chosenfreedom | Bruce Wayne didn't build his lair overnight either.

Bruce Wayne didn't build his lair overnight either.

Dean was still in the luxurious room. It was neater this time. Relatively. Less food particles and drink scattered around, and more blueprints and dimensions on scrawled paper. His shirt was tucked in, and he was wearing a belt around his jeans as he walked around pacing.

He was currently on the phone, speaking with someone on the other line, "Yeah? Listen I got some plans here that I need some guys to get started on pronto. Yeah. I'll have the plans faxed over to you, but this has got to be made top priority. Also what've you got lying around the armory? Uh-huh. What about ammo? All right. Listen, bring some of that up here, plus 50 pounds of rock salt. Yeah you heard me. Rock salt. Like the crap you put down in the winter."

More pacing as he ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I told you what I need, what's the problem? Or should I tell your boss about what a hard time you're giving me? Yeah I didn't think so either. All right, thanks." He cut the connection, and set the phone down with a sigh.

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It was hard to say when Lara came into the room, or how long she'd been watching Dean. Not that it mattered, given the way she stood just inside the doorway, leaning against the threshold with a faint smile on her lips. Unlike her usual business attire, this time Lara wore a grey overcoat, underneath which could be seen hints of corset, and a pair of laced up, knee high stiletto boots. The remnants of a day at the studio rather than the office.

She waited until Dean had set the phone down with a sigh before she spoke. "Finally getting what you need, love?"

His mistress's voice. Maybe part of Dean was aware, is always aware. Still when he turned to get sight of her, the phone fell to the floor out of his suddenly boneless fingers. His eyes trailed over her with interest, and his mouth was dry at those enticing hints underneath. He needed... Damn he needed to sit for a moment.

He quickly recovered just long enough to pick up the phone, and sit down in the chair.

"Yeah, took them long enough. No offense, but your workers don't get special requests too well."

Her eyes danced with silent amusement as Lara watched Dean's reaction, the way his expression turned to avid interest, the way his throat worked as his mouth went dry. As she had expected.

"They're just used to a gentler touch," she replied as she took a leisurely circuit of the room. A touch of silken approval slid into her voice as she ran a light finger along one of the blueprints. "But it sounds like you have them well in hand now."

Dean smirked up at her, "Yeah, I know how to throw my weight around. It's coming along." He slowly blew air out of his mouth as he sat down for a moment longer. He then got up again to gather the blueprints, and present them to her.

"See, I can get something set up here, like Bobby's map and Sam's laptop where it'd be easier to keep track of hunts. Find the patterns since some regions are more hotspots than others."

Instead of taking the blueprints from Dean, Lara instead looked on at his side, the gesture a calculated intimacy, familiar and affectionate. "Mmm, that is clever," she murmured, reaching over and straightening the corner of one page, her hand brushing against Dean's idly.

Her expression was schooled to one of mild interest, but there was a lie to it in her eyes, in the way the arsenic grey depths seemed to sweep over every line of the plans, to scrutinize them as if at once memorizing and searching for potential weakness. Improvements to make. Ways to replicate it elsewhere.

"You're relying on obituaries for some of these patterns, aren't you?" she asked thoughtfully.

His body unconsciously leaned against her encouraging the intimacy. His breathing calmed at the passing contact, and he held the paperwork at an easy reading angle.

"Well that's usually the best way to locate a case. It's hard to find a case until there starts being a body count behind it. Be nice if there was a way to locate them before it got to that point."

The devil was always in the details, in the little ways her prey reacted, and Dean's unconscious lean back into her was rewarded with a warm hand on the small of his back. Little affectionate touches, unspoken manipulations to satisfy unconscious desires. "Government death records may help," she mused, giving Dean a lingering, sidelong look. "Getting them within hours of occurring rather than days, or weeks."

"Aw baby you know what I like," Dean nearly purred with approval at her suggestion. "I mean we talk to the Coroner's office often, but hell, that'd save some of the damn red tape. Wouldn't even have to hack."

That wasn't really his thing, that was always more of...Sam. Yeah Sam was good at all that shit. He blinked and shook his head. Things went fuzzy, but it's not like he'd freaking forget about his brother. That's crazy talk.

"Damn, guess it's time for a break."

It was surprising how little these hunters had to work with, and yet managed what they did. Which made this little arrangement all the more useful. She hadn't simply gained a hunting hound, but an entire new community, modes of thinking. And at such little cost.

Lara hid a smile behind a look of concern when Dean shook his head, but her voice sounded pleased when she spoke. Pleased with the progress. Pleased with him. "That sounds like an excellent idea." She took the plans from his hands and returned them to the table, the smile now tugging at the corner of her lips. "Unless you wanted to take that break alone?"

It was a sparse community too. Bobby had more contact and ties than Dean ever had, especially since the Apocalypse left some bridges burned. But here, it was different. However, it was one of limited resources and manpower dealing with bleak conditions. If this meant they could get to people sooner before the body count rises, it'd be another way this will be worth it.

He turned to her, his earlier concerns falling away.

"Wasn't planning on it. Got something in mind? I'm...pretty open."

His answer coaxed a low, honeyed laugh from Lara. She was more than aware of exactly how... open her latest buck could be. So eager and willing despite the bitter edge of despair. Or maybe because of it.

She leaned over and kissed the curve of Dean's neck, her teeth scraping lightly against his throat as her hand slid along the back of his head and into his hair. "Maybe. But take my coat first, won't you, love?"

Dean leaned his head back, and there was a moan at her teeth. He swallowed thickly, and slowly nodded as his hands came up to help remove her coat. As the material fell away, he stared at what the overcoat had hid. As if his brain wasn't already fuzzy, it just about stopped thinking for the moment.

She purred with approval at his response, shedding the overcoat with a serpentine grace. There was no need to feed, only the Hunger's mindless desire for more, but she enjoyed playing the game, strengthening and reinforcing the unseen subtle desires in the pup's mind that let him stay.

At Dean's stunned stare, Lara laughed and sucked lightly at his lower lip before taking a step back. "Cat got your tongue?" she asked, amused, as she reached for the liquor cabinet next to the dresser and pulled out two shot glasses.

Dean blinked once, twice though he tried to kiss back with the distraction. Still it took him another moment before he recovered enough to speak.

"Uh wow, that's... That's one hell of an outfit."

She took a moment to fish a bottle of bourbon out of the liquor cabinet before responding, honeyed laughter coating her words. "It was a long day on set."

She paused to pour a measure into each glass. "Maybe I'll bring you with me tomorrow."

Dean just managed to stop the teenaged part of his brain... which was roughly 70-80% of it from asking about her long hard day. He was able to tear his eyeballs away to notice the drink, and accepted the glass from her when it was offered. Good smooth with hardly any burn, clearly the good stuff.

"Yeah? Is it take your hot date to work day? Because I'd love to see it. See how you work."

Lara sipped her own drink, letting the bourbon trip over her tongue as she watched expressions play over Dean's face. It had been hard to judge just how absorbed the buck had gotten in his project, but his answer told her enough. Focused but still susceptible to distraction. To small delays that would let her ensure he couldn't turn against hers before she let him loose.

She set the half-empty glass of bourbon back on the counter and ran her hand up Dean's arm, fingernails scraping. "You haven't seen enough, pet?"

Dean had been very focused before, he's the kind of guy who works hard and plays hard in turn. He swallowed more of the bourbon. Hard to not down it all in one shot like he usually did. As it was, he drained 2/3rds of his tumbler quickly. A brief shiver ran down his spine, and his voice was deeper with lust as well as alcohol.

"Feel like I'm only getting started. Take things out to the highway and see the sights you know?"

"Mmm, I do like the way you think." One hand remained on Dean's arm while the other traced up the curve of his spine, the touch warm and soft but beneath it holding the promise of scraping nails, of pain and pleasure. "No doubt you'll be terribly distracting to the other women on set."

He smirked a little, "Hey, I can be a good boy, I'll just watch. Ain't like you got audience participation there anyway."

Dean hissed, and his back twitched, "Oh shit, speaking of distractions." Yeah everything was liking those nails a little too much right now, and he had to fight to the urge to adjust himself as he stood there.

"Are you sure about that?" Despite the laughter that gilded her words, there was something in Lara's voice, some subtle confidence that made it seem like everything she said was true, available for the taking, if only a price was paid.

She purred, pleased, at Dean's hiss. "We wouldn't want you too distracted. Especially since I can't help but wonder what you want fifty pounds of rock salt for."

Dean turned to her, catching the hint in her voice, and chasing after it, "Hey, if you're offering something for special guests...won't say no."

He nodded fervently, and shifted his stance to be more comfortable. Though her next question made him sharpen up, clicking back to his hunter training.

"Works against ghosts and hurts demons. Can use it for a barrier to keep them out. Also you can put it in bullets to use against them. Slows them down, but gives you time to gank them."

She hummed thoughtfully at the answer. It wasn't so much the words themselves that intrigued her, but the way Dean's attention had sharpened into focus at the question. It was almost instinctive, pushing through the haze of physical distraction. A good thing to know, and with knowing came wanting to know just how far it could be pushed.

"So you weren't just hoping to bunker down for the winter." She leaned into him, soft curves pressing against his back while her arm snaked around his waist, fingernails trailing along his front. "It does beg the question of how you kill a ghost, pet."

Instinctive, absolutely. Years upon years of hunting training being drilled into his head by his father. He didn't react as much this time to her touches, only marginally physical. But the tension, the battle alertness was in him again. When he was on a hunt, he threw himself into it. He only would drink in between hunts, he learned that lesson the hard way. Distractions meant death when you lost your focus.

He shook his head, and gave a brief chuckle, "No. You gotta dig up the bones, or when they're not there, usually there's something else tieing the spirit to our realm. You salt the remains, and burn them."

Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully at his response, both physical and verbal. She could feel the tension beneath her hands, practically taste the practiced mental focus that shrugged off the lightest touch of desire. A cold, calculating smile played at the corner of her lips at the change. The difference between the pup and the hound.

The question then, of course, became how to turn from one to the other, and back again. She broke contact and leaned back against the counter as she picked up the half-empty glass of bourbon, scrutinizing Dean with intelligent grey eyes. "And then it's over?"

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