A/n: this is my submission for @bkwrm523 30 Prompts Challenge my prompt was “It’s one in the morning. You’d better be dying.” (prompt is bolded). Enjoy. All Feedback is appreciated. If you want on or off any of my Tag Lists let me know.
A/N # 2: Tags moved to end of fic.
Summary: You are a hacker with a mansion that gives hunters a ‘safe’ house when they have a case near by. You let Sam and Dean stay.
Matt is well-known as a hacker because he’s a damn good one. Hardly anything else is known about him, a scarce few rumours surrounding him. That said, everyone knows Matt is lazy. Everyone knows Matt loves eating greasy fast food. He is the unhealthy nerd stereotype.
The Fakes don’t care, they hired him for his hacking skills, after all.
No one expects him to be a threat, physically. And granted, he doesn’t know hand-to-hand, isn’t that good at shooting guns. He’s more accurate with arrows, but those are hardly applicable in the field.
His enemies laugh and laugh until he pulls out the sledgehammer, Harley Quinn-style.
AKA imagine the comm conversation going like:
“can you get us in there, matt?”
“the security system would take me at least an hour to hack”
The first time Shalnark had laid eyes on uvogin, he had felt afraid.
It was a reasonable feeling, one supposed. After having lived on the streets for a little more than a year it was a dramatic shift to have a roof over ones head in an apartment that did not smell like sweat or sex, but rather smoke and roses.
Before meeting nobunaga and uvogin, Shal had spent majority of the year living off of the lackluster funds he still had from his days as an impromptu hunter, or basically when he was an over glorified public menace. Being a hacker for the government had been his livlihood for a while, until it had become too risky a career. Including his family drama and the fact that the Kurtas had wanted him to become the next heir, it was easy to see why Shal was no longer sticking around.
With a quick dye job, and a new pair of clothes, it was easy for shalnark to blend into the streets of yorknew, like a fine feline, inching his way through back allies and spending hours in libraries until he was kicked out. He made it a habit to sleep during the day, if only so he could be very aware of what happened at night. He had made a few enemies in the past due to his profession, but also because of his family name.
After spending months sleeping in new beds, usually after successfully seducing some sweet faced woman, or any meek man, he had been approached by a new stranger. Now it wasn’t like Shalnark was a fan of the whole sleeping around process. It only allowed for him to get a meal, a place to sleep, and provided him with a shower to use without having to pay. (conveniently, he was also able to charge his phone, one of few belongings that he didn’t keep hidden away in a locker in a gym he occasionally visited).
When Nobunaga had approached Shalnark, who had been spending the week on the same side street (containing most notably a high end fashion shop, two bars on both ends which were run by two bitter rivals, and a flower shop nestled right in the middle), he had enjoyed the night life and the view of the second heavens arena. The first thing Shalnark had thought about the man was that he was older then the lays he usually took, and seemed to be one of those passive aggressive silent types.
It was interesting to see someone look at Shalnark with pity rather then lust, which was something he was all too used too. The sharp gaze was the first thing Shalnark had been drawn too, before looking up at the particular hairstyle the man was wearing. Wrapped with cloth and made to stand tall, it would have been humorous any other evening. The cigarette hanging loosely in the mans mouth has been a sign of his aggravation with the encounter, and the only thing that gave away who Nobunaga was, was the dark green apron he was wearing that read Tree and Shrub florists.
It was a surprisingly bland encounter, followed by an even more lackluster attempt to tell shalnark to take care of himself and stop loitering on the damn streets like some brat and actually do something about it.
Even after arguing with the man, somehow shalnark had ended up in the flower shops upstairs apartment, given a couch to sleep on and a meal to eat, and a rare thought in his head that maybe he could stay here for a while, if only to abuse the older mans kindness.
Nobunaga had told Shalnark about the second man who lived there, and how he was hard working and had been with him since they were kids. Shalnark hadn’t really said much. He didn’t really care much what nobunaga had to say, because in a day or two this meeting wouldn’t matter, and they would be two people off on their own ways, never to meet again.
That all changed when Shalnark met Uvogin.
For the first time in years he had truly felt terrified of someone. Yes, Uvogin was seven feet, yes uvogin was rippled with muscles, and yes uvogin had one of the most menacing presences shalnark had ever felt, but Shal was used to these intimidating types. The sight of someone larger and stronger than Shal only mildly annoyed him, rather then causing him to break out into a cold sweat.
What had scared him were uvogins words.
“You can stay here as long as you need to,” Uvogin had assured, having taken a seat at the kitchen table, watching shalnark from the couch, “It might not look it, but nobu and I know first hand what it’s like to live on the street. We came from a bad place, and we didn’t really have family to depend on, so we stuck it out and helped each other. it was hard as hell, but we kept at it and made it here. Sometimes I wish somebody had leant a hand out to us when we really needed it, but nobody did, but that doesn’t mean me and nobu have to be the same. Nobu might not look it but he’s always helping out organizations with donations for the less fortunate, because we know our roots and it’s only right to give back.”
Scratching his arm in a rare moment of hesitancy, uvogin offers one of the kindest, honest, and reassuring smiles. “Let us help you, at least until you can help yourself. It’s the least we can do. you don’t need to feel like the world’s after you, shalnark, it’s good to trust in others.”
Shalnark had never met someone who was so blunt, and yet so comforting with their word. It made him imagine the possibility of actually living here until he was able to figure out what to really do with his life.
In mere minutes uvogin had terrified the blond by actually striking a cord with him. By giving shalnark hope that he thought he had lost a long time ago.
So yes, Uvogin terrified him, because the thought of one day getting attached to the man was almost bound to happen the longer shal stayed around.
Unfortunatly, shal couldn’t find the courage to leave, and just like he had predicted, uvogin became someone he never wanted to give up.
There’s too many to just choose two but particular instances that stand out…hm:
His entire experience with Purgatory. Cas being left behind the first time, then Benny being left behind the second time. This entire entity of losing his dearest friends, the time he spent there and how it changed him–he wishes there could’ve been a way to save them both.
His biggest regret (IMO) is the time he spent as a demon. It still haunts him to this very day and he’ll never be able to forget it. All the lives he took, the souls he tortured and the loved ones he hurt. Almost killing his own brother and his lover his angel,Cas. Not to mention, his best friend in the whole world, Charlie, indirectly dying to save him. (to which he still blames himself for every day)
imagine a family; a mother, a father and two little kids. a white picket fence daydream, complete with apple pie and cut-off crusts and warm hands and a shadow of a monster in the corner.
imagine a family: two scared boys grasping at each other in a world full of nightmares, one small step away from alone.
imagine a family that doesn’t end in blood, a man as worn out as his baseball cap, a student turned prophet, a hacker turned hunter, an angel of the lord turned human; imagine a plaid-woven patchwork happiness carved away from monsters, a bunker underground called home.
imagine two tired men grasping at each other in a decaying world.
a question arises: is it better to have loved and lost or never loved at all? — for even an honorary Winchester is already damned. rivers of red upon white knuckles and trembling fingers;