Queen Of Paradox (Unedited)

The Best Laid Plans...

"I still think this is stupid and reckless!" Melody hissed.

"And I still think your opinion is obsolete. So drop it!" Dean growled back. He picked up his Sai's and examined them before sliding them into a sheath strapped around his nearly bare waist. His black pants hung a little low on his hips and was close-fitted for quicker movement. It tucked neatly into his combat boots that already held a few thin daggers. A black wife-beater that displayed his ripped arms completed the look.

Melody gave his outfit a critical look before rolling her eyes. "Whatever Rambo.."

He paused in the middle of tossing his hair up into a topknot and glared at her. A muffled chuckle had him swinging his gaze to the right to pin William with a glare as well.

"And what's so funny, G.I. Joe?" He gritted out, taking in William's clothes. The tall blond had military fatigue pants on, tucked into laced up black matted Martins, that hit mid-calf. A dark green turtleneck shirt stretched over his muscular chest and defined biceps. A black military tactical vest was thrown over it and left open. Pockets littered the outside and Dean had no doubt the inside was lined with various weapons.

His hair was slicked back which made his features sharper and the glare he was shooting back more intense. "How am I in trouble? Lara Croft started it!"

"Ladies! Ladies! You're all pretty!" Grant teased, joining them in the living room. His eyes landed on Melody and began a slow once over. Starting from her heeled combat boots, up her smooth bare legs, lingering over her camo shorts. His eyes darkened a bit and continued their perusal towards her cropped black tank. He lingered there too. Long enough for her face to take on an intense shade of red.

William frowned at the whole exchange and moved so he was blocking Grant's view. Dean raised a brow at the blatant show of aggression and shook his head. It was becoming clear those two would not be laughing over a beer anytime soon.

"Where's your gear?" William questioned. Taking in the warlock's simple attire of black leather pants, desert boots, a graphic Tee and trench.

The Brit chuckled and gave William a cocky grin. "You forget I'm a warlock. I have all the armour and weapons I need in the tips of my finger."

William's jaw clenched before he stepped forward so he could loom threateningly over Grant. "Listen. This isn't a bar room brawl or a back alley fight in Mystic. This is us risking our life for the only woman worth living for. I lost her once, I'm not gonna lose her again because you're too proud to palm a fucking dagger. So grab a Godsdamn weapon Warlock. Because if you fuck this up? All the magic in the world wouldn't be able to save you from the beat down I'd deliver."

"Wow. Does the weather network know about you? Because you're just a big 'ol dose of sunshine. And for the record? You came to me for help. Not the other way around. So maybe watch the tone."

"Let's not pretend you're Mr. Charity. Last time I checked, we're paying you half a billion dollars. Which means we bought you. Which means we own you until your job is done. So I will talk to you however I damn well please, and you'll shut the fuck up and listen."

"Yeah? Is that what I'll do? Because the way I see it, your pansy ass can't do this alone and the only way you're getting into that castle is with me. Which, gasp, makes me more valuable than all your shiny toys combined. So, once again. Watch. The fucking. Tone. Or I'll happily show you what it's like to burn from the inside out."

Dean cleared his throat and stepped towards the hostile males. "As much as I'm enjoying this verbal smack down, I'm gonna need to you guys to stop rubbing dicks so we can go get our woman. Yeah? Good. William, finish loading up the car. Grant, I need you to spell a few more runes."