For the umpteenth time that day, he glanced at the strange conversation from this morning.
Castiel: Dinner tonight at 6:30pm.
Dean: 'kay alpha.
Castiel: I'll let you pick you up.
The message from Alpha was as ordinary as the others he'd gotten from him so far, and the only odd thing about it was that it came at 4:20 in the morning. Who the hell was awake at that time? Right, hookers and drug dealers, so exactly Alpha's sort of people. Probably his best friends among them.
It took him all through breakfast and the drive to school before he got around to answering. Not because he didn't know how to answer - what could he do but agree? Alpha wasn't one to take 'no' for an answer - but more because he was confused that Alpha had reached out to him again.
Alpha Castiel hadn't been heard from all weekend. No texts, no calls, complete radio silence. Even the car from the parking lot of their motel had disappeared, and he hadn't seen one outside the school. At times, it seemed like Alpha had forgotten all about him, and that was... confusing. He felt partially relieved because it meant they could leave New York and leave this crazy shit behind. But at the same time, his Omega was restless and cranky, and stupid thoughts crept into his mind, like why Alpha had lost interest so suddenly. Like maybe, damn it, it mattered if the knothead wanted him or not.
And then there were those moments when he felt someone's gaze on the back of his neck, but when he turned around, no one was there. Or when he was on shift at the diner on a Sunday night - yeah, oddly enough, he kept his job even though he disappeared in the middle of his shift. Being an Omega who could make top-notch puppy dog eyes had its perks - and the waitress in the kitchen casually mentioned a bunch of Russians in booth number two. He was pretty sure then that Alf's men were still watching him.
He closed the conversation window and his gaze slid briefly to the clock before he put his phone back in his pocket. Then he glanced around the half-empty car park.
It was almost six, he was standing on the corner of the motel like a complete moron and... what exactly? Was he expecting a car with a bunch of tattooed guys with guns to come out of somewhere and pick him up? Yeah, probably something like that. Oddly enough, it didn't happen, so he had no idea how the Alpha was going to pick him up in time.
And he didn't care. He wasn't interested in waiting anymore. The evening chill was starting to bite through his jacket, his best clothes, the ones he didn't wear much, were terribly uncomfortable because they smelled of nothing but laundry detergent and he wasn't really interested in seeing Alpha.
If Alpha had forgotten about him, what was he really complaining about? At least he wouldn't have to bend over for some knot tonight and that was good, so why did he feel... left out. Why was his stupid, whiny inner Omega whining like it was the end of the world.
"Fuck it..." he growled, disgusted with himself, and was about to return to his room, where Sammy's pleasant homey smell and the fifth series of the new Doctor Who were waiting for him, when a dark blue car slid into the car park. An old Toyota that looked like it had been through something, and two male silhouettes could be seen behind its front window.
The car had pulled into two parking spaces, a little to the side so it couldn't be seen from the reception or their room.
He slowly made his way towards it, but stopped again when the door opened and a couple he knew all too well got out. It was Skinny and the other one, the one who had left him with some nice bruises as a memento of their last encounter.
He tensed up instinctively and bared his teeth slightly.
"Relax, Omega," the thin man spoke, "We don't want to do anything to you. I'm is Jacob." He nodded to his crony "We're supposed to take you to the boss."
"Right. Just like last time; tied up and in the trunk of a car?" He remarked with a smirk, but despite his words, he walked calmly up to them.
He was pretty sure none of Alf's men would dare touch him. Not without Alf's permission or command. So if they ever did anything to him, it would only be because he pissed off Alpha, and he wasn't planning on doing that anytime soon. He knew that the best he could do for now was to be a small, obedient Omega and try to please Alpha Castiel, at least until they figured out how to get out of this shit, or until... until their Alpha at least spoke up.
As for Alpha Castiel himself and what awaited him today, that was something else entirely. He was well aware that the Alpha could do as he pleased. But still; something told him that he didn't have to worry about actually hurting him. Yeah, there was a good chance he'd limp home today with his ass stretched out by the Alpha knot, but his bones would definitely stay all intact. And that certainly counted as a win, didn't it?
"Hey, kid, just don't make trouble, okay?" Jacob echoed grumpily, his voice husky and muffled due to his swollen nose, beautifully colored a lovely blue-violet. "Look at this." He held up his left hand, showing the brace tightly encircling three of his fingers; little finger, ring finger and middle finger. "That's how I got it for the last time I beat you. One broken finger for every blow. I'm sure you don't want anything to happen to me again."
"Ouch... that must have hurt," he assessed the beautifully broken fingers with mock regret, not resisting a shudder of pleasure at the thought of the Alpha protecting him. "But you know... I kind of don't care what happens to you."
Jacob frowned.
"You're an Omega," Beta said, as if that explained everything.
He grinned.
Sure, because he was an Omega, he was supposed to be empathetic, caring and gentle, and be compassionate to every loser he came across. Not to mention he should be shitting on puppies and consider them the center of his universe, regardless of whether she was his or not. Well, surprise, it didn't work that way. At least not with Dean. He considered this shit just another stereotype that stuck with people like gum on a shoe.
"Really? You're playing the caring Omega card? Did you happen to forget that I'm the same Omega who broke your nose? Nice eyeshadow, by the way," he pointed to the purple bruise spreading from Beto's nose to his eyelids.
Jacob turned sour, while Vadim was clearly amused, his gaunt face stretching into a cheerful grin.
"You're driving," Jacob growled at his crony before glancing briefly at Dean and then nodding his head towards the car. "You get in," he urged, opening the back door.
The lanky Beta stepped out of his way without blinking, even seeming to take a little more of a step than necessary just to put the proper distance between himself and Dean. The other man, on the other hand, didn't hesitate to push his shoulder as he shoved him into the car. And then he slammed the door hard behind him.
He sniffed.
The air was filled with a mixture of the smells of both Betas, cigarettes, marijuana, and the annoying scent from those scented trees that only Betas put in their cars. Neither Alpha nor Omega could take the chemical stench for long. That's what odor absorbers were for. There were several of them hanging in the Baby, because when two Alphas and one Omega were locked in the car for ten, twelve hours almost straight, the air became so thick with pheromones that it could be scooped up with a spoon. And that was only when everyone was calm and cool. As soon as Sammy started to get mad about something or complain about something and their Alpha got mad... yeah, that was like swimming in vinegar all by itself. Then Dean's own sweet Omega smell added to it, because when angry Alphas were around, he just couldn't stop his body from trying to calm them down, and eventually the car smelled so bad that they all had to get out and vent for an hour.
Jacob slid into the other side of the back seat and measured Dean with a frown.
"Do we have to lock the doors, Omega?" He asked.
"You think I'm an idiot who jumps out while driving?" He raised an eyebrow in disbelief.
"No, but at traffic lights you could..."
He didn't even acknowledge that as a worthy response, just rolled his eyes and turned his gaze out the window.
There was a chuckle from the front seat, followed immediately by the sound of an engine starting, followed immediately by the roar of... shit, was that a Russian rap or what the hell! A noise pretending to be music, definitely in Russian and pouring from the cheap sound system of the family-type Toyota. Just great. If he has to listen to this the whole way, he'll probably end up jumping out while driving after all. Fortunately, he got a small reprieve when the Beta driver at least turned down the volume.
They entered the traffic, which had already thinned out, but Vadim still decided to turn into smaller streets, which he zigzagged through with the confidence of someone who knows them blindfolded. It casually occurred to Dean that he might have driven through them at some point while trying to lose the cops because he had drugs or a dead body in his trunk. The funniest part was that just two days ago, he could have been the corpse.
Now he wasn't worried he might end up with a bullet in his head. Though that was probably stupid of him, considering the guys who'd picked him up had telltale bulges under their jackets and a stride that betrayed something weighing them down at the hip. Still, for some reason, what was going to happen tonight at... dinner was more pressing for him.
His stupid Omega instincts made him feel nervously excited, like the time he'd been sure he was going to score with a girl for the first time. And his Omega purred contentedly at the mere thought that in a few... just a few minutes, he'd see that damn sexy and strong Alpha with the perfect scent again, perfect for making a few litters of puppies. And it would actually be... nice to feel that if the other side wasn't there. The cruel bitch called reality.
He wasn't a fool to think he was going to go get a burger with Alpha and then kiss his face goodbye. No, Alpha would want to make the best impression because in his twisted mind this was a serious romantic tryst. He guesses they'll go to an expensive hotel restaurant. The kind with white tablecloths, cloth napkins on plates, and maybe they'll have a menu in a foreign language. I'm sure he'll order several courses of food for Dean and some expensive wine that tastes as good as vinegar and water. And then, at the end of the evening, he'll put his hand on Dean's thigh like he did in the car and squeal that he has a room rented upstairs where they could have another drink. And Dean will go because, damn it, he has no choice but to make a sound of protest when Alf's strong hands grab his hips. He won't resist when Alpha bends him over the sofa-because all the expensive hotel suites have huge sofas-he pulls down his pants and leans over him to wrap him all up in the scent of roasted cherries and bitter almonds. And when his big, tattooed hand wanders over to Dean's...
Suddenly, he's aware not only of his hardening cock against the fabric of his briefs, thankfully hidden beneath his loose jeans, but also of the wetness between his butt cheeks.
Oh, shit! Get down! You hear me, lie down, you idiot!" he mentally addressed his cock, half angry and half horrified, clenching his cheeks, startled at the thought of moisture seeping through his pants. He wasn't worried that the Betas could smell him, they had a poor sense of smell and the car reeked of chemical scent, but if he wet his underpants... He'd meet an Alpha smelling like a horny Omega and he could imagine well enough what Castiel Novak would do when he smelled him. They probably wouldn't even get through the appetizers before Alpha dragged him to the bathroom and fucked him bent over the toilet bowl. And Dean didn't want that. If he had to do it for the first time with this particular Alpha - not that his Omega was complaining about anything - then at least somewhere that didn't smell of scented disinfectant.
He quickly tugged on his jacket to hide the hint of an erection and tried to think of something nasty. Santa in suspenders. Dead puppies. Beloved Impala smashed with a basketball bat... Yeah, that helped a little. His cock began to soften slowly, reluctantly.
Just in case they noticed something after all, he cast a nervous glance first at Beth at his side, then exchanged another through the mirror with the driver. Jacob still looked a little annoyed, though perhaps the swollen face was to blame. But Vadim smiled briefly at him before his smile, for who knew why, turned into a frown.
"Are you alright, little Omega?" He asked with a rough accent.
"Fine," he replied shortly, having to bite his tongue to keep from adding that he was definitely not small, and especially not now. Damn. Don't think about his half-hard cock.
"Are you sure? You look... ispugannym."
"Scared," Jacob seemed to translate the last word, frowning even more as he said it. "Look, what happened last time won't happen again. I'm a little nervous, okay? Don't be surprised, you broke my nose. But nothing like that's going to happen now, is it? Then you don't have to worry. Neither one of us is gonna hurt you."
"Da," the other Beta said in an agreeing tone. "We have guns, but you're safe."
He snorted.
"I'm not scared. I've been beaten up more than that, and guns definitely don't scare me," he dismissed them sharply, and to stop himself from talking anymore, he began to stare hard out the window at the cars, pedestrians, and rapidly changing buildings.
"Are you afraid of our boss?" Jacob asked.
He turned to him in surprise. He hadn't expected one of Alpha's men to ask him so openly about something that would be obvious to any normal person because... yeah, he was afraid. Hell, he was scared. Fear lay deep in his stomach, like some cold worm hiding under the strange thrill of meeting an Alpha he... wasn't actually afraid of. It was weird, because he'd literally seen him kill two people with his own eyes, and he was sure he was an insane psychopath, but he still wasn't afraid of him. No, him as such. He was scared of everything that was going to happen today.
Not that he'd admit it to anyone. He hardly wanted to admit it to himself.
"You don't have to be afraid of him. He looks a little scary, but he's generous and a good guy," Jacob assured him very seriously, even stopping to frown as he did so.
"Yeah... and the generous and good guy broke three of your fingers," he chuckled derisively.
"I disobeyed his orders and I deserved the punishment. Listen to him and you won't get in trouble."
He grinned and turned his head away without answering. Yeah, it was easy to tell Beth to listen. His Alpha certainly wasn't going to have him delivered to order him to get on his knees and suck him off or stick his ass out and get fucked. He didn't threaten to kill Jacob or take him away from his brother either. In fact, Beta was definitely involved in this whole mafia business of his own volition, for money or drugs or both, so he didn't have shit to say about Dean's proper treatment of Alpha.
For a moment, it looked like Jacob wanted to say something else because he was leaning so oddly towards him, but then he leaned back in his seat and left Dean alone for the rest of the trip. A trip that took much less time than he'd expected. Pretty quickly, signs in strange writing began to appear on the shops and pubs he passed. Most also had normal, English signboards, but some places didn't.
He had a vague awareness from old spy movies and those about the Russian mafia that the writing was different in Russia, but he was still a little surprised and intrigued that it was actually true. Some of the letters were familiar, but others looked like squiggles. Dean tried to distract himself by trying to read them and compare them to the English lettering to figure out which Russian letter meant what. Not that he was very successful. Sometimes he missed a few letters and sometimes he had an excess.
The car slowed down and pulled up to the curb in front of one of the businesses where there was no English writing.
Dean, like a well-mannered and obedient Omega, waited for his armed escort to get out and for Jacob to open the car door for him. Only then did he step out onto the sidewalk and run his gaze over the large storefront next to the entrance they had stopped in front of. He couldn't see inside very well, as there was a wooden structure behind the window that was meant to give the impression of more small windows, as well as heavy dark curtains drawn almost halfway down.
The door itself was sort of antique, and the shield above it was at least supposed to look like it was made of dark wood with... something emblazoned on it in ornate gold lettering.
"What does it say?"
"Moskovskaya kukla," replied Vadim, who stood by his side. "It's a Moscow doll."
That sounded just like...
"Are you taking me to a brothel?"
"Net!" Vadim exclaimed, genuinely horrified. "Net brothel! It's a restaurant. A family restaurant. Why a brothel?"
"That's what the name sounds like."
"The owner named it after his daughter. She was pretty as a doll. She died when she was little. She had a disease that couldn't be cured back home in Russia or here," Beta explained, causing Dean to feel a little embarrassed that he thought of the place as a brothel. "You'll see her inside. Her picture hangs above the bar," he added, nodding his head towards the door at the same time, also indicating it was time to go.
Without protest, he followed Jacob, who opened the door and held it until Dean and Vadim walked in. Dean took a quick look around and continued his inspection, searching for potential escape routes as Vadim led him through the locale.
The restaurant wasn't particularly large, but a good forty or fifty people could certainly fit inside. The walls, originally white, were somewhat dingy and the wood paneling was past its best years as well. To the left of the door was the wooden bar he'd seen in all the older pubs, and to the right was the place itself. Most of the tables were separated from each other by wooden fences and posts, except for two that stood directly in front of the window facing the street.
The longest wall opposite the bar was covered with framed photographs of various sizes and quality. Some of them depicted houses, streets, and what looked like churches or castles. Dean was pretty sure they were shots from some Russian city. The rest of the photos were portraits of people. Some had to be very old, not only because the photos were faded, but also because of the strange and definitely decades-old clothing. Others were from today, nicely sharp and colorful, and a few were even straight from the locale. The entire wall was dominated by a large television hung high enough for anyone to see, no matter where they sat or stood. And it kind of stood out from the rest of the interior.
Most of the tables were occupied, and aside from some Russian-sung pop rip-off circa 2000, at least three dozen voices carried through the room. They were all speaking exclusively Russian; guttural, raspy, and a little too rough for Dean's ears, so that at first he thought the people around him were arguing. But it only took one good breath for him to realize that they were actually having a good time. The air was filled with a happily sweet mixture of the scents of many Betas and a few Alphas and Omegas. And on top of that, the familiar bar smell enriched with the strong aroma of cabbage, garlic and - surprisingly - tea.
Everything around here looked so... homey. No exaggerated, sterile luxury, no white tablecloths and waiters with bow ties. No, nothing like that at all. The bartender was a short, skinny Beta, and the waitress who stopped to let them pass - even though she literally had both hands full - was a plain, pretty Beta of about twenty, with a round face and nice big lips pulled into a stern expression. Even the guests weren't wearing expensive jackets like Alpha Castiel wore. And their glances were not filled with disdain for the poor Omega in the oversized jeans and the battered leather jacket. They were wary, suspicious, perhaps a little hostile, but also curious, and surprisingly, when he looked several of them squarely in the eye, they immediately lowered their gaze and began to pretend not to notice him.
Dean frowned, because that was kind of weird. Most of the Betas didn't show submission when Omega looked into their eyes either.
They walked past the kitchen, the toilets, and on down the narrow hallway to the half-open curtain that covered the closed door.
Vadim pounded his fist at them three times.
It only took a moment for the door to partially open. Through the crack, Dean saw the now familiar face of Pyotr, which instantly spread into a small smile, and then the burly Beta stepped back along with it as it opened wide.
Dean let out a long breath, and braced himself. Keeping his head down, no challenging stares, no posturing. No being rude or sarcastic. No talking back. On the contrary, be kind, obedient and submissive, as expected of a proper Omega, and tonight would turn out well for him.
Vadim was the first to enter, Dean followed, and Jacob rounded out the line.
He inhaled only shallowly, but even so he could smell the strong scent of cherries and almonds that was laced with an undertone of sour nervousness, while the almost honeyed sweetness of happiness quickly began to emerge. He could feel the scent filling his lungs. As it seeped into his brain, leaving that strange, hazy haze he had felt on both occasions he had met Alpha Castiel. He wasn't going to give in to that feeling, and he certainly wasn't going to give in to the enthusiastic growls of his Omega, who was almost blissful, and yet he hadn't even seen Alpha yet, only smelled him.
He pushed his stupid Omega instincts to the back of his mind and instead looked around warily and, more importantly, cautiously.
The room was large enough to fit three regular desks and another row of chairs against one wall, which also had another television hanging on it. It had no windows, but the two remaining walls were carpeted with that old pattern - Persian, they called it? I guess so... - and one was on the floor. There was no other exit, no way out, except the door they'd come in through, and beside which not only Dean's armed escort stood, but Pyotr as well. If he wanted to try to escape, he'd have to go through them, and that would be damn hard.
"Hello Dean," came Alf's deep, whiskey voice along with the creak of a chair.
He looked up directly at Alpha, remembering from their last encounter that Alpha liked it, and even allowed himself a quick glance. He was again wearing an expensive looking black jacket, shiny half-boots and a white shirt, but this time he wore an extra tie. A blue one, with a wide slanted stripe that matched his beautiful blue eyes, which he fixed on Dean with the same searing intensity as last time.
He licked his suddenly dry lips.
"'Hi, Alpha,' he said curtly, yet as if it was some sort of signal for Alpha to suddenly move forward.
For who knew why he half expected Alpha to grab the back of his head and kiss him predatorily, or at least bury his nose in a scent gland and suck in the scent roughly. That was why he was surprised at how gentle the touch of the large hand on his shoulder was, and that the Alpha did lean into his neck, but not close enough to feel his breath on his skin. And he didn't even hear him sniffing indecently. He could smell his scent, though, and it was absolutely impossible for him to resist the urge to tilt his head towards Alpha's throat and inhale that sweet, tart aroma.
"I'm glad you accepted my invitation," Alpha said, pulling away all too soon, but leaving his warm hand on Dean's shoulder.
"As if I had a choice," he slipped out.
Alpha Castiel tilted his head to the side and squinted.
Damn! He hadn't been here literally a minute and he'd already opened his foul mouth and spat out something rude. He had to think of a way out of this quickly, except... Aha! Oh, yeah. I mean, they'd already agreed in the car to have this date, so if he mentions it...
"I mean; it's been arranged since last time, right?" he blurted out quickly.
He wasn't sure if the Alpha had swallowed it, because his expression hadn't changed much, but neither had his scent. It remained happily sweet and his hand moved from Dean's shoulder to the collar of his jacket.
"Take it off," Alpha demanded, along with pulling on the jacket.
Dean's stomach did a little cold twist.
Now that was fast. Not even five minutes. Damn, despite the calm, he must have caught the lingering scent from the car accident and... He wanted to growl and shake off the hands that were pulling at his jacket, but he couldn't, so he just bit his own cheek and let the Alpha strip him. But damn it, he'd rather go to hell than willingly strip any further. If she wants him without clothes, he'll have to take care of that himself.
The alpha made no sign of wanting to take off his shirt as well, instead handing the jacket to Pyotr, who hung it on the rack. And Dean immediately felt like a complete fool. Of course he didn't want him to undress here, he just wanted him to take off his jacket because the room was pleasantly warm and if they were going to have dinner together in his jacket he was sure to work up a good sweat.
If the Alpha noticed his embarrassment, which must have reflected on his scent or his earlier stiffness and fear, he didn't show it, just took two steps to the only set table and then slid one of the chairs out.
"Please. Have a seat."
He stared at the offered chair for a moment, because what the hell...? He was an Omega, but this had never happened to him before. It happened that some Alpha would invite him over by tapping the bar stool next to him and calling 'Sit, Omega' as if he was some kind of dog that would come on command. Or, if it was a more respectable establishment, such a horny Knot would try to summon him to himself by waving his hand or by vacating one of the chairs at his table. But he'd never been offered a chair like that... archly polite and even though it was ridiculous - like really? It was the twenty-first century. Who followed these stupid customs anymore - so it was both cute and Alf's focused expression as he kept the chair still pulled out in a bid was actually quite endearing.
He pursed his lips tightly to keep from smiling, because the last thing you wanted a dangerous Alpha like Castiel to think was that you were mocking him.
And he accepted the chair.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the Alpha walk around the table and take a seat on the other side, but for the most part, he kept his gaze seemingly shy and submissive on the table in front of him. On a white place setting with embroidery stretching around the entire edge, which was laid on a white tablecloth decorated with birds and some ornaments. And, of course, there was an embroidered cloth napkin on which the cutlery, including a spoon, was laid out. It all looked like something out of a hundred year old movie, except perhaps for a plain glass and a dewy pitcher of water with lemon slices floating in it.
"I didn't know what you liked to drink," the Alpha spoke up, probably noticing what he was looking at.
He'd rather have a beer. A nice cold Bud, or at least a Coke. He'd even settle for orange juice, but since Alpha thought water was best, it was a waste of time arguing with him.
"Water's fine. Thank you, Alpha," he replied politely, reaching over to pour.
But the alpha beat him to it, leaning over the table and pouring him a full glass.
"Thanks," he said, and immediately took a sip. He was quite thirsty.
"You look beautiful."
He almost choked on the water.
What the hell...?! Yeah, he knew he wasn't a bad sight, even if he was too tall for Omega, too narrow in the hips and too muscular in the shoulders. But was he beautiful? No one had ever told him such a stupid thing, and he certainly wouldn't expect it from an Alpha. They were more likely to praise his sinful lips, made for sucking cock and swallowing knots or some shit like that. Beauty was never mentioned and Dean had no idea what to say in response. He felt uncomfortable and even felt like his ears were getting a little hot.
"Um... yeah, thanks Alpha," he replied awkwardly, allowing himself a quick glance up at Alpha who was watching him intently from the other side. "You look good too," he added, intending to stroke his ego, but not actually saying anything he didn't really mean. The alpha was good looking. Oh god... hell... not just good, he looked great. There was just something about his hair, tousled as if he'd just gotten out of a bed he definitely hadn't slept in. And the stubble that curled his chin, and of course the eyes, whose gaze was electrically intense, boring into Dean's body and causing his spine to clench and his stomach to lurch in a good way.
"Thank you," Alpha Castiel replied in a polite tone, but at the same time it seemed like the flattery didn't mean much to him and all he cared about was Dean. "Before they bring us food... tell me, what have you been doing while we haven't seen each other?"
Was that a trick question? Could have been. Even though he hadn't seen Alf's men anywhere during those few days, it was now absolutely certain that they had been watching him and were certainly giving their boss regular reports.
"Nothing too interesting." He shrugged vaguely. "School and working at the diner. Normal stuff, you know, Alpha. I don't have a secret life of crime," like you , he added in his head, but thankfully didn't say it out loud. At least he managed to keep that last part out of his stupidly slitted mouth.
Despite the worst possible expectations, Alph's corners twitched in an amused smile and he squinted his eyes like a cat that had swallowed a canary. Dean felt his own lips curl into a smile, along with his inner Omega purring contentedly because... damn, he'd managed to make Alpha smile and he was ridiculously proud of it.
The moment was interrupted by three knocks on the door.
Like Alpha, Dean turned his head to the door and watched as Pyotr checked who was at the door as before before opening it and letting in a Beta waitress carrying a tray with two bowls, a wrapper with some weird buns and a large pint of beer. Granted, it had a hell of a lot of head for Dean's taste, but he still salivated just seeing it.
Beta placed the bowl and beer in front of Alpha first, then the other bowl in front of Dean, and finally placed the wrapper between them.
"Spasibo," Alpha said, probably in thanks.
"Pozhaluysta. Mne priyatno sluzhit', batyushka," the waitress replied with a small bow before taking two steps back from the table and then quickly leaving the room with another bow.
Dean looked down at his bowl, unsure of what to make of the food.
It looked like a thick soup, red even, with a hint of purple that smelled like beef, which would have been fine. But it also smelled of cabbage and garlic, and he wasn't so keen on that. And what exactly were the purple bits? At first glance they looked a bit like meat, which was there too, but they were too square.
"Ulyana Leonidovna is a great cook. She can make borscht like I know from my childhood," Alfa spoke as he began stirring the steaming soup with a spoon, sending an even stronger aroma of cabbage and garlic into the air, drowning out Alfa's tart smell. Not that Alpha noticed, given that he continued calmly, "And her daughter," he gave a small nod of his head towards the door the waitress had left through only a short while ago, probably to indicate that it was her he was referring to, "may be young, but she has talent after her own. She makes really good… schkvarkovee placky... I don't know how to say it in your language... pork buns...? Probably…" he said, brows furrowed thoughtfully and his gaze fixed on Dean, but finally looking directly at him again. "Take and eat. They're my mother's recipe," he urged, tilting the bag of buns towards Dean.
Both were very firm recommendations, bordering on orders, so he took one... pork buns, as the Alpha called it, and grabbed a spoon.
He decided to taste the pork buns first, because unlike the borscht in the bowl, it smelled of pork and was fluffy and soft as bread when squeezed. And there was cumin and large salt crystals on top. He'd never seen anything like it, but it didn't look as scary as cabbage.
He cast a quick glance at Alpha, who broke open his buns, let half of it lie on a small plate under the bowl of borscht, and bit off half of it with his first spoonful. He mimicked him and then took a small bite out of his half of the pork buns. It wasn't bad. It tasted a lot like pork, it was fatty but a little choking at the same time. But you could eat it.
Thinking that the food Alpha offered him was strange, but not disgusting, he scooped up a spoonful of borscht. He'd heard of it in movies, but this was the first time he'd seen it in person. He stuck the spoon in his mouth and... It had beef in it, but mostly it tasted like boiled cabbage. And he finally figured out what the purple bits were; beets. It tasted pretty bad. Not as bad as the raccoon stew his dad made them eat during wilderness survival training, because it was all he and Sam could hunt, but it was still pretty gross.
He swallowed with some self-denial.
He couldn't just push the plate away and say he wasn't going to eat it, but he couldn't imagine eating it either. He wasn't hungry enough for that yet. Maybe if he just had some juice and a pork bun, it would look like he'd eaten something and just wasn't hungry anymore.
"Is your brother doing better?" Alpha broke the silence.
He shot him a quick glance as he scooped up a spoonful of juice. Clearly, the Alpha didn't bother pretending out of politeness that he wasn't watching Dean every step of the way.
"Fine," he replied curtly, hoping that would be enough, but the look the man on the other side of the table gave him said he wanted to hear more. "He's recovered, and today was his first day at school. He was excited about the library," he added, not knowing why.
"Does he like to read?"
"He loves books." He smiled at the image of Sammy sitting on the floor in a forgotten aisle of the school library, his nose buried in one of the books in the pile around him. He'd found him that way more than once when he hadn't come to the exit so they could walk home together.
"Smart puppy, huh?"
"Yeah, definitely a lot smarter than me. If I can have any say in it, he'll go to a good university. Like Stanford or something. I'm trying to... you know... make sure he goes to school, always gets good grades, doesn't miss anything, doesn't get into trouble or anything. I just do what I can..." the words died on his lips, because what the hell was he doing? Why was he telling the asshole who'd kidnapped him twice - OK, now the second time wasn't exactly kidnapping - about Sammy and his plans to send him to college and secure a better future than the prospect of prison for petty crimes and constant travel. Dean didn't mind living that way. He liked it. Freedom with a taste of danger and the chance to ride off into the sunset in the Impala. But Sam was different with his head full of statistics, data and information, like he had his own google and wikipedia combined. And with his penchant for salads and picking up pancakes at all sorts of demonstrations for the climate, Omegas and gay rights, and similar big issues that went beyond Dean.
"Your devotion to your brother is admirable," another awkward babble fell out of Alpha, and this time Dean was sure his ears and cheeks were red hot.
Shit, why did he have to say things like that? And why did it make Dean's Omega melt into a sweet puddle of bliss?
"Normal." He shrugged. "Every good bro does that."
And you're talking utter shit too, Winchester, he thought self-ironically, and would certainly have added a few more peppy words if he hadn't also picked up a distinct whiff of sour discontent amidst the smell of cabbage and beef that rolled off the Alpha in one big wave. He quickly looked up directly into the Alpha's eyes, honestly a little worried that he'd slapped something to piss him off, but only caught a quick flash of blue before the Alpha lowered his gaze to his food. His face held no hint of anger or, ultimately, sadness. He seemed as damn inhumanly calm as ever, only it seemed he wasn't worthy of saying anything more.
Dean waited motionlessly for some sort of reaction as the silence lengthened, but then he finally slipped out another spoonful of meat water and took a bite of his pancakes. And with a brief glance, he checked on their silent entourage. Vadim must have left without Dean noticing, but he'd bet he was standing outside the door anyway. Jacob stood at the door from the inside, but he was paddling on his cell phone. The only one paying them any attention was Pyotr sitting in one of the chairs against the wall, also with his cell phone in his hand, but with his eyes currently fixed on Dean. As their gazes met, the hulking Beta smiled warmly and Dean found himself returning the smile.
Despite the smile and the warm look, it was clear that the two Betas were there to keep him from leaving and to protect their boss. It was also clear that they had been doing this job for a long time and simply standing a short distance from Alpha Castiel while he ate was something completely normal for them. Were they really on his tail all the time?
"You like the borscht?" Alpha broke the silence again first.
"It's good," he replied curtly, not even blinking at his lie.
"You haven't eaten anything."
"I'm not very hungry."
The alpha squinted his eyes and cocked his head slightly to the side. The scent of bitter almonds seeped under the herbaceous aroma and Dean just knew he had a problem. His Omega automatically crouched in anticipation of the Alpha's wrath, and it took a surprising amount of effort for him not to hunch over and stick his neck out. His mind raced again, wondering how it was possible that this particular Alpha was having such an effect on him. It was ridiculous... it was frustrating. He barely knew the man, and time and time again he felt like pleasing him. He had never been such an Omega.
"I don't like being lied to, Dean. And I especially don't like it with my Omega. Tell me the truth," the Alpha ordered firmly, though there was no anger in his voice.
The truth? He wanted to know the truth? From his Omega? Fine, then if he wanted the truth, Dean would be more than happy to tell him the truth, and he'd be happy to suffer the consequences. Still better to get a few slaps than to continue to grovel. He just wasn't cut out for it.
"You want the truth? Okay." He dramatically dropped the spoon on the bowl. "Tastes like vomit," he assessed the food too harshly, but he couldn't take it back now, and he couldn't even lower his eyes like an obedient Omega. He had to stay staring into the endless blue ocean, waiting with his head held high for his punishment for insolence that... wasn't coming. In fact, he didn't even smell another whiff of almond bitterness, but the subtle, sweet aroma of cherries and sugar that was bravely making its way under the smell of food.
Alpha was not only not fazed by his audacity, he liked it! Though the same could not be said for Alpha's men, who shifted uneasily. Pyotr even stood up.
Castiel lifted his free hand just slightly to settle his men, whereupon he squinted his eyes slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching a little, almost as if he were about to smile.
"Good," he spoke deliberately, leaning back in his chair so he could look down at Dean from beneath his squinted lids. "So what would you like to eat?"
"A burger with a good helping of fries," he didn't hesitate a moment in answering, knowing full well as he did so that they probably wouldn't have anything like that here.
"Jacob," Castiel addressed the Beta standing at the door, who immediately approached the table at his call. "Get Dean a burger and fries."
"Sure, boss." Jacob nodded judiciously and was on his way to the door when Dean called after him:
"And I'd like some onion rings, too."
It was cheeky, and looking defiantly straight into Alf's eyes as he did so, he got exactly what he wanted. The honey cherry scent of freshly baked pie was above all the other smells in the room. It was strong, heavy and wonderfully intoxicating and Dean just couldn't help but inhale it deeply several times, though he was careful not to let the Alpha see what he was doing.
But he noticed anyway, because his nostrils flared as he sucked in air and then lifted one corner in a grin that revealed his golden fang.
"Get Dean's plate out of the way."
"Of course, batyushka," Pyotr nodded, and without the slightest blink at being made a mere waitress, he took Dean's plate, and in a moment the door had closed behind him as well.
Dean realized that he was actually alone with the Alpha for the first time. The first time they'd had a stormy encounter, there'd been a salesman, and then there'd always been one of the Alpha's guys. Now that they were alone, there was an opportunity for... anything. The alpha could lunge at him, while Dean, on the other hand, could shove a fork down his throat and run. Only Castiel didn't even remotely look like he wanted to make a move. He watched him calmly while he chewed a bite of borscht.
"What does that mean?" He asked instead of stabbing with his fork, surprising himself with it. "The word they call you."
"Batyushka?" Alpha asked, scooping up another spoonful of meat and cabbage. "The literal translation is father, or rather..." a thoughtful furrow formed between his brows, "daddy."
He couldn't help a chuckle.
"Really? They call you daddy? Let's talk about daddy issues..." he snorted derisively, only to immediately perk up a little in anticipation of Alf's reaction. As before, this time he earned nothing more than a roll of his eyes for his insolence, which looked almost amused.
"Back home in Russia, it's a sign of affection and respect for a powerful man. For example, to the head of a clan, the Alpha of a pack, or a high ecclesiastical dignitary. It's their way of showing that they respect me and that they have confidence in me to take care of them, just as a proper Alpha father takes care of his family," the Alpha explained, without anything negative in his voice or scent.
"And why don't they just call you Alpha, Alpha?" he didn't understand. All Alphas, when they wanted to be polite, were called Alpha. That was normal everywhere, wasn't it?
The alpha swallowed the last bite of his food and pushed his plate aside before answering:
"it's not very common among us to address someone by their secondary gender in public. A remnant of communism."
"Like it's forbidden or something?" he asked a little incredulously. He didn't know much about European history, but he knew enough to know what 'communism' was. No freedom and rights not just for Omegas but for everyone, imprisonment and execution of innocent people, hunger and poverty and soldiers in the streets, just like in the movies. Simply nothing good.
"No, it's not forbidden," the Alpha retorted, taking a deep drink of his beer. "It's just that people don't do it because for many decades it wasn't safe or socially acceptable to claim to be Alpha."
"Why wouldn't someone want to claim to be Alpha?"
He could understand if Omega didn't want people to know his secondary gender. But Alpha? That didn't make sense. Just being an Alpha opened literally every door.
"In the past, like everywhere else in the world, the Alphas ruled Russia. Not only the Tsarist family, but most of the nobility and the rich were Alphas. It worked for many centuries before the idea that the people, the working class, should rule themselves appeared at the turn of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. And since the working class are the Betas, they were supposed to be the ones in power." He took another deep drink, so that more than half the beer was gone. "I won't bore you with historical details... The Great Revolution broke out, followed by a bloody civil war, at the end of which Russia not only lost the last Tsarist dynasty, it affected mainly the nobility and the rich. They were stripped of their titles and possessions, and many were killed or executed. Many out of spite, most for ideological reasons, and some because they refused to give up their old lives. In any case, Alpha status became a sign of bourgeoisie oppression and exploitation of the common, hard-working people, so that even Alphas who never belonged to the upper social class preferred to stop publicly claiming their secondary designation for fear of persecution." He took another badge, tore a bite out of it, and added before putting it in his mouth: "Then Bolshevism spread to much of Europe and the Soviet Union was formed, and so to this day Alpha status is not as... valued in many Eastern countries as it is here in the West."
Yeah, that sounded pretty bad.
"I can imagine what happened to the Omegas," he didn't forgive the remark with a bitter taste in his mouth. If some crazy dictator dared to do something like that to the Alphas, what could he possibly have in store for the Omegas? The best that could be expected was that they all ended up barefoot at the stove, forced to push one puppy after another.
"They had to start working."
"Heh?"
"In the mid-eighteenth century, Jekaterina the Great removed all Omegas from servitude and forbade them from physical labor. And she also opened dozens of schools for them throughout Tsarist Russia. This helped the Omegas from rich families get an education at state expense, but those from poor families? They became a burden. The only use the family had was to sell them for a dowry to an Alpha. That was the practice until the revolution. After it, when the Alphas got into such a bad social position, many Omegas were left destitute. thrown into poverty. They had to start working and fending for themselves on their own." He shook the crumbs from his hands and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a gold lighter. "It was a tough time for everyone, but ironically, it was also the time when Russia took the first steps towards equality for the Omegas. The Bolsheviks made sure of that," he finished, flicking the lighter and lighting a match.
Dean's own eyes slid to the red-tinged end of the cigarette and then to the pink lips that hugged the filter as Alpha took a deep drag. He watched, strangely fascinated, as the Alpha pulled the cigarette out and then let the cloud of smoke escape his mouth. For a brief moment, not only could the golden fangs and white teeth be seen, but also the pale pink inside of his mouth and the tip of his red tongue wet with saliva.
Everything they'd discussed was easily forgotten at that sight, which he wouldn't have hesitated to call damn hot if he hadn't been engulfed in a cloud of acrid-smelling smoke.
He wrinkled his nose at the smell, which was as familiar as it was unwelcome.
"Six minutes," he said, completely automatically.
"Hmm?" Alpha growled questioningly, eyes squinted in confusion.
"They say that every cigarette smoked shortens a man's life by six minutes," he explained. "I read that somewhere once when... one time I was trying to get my dad to quit smoking. It didn't work, but at least he doesn't light up one by one anymore. I think it helped a lot when I told him he'd be six minutes shorter with each cigarette."
The alpha didn't outright frown, but his otherwise flat expression became a little more impassive as he took another drag from his cigarette.
"I guess I don't have to ask if you want ..." he said, holding up the pack as he did so.
Dean frowned.
"No, thanks. I'll pass on the lung cancer. Besides, it must taste like shit," he said aloud what he thought every time he saw and especially smelled someone smoking.
"It's not that bad," Alpha replied, reaching over to shovel the ashes into the ashtray next to the pitcher of water and... bell? "One gets used to it quickly. I've been smoking for thirty years. I was even younger than you when I started."
No, he certainly didn't understand how someone could ruin their lungs for thirty years, or their sense of smell. Then again, he couldn't say he didn't, since their Alpha had been smoking for about the same amount of time.
"You do know that smoking ruins your sense of smell?"
"That was kind of why I started," he replied cryptically. What Alpha, or Omega for that matter, would voluntarily numb his nose? If Dean didn't have his sense of smell, he'd just be fucked. He wouldn't know anything, like the fact that the Alpha was just now, cigarette in hand, relaxed and content just a tiny bit more than he was before. Or that if the smoke weren't so pungent, it would somehow be a strange match for the smell of roasted cherries and bitter almonds. As if he was already part of the musky aura around Alpha anyway.
"But I smell you perfectly," Alpha added into the brief silence, licking his bottom lip almost suggestively.
Dean focused on the tip of his tongue sliding over the cracked skin and...
"Smoking makes your balls shrivel up, too."
He stiffened. Was he really hinting to the murderous Alpha he was now sitting alone at a table with that he had small balls? Yeah, he really does. Chalk it up to his hungry stomach or foul mouth, but that's exactly what he did. And honestly, if the Alpha decided to shove his balls in his face right now, it wouldn't surprise Dean in the least. What he hadn't expected was the look of surprise in which Alf's face stiffened. He remained motionless with the cigarette raised halfway to his mouth, whereupon a sound reminiscent of a deep growl came from his chest, slipping from his lips like a raspy chuckle along with which he squinted his eyes and finally bared his teeth.
"I assure you I have no such problem... Dean," the Alpha growled in a low tone that was seemingly threatening, but it was only a playful threat.
Dean swallowed. The voice and the words sent a chill down his spine that quickly found its way to his ass. Shit! Shit! And shit again! He was lucky Alf hadn't smelled that little nuisance in the car at the start of dinner, but he certainly wouldn't have missed it if he'd started getting wet right here and now.
The knock on the door was his salvation, even if it did make him literally jump in his chair. It tore the moment apart and startled him just enough to make the creeping feeling of excitement fade. Thank goodness.
"Vkhodit!"
At Alf's invitation, Pyotr walked in with Jacob carrying two plates. On one was a burger topped with fries and on the other were onion rings. They had really gotten exactly what Dean wanted and how wonderful it smelled as Jacob placed the plates in front of him. Oh, thank God. Finally, a proper meal.
"Satisfied?" Alpha asked, leaning a little over the table as if to get closer. Maybe he'd have something really good too, instead of a pile of cabbage and beets, but Dean wasn't going to share. The burger was all his, though he could spare a few onion rings.
"Yeah. All I'm missing is a nice cold beer," he dared to complain a little, though he didn't expect the Alpha to oblige. He'd served him plain water, hadn't he?
But the Alpha didn't even blink at his request. He drained the rest of his beer in one gulp and held up two fingers in a new order. Jacob just nodded, took the empty glass and disappeared.
Dean saw him off with a quick glance, which he also used to check on Pyotr, resettled in his old spot against the wall, before grabbing his burger. He was terribly hungry, even hungrier than when he'd come here, because then his stomach was tight with nerves. That had somehow vanished now, allowing him to bite hungrily into the perfect taste of beef, fluffy bun and grilled bacon. God, this was a hundred times better than some borscht.
He chewed a large bite contentedly, looking across the table at Castiel, who was smoking, returning the look with squinted eyes. There was silence between them, and it was... nice. So peaceful and scented with a mixture of honey tinged roasted cherries and his own scent.
Jacob returned and two steaming pints landed on their table.
He licked his greasy fingers and grabbed the glass. After one sip, he could tell it wasn't American beer. No proper American beer would have made such a high head, which he stuffed up his nose. He set the pint down, took a drag and wiped his wet nose on his sleeve before saying:
"Russian beer?"
"Czech Svijany."
He didn't know.
"I don't suppose you've got any proper American ones here, do you?"
"No. American beers are runny piss," Alfa replied casually, while he stubbed out his cigarette on the ashtray.
"Hey! Our beer is not piss!" He exclaimed, seemingly outraged, but really he just wanted to start laughing, especially when Alpha bared his teeth a little while scenting the room with happiness.
"You were the first to say borscht tastes like vomit," he replied, his voice a little deeper, seeming to come from his chest along with a soft growl.
He pricked his teeth and snarled playfully over his burger, but the snarl quickly stuck in his throat as he caught a disturbed movement from Pyotr and Jacob in the corner of his eye. What did they think he was gonna do? He throws away his heavily-earned burger and throws himself over the table armed with a blunt dining knife? He had no such plan even when he came here, and now even less. Alpha hasn't given him an excuse to do something like this yet, and if he finally decides to make his move… he'd rather no one else be here.
"Does have to be here?" he asked, nodding his chin to Alf's men.
For a moment, the Alpha didn't seem to know what he was talking about until he slowly turned his head to his people and looked at them as if he had seen them for the first time.
"Do you want them to leave?"
"I liked it more when we were alone," he replied, conjuring up one of his flirtatious smiles, which always provided him with a few extra wings or a free chocolate bar. Especially when he was dealing with an Alpha.
Alpha just waved his hand, and both of his men left the lounge. As soon as the door closed behind them and they were alone again, he realized one thing; the Alpha had complied with him in everything. It seemed surprising when he considered that everything about Castiel - the way he talked, the way he dressed, the way he walked, even the posture of his body - was literally screaming that he was an Alpha with all their typical qualities, such as a sense of self-importance or the idea that everyone and everything around him belonged to them and was there for their amusement and use. He would rather expect someone like that to impose his will on him, because as an Alpha he knows best what is good for Omega. Maybe it was the stupidity of the allied species he believed in, or rather, Alfa's twisted desire to make Dean really like him and agree with everything he wanted him to do.
He didn't stand a chance. Dean was not a naive fool, and he did not plan to be fooled by nice words and nice gestures, but the idea flashed through his head that he could use the Alpha a little. Get something real out of him, not just empty promises. It always worked for him when it came to small things, so why not try to want something bigger.
At first, he decided to try to get something small, just to know if this time, too, Alf's answer would be 'yes'.
"Shall we have a drink then?" he said casually.
Dad would sometimes give him a bottle of beer or pour it for him in a dark bar. He hadn't had a problem with that since he was fourteen, when he pulled himself out and his shoulders started to get muscular. Something weak, like beer, just made people close their eyes a little bit. But to give him whiskey, no one had ever been so blind or stupid, and that he had tried it before accepting that he could just soak up his dad's supplies.
He wondered if Alpha would give him a drink or refuse to comply, like a proper adult.
"What would you like?" Alpha asked, without hesitation. "They have Scotch whiskey, American bourbons and European spirits at the bar, including real Russian vodka."
"Something expensive from the top shelf," he commanded sovereignly, as he usually saw expensive things there.
Alpha raised his eyebrows in amusement.
"The most expensive thing is always the back," he corrected it with a small smile twisting his corners up. "I'll choose something. "Any other wishes?" he asked as he raised a pint to drink. He was obviously having fun because his eyes were sparkling, and the way he was looking at it was saying that he wasn't so much talking about it as at Dean's expense.
He frowned. He didn't want to be laughed at, damn it.
"Yeah, maybe they'll miss the paycheck for the night your guys kidnapped me," he snapped, irritated by Alf's grin, not thinking about what he was saying or how it might sound.
"That's fair," Alpha answered calmly, quickly drinking and reaching into his pocket, where, like a good mafia man, he pulled out a bundle of hundred-dollar bills fastened with a gold-silver buckle. There was a bird engraved on it with a ruby eye, sitting on a flowering branch. Alpha pulled out two bills and pushed them across the table with two fingers, as if it were a trifle, and yet it was more than half of his weekly paycheck at the diner.
"What if I asked for more?" he asked because he just had to test the boundaries he was running into.
Alpha said nothing and simply added three more to the first two banknotes. On the white tablecloth there were five neatly aligned Benes, beautifully clean, without folded corners, only bent in half, as if they had just been picked up at the cash register in the bank. It struck him casually that this was what clean laundered money looked like. Five hundred he could have had for... what exactly?
"What do you want me to do if I take the money?" he asked. What can you get on the street for $500? He guessed that ordinary manual labor or smoking was not enough. Not that he ever cares how much paid sex costs. They were never so bad with money that he had to worry about it. They just slept in the car at too many truck stops.
"I don't want anything for it. It's a gift, Dean."
He narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
Is that how it works, Alfa? Will you give me everything I ask for and not ask for anything in return?"
Castiel narrowed his eyes a little.
"Everything is a broad concept. I'll give you anything you want, as long as it's in my power, but some things come at a price. You mustn't forget that," he said almost philosophically, but Dean understood very well.
"Yeah, sure… my price…." he snorted sarcastically, but with a cold feeling in his stomach, which was a bit fearful, but mostly angry. He knew the price of his life, and he was damn sure he should want something more. "Do you want my pretty ass tonight, Alfa? You'll get it, but I want something for it. I want…" What did he want? Five seconds ago, he didn't know he was going to make it this far, but now he couldn't back down. He must have thought of something. It's like… "a car."
If his request made any impression on the Alpha, he didn't show it. With complete calmness, he put the money back into the inside pocket of his jacket before leaning back comfortably, looking Dean in the eye without a look of confusion or surprise. Not a muscle moved in his face, and his eyes were a little cooler than they were a moment ago. As if the warm blue lagoon was suddenly covered with an ice crust.
"Okay," he agreed, as if it meant nothing. "Any specific ones?"
Dean didn't really know how to answer, so he just opened his mouth, like fish in the dry, and then quickly shut it up so he didn't look like a total jerk. He didn't expect Alpha to agree. He was expecting more of a mockery… though, did he forget who he was talking to? Alpha paid for sex today and every day, so he probably shouldn't have been surprised that he agreed. Surprisingly, he agreed to something so expensive. Well, at least he seems to value you quite highly, Winchester, he thought mockingly and decided not to deal with the feeling of disappointment that had settled in his chest. The fact that the Alpha had been so nice all night meant nothing. This was all business from the start, and only his stupid inner Omega saw it differently.
He clenched his jaw.
Well, if he's negotiating the price, he'll at least want a proper car that's worth it.
"What about a nice convertible from Aston..?"
Of course. Why not…"Alfa agreed, not moving his eyebrow and reaching into his cell phone pocket.
He frowned and watched quietly as he searched on his phone. In fact, he wasn't planning on finding a dealership right now that would sell Aston, was he? That would be crazy. Such cars cost from a hundred thousand upwards. It certainly didn't sell on every corner. Not that he really knows anything about it. The closest he got to one was about five meters when he saw it through the window of the Impala standing in the next lane on the highway. And he never really cared about where or how to buy such a car, because its price far exceeded the value of their property or what they could steal on credit cards. Except maybe the Baby. But his father would never give she up, and neither would Dean, even if someone wanted to trade it for the hundred most expensive cars in the world.
Alpha seems to have found what he was looking for, whatever it was, because he put his phone on the table, turned it in Dean's direction, and then moved it across the table so he could look at the screen well.
It really was a car show site, and from the picture, this year's DBS cabriolet model in silver with everything he could wish for and an initial price of 360 thousand, which was reduced to 'poor' 320 because it was an exhibition piece.
"It's just basic equipment and a bit of mileage, but you could still have it tonight," Alpha said in an almost formal tone, so it sounded like he was closing a deal, which he actually… did. "They're open until nine. We'll get to my place in no time, and when we're done, I'll take you to the showroom. I'll pay, they'll write the papers on you. And if you want, you can reserve it now. My credit card's already verified. Just click," he added, swipe across the screen to move it to the 'reserve' button.
The car was beautiful, but most importantly, it could be sold. Even if he sold it for a lousy quarter, it would still be about eighty thousand. They would no longer have to live in cheap motels, no longer have to work in smelly bistros, shop for clothes at charity, and pray that Sam would not be caught stealing books from the library or comics from the store, and thus ruining their future. And all he'd have to do is bend over for Alpha, which he'd have to do anyway, but he'd really get something out of it. Something for Sammy. Could he have done it?
He stared at his phone and couldn't decide.
He felt Alf's cold gaze on him, felt his very dominant presence, and was pinched in his nose by the corrupt undertone of dissatisfaction that appeared beneath his cherry scent. He quickly raised his eyes to him, only to find that he was leaning loosely into the chair, one hand hooked against her backrest, and the ends of the other running over the dewy pint while he watched Dean from under his closed eyelids. His expression and attitude were in complete contradiction to the unpleasant smell and coldness in his eyes, with which he had never really looked at Dean before.
He closed his lips and pushed his phone back across the table.
"No. I won't do that," he said decisively, shaking his head. "I'm not serious, Alfa. I don't want the car. I don't even want your money," he added, before grabbing a pack of bills, clutching them angrily in his fist, and then throwing him back on the table.
He looked into Alf's eyes defiantly and waited for his answer. Like, now that he's set a price, he can't just change his mind. That he's just a provocative little Omega bitch.
Alf's expression suddenly softened, his eyes filled with warmth again, and the sweet scent of cherry pie replaced the previous spoiled note in a few breaths.
"I'm glad you didn't," Alpha said in a deep voice that actually sounded like a relief. "And I'm glad I wasn't wrong about you," he added before picking up his phone and putting it back in his pocket.
He was confused.
"You don't - " he stopped when he realized that he was planning to ask why Alpha didn't want to fuck him and that his voice sounded unreasonably reprehensible. For a brief moment he closed his lips and knelt so that when he spoke he would not sound like the Omega he needed. "You didn't want me to accept?"
"No, I didn't," Alpha replied without further explanation.
He glanced at him, frowning. Maybe he didn't want to, because he really didn't have such an expensive car. Sure, his clothes looked like they must have cost a few thousand dollars, and all that gold - a watch, a bracelet, a cross hanging over a tie, a gold pin in a knot, a gold buckle on a bundle of money - looked expensive, but after all… it didn't have to be real gold, did it? The alpha's outfit was the same. And this restaurant wasn't exactly overflowing with luxury. And his expensive car might have been a rental car. Yeah, maybe that's what this was about.
"What would you do if I accepted?" he asked with a hint of provocation in his voice, ready to breathe in when he answered, because if Alpha lies now, he'll know it by its smell. Damn it, the guy had no idea what smell blockers were, and from the first moment he was in on how badly he smelled… expressive.
"I'd take you home, fuck your ass dry, put you on my knot, and then bite you," he replied with complete calm, his expression and smell unchanged, just raising his eyebrows a little as he raised his beer to his lips and added, "Oh… and of course you'd get your reward."
His breath caught in his throat, and his stomach became a mess. Partly, though he didn't like to admit it, it was the excitement of the image Alpha had portrayed in front of him, but mostly fear. Not that he didn't know the whole time Alfa was chasing the barrel, damn it, these things were chasing all the Alphas in his head, but hearing it out loud like that was scary. Suddenly it was too real.
He gave a quick look at the door.
Alf's men were out there, and even if they weren't, he somehow doubted he could get to the door before Castiel could catch and bite him, just as he'd imagined.
He turned back to him.
"What's stopping you from doing it anyway?" he asked and hated how distressed his voice sounded.
"You are my True Mate. This is God's will and gift. We were created equal and complementary to each other. Forcing you to mate would be a disgrace to His plan."
Maybe Alpha was nice today, and maybe he really believed what he said, but just because he had Dean's life in his hands didn't allow them to be 'equal'.
"But if I swapped my ass for a car, would mating suddenly be okay? Wouldn't that be against God's plan?"
"No, even then it wouldn't be right, but…" his expression froze a little, "…when someone sells himself like a whore, I treat him like one. And whores, as you know, have no right to say no."
"And I do?" he asked sharply. "Can I say 'no'?" Can I do what I want?"
"Yes. He nodded slightly. "Within certain limits that you already know. You know too much to live your old life, but you still have a choice. It can be either that," he nodded to the table between them, "or join us," he said, leaving a brief pause for Dean to absorb a little of what his words meant. "Anyway… now and anytime in the future, you have the chance to choose any of three options; death, me, or the Bratva."
Dean licked his dry lips.
What Alpha was basically telling him was that he didn't have to fuck, but he still wouldn't get away with it because he'd have to join his criminal organization or he'd end up with a bullet in his head. Well, it wasn't exactly what you might call a cheerful choice. Surprisingly, it reassured him more than it scared him more. He had no reason to trust Castiel, but he did, and he suddenly had the irrational feeling that he had more freedom. And the hope that he could say 'no' to Alf and not end up in a black plastic bag. After all, he wasn't exactly the academic type, he didn't see a different future for himself than behind the wheel of an Impala, and the crime wasn't entirely foreign to him either. The only thing he wasn't sure he could do was what Alpha's men were probably doing.
Suddenly, he heard Slash's guitar solo coming out of his pocket. As he caressed his ears at other times, this time more irritated his tense nerves. Unnecessarily aggressively, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, only to find that he had a video call from Sammy, which, of course, he could not accept. He quickly moved his thumb to the red button and put the call down, but before he put his phone back in his pocket or even apologize to the Alpha, he noticed that he had several incoming messages from the little Alpha in the chat. He turned off the audible alert because Becky could be incredibly annoying, and as far as Lisa was concerned… he didn't even want to think about her when he was with Alfa Castiel. Now it looked like he missed something important about it. He hope nothing happened to Sammy.
With concern, he opened the chat and quickly ran over the messages his younger brother had left him. Most of the time, they were asking him to call right away and a few swear words about it, but the main theme was that the motel manager showed up at the door several times.
"Shit!" he swore in a half-voice.
"Problem?" he spoke from the other side of the Alpha, whose presence he had completely forgotten for a few seconds.
He quickly looked up at him, only to find that he was watching him with a calm expression, but his head slightly tilted to the side of the question.
"Yeah, kinda." I forgot to pay for the motel, the manager only takes cash, and I didn't leave enough in the room to pay for another week. And Sammy doesn't want to go to the ATM on his own," because it could happen that the manager gets in and, while digging through things and looking for some money, stumbles across our small arsenal ," he added.
"I understand." I'll let you drive back to take care of your brother," he said, without a hint of dissatisfaction at being interrupted literally in the middle of the conversation. Instead, he quietly rang the prepared bell.
Almost immediately the door opened and Pyotr entered. So that's what the bell was for; calling the waiter.
"Dean is leaving. Bring him home," he ordered the sprawling Beta, who just nodded and took his jacket off the coat hanger to offer it to Dean for clothing.
He got up and simply took the offered jacket from Betty, because it would be really embarrassing to have her put on. His hand immediately slipped into his pocket, where he had his wallet, just to check it. He had enough money in it to pay for the next month, he was just distracted and just forgot to go to the manager in the morning.
There's another burger at the bar. "I thought your little brother might need dinner," Pyotr said.
He looked at him in surprise.
"Um… yeah, okay, thanks. I'll pick it up," he replied, because he didn't know what else to say.
"Dean," Alpha said.
He turned to him and confronted his soft, blue eyes.
"You forgot your money," he pointed to the wrinkled bills on the table.
Dean frowned.
"I said I didn't want your money," he replied, perhaps sharper than he had to.
"It was a gift, and it's rude to refuse gifts. Take them," he added in a tone that was too close to the order for Dean to easily resist.
He went back to the table and, with some reluctance, grabbed the banknotes. He was about to put them in his pocket when Alpha's hand shot out like a snake and his strong fingers hugged his wrist.
"I've been thinking about this all evening," Alpha muttered in his deep, gravelly voice, and before Dean could do anything more than open his mouth in protest, he was dragged into his personal space.
He stumbled forward and just exhaled sharply before Alpha's lips pressed against his mouth. They were a little cracked, tasting of beer and cigarettes, and his stubble scratched Dean's almost smooth cheeks. He took a quick breath, and all he could feel was the heavy, all-encompassing scent of roasted cherries and bitter almonds, tinged with the intense sweetness of happiness and a subtle hint of musky excitement. This was... Oh, my God... shit... it was intoxicating. One stupid kiss pushed thoughts of Sam to the back of his mind, and all he could hear was his Omega snorting happily, just wanting to get even closer to Alpha. Surrender to him.
Before he realized what he was doing, a silent moan broke out of his throat, in which he opened his mouth a little more in an invitation that Alpha immediately took advantage of. When his tongue slipped into Dean's mouth, it was as uncompromising and sovereign as anything on Alpha. No gentle, timid groping of girls his age, or a little bolder in those few older ones. This was possessive, and it quickly deprived him of breath and strength in his legs.
He had to tear up the kiss first just to breathe.
Castiel snarled softly.
There was a small hint of dissatisfaction that made Dean bow his head almost to his shoulder. This satisfied Alpha, and his angry growl turned into a much happier purr, with which he drew him even closer, so that Dean's forehead really rested on his shoulder. He vaguely perceived Alpha rubbing his chin against his ear, face, and neck. He branded it with his scent. He appropriated his. A small part of Dean's brain, about where his brother was now, said this was wrong. That he shouldn't be labeled by an almost unknown Alpha, especially this particular one. But a much larger part of him really wanted nothing more than this, and the fact that Alf's cherry scent mingled with his own… that he felt the fast-drying moisture on his face… it was the most satisfying thing in… a very long time.
He wanted to fight that feeling, or at least he thought he should, but he didn't. He didn't even know why. He simply surrendered and, with a long exhalation, relaxed into Alf's arms and closed his eyes.
He realized remotely that the hand holding his wrist had disappeared. Probably moved to his back of the head, because there he felt strong fingers sovereignly piercing his hair. Under that touch, he tilted his head to the side and exposed his throat. Another small but happy growl left Alf's lips before he pressed his nose and mouth against Dean's neck. At that moment, it crossed his mind that Castiel's teeth were too close to his gland, separated only by a thick flannel shirt and a thin t-shirt- certainly not a sufficient barrier against Alpha fangs - but he didn't care. He didn't care about everything that happened today, what Alpha said, and he didn't care about his beliefs. Over the years, the accumulated defiance and training in the suppression of Omega instincts was simply forgotten in favor of this perfect moment of bliss, which he realized was just his stupid biology, but he didn't care.
"You should go," said a whispering voice close to his ear, and, with his words, the Alpha slowly pulled away.
He looked into his eyes.
He saw that Castiel, like himself, did not want to interrupt this moment. He could see it in his eyes, and he could tell by how reluctantly he pulled his fingers out of Dean's hair. But they both knew they couldn't stay here and...
Suddenly, as if his brain jumped again, he realized painfully what he was doing a moment ago, and the only thought he had was that he wanted to… no, he needed to get away from Alpha before he could do some fucking crap. He had to go home to Sammy. He had to go now.
He looked away, his heart suddenly beating wildly, and rushed to the door with a single thought; to run away. It was only a persistent feeling that he had the feet of a broth that prevented him from really running like a little, scared boy. And as he stretched around the great Beta, he vaguely noted that the Alpha wished him good night, and the voices of the people at the premises or Vadim with Jacob, which he had by his side, were equally distant.
The first thing he realized was the cold, city-smelling outdoor air that drove the smell of cherries out of his head, and the thought of being fucked up anyway because of Alf Castiel.
Dictionary:
Spasibo – Děkuji
Pozhaluysta. Mne priyatno sluzhit', batyushka – You're welcome. I will be happy to serve.
Vkhodit – Come in
...
Officially, borscht is a soup, but it is commonly eaten as a main dish. It is often served with bread (European bread, not toasted bread), although it is not a requirement. The basic ingredients are beef stock, cabbage and beets. Other ingredients are optional, such as... carrots, onions, beef, sausage and more.
Škvarkové placky/Schvarkovee placky/Pork buns are not Russian food, although they probably have something similar in Russia. It is Czech and Slovak food. If anyone wants to try it, you can try the attached recipe. But you have to convert metric units to imperial units yourself, because imperial units are nonsense and I don't want to deal with it. :D
Pork buns (Schvarkovee placky)
Ingredients:
120 g pork greaves
500 g semi-coarse flour
180 g lard
125 ml milk (or more as needed)
20 g of yeast
1 egg
1 pinch of sugar (for leavening)
salt
coarse salt
grinded pepper
crushed cumin
1 egg for brushing
Prepare the yeast from crushed yeast, a spoonful of lukewarm milk, a pinch of sugar and 2 spoons of flour. Mix and let rise in heat.
Cut the pork greaves into small pieces
Put sifted flour, solid lard, salt and pepper into a bowl. Add yeast, egg, pork greaves and water. Mix into the dough, cover with a towel and leave to rise thoroughly (at least an hour).
We form balls from the dough, place them on a baking sheet and press them into a pancake. Brush with a beaten egg and sprinkle with coarse salt and ground cumin.
Place in an oven heated to 374 °F and bake until golden.
