Venom

008

Carlos García was dead.

The police had found his body this morning. A bullet straight through his mouth. His tongueless mouth.

When Helen found out about it, she wasn't surprised. The man had it coming. He had been warned. Helen didn't have any proof, but she knew who had done it.

Dean was feeling rather proud of his latest victim. Of course, he couldn't do it himself, even though he wished he'd had the honor to, because the victim lived in Spain. It took Dean almost a week to send someone there to do his job. He gave the specific order to cut off his tongue when he was still alive. With no tongue, there was no way he could insult anyone ever again. He bled out. The bullet was just a diversion.

On this snowy Tuesday, Helen was late. And this time there was no Derek to blame. She was never late, yet today she didn't hear the alarm. On her defense, she had gone to sleep pretty late last night, staying up to watch movies. Her initial idea had been watching one Marvel movie. She ended up watching two, one of them being Avengers: Endgame, and bawled her eyes out until six in the morning. Thirty minutes later, her alarm went off. No wonder she woke up at seven fifty.

She ran as fast as she could towards Dean's office. Savannah stopped her in the middle of the hall to give her Dean's coffee, claiming she had something to do with his husband or whatever. Helen didn't really listen, she was panting too loudly.

When she reached the doors, she had no air in her lungs and her face was burning red. Dean lifted his eyes and looked at her stunned. "You...okay?" he asked, frowning.

"Yeah," she breathed out, stumbling inside the room. "Your coffee. Savannah was-" She took a breath. "She was-" Hell, she needed another breath. And water. Lots of water.

"Here," Dean said, holding out a glass. She drank it in two sips.

"Thank you. Sorry I'm late," she apologized, taking off her coat. Today she hadn't even tried to dress up. She'd slipped on some jeans, a black shirt and her coat. At least she'd worn her Dr. Marten's, otherwise her feet would be soaking wet from the snow. Her dark hair was tied in a ponytail, but running had made many strands get lost around her face.

"Ms. Donovan," Dean said with a grin, glancing at his Rolex. A different one. "You are five minutes late. That's literally nothing. I'm supposed to be in the office at seven, but I always come in at seven thirty or so. You're alright." He leaned back against his desk and gripped the edge with his hands.

Helen smiled at him and thanked him. "So, what do we have to do today?" she asked, sitting in the chair in front of him. He looked so massive from that angle. She had to lean in her chair and bend her neck just to glimpse his eyes

Dean wanted to die. Was she trying to look that hot, staring up at him through her lashes, or was it just her face? Probably the latter. Still, Dean tried his best to keep it in his pants. It's not like he had any other choices, right? He said, "Nothing, actually. They just called me to inform me that García is... indisposed." He hoped she knew. He wanted her to know that he'd done it. For her.

"I've heard. A tragedy, truly."

"Totally." Then, he cheered up again, because he didn't really give a fuck about the dead business man. "But anyways, I wanted to ask you if you wanted to go have breakfast."

Helen's smile widened. "Breakfast? When?"

"How about...right now?"

And how could she deny. "Sounds good. Let's go."

~~~

The Sundial was warm and cozy.

Dean and Helen were sitting at a small table together, and she'd ordered a slice of her favorite food in the entire world: Sacher cake. Oh, how she loved it. Sacher was better than sex. She hadn't had sex with Dean, but there was no way he was better than Sacher cake.