, up into his flat he'd never let anybody see and live to tell. Now he was sat on the kitchen counter, had pushed himself up there as soon as they entered the room instead of sinking down into one of the chairs placed around the table.

"I stole their money and killed one of their men. It was lot of money and a man they deemed very important", he murmured explanatory while fixing up the dinged coffee machine, needing a cup or two after a day like this. "How much money we talking?" Dean seemed so young in this place, younger than in the bar or the alleys, eyes lighting up, sheepish grin on his face and if he started swinging his legs back and forth like an eight year old on a playground Castiel would have to grab his hair and pull him off of the counter before some way more inappropiate thoughts could start developing.

"About ten million." An impressed whistle was everything he got for a while, until he'd finished messing with the machine and it gargled happily away, the delicious smell of coffee slowly but surely tinting the air. "So why live in this shithole? You could go for a villa, L.A., Hawaii, whatever!" "Spending too much money at once would be way too conspicuous. Besides, I don't have the money anymore. It was never mine to spend." The noise Dean made at that could almost described as a whimper if one tried hard enough and made something heavy settle in Castiel's stomach all of a sudden.

"You, what? Ten million bucks, Cas! And you don't even have-" It took him barely two steps to reach Dean, a second to grab his short, messy hair with the right hand while he pressed his left against his lips, silencing the chatty man effectively. The need to shut him physically up, dominate him like this was deeply connected with the urges Dean had unknowingly awoken, but Castiel wasn't ready to give in to them just yet.

"I haven't spared your life twice and brought you here to answer your annoying questions and explain myself to you. Now shut up or I'll make you." Slowly he pulled his left hand back from the man's mouth, his right staying wound up tight in shaggy hair.

"But..." It was a whisper, quiet, cautious, breath ghosting over Castiel's face. He hadn't meant to move so close, close enough to count freckles and dark lashes that framed those pretty green eyes perfectly. "... what if I told you..." It was too late to pull back now, he had to stand his ground and stay hard if he really wanted to follow through with this sooner or later. Better to establish the rules right away. "... I wanna know exactly how you'd shut me up?"

The mischievous smirk looked perfect on his lips, like it belonged there and just like that Dean let his legs fall apart. He at least had to have an idea what this would do to Castiel, whose grip in his hair had tightened at it. He must've gotten some signals, enough to interpret this right, maybe even guess a few of the thoughts that crowded the back of Castiel's mind since he'd ground his heel into the boy's chest.

"You know that...", he continued, voice deliciously rough and low, leaning back just the slightest bit to indicate submission. "...I really, really want you to fuck me, right?" Maybe, just maybe this was everything this had been about since the start. The badly arranged but nonetheless absolutely endearing picture of a hustler Dean had drawn for him, the way he'd dropped right to his knees once they were in that alley or how he'd done nothing but grab Castiel's slacks softly as he laid on his back in the dirt. Never making a move to defend himself, talking and talking but subsequently taking whatever would be given to him.

Without actually intending to, he took a step forward so he was standing right in the inviting, open V of Dean's legs, needing to lift his head the slightest bit in order to look into his eyes. Loosening his grasp on the surprisingly soft strands of hair he petted his new toy's head softly, letting his hand wander down to his neck and rest there as he leaned forward again.

"Maybe I will. Maybe I won't. You've already chosen to be mine so now I get to make the rest of the choices. All of them. First you'll go and take a shower. Immediately. You smell like a stray dog, disgusting." With that Castiel pulled his hand off of him and took a step back, turning to the coffee machine. He only had to wait a few seconds before he heard the rustling of clothes as Dean jumped off the counter and headed toward the hallway. He didn't stop the grin from creeping onto his face as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

He was about to disappear into his flat, a small, shabby thing he rented under one of his many false names and planned on abandoning next week until he needed it again, when he got that feeling. Someone was watching him, like they had all of last month on various days and occasions. He had never seen someone but was also never attacked or threatened so maybe they just worked on their poor excuse of a profile for him again. It didn't matter as much, he'd be gone again soon and they'd be left with nothing, he never left any useful traces behind.

Castiel wasn't sure why he passed the building he had meant to enter and followed the deserted street a while longer, maybe the stare on his skin felt too intense now, too threatening to keep ignoring. All of a sudden he was determined to find that idiot who was following him around, ask him a few questions he wanted answered and then get rid of him. The gun at his side digged into his flesh as he became more and more aware of it, fingers itching to grab it and knock someone unconscious with the handle.

As he passed an alleyway on his right, his feet were pulled away underneath him and he found himself on the ground, heavy boots tapping into his vision, obviously preparing to kick him into the chest. He curled up reflexively and rolled to the side, grabbing the attacker's ankle at the same time and pulling him down. Scrambling to get on his knees he lurched forward, aimed for the solar plexus and placed a heavy blow right to the guy's stomach as he toppled forward and hit the ground next to Castiel. He was on his feet as the attacker was still curled up, fished clumsily in his pocket for a knife that the man standing sent scattering across the street with one forceful kick.

Barely breathing any faster he pushed the man onto his back with little effort and slammed his foot onto his chest to keep him down, gun in hand and aimed calmly at the guy's head. Now Castiel recognized his attacker, flushed and breathing heavily. "You're the guy I should've killed weeks ago, aren't you?" A labored little nod from the wannabe streetwalker that sucked cock like a champ was everything he needed. A flash of green eyes and a false grin assured him he'd been right as the man lifted a hand to tuck at his slacks, a sign to take his boot off of his chest, but instead Castiel pressed down harder only to see him wince.

"Heya Cas, happy to meet you, too", he slurred, this time authentically and closed his eyes again, trying to take a deep breath. "I'm sure you understand that you've just made me forget every reason to let you live, if I ever had any." "Yeah, yeah but ah-", he winced again at the next press of Castiel's foot but seemed willing to end his sentence anyway. "I wanted to talk to you again. Didn't get the chance to say everything I wanted last time so I, arghh Cas...!" He heard a distinct snap as he leaned forward, shifting almost his entire weight onto the man's ribcage whose hand still had a grip on his slacks.

"And why exactly should I let you say as much as another word?" The boy was lucky he liked to play with his victims, liked to get to know them, before ending their miserable lives. "Cause I've been following you since last time and..." So determined to get it out even though he could hardly breathe, Castiel was slightly impressed. "...and didn't do anything to harm you. I could've told them where you are anytime. Could've gotten the job finished. But didn't."

The thought the boy really believed he could have done anything to even irritate Castiel almost made him laugh. Last time he seemed so defiant, claimed it was a suicide mission. Now? Now he acted way too smug for his liking.

"Listen, boy-" "Name's Dean, by the way. Go ahh, go on." Just for that Castiel ground his heel into Dean's chest a little harder. "If I tell you to listen, you fucking listen to me, do you understand?" He hadn't meant to swear but there was something about the boy that made him want to pull the dirty tricks, made him want to slap him around for his cocky attitude and foul mouth. It's been a long time since he'd had that kind of urges. It took him merely seconds to adjust his plan, this might be worth to pursue.

"When I lift my foot now I want you to stand up slowly, keep your hands behind your head and go to the end of the alley. I'll follow. Then I'll give you the opportunity to say what you want to say. Any tricks, you're dead. I don't like, what you're saying, you're dead. Don't waste my time. Understand?" Those green eyes lit up as Dean nodded enthusiastically and quickly. "Good. Up now."

But it was fake, everything about him a carefully placed clue for Castiel's trained senses to pick up on. The man in front of him wasn't some cheap hustler, even though he walked, talked and even smelled like one. He even drank suitably for this part, downing shots of whiskey too expensive for a streetwalker to pay for. Amateur. When would they learn to not send some rookies after him but someone who could do their damn job right?

He dragged his eyes over the man's body again, hard muscle and smooth skin, a perfectly trimmed stubble, before he smiled, a little too wide, a little too tipsy to not make the impression of falling right into that poorly set up trap.

"Sure. Lead the way..." The man nodded, showing off a glimpse of perfectly white teeth when he smiled lazily and slid off his stool. The quick glance he shot the barkeeper didn't go unnoticed by Castiel, just like the small nod he got in return, before the man grabbed his wrist and led him through the bar. On their way they got a few curious looks by innocent bystanders who interpreted the situation like anyone would at this point but Castiel didn't find it in him to care that they thought he was about to pay for sex or just a sloppy blowjob.

He was pulled out of the building into the streets and then around a corner or two until they were alone in an alley, dark and deserted, just like he expected it to be. His hand was already hovering over the gun tucked away in a holster under his coat, he covered the position by crossing his arms, looking around as if he was nervous and even cleared his throat.

"So, now uhmm..." Waiting for the man to make his move, to try and attack him he expected anything but for him to drop to his knees and get a good grip on his belt. "So, now I'm gonna suck you off and it'll be the best thing to ever happen to your cock." He opened the belt expertly, following suit with the slacks, right there in the middle of the alley, hesitating and glancing upwards for barely a secound before he tucked Castiel's boxer briefs down enough to lick at his cock.

He had to give the guy credit for taking him aback. That was the kind of assassination he could get used to. Objectively, he knew he should just put a bullet through the man's skull and leave immediately, they obviously knew where he was at the moment and that was never a good sign. But he really wanted to know how this would end if he let the guy act according to his plan. Would he follow through with the blowjob and try to kill him afterwards? Would he make his move in the middle of blowing him, when he was distracted and horny? And damn, the guy's mouth really was something. He had pulled Castiel's cock free by now, ran his tongue across the hard shaft before swallowing him down as fast and deep as he could. Turned out he could almost take everything. What a good boy.

A traitorous hand sneaked into short, dirty blond hair and almost pet the man kneeling in front of him, now sucking like he was born for it, enthusiastic, blissed out little moans bubbling up his throat and vibrating around Castiel's shaft. His hands had grabbed both of the other's thighs in turn, holding on as if he needed an anchor to keep channeling all that sexual desperation. He just had to be desperate for it, lapping and laving and hollowing his cheeks around the cock in front of him.

God dammit, Castiel needed to get a grip on this before he completely lost himself and got a bullet stuck inside his head. With a moan, his first, quiet moan, he dragged his hand through the spiky hair again and let go. Barely a second later he held the gun in his hand, cocked and rotated as he pressed it against the man's temple.

"Thanks for your consideration but I must ask you to stop immediately." His tongue had stopped it's movements against him the second that cool metal was pressed against his head but now the man pulled his mouth off with a wet, little noise, looking up to him, naked fear in his eyes. "Hey, wai-wait a moment. We can talk about this .... can't we? Just ... just don't do anything you'd regret later, kay?" Castiel actually smiled at that. Poor, stupid boy. "I know what you are. Stop pretending, I'll make it quick." The man's face fell but only for a moment because the next he wore the same expression he already did in the bar, cocky smile, glinting eyes and everything, slowly raising his hands.

"Goddammit, you really are that fantastic. What gave me away?" He could barely do anything but snort at that, now really petting his hair and what the hell did his hand just do? "What didn't give you away? The second you walked into that bar I knew you were set on me." "Then teach me." Honestly he was just about to pull the trigger, bored of this situation, bored of this talk but for some reason this held him from doing so. Even though it made him laugh, almost hard enough to make his hand waver, to let his guard down, but not quite.

"Excuse me, what?" "Teach me." Oh he was fast, already having a new plan to get his duty done. "Teach me to not give everything away. You're the best of the best. The only reason I took the job. Was a suicide mission for me but I'd get the chance to meet you." Again a laugh but not as loud as the first. "Alright kiddo. Sure, I've just come this far because I trust every dumb boy who tried to kill me with being my new student." He actually nodded, a hint of understanding in his eyes.

"Okay. Okay I get it. But you have no reason to get rid of me. I'm no threat to you. I'll never be able to pick up on your trail again, killing me wouldn't change anything for you.” Maybe the boy had a point.