#also the length of their foot manacles is seriously all over the place

[zmediaoutlet]

“I’m starving. You think they’ll let me sell your ass for a Slim Jim?”

“You made that joke last time we were arrested.”

“What, you think a good bit is only good once? I get no respect, no respect.” The last part not much of an impression because Sam presses harder on the bullet wound with the wad of toilet paper and Dean’s voice goes thin and crackly. A clean-ish hole, in through the meaty part of his shoulder and out by his armpit. Could’ve got his heart or a lung but it doesn’t even feel like it cracked the collarbone. Apparently demons are terrible shots. Lucky, Dean had said, swallowing hard and making his voice harder after. Sam didn’t dignify it with a response.

Dean’s trying to get blood off his hand with more TP. It’s thin, awful stuff, shreds against the tacky stain. The chain between the bracelets clinking. “In those Norwegian prisons I bet they get wet wipes, huh?” he says. Sam takes a deep breath through his nose. “Pampered, or whatever. Could go for some pampering.”

“I’m not killing you,” Sam says, “does that count,” and Dean laughs breathy and weird. It must really hurt. He’d be throwing Sam off already, otherwise.

They dragged the body of Henriksen’s old boss out into the main part of the jail. There’s been shouting. A boom that shook the building but no one has told them what it was, exactly. They aren’t currently top priority, despite being such world-class criminals. A break but not much of one, with Dean still bleeding over Sam’s hands. With what’s coming.

“Demons, huh,” Dean says. On the same train of thought when blood’s on the line, as always. He shifts on the shitty jailhouse mattress, gets his bootheels square on the ground. Sam shifts along with him, keeping the slack easy between their manacled ankles. “Better or worse than cops?”

Henriksen’s vicious little grin, telling them they’d never see each other again. Not quite yellow eyes but Sam’s stomach flips. Dean’s fingers slide over his, in the enveloping shadow of Dean’s jacket. Sam’s let his grip go slack.

“Can’t exorcise a cop,” Dean says, answering his own question because Sam feels like he’s going to puke. Taking point, as always. “Gotta be a point in the demons’ favor.”

“How are we gonna get him to believe us,” Sam says.

It’s all he can think. There are demons and there’s this asshole, do-gooder cop, who thinks he’s saving the day from monsters when he doesn’t know what monsters really are. If they had iron and salt and silver and a chance they might make it out. Maybe. Not like this.

“He thinks we’re psycho graverobbing murdering cannibals, Sammy, I’m not sure we’re in the circle of trust,” Dean says. He jostles his shoulder against Sam’s chest, even though that must hurt. “But hey, at least he didn’t guess about—”

“Jesus,” Sam says. Dean grins white in the emergency lights. No, Henriksen didn’t say that, did he. Although he did—about Dad—

“You think if we start making out in here, they’d open the door?” Dean’s fingers slip against his, pressing both their hands harder against his shoulder. He flinches. Still grinning. “Just to pull us apart, anyway. Worth a shot.”

“Shut up,” Sam says. Dean bites his lip, turning his face away. His chin trembles and Sam wants to—lay full length over him, take the next bullet if it comes. Go back in time and exorcise the demon before it could pull its gun, get Henriksen against the bars and get his hands around Henriksen’s neck and force him to hear the truth. That the dark was swarming up around them and if Henriksen didn’t let them go then it was going to take everyone in this station and, worse, it was going to take Dean and there was no chance, not one in the fucking world, that Sam was going to let his brother go without a fight. That it was impossible for that to happen again. Everything in him was solid on that part. That just—there’s no way that was going to happen.

Dean’s knee sags and presses against Sam’s. “Okay, so,” Dean says, chin tipping down. “We’ll take out the demons, save the day. Guess even cops beat demons. And save the making out part for later, huh? Though I could go for some of that surf and turf.”

Sam breathes out. He puts his forehead down to Dean’s shoulder for two seconds, and then sits up straight. There’s more shouting, somewhere past the hall to the holding cells. Sam squeezes his wrist, lets him drop his hand, presses the compress hard and solid against the wound. Dean’s looking straight ahead, steady. A well, somewhere in him, that always seems to have one last drop of relief.

[albion19]

Ring of Fire

Deadpool inspired AU. @dontbeallupinmyfriesdawg (you said to tag you)

Or read it on Ao3

“Phasmatos incendia!”

They say that it can take a fifth of a second to fall in love. Now you might not believe me but it’s a scientific fact. They cut out a dude’s brain and weighed it or something but that doesn’t matter. Falling love is a rush, a hit or in my case a deluge of magic released from a 5’2 witch who has literally just set my ass on fire. Johnny Cash had it right, love fucking burns.

*

As a siphoner exiled from the coven that by rights should be mine I found myself at a disadvantage. But I haven’t let that stop me. If a coven, say south of the Mississippi, needed someone dead and that someone was a vampire? A vampire who has a drinking problem and liked to sleeze on pretty underage girls? Shit I’d almost do it for free.

Not really. I get paid with magic and money but mostly magic.

Damon Salvatore and his Boarding House of Horrors. He had slaughtered a coven during the 80’s or something and so far had got away with it. So I got amped on witchy woo and headed to Virginia for what I thought would be a simple vamp barbecue. I thought I’d even make a vaca of it, see some family…

I thought most of the Bennett witches burned in 1790. Clearly not.

*

She slammed me back out of the house with a vicious motus and now I’m on the grass. I’m attracting moths. I can see them fluttering. No, that’s my hair.

Bonnie someone shouts and the most beautiful woman in the world looks down at me. Her wavy brown hair glints in the fire, her green eyes shining like emeralds. The grass starts to burn around her feet. It could almost be romantic.

“…Hi.”

She screams and jerks back. “You’re alive?!”

“Only on the inside.”

She gasps and waves her hand and the flames dwindle until I lay smouldering. Smells like BBQ.

“Uh I’m like pork crackling. It’s making me hungry, is that gross?”

She grimaces as my skin starts to heal. I hope she stays around long enough to see me all shiny and new. “Oh my god. What – what the hell are you? You almost killed Damon!”

“He isn’t dead? Damn it. I wasn’t sure the shot landed between you setting me on fire and throwing me out the window. That was awesome, by the way.” I sit up and she looks aside. I’m half naked. My dick will have scabs. I cross my arms over my chest and start to shiver. She gives me furtive looks. She’s so pretty I want to staple my eyes open. 

“You better go or I’ll set you on fire again.”

“Promise?”

I smile and she frowns down at me. Am I making a good impression? The borrowed magic inside me is exploding, a butterfly orgy. If anything it feels replenished. Am I soaking her up without realising it? God I wanna roll her up and eat her she’s so cute. She growls at me as I get on my knees.

“Just go!”

“I’ll only come back. I had a mission and I haven’t finished it.”

“To kill Damon? I won’t let you.”

“Then you better give me your sweater.”

“What?” she blinks.

“If you’re not gonna let me go then can I wear your coat? Or are you just gonna use me and leave me like this?” I motion at my bare chest, which is now completely healed. Bewildered she watches as I get to my feet and stretch. Her eyes totally flick down to my navel before snapping back to my face. Ha.

“I…I didn’t say I wasn’t gonna let you go.”

“Yeah you did. I don’t usually get captured but I admit defeat,” I offer my wrists to her but she stands there frozen, her cupid-bow mouth open in a perfect circle of confusion. Wicked, lovely thoughts fill it.

“What?”

“Take me, I’m yours.”

“You – what?”

“Or you can let me go? I kill Damon and then we can go play some Skee Ball? Do you have that here? I also like ping pong.”

“Oh my god please stop talking,” she cradles her head, looking at the ground and then with sharp movements she rips off her long coat and flings it at me. It’s too small but it feels good against my skin. She smells like honey and magic.

I suck the traces of magic from the fibres and follow her away from the boarding house. Her friends have left her.

*

She drives me to a rundown old plantation house and I get stiff even before we reach the property. I hide it with her coat.

“Hundreds of witches died here a long time ago. It’s a magic hot spot so don’t think you can mess with me here. They burned to death,” she adds significantly, cruel, as she pushes me through the door.

“Oh, this place is a crack den to someone like me.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing. So do you bring all your dates here?”

“This – this isn’t a date. You’re such a weirdo.”

Shaking her head she leads me down a hall towards a grand but dilapidated bedroom. I fling myself onto the bed which expels a puff of dust, making us both cough. She tells me not to move, those feline eyes slitted before rummaging around under the bed. I hear some rattling and smile as she brings out a length of chain. She’s obviously done this before. It sends a spike of jealousy through me but I’m too turned on to focus.

I open my mouth to speak – didn’t even buy me dinner, not even first base – when she lifts a long slim finger and tells me to shut up.

“It’s only been an hour but I know every gross thing that’s flapping around inside your head. So keep it to yourself.”

I smile and zip my fingers across my mouth. I watch her as she goes about chaining my wrist with a manacle and then climbs up on the bed to fasten the other end to the top of the metal bed frame. She’s so small she has to stand on tip toe to reach. The butterflies in my stomach are waltzing and dinning. Foreplay is next.

“You want some help?”

“I want you to keep quiet.”

I tickle her ankle and she kicks me in the chest. I grab her foot and she looks down at me with murder in her eyes. I want to kiss her feet, grovel like a dog.

“You kidnapped me, all for a vampire who has a longer rap sheet than I do. Let me do my job unhindered and I promise I’ll come right back.”

She stares at me for a long time before she laughs, pulling her leg away. “I didn’t kidnap you, you’re insane. You’re a killer.”

“I am but I only hurt bad people. Are you like the reverse of me? You protect killers and abusers? What’s the salary like? No judgement, just curious.”

I know this seems like the wrong thing to say as she proceeds to give me the worst aneurysm I’ve ever had but it does serve a purpose. She screams a spell and snaps her hand into a fist and my head flares white like a star going super nova. Fuck she’s powerful.

Powerful but self-agonising. No self-respecting witch lowers themselves for vampires and she knows it. I’m going to kill them and save her. I’ll do it for free.

*

“What’s your name?”

“Kai Parker…Hey you’d be Bonnie Parker if we got married. Like Bonnie and Clyde? That’s neat.”

She excels a long breath before talking. “What were you promised for killing Damon?” she sits in a chair at the end of the bed.  She had talked to her friends on her phone but warned them to stay away. She didn’t want our alone time interrupted. Sweet.

“Ten thousand dollars and a season ticket to see the Seattle Mariners.”

“Ten thousand dollars to kill a vampire?” her eyes bug out of her head.

“That’s chump change. Bagging an Original is in the millions because of the domino effect.”

Bonnie sits back in her chair in amazement and then laughs. “My mom took down Mikael and now she lives in the middle of nowhere and sells paintings on Etsy.”

“Money isn’t everything…it makes up like 40% of my pie…I heard what your mom did, we all did in Oregon. Being a badass runs in your family. Your talents are wasted.”

“Trying to butter me up won’t work.”

“I’m not, it’s just the truth but now you’ve said that I’m starving. Seriously I’m seeing it running all over your skin like honey.”

“You’re gross,” she says but this time she looks away with a small oh my god is this guy for real smile.

“Wanna go for some Korean? My friend Oscar makes a mean Dak Galbi and he taught me how. Is there a kitchen here?”

“Yeah but no one’s lived here for like fifty years. Anyway no one is cooking anything.”

“I get cranky if I don’t eat.”

“Good.”

*

“Thanks for the pants. I found a stick of gum in the pocket.”

“Lucky you,” she paces before the bed, looking suspicious. It’s been hours and the butterflies have now settled down and promises of marriage is on their minds. I twist the silver foil into a band around my finger.

“You’re looking antsy, you should relax,” I pat the mattress but she ignores me.

“If someone paid me a lot of money to get a job done I would not let myself get willingly captured.”

“Uh you did light me up like a Fourth of July cracker.”

She waves her hand. “You walked it off. I’d still like to know how?”

I wave my hand right back at her, making the chain swing. “Just a little transference.”

She frowns but quickly understands. “You mean you transferred your injuries to someone else?! You’re a witch?!”

“Yeah. They deserved it. Like I said I only target bad guys.”

“But you’re still here. You could escape anytime you wanted if you’re a witch.”

“I could yeah but you captured me fair and square. Do you wanna come back to Portland with me?”

She blinks and then laughs in shock. “What? No.”

“Oh, thought I’d ask. Is it the weather? It’s not raining all the time.”

“It’s not the rain. You’re an assassin! I’ve known you for four hours.”

“I know it’s crazy right? It only took one fifth of second for me to know.”

She steps closer, frowning. “Know what?”

“That we’d get married one day.”

She scoffs and leaves the room. I sigh, watch her go and it actually hurts. 

“Damn, you’re fucking whipped man.”

“Oscar! My little dumpling. Sorry I’m really hungry.”

A short, middle aged Korean man stands by the wall with a grin. My childhood friend, partner in crime and fellow siphoner. I used to buy pot off him at magic school, that’s how we met. He’s my best friend and when I got out of my prison world he took me in after my coven shunned me. Not like I was their leader or anything…

“Ssh. I don’t want her to roast me alive too. She got you good huh? I found scorch marks.”

“I’m in love.”

“I heard. It must be like Inside Out inside you right now, those little guys running around and freaking out.”

“I feel really weird but it’s a good weird. I’m gonna handcuff her to me and bring her to Portland.”

He winces, shaking his head. “Uh, ask her out on a date, that might work better. Handcuffs are only for police officers and role plays”

I nod. Oscar usually reels me in when I’m like this. Thank fuck he arrived. “Right. Okay. So good news?”

“Okay so previously on the Siphoner Diaries: I decapitated Damon Salvatore and I’m about to go back to New Orleans to present his fangs.”

I smile. “Under normal circumstances I’d be bummed but I’d give you my entire fang collection if it meant she’d set me on fire again.”

Oscar places a hand to his chest. He’s a good man, a complete hippy shit but a good man. “Damn, I’ve never seen you like this before. I’m so happy for you man, sincerely. So you’re staying put?”

“For now,” I say as he moves back into the shadows as Bonnie approaches. “I’m gonna take her back to Portland with me. Not in a bad way, I’ll do it right. We’re gonna have triplets.”

Oscar looks at the tattered remains of my clothes and chains before disappearing. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

“Who was that?” Bonnie demands, entering the room.

“A ghost from a Korean horror movie, thank god you got back,” I say as she scans the room but Oscar is gone. We decided to split the winnings, no matter who bags the head. It’s how we work. Bonnie rolls her eyes and moves to the side of the bed. She sighs. She doesn’t look upset so I guess she doesn’t know yet.

“I got you a Twinkie, it was in my car. It’s probably a dozen years old but -” I snatch it out of her hand before she can finish and rip it open with my teeth.

“Fanks.”

*

“You killed him!” she screams, slapping me out of a daze. The candy was nice but not enough. Even as an acne ridden teenager I knew the importance of a nutritional diet. No one else was gonna look after me.

“Huh?”

“Damon! He was killed!”

“Well it wasn’t me. You’re my alibi.”

“Then who was it?!” she hisses, kneeling on the bed. God she smells so good. I want to lick her. I bet I could taste her magic in her sweat because I can smell it she’s so close. She yanks at my hair and I laugh.

“I don’t know! Probably another competing merc. We all get offered the assignment. It wasn’t me.” I shrug and I watch the anger drain from her face, replaced with guilt.

“Oh god, this is all my fault.”

“Hey, no it’s not. Come on, was he really your friend?”

“Yes!”

“When’s his birthday?”

“Uh…”

“What’s the last thing he texted you?”

“…I need a favour.”

“Which was?”

“None of your business,” she snaps.

“Did he say thank you? I’d say thank you.”

“Like you have any friends.”

“I do, a good one and we appreciate each other. I get that and I’m a fucking freak of nature. You deserve nothing less.”

She sits weakly, all fight gone and tears rim her eyes. She has long, fluffy black eyelashes, like spider legs. They’re drowning and I wipe the tears away with my thumb. She lets me. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I want to. Why do you think I’m here? A fifth of second is all it took.” 

She stares at me for a long scrutinising time before shaking her head and looking aside. “You’re a sociopath.”

“Kinda, I mean I was. It’s a long story. So now that I’m no longer in Buffy mode you wanna hang out for real? Do you like Karaoke?”

She sniffs, blinking and then gives a small nod. “Yeah.”

“Awesome.”

*

“The taste of love is sweet When hearts like ours meet I fell for you like a child Oh, but the fire went wild…”