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Datestamp fics
This is the first set of datestamps that came out of this post. Thanks for the prompts, bb's. :D
Title: Various date stamps, part 1
Words: 3600 words total
Rating: PG - NC17
Summary: Datestamps for Venom (vamp!Dean/Sam), Whistler 'verse (j2), Open Mike Night at the Fremont (j2) and Numbered Days (j2). Links to the original stories are included below.
Venom -- three months after the end of the series. (vamp!Dean/Sam, 860 words) for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
deirdre_c and vorpalblades
"Where is he?" Sam asks.
Jo stops mid-stride, whirling on him. She's pissed off, Sam can tell, even in the dark with the wind blowing her hair across her face. She stabs a finger upward.
"Where else? Maybe you can talk to him, because he's sure as hell not listening to me."
Sam looks up and sees a figure on the ledge high above, six stories up at least, leaning out from the building and dark against the night sky. He turns to go, but Jo pulls him back. She drags her hair off her face to look at him, her expression fierce and troubled. "This isn't working. Us hunting with him. You know it isn't. Those witnesses are never going to talk to us, now."
"Jo, come on --"
"He scares people, Sam. And yeah, okay, the freaky mind-reading stuff is useful; we'd never have tagged that blood-sucker in Nashville without him, but be realistic! Of he's not wigging out the witnesses he's doing that... that glamor thing and turning them into lust-zombies --"
someone needs a nap
Floating voice, softer than the wind but crystal clear in Sam's head and he jerks his head up to look at the almost invisible figure above.
shut up, Dean
"I'll talk to him," he says to Jo. "We'll figure it out and talk about it in the morning, okay?"
"Yeah, you do that," Jo says and turns to walk to the car, presumably to wait for him or most likely to hotwire it and head back to the motel, leaving him to find his own way home. Sam goes inside to look for the stairs.
When Sam looks out the window of the room where the now ex-witnesses had been staying he can see Dean crouched at the edge of the ledge, hands clasped in front of him, balanced perfectly as he looks down at the street. Even though Sam knows, he knows that now Dean could walk a tightrope between this building and the next in a fucking hurricane if he had to, it still makes his throat go tight and his heart thump in his chest. He climbs out onto the ledge anyway.
Dean's eyes flick toward him once, ringed in the dark kohl he wears all the time now, stark against the pallor of his face. Dean had said that if he were going to look like an emo-band reject anyway, he may as well go all out and try to use the look as a disguise. Sam thinks it might work better if Dean's eyes didn't glow green every so often.
He lets out a sigh and sits next to Dean on the ledge, one leg bent, the other hanging out into space. The wind grabs at the edges of his jacket, blowing it back against his body.
"Careful," Dean says.
Sam kicks his heel against the facade beneath the ledge. "Whatever. You'd catch me, right?"
Dean shrugs as if to give him that one, and shifts to settle next to him, shoulder brushing Sam's. There's no warmth there at all. Sam shivers.
"I could leave," Dean says.
"Don't start this again."
"We never finished it. Maybe she has a point. I don't know if I'm actually contributing to this little hunting operation, you know what I mean?" The words are casual but Dean's expression is pensive.
"What are you talking about?" Sam asks. "You're like... you're like vampire radar. You know where the bloodsuckers are before we even get into town."
"Yeah, and they know I'm coming, too. Pretty soon they're going to be waiting for us, everywhere we go. And --" Dean breaks off, shaking his head.
"And what?" Sam says.
"Come on, Sam... you have to notice... I'm getting -- weirder." Dean spreads out his hands as he says this, long fingered and pale, like they're reflecting the non-existent moonlight back at them. Dean's ring looks too heavy for the finger wearing it.
Sam swallows. "You're always weird." The words don't come out the way he wants them to, and Dean's smile is twisted in response.
"You're strong and you're fast," Sam continues, as convincingly as he can manage. "No one messes with us when you're around. You're -- you're our muscle."
"Yeah, from Mars. I'm not going to be able to fake 'normal', soon. And then what? I wait for you guys in the car?"
Dean can't fake it now, if Sam's being honest; can't control the glamor that was such a kick for him when he first transformed, when he'd turn his face toward the unsuspecting and laugh as the waitress or the mail carrier or the doorman or the cop would go blank-eyed and more often than not fall into his arms to practically beg.
Like Sam wants to beg now.
"You'll learn to control it," he says evenly.
"And if I don't? And what about the other stuff?"
Sam's heart skips. "What other stuff?"
Dean grins, then, a close-mouthed smirk that hides the fangs and makes him look like just Sam's big brother again. If his big brother worked for Cover Girl. "Want to bet I can jump to the ground from here?"
Sam glances at the street, sixty feet below. "Don't -- don't even fuck around like that, Dean," Sam says, his voice shaking a little. "Let's go back to the motel, okay? We'll talk to Jo, we'll get this settled --"
Sam's moving back toward the window but Dean's arm snakes out, rock hard around his waist and then there's one sickening tug before a rush of air that's like every falling dream that has ever jerked him awake at three am with his stomach in his throat. The ground comes too quickly, a slam into the pavement that makes the soles of his feet burn, but miraculously, nothing more than that.
At first, he can't take a breath, just clenches his hands in the back of Dean's jacket, white-knuckled over the leather. "Jerk," he breathes, finally.
Dean is holding him tight, face inches away, blank and perfect.
weirder, Sam
Sam tightens his hold when Dean would pull away. "I don't care."
**
Whistler verse, immediately following trust me not to think (and not to sleep around) (j2, 403 words) forangstpuppy
Jensen takes off after Jared and they're gone for at least twenty minutes, not that Steve's counting or anything. When they finally slide back into the bar, Jensen's got that look, messed up and out of it and obviously still feeling the shots he'd downed, but now his hair is ruffled up and his shirt is wrinkled and his eyes look actually fucking dazed. If he didn't just get laid, Steve's hasn't been paying attention for the last 16 years of his life.
Jensen pauses in the doorway, then heads over toward the bar and his abandoned beer next to Steve's elbow. Jared walks over to Ray's table, instead, but not before he puts his hand on Jensen's hip. It's a brief, possessive touch, and is accompanied by a look in Steve's direction, that's barely a glance but colder than anything he's ever seen on Jared's face before.
Beside him, Jensen takes a slug of beer, grimaces at the taste. "Warm," he says.
"Hey, what do you think happens when you go wandering off for half an hour? You bang Padalecki in the bathroom or something? If you did, he doesn't look too happy about it." He's only half kidding but Jensen's eyes drop and his cheeks flush, and now Steve can see the bruise, dark and angry beneath Jensen's bottom lip. Jensen worries at it with his teeth.
Then Jensen straightens and reaches for his wallet, tosses a few bills on the bar top. "We're taking off. Jared's got an early call, so."
"So, what... you gotta go, too? Lame, man." he says, though it's obvious, even more so when Jensen turns to him with half a smile, like 'what do you think?'. He looks happy and sated, with that bruise like a beacon Steve should be smart enough to read.
Steve wants to touch it.
"You guys try to leave the bar standing, okay?" Jensen says, and holds out a hand for Steve to grasp. Steve can still feel the softness of Jensen's hair beneath his fingers, so when he grips Jensen's forearm, he doesn't let go right away. Then he drops his hand, because when it all comes the fuck down to it, he didn't hang on when he could have and there's no point in trying to do it now.
"Take care," he says.
"Call me before you leave town," Jensen says, and Steve will do that. He just won't watch Jensen leave.
**
Open Mike Night at the Fremont Two years later (j2, 735 words) forangelwatcher17
They didn't go out to Chris and Becca's in the suburbs that often -- just once before actually, for Sophie's birthday and that time they'd taken the train. This time it was just the two of them in Jared's new car, though, barreling down the summer highway, heading back into the city.
Jensen was quiet, eyes fixed out the window at anonymous billboards flying past, but since Jared was feeling pretty quiet himself after a full day of kids hanging off him and water-volleyball in the Kane's above-ground pool, he didn't think anything of it.
"Hey, can we stop?" Jensen said suddenly.
"What -- at this exit?"
"No... here, right here, just pull over for a second."
Jared pulled the car to the side of the highway and remembered to flick on the hazard lights, even though he'd already looked over at Jensen.
"What is it -- are you sick?" Jared reached over to put his hand on Jensen's leg.
Jensen said nothing, just sat forward in his seat a little and looked out the windshield, his expression unreadable as passing traffic made the car shake.
"We don't come this way that often," Jensen said, finally. "I just thought I should stop for a minute."
Jared looked away from him to the massive concrete pillars before them, the dimness under the overpass lit up intermittently by passing cars. The sudden realization of where they must be made Jared feel ill.
"Oh, fuck... This is where the accident happened."
"You want to hear something stupid?" Jensen asked. "I don't even know if this is the right place. All these overpasses look the same.... is that Algonquin Road up there?"
Jared swallowed and glanced at the sign. "Yeah."
Jensen nodded. "The truck came over that barrier," he said, and pointed ahead of them to a section of road that looked the same as every other section of road. "Right into our lane. Justin swerved, but he was going too fast and we went right into the pylons... We ended up there."
Jared looked at the embankment Jensen pointed at, and imagined red and blue lights, sirens and firetrucks, and his stomach turned over some more. "Jesus, Jen..."
Jensen dropped his hand over Jared's, squeezed once but Jared wasn't sure who he was reassuring, because he didn't look away from the dark scene in front of them.
"And it's just a hill. It looks like all the other ones," he said, wonderingly. "Maybe... maybe I should put one of those crosses here. Those white ones, you know?"
All Jared could do was shrug.
"Only Justin wasn't religious," Jensen continued. "So it would be wrong to put a cross, huh? It just looks so empty."
Jensen was so casual about it, like they were talking about the volleyball score from that afternoon, like it was just any conversation and Jared wasn't going to get upset, because if Jensen wasn't upset, he could damn well keep it together himself.
"It wouldn't have to be a cross," Jared said. He was glad his voice came out so evenly.
Jensen finally looked away from the overpass, finally, thank God, and when he turned to Jared, his eyes were bright. "What do you mean?"
Jared gripped Jensen's hand tight.
"I could do something for him. Put something together -- something small. You could tell me what you want it to be."
The corner of Jensen's mouth quirked. "I don't think the Illinois Department of Transportation would let us put up a monument here."
"Hey, you never know," Jared said, making his voice purposely light. "I kind of bonded with the manager at the DMV when I got my driver's license renewed. I think I've got pull, now."
Jensen smirked, but then he swallowed and looked back out at the weed-strewn embankment. "Maybe... maybe something to do with music? That was kind of his thing."
"Yeah. Yeah, whatever you want, Jen." Anything, Jared thought.
Jensen nodded, and then leaned over and kissed Jared hard, his hand lingering at the back of Jared's neck.
"Hey, I love you. You know that, right?" Jensen asked.
Jared smiled weakly. "You tell me all the time."
"Good," Jensen said, leaning his forehead on Jared's, his eyes closed.
Jared's clenched his fist hard in the back of Jensen's shirt, cupped the other hand around the back of Jensen's head and tried not to think about how fragile that curve of bone seemed. "Can we get out of here, now?" Jared asked roughly. "This is really not one of my favorite places."
Jensen let out a breath. "Yeah, definitely. Let's go."
Jared kissed him one more time and pulled back into traffic, glancing once into the rearview mirror before leaving the overpass and the embankment behind.
**
Numbered Days, one week later (j2, 1535 words) for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-syndicated.gif)
arlad
Jensen's eyes drifted shut, without any conscious volition on his part. He jerked his head up when his chin hit his chest and glanced over at the desk to see if Jared had noticed, but he was still bent over his laptop, typing whatever it was Business majors typed at one in the morning. The entire house was still, except for the tapping of Jared's keys and Harley's snuffling, sleepy breathing in the corner of the room.
Jensen shoved the pillow against the wall so it supported his back and shifted Jared's reading lamp closer so maybe his anatomy notes would stop swimming incomprehensibly in front of his face. He really should have known enough not to try to study on the bed. It was like a giant Ambien, every time.
At the desk, Jared shut the laptop and stretched, t-shirt tugging interestingly across his shoulders, and Jensen had to just sit there for a second and enjoy the show. He looked back down at his notes when Jared stood up.
"You about done?" Jared asked. He moved over to stand next to the bed. "You want me to quiz you?"
Jensen shrugged and tried to act casual when Jared dropped down next to him, shoving over into the corner to give him room. The stupid bed was the size of an army cot it seemed, not big enough for one guy his size, let alone Jared, too, but it felt good to have Jared's shoulder against his.
"So what are you studying?" Jared asked, looking down at Jensen's notes.
"There's an anatomy quiz on Monday -- I need to know these bones. Just start at the top." He handed Jared his notes.
"Do you want me to sing them?" Jared asked, looking down at the diagram. "You know, leg bone connected to the hip bone?"
"Everyone does that joke," Jensen said, but he couldn't help smirking anyway. "But you can sing if you want."
"No, I don't really want to sing," Jared said, and he glanced up at Jensen, a smile lingering at his lips. "You feel like singing?"
Jensen swallowed. "No. Not really, no."
He did not feel like singing, not at all. He felt like making out. They'd kissed a couple of times in the last week, but when they were at the dorm, Jensen knew they were always fifteen seconds away from being interrupted by a freshman crisis involving change for the washing machines. The one other time they'd been alone in Jared's living room for about ten minutes before Kristen showed up with a latte and an evil cackle that made Jensen want to run home and review his chemistry notes.
This was definitely different. Finally alone in Jared's room at the top of the house, no RA duty until three the next day... Jensen's breath caught at the possibilities. Jared had the same idea too, apparently, because he leaned forward when Jensen did. The first kiss was off-target and they bumped noses. Jensen was about to let out a nervous laugh, the way he always fucking did when he was embarrassed and which always made things worse, but he didn't get a chance. Jared obviously didn't take setbacks lightly.
He reached out and caught Jensen's chin, cupped one big hand around Jensen's jaw and tilted his head exactly the right way and then, oh, God, everything was a lot less awkward. It was drugging. Jared wasn't in any hurry, either, and kissed him like they had all night because for once they actually did, so Jensen opened his mouth and sucked on Jared's tongue a little.
Jared made a sound in his throat like maybe he really, really liked that, so Jensen did it again and turned his body to get the right angle as he leaned in. Jared pulled back a little, with his eyes dark and his face flushed and his eyes focused on Jensen's mouth, which put a curl of heat low in Jensen's belly.
"You want to lay down?" Jared asked.
Jensen took a sharp breath. "Yeah, okay," Jensen managed, and shoved his anatomy book onto the floor with his foot so Jared could move down, too. Jared switched off the reading lamp and hitched down the mattress on his elbow and his hip, pulling Jensen with him so they were facing each other on the bed.
For a second Jensen didn't know where to put his arms without knocking Jared off onto the floor, but he got one arm around Jared's waist and the other kind of resting on Jared's shoulder and then their hips slid together like they just sort of fit that way. Suddenly the whole room seemed warm and dark and shockingly intimate.
Jensen had to close his eyes for a second.
Jared leaned his face into Jensen's, kissed him slow and deep. Then he laughed a little. "Hey, can you move over a little? I'm falling off."
"How do you sleep in this thing? It's like being at summer camp," Jensen asked, irritated that the kissing had stopped. He shifted a little as Jared moved in and somehow he ended up with Jared sprawled mostly on top of him. He forgot to be annoyed.
"mmmmm..." Jared said, which wasn't really an answer, but went really well with kissing. He drew Jensen's bottom lip into his mouth, pulled back slowly. "I didn't go to this kind of summer camp. You were lucky."
"It was space camp, actually..." Jensen said, running his hands over Jared's back so he could slide his fingers up underneath Jared's t-shirt.
"Seriously, you went to space camp...?" Jared laughed. "Wait a second."
He sat up and pulled his shirt off over his head. It was dark in jared's room, but not too dark for Jensen to see the clean lines of Jared's body, moonlight on smooth skin. Jensen had kind of known already that Jared was going to be beautiful, what with the tight t-shirts and everything, but the actual sight of him made it hard for Jensen to use his words. He was able to look for a long time, too, because Jared was working on the buttons of Jensen's shirt, sliding the material apart so Jensen shivered in the cool of the room.
Jensen decided he'd better say something, because sitting there gaping was kind of the opposite of cool, but Jared just ran a hand down Jensen's chest that made his nerves sing.
"Wow, you are really fucking gorgeous," Jared said, all easy smile and casual confidence.
Jensen felt awkward and stupid in comparison. "You, too," he croaked, then pulled Jared down to hide his embarrassment. He'd never been able to get the words out when it mattered, but maybe he could make up for it in actions. Jared liked slow kisses, Jensen had figured that one out already; he loved it when Jensen coaxed his mouth open with one hand on his chin so he could press inside and treat Jared's mouth like it was his favorite kind of ice cream.
Jared wasn't passive about it all, meeting Jensen's every touch with one of his own, and God, kissing like that made everything kind of blurry. Jensen realized he must have lost time along the way, because somehow his jeans were undone and Jared's sweats were pushed down and they were moving together on the stupid miniature bed that seemed just about perfect at the moment.
Jensen briefly considered trying to hold out, but Jared's hands were fucking miraculous, like he somehow knew exactly where Jensen wanted to be touched and figured he'd just play around for awhile and drive Jensen out of his mind. Jensen tried to reciprocate, but it felt like his brain cells weren't exactly firing anymore, and when he finally came, practically seeing stars, he honestly didn't know if Jared was along for the ride or not.
It was a few seconds before he could bring himself to care. Jared's heated breathing next to his ear was a good sign though. Jensen ran a hand up the groove of Jared's spine, fingertips skating over damp skin, and Jared shivered.
"mmmmm," Jared said again. "We need to do this naked next time."
There wasn't a word in that sentence that didn't make Jensen stupidly happy.
"Yeah, okay, but maybe on something a little bigger than this bed. I'm gonna die."
"Oh, am I squashing you?" Jared asked, relaxing his entire body into boneless deadweight. "Can't you breathe?" His chest shook with silent laughter.
Jensen was about to cough out how this was like being pinned under a motorcycle when the jingle of dog tags made him yelp in alarm. He had time to take one shallow breath before Harley launched herself off the ground and onto the bed.
"Oh, God," Jensen wheezed. "We're all going to die."
"Down, down," Jared managed, but he was laughing too hard to sound serious about it so Harley totally ignored him. Finally he had to roll Harley off by falling with her off the bed, at the last second taking Jensen along, too. Jensen hit the ground hard on his arm and lay there tangled with Jared and his goofy dog, gasping at the ceiling with his clothes a mess and his elbow aching and happier than he'd been in far too long to think about.
"You okay?" Jared asked, laughing his ass off.
Jensen just pulled him down for a kiss. "You know, we should have thought of the floor in the first place."
END
I'll have the next batch onWednesday make that Friday. My life, so crazy. :D
Title: Various date stamps, part 1
Words: 3600 words total
Rating: PG - NC17
Summary: Datestamps for Venom (vamp!Dean/Sam), Whistler 'verse (j2), Open Mike Night at the Fremont (j2) and Numbered Days (j2). Links to the original stories are included below.
Venom -- three months after the end of the series. (vamp!Dean/Sam, 860 words) for
deirdre_c and vorpalblades"Where is he?" Sam asks.
Jo stops mid-stride, whirling on him. She's pissed off, Sam can tell, even in the dark with the wind blowing her hair across her face. She stabs a finger upward.
"Where else? Maybe you can talk to him, because he's sure as hell not listening to me."
Sam looks up and sees a figure on the ledge high above, six stories up at least, leaning out from the building and dark against the night sky. He turns to go, but Jo pulls him back. She drags her hair off her face to look at him, her expression fierce and troubled. "This isn't working. Us hunting with him. You know it isn't. Those witnesses are never going to talk to us, now."
"Jo, come on --"
"He scares people, Sam. And yeah, okay, the freaky mind-reading stuff is useful; we'd never have tagged that blood-sucker in Nashville without him, but be realistic! Of he's not wigging out the witnesses he's doing that... that glamor thing and turning them into lust-zombies --"
someone needs a nap
Floating voice, softer than the wind but crystal clear in Sam's head and he jerks his head up to look at the almost invisible figure above.
shut up, Dean
"I'll talk to him," he says to Jo. "We'll figure it out and talk about it in the morning, okay?"
"Yeah, you do that," Jo says and turns to walk to the car, presumably to wait for him or most likely to hotwire it and head back to the motel, leaving him to find his own way home. Sam goes inside to look for the stairs.
When Sam looks out the window of the room where the now ex-witnesses had been staying he can see Dean crouched at the edge of the ledge, hands clasped in front of him, balanced perfectly as he looks down at the street. Even though Sam knows, he knows that now Dean could walk a tightrope between this building and the next in a fucking hurricane if he had to, it still makes his throat go tight and his heart thump in his chest. He climbs out onto the ledge anyway.
Dean's eyes flick toward him once, ringed in the dark kohl he wears all the time now, stark against the pallor of his face. Dean had said that if he were going to look like an emo-band reject anyway, he may as well go all out and try to use the look as a disguise. Sam thinks it might work better if Dean's eyes didn't glow green every so often.
He lets out a sigh and sits next to Dean on the ledge, one leg bent, the other hanging out into space. The wind grabs at the edges of his jacket, blowing it back against his body.
"Careful," Dean says.
Sam kicks his heel against the facade beneath the ledge. "Whatever. You'd catch me, right?"
Dean shrugs as if to give him that one, and shifts to settle next to him, shoulder brushing Sam's. There's no warmth there at all. Sam shivers.
"I could leave," Dean says.
"Don't start this again."
"We never finished it. Maybe she has a point. I don't know if I'm actually contributing to this little hunting operation, you know what I mean?" The words are casual but Dean's expression is pensive.
"What are you talking about?" Sam asks. "You're like... you're like vampire radar. You know where the bloodsuckers are before we even get into town."
"Yeah, and they know I'm coming, too. Pretty soon they're going to be waiting for us, everywhere we go. And --" Dean breaks off, shaking his head.
"And what?" Sam says.
"Come on, Sam... you have to notice... I'm getting -- weirder." Dean spreads out his hands as he says this, long fingered and pale, like they're reflecting the non-existent moonlight back at them. Dean's ring looks too heavy for the finger wearing it.
Sam swallows. "You're always weird." The words don't come out the way he wants them to, and Dean's smile is twisted in response.
"You're strong and you're fast," Sam continues, as convincingly as he can manage. "No one messes with us when you're around. You're -- you're our muscle."
"Yeah, from Mars. I'm not going to be able to fake 'normal', soon. And then what? I wait for you guys in the car?"
Dean can't fake it now, if Sam's being honest; can't control the glamor that was such a kick for him when he first transformed, when he'd turn his face toward the unsuspecting and laugh as the waitress or the mail carrier or the doorman or the cop would go blank-eyed and more often than not fall into his arms to practically beg.
Like Sam wants to beg now.
"You'll learn to control it," he says evenly.
"And if I don't? And what about the other stuff?"
Sam's heart skips. "What other stuff?"
Dean grins, then, a close-mouthed smirk that hides the fangs and makes him look like just Sam's big brother again. If his big brother worked for Cover Girl. "Want to bet I can jump to the ground from here?"
Sam glances at the street, sixty feet below. "Don't -- don't even fuck around like that, Dean," Sam says, his voice shaking a little. "Let's go back to the motel, okay? We'll talk to Jo, we'll get this settled --"
Sam's moving back toward the window but Dean's arm snakes out, rock hard around his waist and then there's one sickening tug before a rush of air that's like every falling dream that has ever jerked him awake at three am with his stomach in his throat. The ground comes too quickly, a slam into the pavement that makes the soles of his feet burn, but miraculously, nothing more than that.
At first, he can't take a breath, just clenches his hands in the back of Dean's jacket, white-knuckled over the leather. "Jerk," he breathes, finally.
Dean is holding him tight, face inches away, blank and perfect.
weirder, Sam
Sam tightens his hold when Dean would pull away. "I don't care."
**
Whistler verse, immediately following trust me not to think (and not to sleep around) (j2, 403 words) for
angstpuppyJensen takes off after Jared and they're gone for at least twenty minutes, not that Steve's counting or anything. When they finally slide back into the bar, Jensen's got that look, messed up and out of it and obviously still feeling the shots he'd downed, but now his hair is ruffled up and his shirt is wrinkled and his eyes look actually fucking dazed. If he didn't just get laid, Steve's hasn't been paying attention for the last 16 years of his life.
Jensen pauses in the doorway, then heads over toward the bar and his abandoned beer next to Steve's elbow. Jared walks over to Ray's table, instead, but not before he puts his hand on Jensen's hip. It's a brief, possessive touch, and is accompanied by a look in Steve's direction, that's barely a glance but colder than anything he's ever seen on Jared's face before.
Beside him, Jensen takes a slug of beer, grimaces at the taste. "Warm," he says.
"Hey, what do you think happens when you go wandering off for half an hour? You bang Padalecki in the bathroom or something? If you did, he doesn't look too happy about it." He's only half kidding but Jensen's eyes drop and his cheeks flush, and now Steve can see the bruise, dark and angry beneath Jensen's bottom lip. Jensen worries at it with his teeth.
Then Jensen straightens and reaches for his wallet, tosses a few bills on the bar top. "We're taking off. Jared's got an early call, so."
"So, what... you gotta go, too? Lame, man." he says, though it's obvious, even more so when Jensen turns to him with half a smile, like 'what do you think?'. He looks happy and sated, with that bruise like a beacon Steve should be smart enough to read.
Steve wants to touch it.
"You guys try to leave the bar standing, okay?" Jensen says, and holds out a hand for Steve to grasp. Steve can still feel the softness of Jensen's hair beneath his fingers, so when he grips Jensen's forearm, he doesn't let go right away. Then he drops his hand, because when it all comes the fuck down to it, he didn't hang on when he could have and there's no point in trying to do it now.
"Take care," he says.
"Call me before you leave town," Jensen says, and Steve will do that. He just won't watch Jensen leave.
**
Open Mike Night at the Fremont Two years later (j2, 735 words) for
angelwatcher17They didn't go out to Chris and Becca's in the suburbs that often -- just once before actually, for Sophie's birthday and that time they'd taken the train. This time it was just the two of them in Jared's new car, though, barreling down the summer highway, heading back into the city.
Jensen was quiet, eyes fixed out the window at anonymous billboards flying past, but since Jared was feeling pretty quiet himself after a full day of kids hanging off him and water-volleyball in the Kane's above-ground pool, he didn't think anything of it.
"Hey, can we stop?" Jensen said suddenly.
"What -- at this exit?"
"No... here, right here, just pull over for a second."
Jared pulled the car to the side of the highway and remembered to flick on the hazard lights, even though he'd already looked over at Jensen.
"What is it -- are you sick?" Jared reached over to put his hand on Jensen's leg.
Jensen said nothing, just sat forward in his seat a little and looked out the windshield, his expression unreadable as passing traffic made the car shake.
"We don't come this way that often," Jensen said, finally. "I just thought I should stop for a minute."
Jared looked away from him to the massive concrete pillars before them, the dimness under the overpass lit up intermittently by passing cars. The sudden realization of where they must be made Jared feel ill.
"Oh, fuck... This is where the accident happened."
"You want to hear something stupid?" Jensen asked. "I don't even know if this is the right place. All these overpasses look the same.... is that Algonquin Road up there?"
Jared swallowed and glanced at the sign. "Yeah."
Jensen nodded. "The truck came over that barrier," he said, and pointed ahead of them to a section of road that looked the same as every other section of road. "Right into our lane. Justin swerved, but he was going too fast and we went right into the pylons... We ended up there."
Jared looked at the embankment Jensen pointed at, and imagined red and blue lights, sirens and firetrucks, and his stomach turned over some more. "Jesus, Jen..."
Jensen dropped his hand over Jared's, squeezed once but Jared wasn't sure who he was reassuring, because he didn't look away from the dark scene in front of them.
"And it's just a hill. It looks like all the other ones," he said, wonderingly. "Maybe... maybe I should put one of those crosses here. Those white ones, you know?"
All Jared could do was shrug.
"Only Justin wasn't religious," Jensen continued. "So it would be wrong to put a cross, huh? It just looks so empty."
Jensen was so casual about it, like they were talking about the volleyball score from that afternoon, like it was just any conversation and Jared wasn't going to get upset, because if Jensen wasn't upset, he could damn well keep it together himself.
"It wouldn't have to be a cross," Jared said. He was glad his voice came out so evenly.
Jensen finally looked away from the overpass, finally, thank God, and when he turned to Jared, his eyes were bright. "What do you mean?"
Jared gripped Jensen's hand tight.
"I could do something for him. Put something together -- something small. You could tell me what you want it to be."
The corner of Jensen's mouth quirked. "I don't think the Illinois Department of Transportation would let us put up a monument here."
"Hey, you never know," Jared said, making his voice purposely light. "I kind of bonded with the manager at the DMV when I got my driver's license renewed. I think I've got pull, now."
Jensen smirked, but then he swallowed and looked back out at the weed-strewn embankment. "Maybe... maybe something to do with music? That was kind of his thing."
"Yeah. Yeah, whatever you want, Jen." Anything, Jared thought.
Jensen nodded, and then leaned over and kissed Jared hard, his hand lingering at the back of Jared's neck.
"Hey, I love you. You know that, right?" Jensen asked.
Jared smiled weakly. "You tell me all the time."
"Good," Jensen said, leaning his forehead on Jared's, his eyes closed.
Jared's clenched his fist hard in the back of Jensen's shirt, cupped the other hand around the back of Jensen's head and tried not to think about how fragile that curve of bone seemed. "Can we get out of here, now?" Jared asked roughly. "This is really not one of my favorite places."
Jensen let out a breath. "Yeah, definitely. Let's go."
Jared kissed him one more time and pulled back into traffic, glancing once into the rearview mirror before leaving the overpass and the embankment behind.
**
Numbered Days, one week later (j2, 1535 words) for
arladJensen's eyes drifted shut, without any conscious volition on his part. He jerked his head up when his chin hit his chest and glanced over at the desk to see if Jared had noticed, but he was still bent over his laptop, typing whatever it was Business majors typed at one in the morning. The entire house was still, except for the tapping of Jared's keys and Harley's snuffling, sleepy breathing in the corner of the room.
Jensen shoved the pillow against the wall so it supported his back and shifted Jared's reading lamp closer so maybe his anatomy notes would stop swimming incomprehensibly in front of his face. He really should have known enough not to try to study on the bed. It was like a giant Ambien, every time.
At the desk, Jared shut the laptop and stretched, t-shirt tugging interestingly across his shoulders, and Jensen had to just sit there for a second and enjoy the show. He looked back down at his notes when Jared stood up.
"You about done?" Jared asked. He moved over to stand next to the bed. "You want me to quiz you?"
Jensen shrugged and tried to act casual when Jared dropped down next to him, shoving over into the corner to give him room. The stupid bed was the size of an army cot it seemed, not big enough for one guy his size, let alone Jared, too, but it felt good to have Jared's shoulder against his.
"So what are you studying?" Jared asked, looking down at Jensen's notes.
"There's an anatomy quiz on Monday -- I need to know these bones. Just start at the top." He handed Jared his notes.
"Do you want me to sing them?" Jared asked, looking down at the diagram. "You know, leg bone connected to the hip bone?"
"Everyone does that joke," Jensen said, but he couldn't help smirking anyway. "But you can sing if you want."
"No, I don't really want to sing," Jared said, and he glanced up at Jensen, a smile lingering at his lips. "You feel like singing?"
Jensen swallowed. "No. Not really, no."
He did not feel like singing, not at all. He felt like making out. They'd kissed a couple of times in the last week, but when they were at the dorm, Jensen knew they were always fifteen seconds away from being interrupted by a freshman crisis involving change for the washing machines. The one other time they'd been alone in Jared's living room for about ten minutes before Kristen showed up with a latte and an evil cackle that made Jensen want to run home and review his chemistry notes.
This was definitely different. Finally alone in Jared's room at the top of the house, no RA duty until three the next day... Jensen's breath caught at the possibilities. Jared had the same idea too, apparently, because he leaned forward when Jensen did. The first kiss was off-target and they bumped noses. Jensen was about to let out a nervous laugh, the way he always fucking did when he was embarrassed and which always made things worse, but he didn't get a chance. Jared obviously didn't take setbacks lightly.
He reached out and caught Jensen's chin, cupped one big hand around Jensen's jaw and tilted his head exactly the right way and then, oh, God, everything was a lot less awkward. It was drugging. Jared wasn't in any hurry, either, and kissed him like they had all night because for once they actually did, so Jensen opened his mouth and sucked on Jared's tongue a little.
Jared made a sound in his throat like maybe he really, really liked that, so Jensen did it again and turned his body to get the right angle as he leaned in. Jared pulled back a little, with his eyes dark and his face flushed and his eyes focused on Jensen's mouth, which put a curl of heat low in Jensen's belly.
"You want to lay down?" Jared asked.
Jensen took a sharp breath. "Yeah, okay," Jensen managed, and shoved his anatomy book onto the floor with his foot so Jared could move down, too. Jared switched off the reading lamp and hitched down the mattress on his elbow and his hip, pulling Jensen with him so they were facing each other on the bed.
For a second Jensen didn't know where to put his arms without knocking Jared off onto the floor, but he got one arm around Jared's waist and the other kind of resting on Jared's shoulder and then their hips slid together like they just sort of fit that way. Suddenly the whole room seemed warm and dark and shockingly intimate.
Jensen had to close his eyes for a second.
Jared leaned his face into Jensen's, kissed him slow and deep. Then he laughed a little. "Hey, can you move over a little? I'm falling off."
"How do you sleep in this thing? It's like being at summer camp," Jensen asked, irritated that the kissing had stopped. He shifted a little as Jared moved in and somehow he ended up with Jared sprawled mostly on top of him. He forgot to be annoyed.
"mmmmm..." Jared said, which wasn't really an answer, but went really well with kissing. He drew Jensen's bottom lip into his mouth, pulled back slowly. "I didn't go to this kind of summer camp. You were lucky."
"It was space camp, actually..." Jensen said, running his hands over Jared's back so he could slide his fingers up underneath Jared's t-shirt.
"Seriously, you went to space camp...?" Jared laughed. "Wait a second."
He sat up and pulled his shirt off over his head. It was dark in jared's room, but not too dark for Jensen to see the clean lines of Jared's body, moonlight on smooth skin. Jensen had kind of known already that Jared was going to be beautiful, what with the tight t-shirts and everything, but the actual sight of him made it hard for Jensen to use his words. He was able to look for a long time, too, because Jared was working on the buttons of Jensen's shirt, sliding the material apart so Jensen shivered in the cool of the room.
Jensen decided he'd better say something, because sitting there gaping was kind of the opposite of cool, but Jared just ran a hand down Jensen's chest that made his nerves sing.
"Wow, you are really fucking gorgeous," Jared said, all easy smile and casual confidence.
Jensen felt awkward and stupid in comparison. "You, too," he croaked, then pulled Jared down to hide his embarrassment. He'd never been able to get the words out when it mattered, but maybe he could make up for it in actions. Jared liked slow kisses, Jensen had figured that one out already; he loved it when Jensen coaxed his mouth open with one hand on his chin so he could press inside and treat Jared's mouth like it was his favorite kind of ice cream.
Jared wasn't passive about it all, meeting Jensen's every touch with one of his own, and God, kissing like that made everything kind of blurry. Jensen realized he must have lost time along the way, because somehow his jeans were undone and Jared's sweats were pushed down and they were moving together on the stupid miniature bed that seemed just about perfect at the moment.
Jensen briefly considered trying to hold out, but Jared's hands were fucking miraculous, like he somehow knew exactly where Jensen wanted to be touched and figured he'd just play around for awhile and drive Jensen out of his mind. Jensen tried to reciprocate, but it felt like his brain cells weren't exactly firing anymore, and when he finally came, practically seeing stars, he honestly didn't know if Jared was along for the ride or not.
It was a few seconds before he could bring himself to care. Jared's heated breathing next to his ear was a good sign though. Jensen ran a hand up the groove of Jared's spine, fingertips skating over damp skin, and Jared shivered.
"mmmmm," Jared said again. "We need to do this naked next time."
There wasn't a word in that sentence that didn't make Jensen stupidly happy.
"Yeah, okay, but maybe on something a little bigger than this bed. I'm gonna die."
"Oh, am I squashing you?" Jared asked, relaxing his entire body into boneless deadweight. "Can't you breathe?" His chest shook with silent laughter.
Jensen was about to cough out how this was like being pinned under a motorcycle when the jingle of dog tags made him yelp in alarm. He had time to take one shallow breath before Harley launched herself off the ground and onto the bed.
"Oh, God," Jensen wheezed. "We're all going to die."
"Down, down," Jared managed, but he was laughing too hard to sound serious about it so Harley totally ignored him. Finally he had to roll Harley off by falling with her off the bed, at the last second taking Jensen along, too. Jensen hit the ground hard on his arm and lay there tangled with Jared and his goofy dog, gasping at the ceiling with his clothes a mess and his elbow aching and happier than he'd been in far too long to think about.
"You okay?" Jared asked, laughing his ass off.
Jensen just pulled him down for a kiss. "You know, we should have thought of the floor in the first place."
END
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