#everybody trying to kill vegas is gonna meet god right quick

[lu-sn]

The man tilts his head back leisurely, blows out a thick haze of smoke before leaning forwards and sliding a photograph across the low table.

"His name is Vegas," the man says. "Vegas Kornwit Theerapanyakul."

The boy sitting on the other side, who up until this moment has carried himself with an infuriatingly self-righteous air, blanches at the sound of the name. "You want me to take out a Theerapanyakul?" he hisses.

The man laughs, deep and full-bodied and condescending. "Believe me, kid," he says, gesturing at the photo with his cigar, "this one's gonna be real easy."

"He has recently, shall we say — fallen from grace," a smooth voice says from the darkened corner of the room. The woman standing there swirls the wine in her glass delicately, blood-red lips curving into a smile. "Stripped of his title, exiled from his mansion to a small apartment on the west side of the city. He's injured, too — multiple bullet wounds to the stomach, still in recovery. And his bodyguard count is pitiful."

The boy stares at the photograph of Vegas. The fire slowly returns to his eyes. "How many guards? Do you have their patrol schedule?"

The man passes him a folder, and the boy flicks through it rapidly. "Four guards in total. Their rotation puts two of them on the property at any time, but their coverage has lots of gaps." He nods at the floorplan that the boy is now scrutinizing. "Optimal entry points are marked on there, along with the time windows when they're most accessible. Your odds are best at night."

The boy grins. "Sounds easy." He looks up at the man, then glances over to the woman. His grin falters. "Is there a catch?"

The woman glides over, perches on the settee next to the man as she flicks another photograph between her fingers. "This might be the catch." She slides it over, rotates it to face the boy. "Pete Phongsakorn Saengtham. Vegas's boytoy of the month."

The boy snorts at the plain, placid-looking man in the photo. "So, not a threat."

"Not quite." The woman crosses her legs, rests an arm on her knee. "He's an ex-bodyguard. Used to work for the main branch of the Theerapanyakul family."

"Apparently Vegas rotates through men like tissues," the man sneers. "Uses them," he waves his hand aside, "and tosses them away. But his type is skinny twink, or overly fawning. Pete doesn't... quite match his MO."

"He's seduced other men away from the main branch before," the woman adds. "Never a bodyguard."

"He any good?" the boy asks.

"We don't think so." The woman purses her mouth. "He was guarding the main branch's castoff son. The invalid who never leaves the house. If he was of any use, he would have been guarding the real heir."

"Kill him if you need to," the man says boredly. "It's probably easier that way. Expect him to put up a fight, otherwise."

The boy nods sharply. "Understood."

The man looks at him for a long moment. Then he smirks. "You get this right, kid, and you're in."

The boy straightens up immediately. "Yeah?"

"Yep. Boss says so. You'll be family proper. This job's a big one, important client and all that."

The boy smiles wide, crazed with adrenaline. "I won't let you down, sir." He rockets up, drops into a deep bow.

"Good," the man hums. "Dismissed."

Once the boy leaves, the man turns to the woman. "Want to make a bet?"

The woman scoffs. "The kid's dead meat. You can't get me to bet on him." She sips at her wine. "No one's expecting him to pull it off."

"You think this Pete will be an issue?"

"If he's gullible enough to switch sides for a man? Not in the slightest." The woman leans back, self-satisfied. "But Vegas always has a trick up his sleeve. Time to find out what it is."

[imagining-supernatural]

The Confession

Part 27 of Seventy Percent

Series Summary: When you left on your trip to Vegas, you’d planned on letting loose for one last weekend before heading back to reality and getting your affairs in order so your best friend wouldn’t be left cleaning up your mess when your cancer finally ended your life. What you hadn’t counted on was waking up married to a celebrity who has a knight-in-shining-armor complex, connections with an oncologist, and amazing insurance…

Chapter Summary:  You and Sebastian spend more time in the hospital talking

Word Count: 2,621

Warnings: Brief mentions of abortion & suicide, not an accurate timeline of medical recovery

God, you hated sleeping in hospitals. Mostly because sleep was impossible. It seemed like as soon as you finally fell asleep, a nurse was waking you to take your vitals.

“Sorry to wake you, just gotta check on some things,” a nurse you’d never seen before woke you quietly.

Seb shifted behind you, arms tightening until he was awake enough to process what was going on. He grunted something that could have resembled words, had he been more awake. As it was, he sounded like a caveman as he slipped from the bed to the chair. Once the nurse completed her quick exam, he wasted no time in returning to his place beside you, this time under the covers.

“It’s useless to try and convince you to go home and get some actual sleep in an actual bed, right?”

“Right,” he replied, curling his body around yours even more. As much as you hated to admit it, it made you feel better. Not good, because you doubted you could ever feel good about what you’d done, but having him hold you so tight seemed to calm your nerves that had begun to fray during your fight on Saturday.

Once Seb set his mind to something, you knew he didn’t give up. After all, that was what had gotten you into this predicament in the first place. Had he not set his mind to flying you out to New York to meet Doctor Helen Sharpe, you’d probably be back in Utah, living out the last few weeks of your life.

But here you were: cancer free.

And now he’d set his mind to riding out whatever your relationship with him would turn into. He found out he truth about your past and he was still here, holding you.

Maybe it was that reminder, but you found that you were able to fully relax into his arms, even going so far as to twine your fingers with his. He squeezed your hand once before he went lax at your back, falling back asleep.

“It’s like Skip-Bo on steroids,” you explained to Brenda the next day.

She sat on the other side of the table that Sebastian had acquired from somewhere in the hospital. “I haven’t played Skip-Bo in ages.”

“You’ll catch on quick. So, in my version of Nerts, everyone gets their own Rook deck. Each deck has a mark on the back to distinguish it from the others. There are no turns; everybody just goes for it.” You finished explaining the rules, then started playing. When you’d taught Seb a few months ago, it had just been the two of you and he was surprised at how much crazier it was by just adding one person.

By the time Brenda had to get back to her rounds, you’d played six hands and she was beating both you and Seb.

Shuffling your deck, you rolled your eyes. “I hate it when you teach someone a new game and they’re better at it than you are in less than an hour.”

“You literally just had brain surgery. I’m pretty sure you weren’t on your A-Game.”

“Okay, but I have a friend who refuses to play Nerts with me because he hates losing every single time, so this just feels wrong, brain surgery or not. It’s not fair at all.”

“Life ain’t fair, sweetheart.”

“Don’t I know it,” you mumbled while wrapping a rubber band around your Rook deck.

He glanced at the shut door and took a deep breath. The light-hearted atmosphere in the room dissipated. “Hey Y/N, I’ve been wondering… Your dad died in a house fire. You were at Jasmin’s house all night. How did you… How could you have…”

“How’d I do it? Kill him?” He nodded at your blunt words and you sat back, thinking of the shortest way to say it. “I got home from school and he told me that mom had been arrested for public intoxication or something and that he was going to use this time without her to, uh beat her bad genes out of me.” As if those were the genes that needed to be beaten out. “And, I don’t know. I guess I just snapped. Eliza had been gone for years, so she wouldn’t be hurt. Mom was locked up and couldn’t show up and get hurt either… So, later that night he passed out on the couch and…”

You took a deep breath and looked away from him, focusing on the door to the bathroom. You’d never said these words aloud before. Jasmin and your sister never asked how you did it. They never asked why you did it. They just took you at your word and let it be.

“I spilled the rest of his whiskey on his shirt and the couch then lit a cigarette and put it between his fingers. Grabbed my backpack and walked the few blocks to Jasmin’s house. Our neighbor reported the fire half an hour later.”

“So you didn’t kill him. Not really.”

“Indirectly,” you challenged, looking straight at him again.

“Indirectly, huh?” He sat forward in his chair, elbows on knees, and trained his eyes right on yours. “Is that how you killed the person after your dad? You said you killed someone before him and after. You consider the abortion to be the first person you killed right? So…”

You grabbed Brenda’s deck of Rook cards and started shuffling them, holding Seb’s gaze. “You seem to know more than I do, so why don’t you tell me?”

“I think you blame yourself for your mother’s death.” You flinched, finally breaking eye contact. Unfortunately, Sebastian kept talking. “And judging by that reaction, I hit the nail right on the head.”

“She loved my dad,” you whispered. “I don’t understand it, not with what he did to us, but she did. Then I killed him and… I guess she didn’t have anything left to live for.”

The hum of medical machinery and faint chatter from the hall filled the air until Sebastian processed your words. Softly, so softly, he reached across the table with an open hand and waited until you gave in and reluctantly placed your hand in his. His blue eyes seared into yours. “I wasn’t there, so I don’t know what happened. I never knew your mom, but… what if you’re looking at it the wrong way?”

“I killed my dad, and a few months later my mom killed herself. That’s not coincidence, Seb.”

“I’m not saying it is.” His agreement surprised you. “I’m just saying, maybe her motivation wasn’t love for your father.”

“Then what is it?”

“Maybe she stayed alive so long because of you. Because she wanted to protect you from him as much as she could. And as soon as he was gone… she didn’t have that responsibility. She knew you could take care of yourself and she just… couldn’t go on. And she didn’t have to go on.”

That… couldn’t be it. She wasn’t a strong person. She couldn’t have protected you from him any more than you could have stopped him.

But you hadn’t considered that side of the argument before. Either way, his death had caused hers. But, if Seb was right… Then you’d given her the peace of mind she needed to finally let go. She was a shell of a person by the end and while you wish she hadn’t died, you couldn’t blame her for it. Picking yourself up after years and years of an abusive marriage had to be so fucking difficult, and she just wasn’t strong enough.

“Think about it, okay?” Sebastian said a minute later. While you were still reeling from this new view on your past, he gently ushered you towards the recliner in the corner of the room and pulled you onto his lap. With his arms around you and Brooklyn 99 playing on his phone, it wasn’t long before your post-surgery exhaustion took over and you fell asleep.

You weren’t sure how long you were sleeping, but when you woke up, the room was darker as the sun was falling behind the skyline. Seb’s chest was rumbling under your ear as he spoke quietly into his phone

“Nah, mom, the hospital food isn’t so bad. I’m sure when Y/N wakes up, she’ll be on me to go take a shower and I’ll grab some real food on my way back.” His mom replied on the other end of the call, but you couldn’t make out any words. All that you could feel was his hand rubbing up and down your arm and his chest rising with each breath he took. “She’s doing well. Better than I expected after brain surgery… No, I’m not sugar-coating it. She’s fine, medically speaking. I swear. It’s just that some personal shit came up and it’s eating her up… Of course, I am, mom. Why do you think I haven’t gone home to shower? Yeah, love you too. I’ll let you know when we can fly out and you can finally meet her.”

He hung up and tossed his phone over onto the bed before shifted just enough to somehow curl around you even more. He pressed his lips to your hairline. “Mornin’, sweetheart.”

“Is it morning?” you rasped, throat dry. It didn’t surprise you that he knew you were awake. After all, you’d been sleeping in the same bed as him for weeks now. You knew each other’s habits well enough by now to be able to read body language.

“Evening, actually. But time doesn’t really exist in hospitals.”

“Mmm,” you agreed. This time it was you who shifted, pulling back just enough to tilt your head up to his. “How’s your mom doing?”

“Great. Excited to meet you once you’re cleared to fly.”

“Mmm,” you hummed neutrally, eyes drifting away from his face to focus on the far wall.

“And she’s gonna love you, you know that, right? Even if you told her everything, she’d love you all the same.” His finger under your chin urged your eyes back to his. “Just like I love you all the same.”

Love? Your eyes darted between both of his, looking for any sign that he was joking. Any sign that he was trying to maybe lighten the mood, but you couldn’t find any. He wasn’t acting… he wasn’t bluffing…

“Oh my god.”

The softest half-smile you’d ever seen crept onto his face seconds before he leaned down and nudged your nose with his. “You seem surprised.”

“I’m…”

Memories flashed in front of you of you and Sebastian.

Seb buying you Oreos and ice cream. His bright eyes when you agreed to stay the night with him that first time. Him defending you to the paparazzi outside the hospital. That hesitance in his eyes when he asked you to wear the ring. Flirting via Skype.

And, god, that first kiss in the elevator. It was like he was drowning and you were the bubble of air he needed to live.

“I’m…” you tried again, but once again, words failed you.

“I love you, Y/N,” he stated, practically guaranteeing that you would never again be able to form a complete sentence ever again. “I know you, I know about your past, and unless you’re hiding a secret bigger than what you’ve already told me, nothing is going to change that. Even then, probably. How I feel about you isn’t going to go away.”

“Seb, I… What?”

He chuckled, bumping your nose again. “I love you. And now I’m going to kiss you. Unless, of course, you have any objections to that.”

Objections? What sort of objections could you possibly have with his eyes looking so sincerely into yours and his arms warm around you? “I… I probably should have objections.”

“But you don’t?”

“I, uh, can’t think of anything right now.”

His grin grew and a mumbled good later, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was gentle, at first. His lips were barely brushing yours, and if it wasn’t for his thumb stroking your cheek and your heart beating hard enough to crack a rib, you wouldn’t even have classified this as a kiss.

Then he pressed closer, stealing every breath you exhaled until there wasn’t anything but him. Every kiss with Sebastian seemed to rewrite your world, but this kiss completely undid everything. All that mattered was the minty aftertaste of the gum he’d been chewing earlier, the rough callouses of his hands scratching against your cheek, and his familiar musky aftershave scent enveloping you.

Slowly, he began pulling away, leaving a trail of kisses across your cheek as he chuckled. “I think I like kissing you when you’re hooked up to a heart monitor.”

His words made you realize that the monitor was beeping much faster than it had been just moments before and you ducked your head into his neck, huffing soft laughter.

“I like that sound too,” he murmured. “Been a while since you’ve laughed.”

“Yeah,” you whispered, risking a quick kiss to his neck. He brought his hand up to curl around your head, mindful of the bandage from surgery. His simple action anchored you to him; anchored you to this moment. This moment where the outside world didn’t exist. Where it was just you and him. “You know this isn’t over, right? I’m fucked up and a kiss isn’t going to make it all better.”

“I know. But I hope you know that I’m going to be right by your side through all of it. I don’t know why I married you in Vegas, but I know why I want to stay married to you.” At his declaration, you eased your head away from his neck and looked at him. With the sincerest expression you’d ever seen, he tucked your hair behind your ear and looked right into your eyes. “I’m all in, sweetheart. I’m willing to do whatever I need to, to get you good again. I have a therapist I go to sometimes who is great. Or we could find someone else, if you don’t want to mix that. Whatever you want.”

“I went to therapy in college,” you said weakly, about to argue that it hadn’t helped.

Sebastian apparently knew where you were going and broke in. “But you didn’t talk about everything, did you?” You shook your head and he gave you a reassuring smile. “Baby, you’ve gotta talk about it. All of it.”

A deep sigh escaped your lips and you laid your head back down on his shoulder. “I know.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead just before his chin came to rest on top of your head. “We’ll figure it out later, okay?”

“Okay,” you gave in, finally acknowledging that you’d stick around in his life. That you weren’t about to run away, and that you accepted that he wasn’t about to call the cops on you or divorce you right away.

A few minutes of comfortable silence tiptoed past. Finally, you stretched and climbed off of Seb’s lap. Your muscles protested, but you pushed through. As much as you’d love to stay curled up with Sebastian all day, your bladder had different plans.

The rest of the day was spent in familiar companionship. No more deep, dark discussions took place, and you managed to keep your self-hatred and depression at bay enough to enjoy the Lord of the Rings marathon Sebastian convinced you to start with him.

You knew this moment was the eye of the hurricane. The last few days had been hell, and the next few days or weeks would likely be just as bad or even worse.

But this moment? All was calm.

He said it! He said he loves her!! She agreed to stick around! Cancer free, love acknowledged, future plans... what more can you want??

Just the Epilogue left, y’all!!

EPILOGUE: THE END

[iwantthedean]

Question.

Summary: Nicsen heads to Vegas with Mishley for a wedding ... but what surprise does Jensen have up his sleeve?

Word Count: 1655

Pairing: Jensen x Nicole

Warnings: None?

A/N: Thanks @d-s-winchester and @impalaimagining for going with my gut, so to speak, and writing for my If Walls Could Talk series. This is more of an added-after-the-fact as opposed to part of the actual series, but it was fun to write -- and yes, there will be more!

If Walls Could Talk Masterlist

I could hear Tina, Ashley’s mom, in my head. Her tone was very serious, despite the fact that we had been joking around just minutes before during a FaceTime call Ashley had placed to her mother.

Don’t let her do it, Omaha. I swear, if you let her go to Vegas and get married, I’ll disown you both. And Misha, to boot.

Yet here I was, in a Vegas chapel, in a dress that was serving as a last-minute maid of honor dress. Here I was in a fucking Vegas chapel, helping Ashley get ready to marry Misha.

Oh, I was never going to forgive Jensen for setting these two up. Once I came back from the dead after Tina killed me for letting this happen, I was going to haunt his ass until he joined me in the afterlife.

“Smile,” Ashley said, breaking into my thoughts. “I’m getting married today!”

I sighed. “I’m happy for you, Ash, really but – Vegas? Are you sure this is the way you want to do this?”

Ashley shook her head. “All I know is I want to marry Misha. As soon as I realized that, I knew that the ceremony and the dress and the cake and the guests – none of that was as important as spending my life with him.”

How could I argue that? In the three months since Jensen and I had finally gotten together, everything had gone quickly. We were already in love, and that seemed to accelerate everybody’s life, somehow. I got the permanent job at the hospital, managed to keep my apartment next door to Jensen month-to-month, and Ashley made a smooth transition to Vancouver. Her relationship with Misha had clearly accelerated quickly as well; while I was content to be Jensen’s girlfriend for the time being, she was one-hundred-percent ready to marry Misha.

And now here we were in Vegas, with me waiting for Tina to jump out at any moment and scold me for allowing this to happen.

“I’m serious,” Ashley said sternly. “If you don’t get it together, Nic, I’m never going to forgive you. My mother is not going to jump out from around the corner and get you. She doesn’t even know we’re here.”

Damn. She read me like a book. With a deep breath, I pushed all of the thoughts of why this maybe was just a little crazy, and put my full effort into being happy for my best friend.

Just before the ceremony, Ashley and I stood outside of the room where she would marry Misha. Her eyes were wide and her face pale; it was that whole deer in the headlights look.

“Ashley? You okay?”

She nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

“Are you sure? You look like –”

“Jensen’s gonna ask you –”

But she was interrupted before she could finish her sentence. The wedding coordinator opened the doors so that I could walk in before Ashley. I pasted a smile on my face so that Ashley’s wedding pictures wouldn’t be ruined, but my heart was racing a million miles a minute, it felt like.

Jensen was going to ask me what?

 The ceremony went by in a blur. I kept the smile on my face and took her flowers when I was supposed to, fulfilled my maid of honor duties to a T – except I would not and could not meet Jensen’s eyes to save my life.

Even when we were walking back down the aisle behind the happy newlyweds, I couldn’t look at him. Hell, I could barely take the elbow he offered. Also with a smile – God, I loved his smile – stretching across his face, he spoke to me quietly.

“You look like you’re going to vomit,” he said through his smile. “Worried Tina is going to blame this on you? Nic, they’re in love. They’ll be fine.”

I shook my head as we exited the room. “Not worried about them.”

“What then?”

I shook my head again. No use in telling him I was worried about something I didn’t even know for sure about. I just need to get Ashley and have her finish her sentence, and everything would be fine.

Except that Little Miss Happily Married was out the door and on her way to her honeymoon suite before I could catch her. Grumbling to myself as I gathered up the things in the room where she and I had finished getting ready, I tried to decide what I was going to do.

Obviously, my brain went straight to assuming Jensen was going to propose. Was I ready for that? Part of me wasn’t sure, and the other part felt absolutely horrible that he always seemed to be waiting on me to catch up with him in terms of our relationship. I love Jensen, with my whole heart, and I didn’t want to be with anyone else – ever. Marriage seemed like such a crazy commitment, though. Especially after only three months together. We’d only actually known each other for around five months … no. It was just too quick. We hadn’t even talked about marriage yet, and he was planning to propose. What in the hell was happening?

Before I knew it, I had just about worked myself into a full-blown panic attack. I had to sit down to catch my breath, and that’s how Jensen found me after he had gathered up the few things he and Misha needed to take back to the hotel.

“Whoa, you all right?” he asked, concern etching into his features. He knelt in front of me and forced me to me his eyeline.

I nodded, swallowing hard. “You know I love you, right? We don’t need to rush into anything, right? I’m always ten steps behind you, it seems, and I’m trying to catch up, but this is a huge commitment and …”

“Slow down,” Jensen said. He kissed me softly, putting a stop to any further rambling I might allow to tumble off my tongue. “You and I are perfect, okay? No. We don’t need to rush into anything. Ashley and Misha did because, well, that’s the tone of their relationship. And that’s great for them. You and I though, Nicole, we are exactly perfect right where we are.”

I nodded as I leaned forward to put my arms around his neck and pull him closer. It didn’t matter that thing I was panicking over was my relationship with him and where it was possibly headed potentially too soon. Jensen was the only one I needed to make me feel calm again.

 The plan was to get Ashley and Misha married, then go waste money on slot machines and alcohol. I got bored with the slot machines after not too long, though, so I ordered a bottle of whiskey up to the room and left Jensen at the blackjack table.

An hour later, I was drunk as a skunk and laughing my ass off to an episode of Golden Girls. Jensen was well-intoxicated, too and, after stripping down to his boxers, fell onto the luxurious bed beside me.

“You do wanna get married someday though, right?”

Thank God for the alcohol to chase away my anxiety. “Someday. I thought we were good right now?”

“We are,” he assured, clumsily positioning himself over me and kissing my collarbone. “No matter. I have other things on my mind right now.”

I giggled as his kisses moved to my neck. “But this is the episode where Blanche has the dream about her husband!”

Jensen fumbled for the remote and turned off the TV. With a protest that quickly turned into giggles, I rolled over so that I was on top of him and met my lips to his.

 The next morning, thanks to our activities and a tall glass of water before going to sleep, I didn’t feel too hungover. A little breakfast and everything should be just fine.

Except that I woke up to a post-it note stuck to my head. Since we had starting dating, I had only gotten a couple of post-its from Jensen, but that was okay. It was still our special thing.

Snagging the sticky note off my forehead, I called for Jensen. “Really, a post-it on my forehead, Ackles?”

I heard a chuckle from the bathroom, so I reluctantly slipped out of bed and headed in that direction. He was freshly showered, leaning against the sink with that mischievous smirk on his face that made me both want to smack him and kiss him, all at the same time.

“Did you read it?” he asked.

I narrowed my eyes. No, of course I hadn’t read it. Who reads the note stuck to their forehead when they wake up? Taking a look at the yellow paper, I read, Question.

But hadn’t he said …? Okay. This was fine. I could play this off. I could not freak out. “Okay, Dwight, what’s your question?”

Jensen rolled his eyes at my reference to The Office, but then stepped forward and took my hand. “I’m not going to ask you to marry me, but I am wondering if, you know, maybe … would you want to move in with me?”

My face broke out in a grin before I could even think twice. I took that as a good sign, and was relieved that, for once, I was right on pace with Jensen.

“Yes!” I squealed before throwing my arms around his neck and kissing him fiercely. “I would love to live with you.”

“Even in Austin, during breaks and hiatus?”

I bit my bottom lip. That made me a little more nervous, but I was excited enough to want to move forward, so I gave him a definitive nod. “Even then.”

His grin and my grin melded together into a perfect kiss. I couldn’t wait to get back to Vancouver and start this new chapter of our relationship – to start it together.