Lambs for Slaughter Part 2

Untitled Part 9

Dean was...confused.

Back when they were kids, he and Sammy were stuck in McCook, Nebraska for a hunt that lasted a few days longer than planned. Dean had snuck out one night while John was gone and stole a few Captain America comic books from the local library for Sammy after he practically begged their father for one and was shut down with a harsh reminder that "fairy tales were for children." As Sam was only six at the time, and Cap wasn't a freakin' princess, Dean felt safe going against his father. Just this once.

It was worth it too, seeing the look on his brother's face when Dean handed him the comic book. It was also worth the long weeks after that listening to Sammy drone on and on about Captain America and his Howling Commandos. He had to work to keep a positive attitude and to hold off on rolling his eyes as he heard about their adventures. Dean was more concerned with fighting off the real-life monsters that lived underneath their beds and keeping Sam blissfully ignorant for as long as possible than allowing himself to indulge in superheroes. Yeah, he liked the idea just fine, but they weren't real, and they sure as hell weren't going to come rushing in to save him or his brother when a werewolf attacked or when John got too drunk.

They were on their own. He'd learned that very, very early on.

And it wasn't like Dean hadn't heard of the Avengers, because even he wasn't too far removed from society to miss the alien invasion in New York a few years ago. But in all honesty, they'd been dealing with the Leviathans at the time, and since there were other people taking care of the aliens, Dean simply...let it go. He didn't need any more weird shit on his mind. And then he was trapped in Purgatory for a stretch, and aliens fell straight to the bottom of his "Things To Worry About" list.

Judging by his brother's and friends' reactions though, he was the only one who didn't know much about the people lounging around the conference table. There were an awkward few moments where both teams sized each other up, but Coulson broke the silence by clearing his throat. "Team, this is Dean Winchester, his brother Sam, Agent Hotchner and Dr. Reid."

There were too many of them to be polite, so the others simply lifted a hand to say hello. Dean did no such thing.

Probably for the best, because the next moment the man in the suit, which was probably worth more than the Impala, snorted in derision. It had Dean's hackles raising immediately, and he couldn't help the scowl that stretched over his lips.

"These are the experts you told us about? Two flannel-wearing rednecks and a pair of FBI agents who wouldn't normally have the necessary clearance levels to even know about this place, much less step foot inside?"

Dean saw red. "Hey, fuck you, asshole!" Sam and Hotch grabbed onto his arms when he surged forward, and he felt, rather than heard, the inhuman growl that rumbled deep within his chest as the man in the bomber jacket placed his hand on the dickwad's shoulder and pulled him back with a frown.

"Tony, now is not the time." He turned bright blue eyes on Dean and the others, giving them an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry for my friend's behavior, we've just been anxious to meet you."

"Meet us?" Sam questioned in a pitch higher than his usual, blowing past the other man's insults like he wasn't the least bit offended. What the hell was happening?

The blonde stepped forward. "Yes, Agent Coulson has left us in the dark about you and your brother. Let me introduce the team. I'm Steve Rogers," he flashed a good ol' boy grin that had everyone except Dean relaxing, then pointed out the other people in the room. "This is Tony Stark, who's sorry by the way." Total bullshit in Dean's opinion judging by the sneer on his face. "Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton, Dr. Bruce Banner, Bucky Barnes, and Thor."