He was a posh man, even an eyeless shell-shocked soldier could see it. Smell it, actually, from the perfume. Or touch it on the smooth silk of his spotless shirt. Or hear it in how he said fifteen-syllable words as smoothly as he sipped his fine wine.
Dean Winchester didn't work well with posh men.
They were too fussy, too concerned with their fake rules of 'propriety' and 'how things should be done' and keeping things 'clean' and 'inconspicuous' instead of just doing the gorram job in the most efficient and effective way possible.
He said he was a doctor, and that Dean didn't need to know his name. It was a poor attempt at intimidation by a man with more fear than experience. Dean already knew that his name was Simon Tam, and that he was in trouble with the Alliance for asking too many questions.
The doctor's eyes lingered on Dean's face. He was used to the staring, but this gaze was different.
"I could remove most of that in two hours with the right equipment," Simon flicked a finger across his own face.
Dean liked his scars. They reminded him that he was a monster at the same time they warned people to stay away.
He was a dangerous man, even a blind fool could see it. Smell it, actually, from the scent of sweat and gun oil that lingered in the air like an aura. Or touch it on the rough ridges of scars that covered every inch of his exposed skin. Or hear it in the rough growl of his terse words.
Simon Tam wasn't used to working with dangerous men.
Not this kind, at least. He was familiar with those who fought with words and lies, not guns and knives. Rough men were too coarse, too unpredictable, too reckless. They couldn't be trusted to work with the finesse required to do the job right the first time.
He said he was a hunter, and that Simon should know better than to try and hide things from him. The man oozed intimidation as naturally as a lounging panther. The doctor knew without asking that his name was Dean Winchester, and that he was wanted by the Alliance for every crime imaginable.
Dean's eyes lingered on Simon's hands. He was growing used to the invasive stares his clothing and accent incited, but this gaze was different.
"What are you willing to do to save your sister?" the hunter took a swig of alcohol so strong Simon could smell it from across the table. "Would you gank a man with those pretty uncalloused fingers?"
Doctor Tam liked his unmarked hands. They reminded him of a slate wiped clean, waiting to be repurposed. He knew he could put people back together, so he theorized that he could take them apart. The blood would wash off the same way.
A/N: First ever crossover story! I love Firefly and Supernatural with a fierce and obsessive passion, so combining the two was the obvious conclusion. I'm planning on updating weekly as I flesh out my completed story line for this fic. Reviews are love :)
~Always Keep Flying : You Are Not Alone~