"Ah, the age-old debate of good n' evil. Truth be told? I don't believe in black n' white. Criminals're not simply "evil" or "good." They're products of their environment. Circumstances shape behavior--most times, 't least."

"My pops, he was ex-military. Always spoke highly of servin' your country, your people, no matter the cost—I wanted to, too. But the more I learned about it, the less I wanted to go to war... Guess I was just a coward."

He shrugs, nonchalantly: Coward is a word his father would've used to describe him if he were still alive, but he hardly cared anymore.

"I still wanted to do the right thing for society, bring justice and all that crap—that's what got me into the academy, then Robbery... Narcotics..."

He gets that last word in and stills for a moment, knowing full well he doesn't feel comfortable enough to bring up the subject of his years as a deep undercover narco yet, but he's not sure how to get back on track.

So he clears his throat.

Sam's shit-eating grin shines in the dim light of the club hallway leading to the bathrooms. Eddie's words (if he got his name right, he wasn't paying attention when they introduced themselves, too busy planning how to get into his pants) are barely perceptible beneath the thumping sound of bass, but they amuse him. He hadn't done anything to make him assume he was dangerous: was it something in his aura?

He would be right if that were the case, but that's not his concern now.

What was of his concern was having a good time, because Sam certainly planned to.

"I'll make it worth your while."

With that, Sam lunges forward, pinning him against the wall and kissing him. He has one hand on either side of the wall behind him, supporting himself.

If Rust is being honest, the comment took him by surprise, and it's hard to leave him speechless. Maybe it was the weather—another misty, hot, humid night—or the location—the parking lot they were standing in, just a few steps from Rust's truck.

Or maybe it was that Eddie was the one coming onto him, a result he hadn't expected after hours of relentless interrogation, of chaffed wrists from the handcuffs Rust put him in.

Then again, that might've been just what Eddie was into.

"Well, I'm not sure."

Rust muses, taking one last drag on his cigarette before dropping it and crushing it under his heel. The movement served to close the gap between them, cornering Eddie against the metal frame of the truck's bed.

PLAYLIST BASED STARTERS

@lawevades → SUNNYSIDE / I Don't Know How But They Found Me

"Listen—don't hesitate to take the blame."

@lawevades: "What are you thinking about?"

There are moments when what occupies Rust's mind is nothing specific but an amalgamation of things: thoughts and memories that he works hard to push away but, in the fight, become stronger and more prominent than he would like them to be.

They often hamper his ability to socialize properly, losing the thread of conversations coupled with a thousand-yard stare, and sometimes he can pull himself back all on his own, or, as this time would suggest, a little verbal prodding can come in handy.

"Shit—Sorry. It's nothin', really."

His embarrassment is genuine because he didn't mean to ignore Eddy in the middle of the conversation, but he still doesn't comfortable enough to share what's on his mind.

#65 — Modern Day Cain

"So, now you've done a little wrong — and y'swear y'didn't do it."

"But volition left y'burdened with a curse."

The situation is only mildly annoying. Sam was halfway through an exhaustive rundown of shapeshifter lore—which Dean insists no one cares about—when he realized Eddy wasn't listening anymore. Not even pretending to.

He considered pulling one of his usual tricks of throwing in a fake fact just to see if Eddy would repeat it later, but instead, he just stopped talking. The staring was mutual then, though not exactly eye-to-eye.

He's a second away from asking what, exactly, is so fascinating when Eddy leans in and kisses him.

Well. That answers that.

He doesn't pull away. In fact, he leans into it a little, but it ends sooner than he wants it to, and Sam blinks, visibly short-circuited.

"Uh--right. That's… That's one way to ask me to shut up."

He tries to smirk, but it comes out more like a nervous twitch, gaze dropping to Eddy's mouth for half a second too long before travelling back up.