AN: Alright, well, I fell in love with The Boondocks Saints and looked to fanfiction to find a rated M story with Paul Smecker (Willem Dafoe 333) and I couldn't find any. It was all incest between the brothers….not that I'm not complaining…. But still! Smecker needs some love, so for me and from a request from a friend, I'm starting a story.

Warning: Will contain a MM relationship.

Disclaimer: I will say this once. I own nothing besides Cain and Dina Lockehart; The Boondocks Saints and its characters do not belong to me.

Mr. Hitman

Chapter One

Cain thanked the bartender with when his drink was placed in front of him with a small clack. A chuckle escaped his lips when he watched the man walk away to serve another, a smile on his face and a skip to his step.

'Alright, Smecker, where are you?' Cain wondered, holding the glass up to his lips as he let himself gaze around the gay bar he was currently in. He caught a few stares he was receiving from a few other men in the room, but not his target.

Cain was easy on the eyes, and many men in the bar found this out almost instantly. The tight denim jeans he wore fit him like a well-worn glove and the white wife beater that ran into them clung to his skin to show his nicely sculpted boy, not leaving much to the imagination. Most would mistake Cain for an albino for his pale skin and long milk-white hair if it wasn't for his full pink lips and sparkling amber eyes that seemed oh so innocent. On the outside, Cain was a pale innocent twink, but on the inside he was a cold and ruthless hitman, willing to work for anyone and kill off anyone to pay the bills and look after his little sister, Dina.

Cain ignored the stares however. He wasn't here for a date. Hell, the boy was even gay! Cain was here to pull off a hit for some mafia mans' name he couldn't quite recall; the man was afraid that big and mighty FBI agent Paul Smecker would bust him when they did whatever they were going to do next Friday. And from what he had seen on the news with those "Saints", Cain had a feeling that Paul could catch them with ease.

'The hell, why isn't he here…?' He grumbled internally, finishing off the drink in front of himself with haste. From what Cain had learned, Paul showed up at this casual bar often, and he was really hoping to find him here.

A light danced playfully in Cain's eyes as a light overhead flickered a few times as he signaled for the bartender once again to order another drink. A look of confusion, however, washed over his face when a martini was placed before him. "Uh, sir, this isn't what I ordered." The bartender merely smiled and pointed across the room at a man dressed in casual black jeans and a hoodie, his hair was a black color and was short and slightly messy. It was a good look for him, Cain decided.

Picking up his drink, the white haired boy made his way towards the other mans' table, taking a seat across from him with a smile. The liquid in Cain's glass sloshed around as he held it up for a moment before taking a sip. "Thanks for the drink mister…?"

"Bond, James Bond." The other man joked, obviously pleased that Cain came over to him. "Naw, my name is Lance Summers… and you are?"

"My name is Cain Lockehart, nice to meet you Mr. Summers." He smiled, placing his glass onto the table. They talked for a long while, moving from topic to topic with their small talk for a half an hour.

"Twenty-six!?" Lance asked, nearly gasping. "My god you're just a kid!" he laughed.

"I'm old enough to drink." Cain laughed, finishing off his seventh alcoholic drink, and just now starting to feel the affects it was having on his body.

"You're features make you look so young… but that hair of yours must really trick people." Lance chuckled.

"Oh, I just got white hair a little early… I had salt-pepper hair when I was getting out of the sixth grade and so by the time high school rolled around I had white hair." He shrugged, watching Lance place a glass of bourbon in front of him, missing the two fizzing pills at the bottom of the glass as he took a sip of it.

"So, what do you do?"

"What do I do?" Cain asked, his smile curling into a small smirk. "I'm a hitman Mister Bond, willing to kill anyone." He answered with a slight raise of his eyebrow. Despite that, his voice was completely serious. He wasn't lying.

Lance on the other hand thought of this as a joke and slapped his knee. "No, really—"

"Hey Lance, am I interrupting something?" Cain turned his head at the sudden voice, eyes going wide instantly. Standing before him was Paul Smecker, the man he had spent days looking for just fell into his lap! 'Fan-fucking-tastic!'

Trying not to look too excited, Cain gave a happy smile to Paul as Lance introduced him.

"Naw, this is Cain Lockehart, I met him not too long ago." Lance stated with a smile. "And Cain this is Paul Smecker, he's a really good cop."

"Yes, I believe I've seen him on TV before… something about those "Saint" brother, yes?" Cain asked, finishing off his drink.

Paul noticed that Lance was eyeing Cain very suspiciously as the white haired boy finished his drink with a smile. "...Nice pick, Lance." He joked, taking a seat next to his friend. "And, yes, I was on their case."

"Was, why did you stop?" Cain asked, genially curious.

Paul gave a small shrug, sitting back in his seat. "I didn't feel like hunting them down anymore, besides, the cops I were working with were complete numskulls." He smiled and Cain gave a small laugh.

The three of them talked for a while, but soon Cain was starting to feel… weird. His body felt really hot and his mind was getting a little hazy despite the fact that had stopped drinking as soon as Paul arrived. This didn't go un-noticed by the other two men.

"Are you alright?" Paul asked, though he could already tell what was happening. 'Fuck, Lance must have slipped him something.'

Cain gave a small nod as he licked his lips, cheeks flushed. "It's just really hot…" He complained as he tugged at his wife beater, trying to take it off without lifting it over his head.

A light tint of pink filled the two other men's cheeks at the sight of Cain taut stomach, though Paul made a move to stop the boy. "Hey what the hell did you do Lance?" He growled as he pulled the boys' wife beater down, earning a displeased groan in return.

"I didn't expect you to come by so I slipped him something." Lance told him, knowing better than to lie to him.

"Stupid bastard…" Paul grumbled under his breath as he hoisted Cain up and walked away with him.

Lance was about to argue and go after them when a firm hand clamped onto his shoulder. "You ain't going nowhere until you've paid for those drinks." He shrugged his shoulders at that, reaching for his wallet.

Mean while, outside, Paul was dealing with Cain.

Cain clung to Paul as if he was about to fall, and probably was, his words slurring together to form something incoherent. "Hot… clothes make ice now…" He mumbled, his eyes drooping.

"Hey, don't fall asleep on me; I need to find out where you live!" Paul fretted, shaking the boy slightly.

"No you…" Cain laughed as he let his head rest on Paul's chest. Suddenly, almost randomly, he remembered that he was here to kill Paul. "I'm gonna kill ya…" He mumbled, trying to make a grab for his gun that was strapped to his ankle, hidden by his pants. Cain, however, did not finish move; passing out into Paul's arms.

Paul just stared at the bout for a moment. 'Kill me?' his brow furrowed in confusion, though he quickly decided that it was due to the drug. "Oh, well, I guess you're spending the night." He groaned, dragging him over to his car where he proceeded to dump him into the passenger seat before slamming the door shut. In a small way, he hoped that the slam would wake the boy. He wasn't in luck.

"Hey!" Lance yelled as he ran out of the bar, wallet still in hand. "Where're you going Paul?" This, however, only earned him a glare from his friend.

"Piss off."

"Hey, you know," He started, licking his lips as he looked at Cain passed out in the seat. "We could always have some fun?"

Paul merely rolled his eyes and flipped him the bird as he walked around his car and hopped into the driver's seat. "You're lucky I'm not arresting you." Was the last thing he yelled before driving off.

AN: Whoo I did this, in, like a day, and I rushed at the end. Either way, it probably doesn't matter; I don't expect to get ANY reviews…