Mat's head shot up as he heard three sharp knocks on his door. He calmly walked over and peeked out the peephole. Two men stood there, one with brown hair and was taller than the other and one that was quite short. One word flashed across Mat's mind when he saw one get out his wallet and choose a fake ID.
Hunters.
The hunter instincts that his father passed down kicked in as he leaned down and grabbed the hidden pistol that no one-not even his boyfriend-knew about he placed it in the back of the belt where it could be hidden easily.
Flashing the best fake smile he could he opened the door and asked, "Hello, guys! What can I do you for?"
"State Police. You need to let us in." The shorter one said.
Mat placed his hand on his hip and stepped to the side. "Well, come on in!"
Mat's attitude went cold once they turned around. He pulled out his pistol and pointed it at their backs. He cocked it very noticeably and with a stone cold voice said, "Listen up, fuckers. I am in charge in this house, ok? Now, I need you to get to your knees and drop your weapons, slide them behind you. After that, keep your hands where I can see them."
The brunette slowly started dropping to his knees, but shortie was reluctant until brunette hit him on the arm. Mat could feel the sarcastic eye roll as shortie sunk to his knees and pulled out his gun and slid it behind him. Brunette took out a pistol and knife and slid it behind him.
"The knife too, shortie."
"Ok, you don't have to be rude." Shortie mumbled, pulling it out and sliding it backwards.
"Dean!" Brunette hissed.
Mat went to grab them when shortie lunged at him. In between blocking and throwing punches a d keeping hold of his gun, he saw brunette take their weapons back. Eventually, Mat got the shortie on the ground. He placed his foot on his back and wiped blood dripping from his mouth. He did a hell of a lot more to shortie. He cocked the gun again, but then he heard the deep voice he loved come from the stair.
"Mat? What the hell is going on?"
"Mark, not right now." Mat said keeping his eye on shortie, forgetting about the brunette.
"Mat, who the fuck are these guys."
"Mark, go upstairs."
"No. You don't tell me what to do."
"Mark Edward Fischbach, go upstairs right this instant."
"Don't tell me what to do in my own fucking ho-"
Mat looked up when Mark stopped talking, but saw nothing. Then he heard a thud ring throughout the house. He whipped his head around to see Mark with brunette pinned down by his neck. Although it was barely audible to Mat, he could hear mark hiss, "Nobody even tries to touch my boyfriend and gets away with it."
"Now that we got you and your parter pinned, what are your names?" Mat asked, turning back to the short guy.
"I'm Officer Jefferson Jackson and this is my partner Henry-son of a bitch!" The short guy groaned after Mat slammed his combat book heel in between his vertebrae.
"Tell the truth."
"Ok, just take your damn heel out of my spine please?"
Mat removed it as the short guy said, "I'm Dean Winchester and this is my brother Sam."
"Wait, as in John Winchester's boys?"
"Yes."
"Shoot, I'm sorry!" Mat said, his hunter persona crumbling. "Let me help you up."
"No, I got it." Dean said, getting up. "For such a scrawny guy, you can sure throw a punch."
"Thanks." Mat looked over to see Mark with his hand still wrapped around Sam's neck and a deathly look in his eye. "Mark! Let go of him!"
Mark grumbled and released him and immediately walks up to Mat and wraps an arm around his waist as Sam gasps for air. Dean helped him up. Mat awkwardly cleared his throat as he put his gun back in his belt. "So," he started, "would you two want anything to drink?"
"Do you have any beer?" Dean asked.
"No, I don't drink and Mark can't."
"I'll have a water then."
"Ditto." Sam coughed.
