Dean shifted on his bed, the plastic covering on the 'mattress' squeak under the movement. His orange uniform uncomfortably tight in all the wrong places. He worked a finger in between the fabric and his shoulder to try and encourage blood flow. He jumped when his cell mate opened his eyes and turned his head to stare at Dean.
He'd only been in the cell a matter of minutes but, due to the stock of books on law, politics and rights stacked around his side of the room, Dean had already passed judgement on his long haired cellie. The hunter jumped when the man spoke.
"What you in here for?" Hazel eyes scanned over the older man, assessing.
Dean's tongue poked out over his lips, "Fraud and lying to the police mostly." He blamed his dad for it but wasn't about to rat him out.
Sam nodded and pursed his lips. He seemed satisfied with the answer, "Good enough."
"What?" This may be Dean's first time in prison but it seemed pretty weird to him that any crime could be justified as 'good enough'.
"Oh, paedophilia, child sex stuff... That doesn't get tolerated in my cell. Last guy who came in with a charge like that got moved out for his own protection."
"Oh... What about you? What did you do?" The hunter questioned as he watched Sam pull himself off his bunk and up to the bars at the front of the room, "Some political crime, I guess?" He eyed the books.
The other prisoner smirked over his shoulder slightly before pulling a mirror out of his pocket and holding it outside the cell to get a view down the corridor, "Something like that."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Serial homicide. You got a problem with that?" He glanced back again but not for long enough to make Dean think the man actually cared about his reaction.
"No, sir. Not at all."
"I guess we'll get along just fine then." Sam muttered but the pronunciation of his words slipped as something outside the cell caught his attention.
Dean groaned internally and flopped back on his bed. He didn't close his eyes however as he knew he'd been keeping at least one eye on his roommate at all times.
"Wesson, he's my cellmate. Is it true he's a serial killer?" Dean whispered to another inmate sat at the round table. The trays of barely edible slop were cooling even further as they ignored it to spread news instead.
"Shit, man. That's true but I heard they were revenge killings."
A fellow prisoner, who had been eavesdropping, leant back on their stool to join their conversation, "Well, I heard he was like Batman. He'd hear about child abuse stories and drop in to rescue them kiddies and make sure that bastard don't hurt no one every again."
"No way! That's just rumors!"
"Ah, I dunno... He seems like the type."
Dean tuned out as the men around him began to argue about Sam Wesson's crimes. He saw the tall man enter the room, collect his tray and deposit himself at an empty table by the wall. The hazel eyes followed inmates as the moved about the room as though he was always on alert. When a couple of people joined his table Sam threw the rest of his food in the trash and retreated back to his cell.
Dean didn't know if these rumors were true but he certainly hoped so.