Splatter

19. The Specialist 1276

The levee walls looked different to how Dean remembered, even from cursory passes he had made on shift months ago. The material looked reinforced and up in the distant apex there were rolls of barbed wire. Dean looked around with fresh eyes, taking in the additional security, the physical barriers and the ever present surveillance cameras. Ash was at the gate and Dean's eyes were transfixed to the thigh holster his colleague was wearing.

"Ready to gear up?" Ash asked, waving at a woman inside an elevator station mounted half way up the wall.

The young woman waved back, Dean recognised her by her pale blond hair and petite frame. Her name was Jo, she was a new recruit, just 22. There had been a cake when it was her birthday and some of it was left over when the shift had changed. Dean remembered eating the peanut butter cream off the chocolate sponge. The cake had been made in the shape of a puppy, Jo's mother had made it, the puppy held a fish tail in its cartoon jaws. Her mother had a weird sense of humour. The black rum in the cake had been sinfully sweet and it was one of the most deliciously ugly things Dean had ever eaten.

"We're not allowed to open the main gate at night," Ash explained as they ascended in the elevator. "They're more placid during the day."

Dean gave Ash a weird look, Jo pulled a face.

"You've only known the Mer royals, they're civilised," Ash went on. "There's only ever a handful of them and they wear suits."

"Yeah, cause suits make you look more human," Jo muttered, Dean could see her rolling her eyes.

"When they are in the swamps they go savage. There's so many, they cluster and they are, well I don't like to say it, but they are feral. We don't go anywhere without our armour and tasers. The special officers have more than that. What weapons clearance you got Dean?"

This was a whole new side of Ash that Dean had never seen before. Ash had always been an easy going guy whenever he joined Dean's crew at the bar. He always just had a quiet beer and watched the game, chatting amiably before he went off. Come to think of it, that would have been right before he started work. What the hell was going on in the swamps that a guy like Ash needed to have a drink before he could start his shift? He didn't smell intoxicated. Dean's nostrils flared and he thought he could scent something salty on the breeze. Maybe it was the brine from the swamps, or if Dean let his imagination get ahead of him, it was Ash's fear.

"I'm up to date," Dean cleared his throat.

"Oh yeah, I remember you telling me," Ash stood up a little straighter, his face a little less tense than it was.

Dean was a little embarrassed to remember the drinking session they shared at the start of the year, when Dean was celebrating getting the top-tier clearance for ammunitions. The training had been funded by the city and Dean had been excited to get it. It had never crossed Dean's mind why a customs officer needed to have expertise on a range of hand guns, going all the way up to automatic rifles that could be set up to operate like machine guns. There were pages and pages of waivers that Dean had signed and ever since then he had received a small stipend additional to his usual salary for having qualified for 'crowd containment'. Jo was looking at Dean with judgement in her pale blue eyes. Jo had darkish eyelashes rimming her watery irises, that reminded Dean of Castiel. Dean looked down at his feet.

"Jo's only got her taser," Ash said admonishingly.

"And my winning personality," Jo said with a tilt of her head that made her honey coloured tresses bounce over her shoulder. "I get by."

"Well, I'm gonna stand close to the specialist then," Ash said, not really sounding like he was joking.

Dean followed Ash's line of sight up to the top of the wall. There was a figure standing there, outlined by glowing lights behind. Dean could see black boots, tightened all the way up the calf of clinging black pants, a fitted waistline with glossy attachments that Dean didn't quite have time to catalogue in his head, a pair of silver cuffs secured over a shapely hip. The torso widened out to broad shoulders, artfully clad in black leather, glossy obsidian detailing in the zips and tabs and push buttons along the front. Dean was already lightheaded by the time the elevator stopped, his hand grasped tight over the security bar, as he stared through the gaps at Castiel.

"Emmanuel, Dean," Ash introduced them. "Dean, this is the Mer specialist you'll be partnering up with."

Castiel looked at Dean without a word, his face blank.

Dean was still trying to wrap his head around the black leather outfit and the wild wind swept hair.

"He doesn't carry a taser," Jo said with an awed quaver to her voice.

Castiel smirked, sliding his eyes towards Dean.

"He doesn't need to," Ash reprimanded her. "He has a blade. And he's him."

"Let me show you around Dean," Castiel said, shouldering past the officers and turning to walk away. "Don't let Ash scare you. You'll be in safe hands."

* * *

While going up the wall was cool, getting down it was all tedious admin. Ash made Dean put on a barrier vest and sync his radio. Castiel leaned with his back against the wall, one knee bent, watching in silence as Dean was briefed about security procedures. There weren't many officers in the building and the whole place seemed more reliant on face id and automated security gates than personnel. Maybe that was why no one was yelling out that the Mer prince Castiel was pretending to be a detective, Dean figured. How could anyone be buying this undercover gig? Here was Dean who had his face splashed all over the media as Castiel's consort. And here was Castiel, a decadently leather clad Castiel sure, but still unmistakably him. No human had cheek bones like that, and angelic eyes to boot. Dean felt increasing frustration as Castiel stayed quiet, played dumb, acted like he didn't feel the urge to push, claw or ravish. Like Dean was feeling.

Dean had turned up in his jeans and a t-shirt but Ash shook his head at Dean's get-up.

"You'll get drenched, go find him something will you Jo?"

"Way ahead of you," Jo tossed a jacket into the air and Dean caught it with both hands.

It was a worn brown leather number, long lined jacket with handy pockets and it fit beautifully across Dean's shoulders. Castiel's eyes lingered a little longer on Dean when he put it on.

"That's not fitted correctly," he said slowly, pushing off the wall.

Dean froze when Castiel knelt on the floor and reached for Dean. His leg trembled when Castiel seized the thigh holdster strap and with his other hand pushed down over the in-seam of Dean's jeans. Dean's whole body jerked when Castiel gave the thigh-holster strap a sharp and firm pull. Maybe the taser had misfired inside the holster, Dean felt like he'd been electrified.

"Let's walk," Castiel said, turning and Dean gritted his teeth. Castiel's leather jacket was fitted and cropped. It didn't hide his ass the way the customs trenchcoat usually did. All Dean could do was follow, very closely.