Deep breath. In. Out. In. Out.
Dean slowed his breathing and unlocked the door. The door made no sound as it swung open and Dean slipped inside. Closing it just as quietly.
He had specific orders on how to kill the man he was hired to kill. He was to shoot the man under his chin, straight through the tense flesh and shoot the bullet right through his brain. Not such an easy task as it sounded.
He also heard of someone coming to help him. That's what had him so mad. He didn't need help. He was one of the best. Well, he wasn't good with being a sniper or an archer. I mean, an archer? Come on. He didn't even know if it was a guy or girl.
Please let it be a hot woman. Dean thought. He pulled out a gun in a casual way. It was an exact double of the soon-to-be-dead-man's own gun. Dean looked around the corner and saw him sitting by his computer, typing away furiously. He was writing something, sometimes stopping and deleting whole paragraphs. After a couple minutes the man started to slow down and swayed slowly back and forth.
Looks like the guy was already here. Dean thought. He approached the man from behind and leaned down. He brought the gun to the man's chin and sighed. He cocked it.
"Sorry man." Dean said and pulled the trigger. He let the gun fall from his hand and the man tipped over in his chair. He hit the ground hard, making a loud thud. Dean walked over to the man's night stand and opened the drawer to retrieve the man's original gun. It wasn't there. Dean wasn't surprised when he felt something cold press into the back of his head. He slowly turned to face the person he was working with. He met blue eyes.
Can blue really look that good on a man? Dean thought. The blue eyed man was dressed elegantly. A white suit, white shoes, and a dark blue tie. Wow. Was the only thing Dean could think of. The man stood straight and tilted his head.
"Winchester?" He asked quietly. Dean nodded and the man lowered the gun. He opened the barrel and took out the bullets. He placed them in a baggy he pulled from his pants pocket and handed them to Dean. He then put the gun in a holster under his suit jacket.
"Novak." The man, Novak, said to introduce himself. Novak stuck out a hand and Dean shook it.
"Pleasure." Dean said and walked to the front door, Novak following. Opening it and ushering Novak out. Dean slipped out as well, locking it from the inside before shutting it. Novak looked at him and opened his mouth to talk but Dean cut him off.
"Look, I didn't have a choice but to work with you. I didn't do it out of the courtesy of my heart. So don't try to make small talk." Dean grumbled. He looked both ways on the street to check for flashing lights. He heard no sirens, yet.
"I don't know what you mean by small talk." Novak replied quietly. Dean raised an eyebrow and smirked.
"Small talk is like talking about the weather. No one really cares. It's just to fill awkward silences." Dean explained. Novak tilted his head with a look of confusion.
"Why would I want to talk about the weather? It is night and I cannot see the sky clearly." Novak said more to himself than to Dean. Dean chuckled at the guy's weirdness. He turned to walk away but stopped and turned. Novak looked up.
"See ya later, Novak. It was...interesting." Dean said and walked away. Novak looked after Winchester's silhouette and cracked a small smile. It was the first time he had smiled in 3 years.
"You are something, Winchester." With that statement Novak walked in the opposite direction.
10 minutes later the police showed up at the crime scene and declared it a suicide. No trace of either man.