Chapter Text
“I’m home!” Luke called out as he opened the door of their house, treading carefully. Just pretend everything’s fine, just pretend everything’s fine..
“Fuck!” A muffled, pained curse conveniently sounded from the kitchen and he winced.
“Happy anniversary!” he called as he stepped through the doorway to find his partner sitting at the breakfast bar, his brother hovering and just now setting a needle and thread down as Luke cleared the doorway. The bar was covered in medical supplies - rubbing alcohol, needles and stitching thread, gauze (both clean and bloodied), and the all-important bottle of whiskey. Dean doused the freshly-stitched wound on Sam’s arm with rubbing alcohol as Sam lifted his head to glare at his husband.
“Did you hear him, Dean? Did he just say happy anniversary to me? Because I think that’s what he said but maybe the blood loss has me a little delirious,” Sam asked as he stared Luke down over Dean’s shoulder.
“I believe he did, Sam,” Dean confirmed, wrapping gauze around Sam’s arm. When he finished, he picked up a miniature ziploc bag from the table as Sam took a swig straight from the whiskey bottle. Dean approached Luke, holding the bag out.
“I'm pretty sure lead isn't on that list of anniversary gifts. I mean, I guess you could go ahead and say it's copper if you want to stretch, but even then, copper isn't until year seven. You’re a couple years early so I figured you may want this back. Gift it to him for the right anniversary; however, I’m not sure if you’ll make it that long,” Dean admitted, handing over the bag. Luke looked at the bag, recognizing the skewed piece of metal as the remnants of a bullet - the bullet that Dean had just dug out of Sam’s arm.
“This year is leather, huh?” Luke answered, still staring straight at Sam.
“Yeah. I’m gonna uh, head out. I don’t need to be here for this,” Dean replied, gathering his belongings as Luke looked back down at the stripped bullet in his hand. To the couple’s credit, they remained silent until the Impala pulled out of their driveway.
“So uh, happy anniversary,” Luke murmured quietly as Sam took another swig of whiskey.
“Happy anniversary? Happy anniversary? You. Shot. Me. and you have the nerve to waltz in here and tell me happy anniversary?!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Five Years Prior ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Car off. Phone, wallet, quarter for the parking meter. Luke stepped out, pressing the lock button out of habit as he did so. The door was a few inches away from closing before he realized the keys were still inside and he turned on his heel, trying to grab it but missing it by an inch.
“Dammit!” He shouted, leaning against the car door for a moment and sighing.
“Need a hand?” A voice called out and Luke looked up to see if the comment was addressed to him. A large man with long brown hair was standing on the sidewalk, a little smile on his lips and an eyebrow raised.
“I’m going to have to call for someone. I locked my keys in the car,” Luke explained and the man smirked, waving him off.
“Just a second,” he assured. Luke watched as the stranger moved a few cars down, unlocking the door with a button on his key fob. He popped the trunk, removing something quickly before jogging back over. “You good if I touch your car?” He requested, raising an eyebrow.
“Uh, if you can get me back in, go ahead,” he allowed, taking a step back to watch the man attempt. He jimmied something under the top of the door that appeared to be a- “Is that a blood pressure cuff?” Luke found himself asking, moving closer to identify the object and watch the stranger. The man just winked at him and began to pump air into the cuff part, gently prying the door open enough for him to lower a plastic rod into the door frame. Within two minutes, the stranger was opening his car door and leaning in to retrieve Luke's keys.
Luke most definitely did not stare as the man’s pants tightened over his ass when he bent over and he absolutely did not blush when the other stood and turned around with his keys in hand.
“See? Easy as that,” the man told him with a relaxed grin.
“I don’t know if I should be impressed or concerned about how easy that was for you,” Luke responded, taking the keys from him. The other laughed, pushing strands of hair out of his face, and it made Luke smile.
“No need to be concerned. I own a garage,” the other explained.
“Well, Mr. Garage, I appreciate your time. How much would you usually charge to save a dumbass?”
“It’s free for the pretty ones.” The answer was quick and followed by a wink. “But don’t get too impressed, that’s the only trick up my sleeve. I run the background, my brother deals with the cars.” Luke most certainly did not blush at Mr. Garage’s words, pausing for only a second before glancing at his watch.
“Well, you still saved my ass. And since you just saved me, I’m still early for work. Can I buy you a coffee?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Mr. Garage smirked in response, sliding his hands into his pockets.
“Depends. You aiming for coffee from here? Because absolutely not, in that case,” he replied shamelessly, laughing brilliantly.
“Hey, I’m new here and I’m desperate for caffeine. I haven’t had time to scope out a decent coffee place, I just typed Starbucks into my GPS,” Luke defended. The other held out his arm, crooked at the elbow, and raised an eyebrow.
“Three minute walk from here, there’s a hole-in-the-wall cafe. You can thank me later,” he offered. Luke looked at the time again before shrugging.
“Okay, sure,” he agreed. The other looked down at his offered arm pointedly and Luke raised an eyebrow. “I don’t even know your name.”
“Thought you named me Mr. Garage?” The hazel-eyed man asked, grinning. “I’m Sam. Sam Wesson.”
“Luke Alighieri.”
The two stared each other down for a solid thirty seconds before Luke slid his hand through the opening Sam had made, taking his arm and following him down to the cafe.
--
“You’re late!” Dean yelled as soon as Sam stepped out of his car. Sam rolled his eyes, slamming the car door shut and trashing his now-empty coffee cup. “You’re late and you got coffee without bringing me any,” Dean corrected, glancing over towards the garage when one of the doors started rolling up.
“I think you can handle one delivery on your own, can you not?” Sam questioned, opening a cabinet and pulling out Dean’s mug. He secured it in place under the Keurig, popped a cup into the slot, and slammed it shut. “There - coffee for the missus,” he added. Dean flipped him off, muttering under his breath, and Sam merely sat down at his desk. “The delivery, Dean?” Sam pressed again.
“We got a townie in the garage getting serviced,” Dean excused and Sam gave his brother an unamused look.
“And I’m sure Benny will make sure they stay where they belong. The delivery, please,” he pressed, his patience running thin. Dean got up, going into the back room and retrieving a black case. He set it down in front of Sam before grabbing his mug, the Keurig finally finished. Sam opened the case, eyeing the new gun with a pleased glint in his eyes. His fingers itched but he paused, retrieving a pair of gloves from his desk drawer and putting them on before removing the piece from its cushioned case. “Oh she’s a beauty,” Sam murmured quietly, inspecting it thoroughly and beginning to take it apart.
When the phone rang, both brothers looked up to see which one it was. Dean got to the “townie phone” before Sam could even be bothered and lifted it to his ear.
“You’ve got Michael Wesson of Wesson’s Garage. What can I do for you today?”
--
“You must be Commander Alighieri!”
Luke had barely stepped a few feet into the precinct before someone was clapping a hand on his shoulder. The first thing that crossed his mind was the question of why said person was free enough to have been waiting for him to walk through the door; however, he smiled anyway and nodded, glancing around.
“I am. And you are?”
“Commander Herron. I’m over homicide - I’m afraid our jobs tend to overlap more and more lately.”
“So I’ve heard. Mind showing me around a bit?”
Commander Herron walked Luke around the building, introducing him to necessary people, before finally introducing him to and leaving him with his subordinates. Luke exchanged pleasantries with his team before sitting down at his new desk and looking at the giant stack of casefiles.
“We’ve been spending the majority of our resources on the Winchester brothers, as of late, Sir. It’s as if they’re ghosts. We only got names a few weeks ago after trying to keep track of their work for ages,” Captain Novak explained to him. The man was to be his second-in-command here and was obviously eager to get back to work after the brief pause with the loss of his previous boss.
“How’d we finally get names?”
“Someone stepped forward, he asked for protection in exchange for information.”
“You gave someone witness protection solely for a last name? Come on, Novak, he had to have given you more than that,” Nick muttered, opening one of the files and flipping through it to find the miniscule witness section.
“Sir, he came in in a frantic panic - blurted out that he had worked for the Winchester brothers and would tell us everything we wanted to know as long as we gave him protection in return. It was too late though - he was already very ill by the time he came in and he died soon after of poisoning - sarin. Extremely lethal, it’s how we lost Commander Jackson and a couple officers, just from exposure to the witness. And now that we know that the Winchesters have access to such a toxin, our approach to the case has to change.”
“I was told Commander Jackson was killed in the line of duty via poison but received no details. I don’t think I’ve ever even heard of sarin. Do we have a toxicology report somewhere?” Luke requested. Captain Novak immediately began flipping through the stack of files on the desk before sliding a thin one out and handing it over.
“It’s a man-made poison around twenty-five times more deadly than cyanide. It can be in liquid or vapor form and someone who is poisoned can emit the vapor so heavily that one can be contaminated just by touching their clothing. It was used as chemical warfare between the forties and the nineties but outlawed before the turn of the century. Exposure eliminates the body’s ability to remove stimulation to glands and muscles. Your nose runs, your eyes water, you begin to pour sweat and drool, you have very little control of waste removal, and the muscles convulse rapidly until you die, which can happen anywhere between minutes and a couple hours after exposure,” Novak explained, having already read up extensively on the drug that had brutally killed both his boss and fellow officers. “The only good news is that is has an extremely short shelf life so they’d have to continue making it if they wanted to continue usage. And the more they risk messing with it, the higher chances of fatalities on their end,” he continued, sighing.
Luke looked up from the file and gave the Captain a sympathetic smile.
“Castiel, right?” Luke asked, wanting to double-check from the brief introduction from earlier. The other nodded so Luke continued. “Castiel, we’re going to figure this out. There will be justice for Commander Jackson and the other officers who had their lives taken that day, I assure you. We will get the Winchesters if it’s the last thing I do.”
Castiel, who had appeared rather solemn and glum as he had explained the effects of the toxin, now gave Commander Alighieri a small smile.
“Thank you, Commander. I am at your service,” the Captain told him. He was soon dismissed and headed over to his own desk, unlocking his computer. His desk wasn’t very personalized but it did have a few knick-knacks here and there - a small magnet that read ‘Save the Bees!’, a photo of a small kitten, and a small framed photograph of him standing with a gorgeous freckled man, staring into piercing green eyes with large, happy smiles on their faces. Castiel glanced at it for a moment and ran his thumb over the frame.
“Time for a brand new game of zigzag. You go left and I’ll make sure everyone else goes right,” he whispered to the man in the photo, smiling all the while.
--
You were right. I was nervous I wouldn’t find good coffee here - I’m relieved to find that I was wrong. LA
You’re lucky we found each other. Would’ve been late to work and suffered with shitty coffee. SW
My knight in shining armor. LA
However, I don’t think you got much out of the deal. LA
You know it. SW
I got free coffee and the company of a gorgeous man. SW
Where did you move from? SW
If you believe it, I’ll take it. LA
Chicago. LA
So L.A. is a big change then. SW
Not in my line of work, no. LA
Hmm? SW
Law enforcement. Pretty similar crime patterns both places. LA
Came all the way across the country to be a cop? SW
I was looking for something new. Opportunity arose and I couldn’t turn it down. LA
Opportunity like what? SW
LAPD’s police commander of organized crime and vice. LA
How did you manage that? SW
The old one was killed - made it a tad easier to get the position. LA
Sorry, distasteful. LA
I was chief of police in Chicago. They called me ‘Lucifer’ over there - I’m kinda a hardass and had a decent reputation as such. I wanted to take a step down, chief is too political, too administrative for my tastes. Position opened here in L.A. and they were eager to take me once I explained that I knew I was overqualified but didn’t care. LA
Lucifer. I like that. SW
Thanks for the coffee. Gotta get back to work. SW
--
If Sam was smart, he would’ve deleted Luke's number from his phone right then and there. He would’ve ignored the man the next time he texted and pretended as if he had no clue who Luke Alighieri was. If Sam was smart, he wouldn’t have responded to Luke's text that evening asking about a good place to get Thai food and he most definitely wouldn’t have agreed to join him for said Thai food. However, Sam Winchester may have been a genius - but that didn’t make him smart.
Not when there was a beautiful man involved.