J2 Fic. In Which Jared Is Sick - 2/2
Title: In Which Jared Is Sick and Jensen Is The Best Cure - 2/2
Author: Blueeyedliz
Rating: NC/17 (naughty language and even naughtier porn--kinda)
Word Count: 3,534 (this part)
Disclaimer: However much I mope, I still don’t own Jared or Jensen. No disrespect is intended to them, their friends or their families.
Summary: Jared’s sick and yet Jensen is the one who’s suffering.
A/N: In light of recent events I’ve removed a mention of Kim Manners from Part One of this story. It probably wasn’t necessary but as Kim only passed on Sunday it feels too strange to be posting a story where he played a part - however small. RIP Kim, your loss has left a hole in fandom and you’ll be very sadly missed.
Part One
~Part Two~
It’s cold inside the car, ink black night pressing in at them from all sides. Cliff is driving, vigilance incarnate, eyes front as always. He never asks questions, not when he’s working. When he’s off duty and kicking back with a beer in his hand then he’ll josh around, rib the boys and laugh at Jared’s piss-poor jokes because he’s their friend. A good friend. One who has his own place in the tight circle of people they keep around themselves, the impenetrable circle who all know the truth about Jared and Jensen’s relationship.
Cliff’s been around for almost two years now. On his CV it says bodyguard but both Jared and Jensen know he’s so much more to them than that.
What with the vomiting and the way Jared’s temperature has shot up Jensen reckons he must have the flu-man flu-which is of course, the single worst type of flu out there. One which nearly always results in the sufferer doing a damn near perfect dying swan act while strewn Scarlett O’Hara-esque over their bed or couch. Jensen’s seen it before, was kind of hoping never to see it again.
But-for once- Jared isn’t griping about being sick. Jared is as quiet as a church mouse and for Jensen at least, the unnatural silence in the car is even more oppressive than the darkness they are swathed in. Jared hasn’t really said much about anything since Jensen found him puking his guts up in his trailer and Jensen doesn’t like it one darn bit.
At first, when he realized Jared wasn’t going to start whining like a runny nosed five-year-old, Jensen was all smiles and thinking, score! Now, he’s beginning to wonder if Jared is ignoring him on purpose. Jensen didn’t eat the last of the Peanut Butter Cap’n Crunch this morning and he certainly hasn’t laid a finger on Jared’s Twizzlers-he’s not stupid or suicidal-so there’s nothing that he can think of for Jared to be silently stewing over.
As though sensing Jensen’s discomfort, Jared turns away from staring blankly out of the window. He coughs dryly and sniffles as he lets his fingers spider-crawl across the soft leather seat until they find Jensen’s hand. Then with a faint smile-the barest upturn of the corners of his mouth-Jared threads their fingers together. He leans close to Jensen, a hot solid weight pressing into Jensen’s side and just like that, the uncomfortable atmosphere lifts and Jensen feels warm right down to the sole of his shoes.
At some point Jensen falls asleep. Jared’s hand held loosely in his and the rhythmic rocking of the car lulling him into a light catnap. Before he knows what’s happening, Jared is shaking him gently awake again. “You sleep any?” Jensen asks, grinding his fists into his eyes like a sleepy toddler and watching the resulting white sparks dance across his vision.
“No.” Jared answers over his shoulder because he’s already out of the car and unlocking their front door, bracing himself for the two furry bodies waiting to launch themselves at him like slobbering over-affectionate cannonballs. When he pushes the door open, Harley and Sadie all but trample each-other in the stampede to be the first to get to lick Jared, their very own human Popsicle. Jensen grins broadly as he watches them; he knows how good Jared tastes too.
Jared crouches down and ruffles their fur, buries his nose in Sadie’s neck as Jensen waves g’night to Cliff and walks over to join in the welcome home celebrations. As Jared stands up he wobbles on suddenly shaky legs and Jensen shoots out a hand to grip his elbow. He isn’t expecting it when Jared shakes him loose and hisses, “jeez, quit hovering. I’m fine.”
It’s such a total 360 turnaround from the Jared that clutched his hand in the car that Jensen is dizzy. He barely has time to shake off the disorientation before Jared is shucking out of his jacket, shoving past the dogs and skulking up the stairs. Jensen blinks a few times but the picture stays the same. Jared really did just give all three of his babies the brush off.
Jensen loves Jared like, fuck, a whole lot and that’s why it stings like a fucking paper cut which has just had lemon juice poured all over it. Jensen’s unsurprisingly angry and he’s climbing the stairs two at a time without even being certain what he’s going to say to Jared. He wants to shout, perhaps slam a few doors or even let his melodramatic tendencies rise to the surface and smash something, fling some shit around...maybe then he’ll feel better.
He finds Jared on their bed, curled into an impossibly tiny ball. Still fully-dressed, one of the large fluffy pillows stuffed underneath his head. In the weak light shining in from the hallway Jensen can’t see Jared’s face but he knows he’s still awake. Nobody call fall asleep that quickly.
“I get that you’re sick.” Jensen starts pacing, letting his annoyance push away the deeply-imbedded instinct to fetch a thick blanket to cover Jared’s shivering frame-Jared’s a big boy, he knows where the fucking linen closet is. “I get it, but it’s no excuse for acting like a grade A asshole.” Jensen clenches his hands into fists at his side, his emotions furiously locked in battle, a twelve-noon stand off taking place in his head.
“Go away, Jensen.”
Of all the things Jensen was waiting for Jared to say, that wasn’t one of them. His brain is buzzing with questions-what the hell did I do?-which are flying around in amongst a whole ream of other things including a few choice swear words. “Fine.” He snaps and slams his way out of the room.
Funny how the bang of the door crashing closed behind him doesn’t make Jensen feel even the teeny tiniest bit better.
~0~
Jensen sits in the dark lounge, the light from the television set casting the room in an eerie blue glow. Sadie pads over and rests her head on his thigh, she whines low in her throat and Jensen runs a hand along her thick coat, tangles his fingers in soft tan fur. “Shhhhh baby, I don’t know what’s going on with your daddy either.”
He sticks it out for almost two hours. He makes himself a snack, left over Chinese noodles and a beer he doesn’t want and doesn’t taste on the way down. For a short while he even watches some lame ass late-night porno on one of the many hundreds of cable channels they don’t even realize they have until one of them stumbles across it. Jensen’s had a lot of sex and he’s never heard anyone-male or female-making panting noises quiet like those the blonde surfer dude is gasping out as he rides a well-built black guy as though he thinks he’s taking part in the Kentucky Derby.
Jensen’s head tilts upwards when he hears the muffled sound of footsteps cross the floor above him. He hears the sound of the toilet flushing minutes later and wonders if Jared’s puking up again or simply taking a leak.
He waits maybe another twenty minutes before heading upstairs with some Tylenol, a bottle of water and every intention of dumping them on the night-stand by Jared’s side of the bed before stomping out again.
The bedroom is in darkness when he pushes the door tentatively ajar and Jared is once again curled on his side on the bed. He’s not underneath the duvet and he’s still shivering in only a t-shirt and grey sweats. Jensen’s mouth tightens into a thin line. God, the guy is a stubborn son of a bitch.
“Jare, I brought you some pills.” Jensen flicks on the small lamp sitting on the dresser, the one with the kitschy patterned base which his mom gave him to furnish his room, back when he rented an apartment with his buddy. It looks like something a thrift store would label as junk and throw away but it reminds him of home and so he’s never had the heart to get rid of it.
Jared moans when the harsh bright light hits his face and rolls his head away, squeezing his eyes even more firmly closed. Jensen’s feels the tight ball of righteous indignation which has been coiled in his gut all night starting to unravel.
Jared’s shivering so much his bones are practically rattling and his skin is shiny, glistening with sweat. Jensen swears underneath his breath and tries shaking Jared’s limp arm to wake him. His eyes crinkle in pain but he doesn’t wake up. Jensen can tell this is bad, Jared’s temperature is clearly way too high and there’s no way he’s going to get any pills past his clenched teeth.
He slips an arm behind Jared’s back, tries to hoist him up. It’s the only time Jensen’s ever cursed the day he found himself a boyfriend who’s got more muscle than an Italian mob boss. There’s just no fucking way he can do this alone. He lays Jared back down carefully and runs a hand over Jared’s brow, brushing sticky strands of sweat-drenched hair aside before hurrying off to find his cell phone.
~0~
Click Here to Continue (because LJ made me cut this chapter into two).