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Favors Given and Received
~Dreamer~
Main Points:
Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Assassin's Creed/possibly Mummy??/Supernatural
universe first introduced in primordium
Summary: Dean needs help.
Word Count: 720
“Xander.” The man in question frowns. Dean’s voice sounds…guilty. He can’t think of a reason that should be, but then, Dean feels guilty about the oddest of things. Like flirting with, or looking at, other people. He’s in a relationship, not dead or blind.
“What’s up?” He fills his voice with as much warmth as he can muster, considering he’s trying not to get noticed in public.
“There’s something targeting anything close to us. We’re still working on figuring out what, but—”
Instinctively, the Assassin plays with his hidden blade, though to passersby he’s just fiddling with the sleeve on his hoodie. “I’ll be careful.” He’ll also speak with the elders, because any information gained can thus be utilized for the good.
“I know you can take care of yourself. I’d actually called for a favor.” His boyfriend sounds even more guilty, and he rolls his eyes.
“I’m happy to help. I just have something to wrap up,” specifically, pickpocketing that woman with the briefcase over there, “…and then I can pass off the rest of my work to the other guys in accounting.” It’s a line he’s used before, mostly because he finds it amusing, but it never stops making Dean gag…which to be honest is part of the point, too.
This time, he’s too distracted to gag, apparently. “Do you remember Lisa?”
Xander thinks back on that. He remembers it among a list of names he’d found when he was researching Dean. He’d never bothered to humanize them—they were nothing more than a list of names. Admittedly, his way of seeing the world was a little skewed, given that he was an Assassin, but… “You mentioned her once. Why is this relevant?” If Dean had slipped, he isn’t angry—the man does have a lot of love to go around, after all, and he doesn’t get to be there as often as he’d like. He’d prefer not to spend too long serving as Dean’s confession booth priest, though.
He practically hears Dean shrink away from the phone. “Several of my previous…” He sighs, incapable of coming up with the right word, which isn’t a surprise. “They’ve been in danger. Nath already died before we’d figured out it wasn’t just people super close, like the Harvelles.”
Oh. A protection mission. Not the first time he’s had to do one of those, though it’d also be a change from the usual, and what was it they said—variety is the spice of life? Or is that Babylon 5?
A phone serves as the perfect cover, he decides, and starts walking again, adding in several near-misses to increase the realism. “Just text me where and when, and I’ll be—oh, sorry about that,” he adds, as he accidentally walks into the lady. “I should watch where I’m going; I’m so sorry.”
“It’s all right,” she responds, charmed by his innocent demeanor and smile, and walks on, clueless.
Dean waits for a few moments, then apologizes as well. “You don’t have to if you don’t want—”
Well, it’s his brand of apology anyway.
“It’s a change. I’m getting bored. Bad things happen when I get bored.” Besides, his ‘handlers’ would be happy he’s trying to stop some bad supernatural work involved with the Winchesters, since those tend to be catastrophic. He places the phone in his pocket, takes a run at the wall and manages a few steps before he grabs the fire escape. It rattles a little. His steps are light, almost silent, and he goes up one, two floors before he pulls himself into an open window, landing in a perfect crouch, balancing with one hand and pulling out the phone with the other. “I’ll see if we can’t spare a few others. We’re perfectly suited to protecting people without them knowing.” He lowers his voice, letting the affection curl around his words. “I miss you, buddy. Maybe after this mission, I’ll just drop in on you at some point.” Dean knows him well enough to know that he’s probably not being metaphorical when he mentions ‘dropping in’, but the Winchester enjoys that, too. Sometimes a little too much. That time when he’d dropped in through the skylight? Well, they’d both enjoyed that.
“I’ll keep a window unlocked,” Dean responds, smile and a promise in his voice.