#fuck. how much do actual hitmen cost? the kind who are good at their job?

[vagueiish]

god, genuinely, who gives a shit?

[alleiradayne]

Secret Agent Man

Summary: Sam and Natalie reunite in The Continental Hotel. Square Filled: Spy AU Warnings/Tags: Lotsa floofs, some sexiness Characters/Pairings: Sam Winchester/Natalie Murphy Word Count: 1,616 A/N:  For @spnfluffbingo2019. Think John Wick, Sam and Natalie are spies/hitmen that have worked together for years. They’ve also competed for contracts, but always managed to leave things quite amorous between one another. Song: Secret Agent Man by Johnny Rivers

The speakeasy; alcohol at cost, ornate furniture, hazy air, and a wait staff available for your every vice. The Continental Hotel cut no corners. Nor should it. Not for the price paid by its clientele. If you needed to go into hiding for a week, the Continental had you covered. If you needed to blow off some steam—either by kicking the shit out of someone or fucking your brains out—the Continental had people at your disposal. If you were like Natalie Murphy, and all you needed was a stiff drink and some goddamn peace and quiet, they had the best liquor money could buy and nobody would bother you. And, so, Natalie sat in her wing-back leather chair, keen to be left alone as she drowned her last job in a sea of brown liquor. No negotiations. No meetings. No interruptions.

“Mind if I join you?”

Okay. Maybe one interruption. For his baritone, she could make an exception.

“That depends, Mr. Winchester. What do you—”

The heavy glass tumbler of scotch thumped to the table as Sam Winchester leaned over her shoulder. “You look ravishing, as always.” A tender kiss met her cheek and lingered before he parted from her.

If you wanted honest compliments, hours of conversation, long legs, hazel eyes, dimples for days, and sex you'd feel a week later, you called Sam Winchester. Not to mention he knew his way around a sniper rifle.

“Why, thank you, Sam. Good to see you in one piece, as always,” Natalie chimed. “What brings you back around, sweetheart?”

Sam rounded the tiny coffee table and took up a seat on a mismatched chaise, left elbow propped on the arm as he leaned towards her. The small lounge droned with hushed conversation and subtle music, and golden lamplight illuminated the gorgeous smile on his lips. Trim grey suit hugged his broad shoulders, narrowed at his hips, and elongated his already long legs. Despite the awkward seating, Sam sat regal as a king on the chaise, legs crossed, broad shoulders pulled back, and spine strait as an arrow.

Natalie consumed him, head to toe and back again when he remained silent. His devious grin warmed her belly much like her scotch, smooth as she swallowed it down her throat. She had missed something. Narrowed eyes and a sideways glare scrutinized his inquisitive smirk, but she found nothing in his soft gaze. Then her eyes snapped to his feet and there she found an obnoxious pair of ornate black brogues.

“Sam,” she sighed. “Really?”

“You know how I hate to ask,” he muttered into his drink. “Be a doll and give me a hand?”

Natalie leaned over the arm of her chair, her face inches from his. “What's in it for me?”

“The usual,” Sam started with a coy smirk, “money, revenge, networking, the chance to work with me again.”

She pouted, her bottom lip stuck out as she teased him. “I can get those things anywhere. And what makes you think I like working with you?”

Callused fingers curled her hair behind her ear, and Natalie gathered all her willpower not to react. “I recall a number of nights involving extra-curricular activities after completing a hit. I could refresh your memory if you join in my room tonight,” he said as his gaze fell to her lips for a heartbeat, then returned to her eyes. “We can go over the logistics of this mark, too.”

Nobody had a right to smile the way Sam Winchester smiled at her. “Logistics,” she breathed. “Right. Already got a plan?”

Sam nodded. “Almost. Needs another set of eyes on it before I'm comfortable.”

Despite her best effort, Natalie grinned. “Alright, Mr. Winchester. I think I can accommodate you.”

His pleased hum sang like the sweetest music. “Excellent. It will be quite thrilling to work with you again. You are the consummate marksman.”

Natalie snorted into her drink. “Now you're just trying to butter me up. I already said I'd help you.”

“No, Ms. Murphy,” he said as his hand enveloped hers. “I mean it. You are always a pleasure to work with. Discrete, efficient, and a master of the craft. I came to you first not only because I know you would get the job done, but because I thoroughly love working with you.”

Oh, he was laying it on thick. Either he desperately needed her help, or he desperately wanted to get laid. “You’re not too bad yourself.” Natalie said, “I kinda miss having you around. You know, to lift things.”

Sam smiled at that as his eyes listed to his feet. “I can lift a great many things, that is true. Like bodies. I am particularly gifted at lifting bodies,” he said as he teased the back of her hand with delicate fingertips. “Conscious, consenting bodies, that is.”

Natalie thanked the poor lighting of the lounge, lest Sam see the pink hue across her cheeks. She had missed working with him for several reasons. Sure, sign her up for all the delicious sex the Continental offered. But Sam Winchester offer much more than a steady gun on her six, or a post-mark coital playmate.

“What are you thinking about?”

“You,” she stated. “Why do you come to me for help? There are better spies out there.”

Sam’s raptor-like glare sharpened to a point between his knotted brow. “I disagree. As I said, you are a professional, and I love watching you work in all facets of the job. A job that seems to have included seducing me.”

A distraction, she needed a distraction immediately, before her read her like an open book. She threw back her head as she finished the dredges of her original drink, then hefted the glass Sam had place before her. With a short sip, the liquor coated her tongue and warmed her throat. Her eyes widened as the flavors settled; subtle smoke, sweet, with a hint of sherry. A deep breath finalized the succulent sample in a rich flourish of oak.

“You did not.”

Sam held out his hand and, as if summoned with magic, a large dark brown bottle of Bowmore manifested in the hands of a server. “I did.” He motioned to the server who then handed her the bottle.

With great care, Natalie cradled the bottle as she examined it. “I owe you. That’s not a cheap pour.”

“Neither is the bottle,” he started as he leaned to her and spoke, voice barely above a whisper. “Besides, there is something else of yours I would rather have than the money I spent.”

Her eyes snapped to his, only then to notice the server had left them. Alone. With a thirty-thousand-dollar bottle of Scotch. Between him and the bottle, Natalie struggled with where to look.

“Consider it a wedding gift.”

She couldn’t help herself. “You know, usually people date for a while before they get married. And one person actually asks the other if they even want to.”

Sam smiled as he grasped the neck of the bottle. With his eyes still on hers, he said, “I suppose I can drink this by my—”

“You will not, Samuel Winchester,” Natalie hissed as she snatched the bottle from him.

“So, is that a ye—”

Her lips landed on his without a single thought. Fuck the future. Fuck the job. Fuck everything in their wretched little world. The only thing that mattered to her at that moment was that Sam Winchester loved her like she had always loved him.

When Natalie parted from him, Sam laughed a breath through his nose. “So, about that job…”

Natalie stood with a huff as she grabbed her bag and her drink, the bottle cradled in the crook of her arm. Sam had remained seated, unmoving but for the curious quirk of his head. “Do you want my help or not?”

Hands on his knees, he stood, then wrapped an arm around her shoulders as he stepped beside her. “Thank you, Natalie.”

“Don’t thank me quite yet,” she warned as they headed for the elevator. “I have no idea what kind of mess you’ve roped me into.”

“Your favorite kind of mess,” Sam teased. “We need a honeypot.”

At the elevator, Natalie punched the call button. “That’s worse than get help.”

“Not for me, it isn’t,” Sam laughed as they entered the elevator. He thumbed the button for the twentieth floor and the doors closed.

“Right,” Natalie stated with a flat glare as the elevator shuttered into motion. “You do nothing but watch me work.”

“Exactly.”

Wicked man. They rode the elevator in silence, but when they reached the twentieth floor, her curiosity got the better of her. “Why is that so entertaining to you?”

Through the hallways, Sam led them to his room. With a wave of his hand, the handle clicked, and he pushed the door wide. Once inside, Natalie unburdened herself, scotch set on the bar and her bag left on an overstuffed chair. “Are you going to answer my question or--”

As she turned to him, Sam loosened his tie and stripped it from his neck. With measured steps, he neared her as he said, “I enjoy watching you seduce bumbling fools because I know that, at the end of the day, I will be the one that takes care of you.” Over her head, he looped his tie and wrapped it around her waist, then pulled her flush to his chest. “What do you say? Still want to give me a hand?”

A small smile crooked the corners of her lips. “On one condition.”

“Anything for you, Natalie.”

She had hoped he might say that.

“After this, we have a real wedding.”

Tags: @atc74 @hannahindie @bevans87 @meganwinchester1999 @plaided-ani-on-hiatus @oneshoeshort @jonogueira @andkatiethings @elfinmox@wonderfulworldofwinchester @princessofthefandomrealm @just-another-busyfangirl @jmekitchens @81mysteriouslyme @dolphincliffs

Reblogs and feedback are awesome. If you want in on the tags, send me an ask or a DM!

ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN FLUFF BINGO

ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN MASTER LIST