Vagabond Roaming (3/?)
Title: Vagabond Roaming
Fandom(s): SPN/Grimm Crossover. Supergrimm.
Pairing: Dean/Nick.
Rating: T. Ratings will go up.
Warnings: None.
Summary: Dean and Sam were sent to Portland, Oregon to investigate a possible creature attack when three mutilated corpses turned up. The brothers never expected to end up chasing the same monster alongside Detective Nick Burkhardt.
Cross-posted to:
thecenturi0n,
grimm-fic,
sn_slash,
spn_fics,
Edit (5/21): I recently acquired a beta, the lovely desree_rd! :) She has kindly beta'd the past three chapters while giving me pointers and will be helping out for all the future chapters! Thanks, Des! ♥ The newly edited chapters replaced the original chapter/post, so no new links! :)
( Chapter 1 ) ( Chapter 2 ) ( Chapter 3 )
After finding out that Sarah's body was being examined at the local Medical Examiner's Office, the two brothers quickly drove over there before the real detectives had their chance with the body. With a flip of their badges and a pair of charming smiles, the two were entering the coroner's room, about to greet the coroner.
"She was pretty, huh?" The coroner asked noticing the two men in suits entering the room while brushing a stray lock of blonde hair out of the corpse's face. "She still is," she smiled.
Sam felt a little creeped out. "Uh, yeah. Hi. Can you gives us your prelims?"
"You're lucky that you caught me just as I finished. I was going to have my assistant sew her up and grab me a coffee. God knows I need one." The coroner took off her latex gloves and tossed them in the trash before moving her glasses off and rubbing her eyes tiredly. She put them back on and looked at the men. "So, the prelims." She handed Dean a folder from off the desk. "All is in there." She waved dismissively.
Dean flipped open the folder and read through it as Sam examined Sarah, whose whole torso was torn open, revealing an empty pit where organs should be. "Tell me about the missing organs."
"An animal attack happened."
Sam stared at her bluntness.
"That's why it is called prelims, y'know." The coroner shrugged, smirking.
"Okay, well…" Sam flushed from embarrassment, realizing his mistake and corrected himself, "What did you find during the autopsy?"
She beckoned Sam over to the left side of Sarah's torso, where her heart would've been under her ribcage. "What do you see?"
"Uh." Sam stared blankly.
Dean appeared by their side and peered over Sarah's body. "Something is off on the skin where it was cut, I think."
"Correct. These tears are also similar to the other two bodies, however the earlier two were cruder, if possible."
"You're talking as if she was torn up by an object," Sam said, bewildered.
"Correct again - two for two. My, my. You feds are quite different from the other ones." Sam and Dean looked at each other at this. "Now, keep going - keep doing that deducing. I like outside opinions."
Sam looked back at the body again and gave another inspection. "Maybe an object, like a saw?"
"Pretty damn close to it," Dean clued in. "It's crude but it's nearly clear cut."
The coroner nodded. "Yes, it's as if someone intended to remove the organs, but probably was inexperienced."
"Inexperienced? Like these bodies were... practice?" Sam's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"Mhmm. I believe this poor girl's heart was removed while it was still beating."
"Y'think?" Dean asked, actually not all too surprised.
"But y'know, that's my opinion. People wants facts and evidence, and there is not enough evidence on her body to support hte homicide theory, until the lab says otherwise."'
"Alright, thanks." Sam shook hands with the coroner.
"Appreciate it." Dean pulled his best smile, to which the coroner rolled her eyes.
"Don't mention it," she said just before the two men left the morgue.
So if not a werewolf, what then?
It couldn't be human... could it?
…
It was well past two in the morning. Or was it four? Whatever. Either way, it was too horrifically early in the morning. Dean groaned and attempted to stretch his legs in the tiny boot space in the driver's seat of the Impala - no such luck.
"Fuck." He groaned and cricked his neck and looked over Sam who was watching the apartment building intently with a cup of coffee in his hand. "Dude, anything?"
"Nope."
"Ah, man, He probably won't come out. It's Tuesd- shit, Wednesday morning. Who in their right mind would come out this late? How about we just call it a night?"
"I don't - no, no, wait." He paused before speaking again quietly. "His lights turned on."
Dean leaned over into Sam's space and looked up at the fourth floor window the room of which was the only one lit. There were some shadows dancing around behind the drawn curtains and then the room flickered dark again.
Moments later Malcolm was walking out of the apartment entrance. He stopped on the sidewalk underneath a lit streetlight and shoved his fists in his jacket, shuffling his feet as if he was waiting. Kid was gangly and tall. Almost reminded Dean of someone.
"Think he's waiting for a pick-up?"
"Probably."
A black sketchy-looking van that screams 'hey kids we have candy' pulled up to where Malcolm was standing and he got in, sliding the door shut. The van drove off and turned a corner.
"Follow?"
"Follow."
Dean turned the ignition and headed in the direction the van had driven off. He turned off his headlights and kept his distance from the van so that they would not notice there was another car behind them.
The van kept driving north, leading them towards the outskirts of Portland into the vast open land and forests and winding roads.
Dean had no problem keeping behind the van, but then came along a particularly curvy road.
And the van had vanished.
"What the hell?" Dean pulled over to the side.
Sam got out of the Impala and looked around, Dean followed. "Maybe there's a pathway into the forest?"
Dean walked off towards the forest, away from the road. "Maybe." He pushed aside some bushes here and there. "I don't see any tracks around here. They should've disappeared from here. Maybe they hid the trail."
"Why go to the trouble at this time of the night?"
"Unless they don't want anyone to follow them and hiding their tracks is the best way to do it." Dean pointed out.
"Gotta be," Sam sighed. "Want to head back?"
"Hell yeah."
…
Fucking libraries.
Dean never liked libraries. They were stuffy places full of nerdy people and old lady librarian hags that did nothing but nag. And the silence. No one should get him started on that. Sure, given a few textbooks and a laptop, he would do some research. Just anywhere but a library. A motel was much preferred. After complaining about the place being boring and nerdy for a good whole hour, Sam pretty much kicked Dean out of the library (with some insistence from the librarian) to do anything but be in the there.
Dean kicked a rock as he sluggishly walked along the sidewalk, walking away from the public library. After knocking out for a good five hours, Sam insisted on investigating the victim's family background and learn more about the city of Portland itself. Hence the trip to where they were now. And the place Dean was trying to get away from.
That was six hours ago. It was evening now. Sam still hadn't called Dean whether or not he was done. Either Sam passed out reading too many boring books or was reading past the amount actually needed. Either way, Sam would call when he was ready. Dean's throat itched in thirst and he looked around for a bar. Any bar would do.
He turned right around, recalling passing a bar a few minutes ago.
And collided right into one Detective Nick Burkhardt.
"John."
"Nick! Why is it that we keep bumping into each other like this? You have a crush on me and decided to take up stalking?" He grinned.
"Har har, very funny." Nick shook his head, his cheeks and tip of the ears tinged red; but it just might be the cold. "But no, I was just heading home." He was wrapped up in his jacket, and pulled it closer to escape the chilly November breeze.
Dean sniffed and looked around them. "Hey, you free?"
Nick looked surprised. "Uh."
"If you're not doing anything, really."
"Well, I suppose I'm not…
"Great! You and I are going to get buzzed tonight as two cops off-duty," Dean swung his arm around Nick's shoulders. "I think there's a bar down there."
"Yeah, there is. Not sure if you would wan-"
"Lead the way, detective!" He pushed Nick and patted his back heavily.
And so, that was how Nick found himself on a bar stool nursing his third shot of whiskey and sitting next to a federal agent who he barely knew and who was on his second shot of whiskey. They exchanged tips about handling cases and what beer was good to have on certain kind of days; whether it be a shitty day full of dead bodies or a lazy Sunday. They moved on to more personal topics and eventually to the topic of cars. Even though Nick had a crappy but dependable SUV, Nick secretly harbored and interest in old vintage cars. It wasn't as if he could afford one on detective salary anyhow.
"I see that you drive a gorgeous Impala."
"Yep, '67 Chevy. It's my baby."
"They really let feds drive their own cars?"
"I'm quite a special case."
"I'm curious as to how special."
As they chatted, Dean soon became aware of the bar's environment and saw that women were leaving and more men were taking up the place. Normally this wasn't a huge deal, but then deep rock music started playing and several pairs of guys took to the dance floor and some were promptly making out. Dean's eyebrows shot up.
"The hell?"
Nick glanced over. "Must be gay night."
"Doesn't that bother you?"
"No, not really. I did try to warn you earlier, actually. But we're just a couple of guys having a drink, right? Shouldn't really matter."
"Yeah, I guess so," Dean looked away from the crowd, trying to ignore them and focus on the liquor. After a moment of silence, Dean heard a heavy sigh from Nick's direction. He looked over and saw Nick holding what looked like an engagement ring.
"Woah, getting married?"
Nick let out a bitter laugh and took a swig of his whiskey. "No, the opposite actually."
"Got rejected?"
"Something like that."
"Do share."
"I guess I am drunk enough to spill you all the gritty details of my woe," Nick said, resigned. "But really, it's just…"
When Nick looked over to his side, he saw that John was watching him, casually taking a swig of his whiskey, as if waiting for him to continue. What the hell, why not?
"I had a girlfriend for a really long time and I loved her. And to be honest, I still do. But… maybe I was in love with the idea of her."
"What happened?"
"My… job got in the way."
"Oh?"
"It was getting too dangerous for her. For her to be around me. I wanted to keep her safe from everything. I just wanted someone I could come home to and lay in bed with and cook dinner together." Nick finished his current shot of whiskey and asked the bartender for another before continuing, "I had to keep secrets from her… and her being so stubborn, she needed to know." He hiccuped quietly. "And I-I can't. I can't tell her. It would scare her and she would never see me the same way again. Or the world really. In the e- in the end, she didn't accept my proposal, not as long as I kept everything from her."
"Women." Dean shook his head, patting Nick's shoulder sympathetically. "They get too clingy and need too much information. Us guys need space, y'know? Just like yours, my job is also dangerous and I'm on the road all the time. Detectives and g-men, right?" Dean laughed quietly before continuing, "It is way too risky to involve people. I'm in too deep. It's why I usually don't do longer than one night stands."
"You never had a serious relationship?"
"Well." Dean thought of Lisa and Ben. "I did have a serious relationship once. It was on and off and then we stuck together for a year."
"But?"
"My job." Dean shook his head. "It took me away from them after I spent a year playing house. In the end, if I kept going back to them, I would have just hurt them and cause even more problems."
"So you and me both," Nick mumbled. "The world isn't so lonely anymore."
When they both trailed into silence, the music changed and Nick's head perked up, suddenly in a good mood. Deep booms filled the bar as the multicolored lights flickered along with the beats.
"Oh great! This is a really good song." He smiled happily and dragged Dean towards the crowd on the dance floor.
"What- wait. Hey!"
As they stood in the middle of the crowd, Nick said in his ear, "C'mon." He leaned in closer, shoving a thigh in between Dean's legs which elicited a surprised gasp from him. "Let loose." Nick's drunken breaths were puffing over Dean's face and neck and his hands were gripping Dean's hips, thumbs under his shirt.
Holy shit.
They were grinding. Dean could feel Nick's package against his thigh, not fully hard, but not fully flaccid either.
Nick was a fucking guy.
Dean's hands found Nick's upper arms. Muscles. Not soft twig arms that Dean was used to having wrapped around his neck. Coiled, heated tendons and muscles moving underneath his fingers. A fucking guy, Dean repeated in the depths of his mind. His fingers splayed in discomfort as Nick dragged him closer until their abdomens touched and continued to grind him and rock them together to the heavy rock beat.
Soon, Dean found his hips rolling together with Nick's in sync. Dean's head fell back as they continued to grind together, Nick's thigh pushing up Dean's package with force. A warm feeling rushed through the pit of Dean's stomach. Shit, shit, shit, shit! What the fuck, shit? This feels - oh. He lost himself in the echoes of the beat that drowned them on the dance floor, blinded by the light strobes.
No. This was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. He shoved Nick away, who drunkenly stumbled backwards slightly, but was able to keep upright. "Look man, you're smashed. Let's get you home, okay?"
"But Johnny," Nick leaned into Dean's personal space again. "Dancing is fun. Really really really fun." He took Dean's hands again and he swung them up. "Let's dance! It's one of the best things to do in life." He grinned toothily. He moved his hips in a way straight men (Wait, was he even straight? He used to have a girlfriend, right?) couldn't - well, really shouldn't be able to do.
And Dean was most definitely straight.
Nick's grey shirt was slightly damp from the gathering sweat on the chest area and the hem rose every time his arms went above his head, revealing a strip of skin.
Totally.
His hips moved with the beat, his jeans were slung low and looked tight from perspiration and movement. He threw his head down and swayed his arms while moving faster as the beat of the drums quickened.
Undeniably.
He opened his eyes, which were glazed over from the liquor, and smiled.
Straight.
Dean's cellphone buzzed in his back pocket. A distraction, thank go- oh shit. Dean completely forgot about Sam in the library and their research mission today. "Shit. Nicky, man we gotta go. We need to get you home." He grabbed Nick's hand and coaxingly tugged him towards the table to get their jackets and left the bar.
Nick stumbled over his steps as he was gently tugged down the sidewalk. "Johnnyyy, wait." He hiccupped. Dean stopped and turned to him, letting go of his hand.
"Man, you're really smashed. Here," He shook his head and pulled Nick's jacket over his shoulders. "You're gonna get a cold." He patted Nick's shoulder absentmindedly.
"You're too nice," Nick smiled happily again before his face dropped. "Too nice." His eyes dropped to the gum-covered sidewalk. He sniffed.
Dean became startled when he saw that Nick was suddenly crying - was he a bipolar drunk or something?
Nick hiccuped again drunkenly and practically threw himself into Dean who had no choice but to catch him. He awkwardly wrapped an arm around Nick's broad shoulders in a half-hug. Nick nuzzled into Dean's neck. Oh. So maybe he's an affectionate drunk.
Awkward.
Dean's cellphone buzzed again and this time he took it. "Hey."
"Dean!" Sam's voice. "Where the hell are you?" He sounded angry. "I tried calling you hours ago but my call keeps falling through. Are you okay? Don't tell me you went to a bar. Dean, we're on a-"
"Dean...?" Dean nearly jumped out of his skin.
Crap.
Dean rushed through explaining. "Don't worry, man. Probably bad reception area. I'm fine. I'm not really buzzed enough anyway. I'm near the motel so I'll meet you there?"
"Fine," Sam grumbled on the other line. Dean had a feeling he wasn't gonna let this go.
"See ya," and he hung up.
Dean looked down to give Nick an explanation about Sam's big-mouth, but stopped when he saw that Nick was passed out, snoring softly, with his face still in the crook of his neck. Right. Drunken bastard.
Chances were that he wouldn't remember this come morning.
Speaking of which, how was he going to get this guy home? Dean felt around Nick's pockets and found a cellphone in the jacket. He flipped it open and looked through the contacts. Perfect, found a familiar name. He rang Hank's number and the line was picked up after the second ring.
"Nngh, hello?"
"Hey! Hank, it's Agent John Bonham."
A pause. "Why the hell are you on Nick's phone?"
"About that, he sorta… tanked. Think you could come around and pick him up?"
"Seriously? Now of all times?" Dean heard a sigh. "Yeah, yeah I can do that. Where you at?"
"The Drunken Stork bar on… uh, Highland Street."
"Uh, alright. Think you can wait for 20 minutes?"
"Can do."
"Thanks. See you soon," and Hank hung up.
Dean pocketed Nick's phone back into the jacket and pulled Nick over to the bench. He maneuvered him into the seat until he could support himself, passed out drunk and all. His head lolled back as he continued to sleep. Dean sat down next to him and watched the empty street.
He wondered how he got here in the first place.
And then remembered that he was the one that invited him. Oh. Right, well. Tonight was… Dean paused mid-thought. Crap, he really wanted to get drunk and forget everything that had happened in there. He didn't understand it and would really rather not deal with it. He was in the middle of a job. Shit.
Dean sighed and rubbed his face, troubled, and then felt a weight on his shoulder. Nick's head had fallen down onto it. Dean crossed his arms and closed his eyes. A little shuteye wouldn't hurt, right? There was no one around this part of town... and it was just 20 minutes...
A tentative hand jolted Dean awake and he saw Hank looking down at him. "Woah, you guys get smashed?"
"He did, not me. Lucky bastard," Dean looked over Nick who was still sleeping on his shoulder. "C'mon man," He stood up, maneuvering the drunken detective to his feet. "Will you be able to get him?"
"Yep, it's not a problem," Hank took Nick's arm and slung it around his own neck. "It's a little weird seeing you like this. Often that is."
"No kidding. Small town, huh?"
"Yeah. Hey, thanks a lot," he turned towards a parked vehicle on the road, dragging Nick into the car.
Dean watched the car turn down the street and sighed for the umpteenth time. Man, he needed to get laid. He walked down the sidewalk heading back to the motel, not looking forwards to Sam's insistent nagging. Joy.
( next chapter )