J2 Fic - In Which Jared Discovers He's Flammable. - 1/1
Part 2 in the previously unplanned 'In Which' verse. Summary: Jared decides going camping sounds like fun, Jensen isn't a happy bunny. Disclaimer - I still don't own them...but I would be prepared to barter. Rated NC17 for potty mouth language. Part 1 here.
In Which Jared Discovers He’s Flammable and Jensen Channels Smokey Bear.
“Dude!” Jensen gasps, face aghast and green eyes grinding into Jared who is sitting on the kitchen floor, with what appears to be the entire contents of the refrigerator scattered around him. The general debris includes a large rectangular box of Krispy Kremes, clearly marked ‘Jensen’ in bold black Sharpie scrawled letters.
“I was hungry.” Jared pouts, sucking something pink and gooey off the ends of his fingers and if that didn’t send all of the blood rushing to the disobedient dick swelling in Jensen’s pants, well, Jensen would be really busy being very fucking cross right now.
“Hungry? You could feed Cliff for a month on what you’ve packed away tonight.” Jensen says, incredulity sharpening his tone. He bends down to pick up a couple of empty hamburger wrappers and eyeballs them suspiciously. “When did you go to Burger King?”
Cliff is splayed out on the couch in the lounge, completely oblivious to the discussion and patiently waiting to escort the boys to set for a night shoot. He is the best bodyguard Jared and Jensen have ever had. He’s always alert and ready and...currently fast asleep and drooling on himself like a gargantuan muscle-bound baby. Cliff is a softie with a penchant for watching old episodes of ‘Moonlighting’ and occasionally he likes to surprise the boys by bringing them an apple cinnamon muffin with their Starbucks. Jared liked Cliff the moment Cliff gave him candy and Jensen liked Cliff the moment Cliff shielded him for a rabid-actual foam dripping from her mouth-fangirl attack in a Mini Mart.
“I need to keep my strength up, what do you want me to say?” Jared mutters defensively as he dips his hand into the bag of Cool Ranch Doritos lying ripped open by his side.
“That you’ll stop eating before you consume the entire cattle population of Canada?” Jensen replies waving a Whopper sandwich wrapper in Jared’s face. “How do you not weigh nine hundred pounds?”
Jared laughs as he stands up and stretches, t-shirt lifting to reveal a glimpse of tanned toned abdominal muscles. He lets his arms fall around Jensen’s shoulders and pulls him into a tight hug. “How long before we have to leave?” Jared whispers into the shell of Jensen’s ear, his eyebrows waggling suggestively.
“Thirty minutes.” Jensen replies but he’s not paying any real attention to the eyebrow dance Jared has going on because he’s too busy trying to figure out which cleaning products will work best at removing sticky pink icing fingerprints out of his genuine Alessandrini handmade shirt.
Jared glances briefly over at their slumbering bodyguard before pulling Jensen over his shoulder and quickly hauling him up the stairs and Jensen thinks yeah, Jared’s a growing boy...maybe he does need to keep his strength up. But Jensen’s thought process is rapidly overwhelmed by the superb-albeit upside-down- view he is enjoying of Jared’s perfect ass.
XXX
“You know, you eating my donuts is pretty much tantamount to stealing my woman.” Jensen declares over coffee the next morning.
“Don’t be ridicu...You don’t have a woman.”
“Not the point.”
“Well, maybe I know a way to make it up to you.” Jared says, beaming a broad and deep dimpled grin.
Jensen tries to remain stern-faced but the proposition already has his cock twitching and yes, Jensen and his cock are going to be having a serious talk asap about singing from the same hymn sheet where dealing with Jared is concerned.
“I want to take you camping this weekend.” Jared finishes...and Jensen’s twitching abruptly dies a sad and floppy death.
XXX
“I’m not entirely fond of nature.” Jensen says staring blankly out of the window at the forest of proud Broadleaf Maple and Douglas Fir trees surrounding Jared’s car.
“Jen. Toasted marshmallows man, what’s not to love?”
Jensen slaps a hand to his neck and then holds it out to show Jared the remains of a squashed mosquito splattered across his palm. “Ah. Oookay.” Jared sighs and begins to wonder if this might have been a very bad idea.
XXX
The tent Jared has brought looks like it would be better placed on a hiking expedition to the Himalayas or some other far off distant land usually only inhabited by yaks. The thing is huge. The picture on the cover of the instruction manual-and Jensen is still digesting the fact that the tent actually comes with a manual-shows a large green dome with three separate compartments and a smiling cluster of Brady Bunch lookalikes sitting just inside the entrance. “Jare, you do know we’re only camping for the weekend?” Jensen asks glaring at the picture again, “You could host the Super Bowl inside this thing.”
Four hours of instruction reading later-twenty minutes of which were spent untangling Jared from the guy lines-and their Zenith 4000 tent is still as flat as a pancake and all they’ve actually managed to achieve is the successful hammering in of four tent pegs. Jensen isn’t happy. It’s so incredibly rare that they get a weekend off together and they could be laid on Egyptian cotton sheets having actual sex right now. He wouldn’t call it a sulk precisely although he gets pretty close to stealing Jared’s car keys and driving home but in the end Jensen settles for leaving the tent with Jared and instead stalks off in search of dry kindling so he can build a campfire.
It’s dark by the time the Zenith 4000 actually somewhat resembles the picture on the front of the manual and they’re settled down together in front of the fire. Jared wastes no time in reaching for his backpack and pulls out a bunch of bananas and a large bag of chocolate chips. Seeing the baffled look Jensen gives him, Jared smiles and says. “Seriously Jen, this is an age-old Padalecki tradition. You slice the banana down the middle, fill it full of chocolate chips, wrap it in foil and heat it over the fire. Best. Camping. Food. Ever.” Jared’s brows are drawn in the deadly earnest expression he normally reserves for Sam’s woobie face of doom.
Caught in the direct line of fire from Jared’s intense gaze Jensen melts a little, leans over and kisses him hard on the mouth. “Okay, make my dinner woman.” Jensen sits back and looks up at the sky. There are a million stars shining bright above him and the air smells pine cone sweet and there’s Jared, his Jared, happily melting bananas.
This camping debacle hasn’t turned out so bad after all.
XXX
“FUCK, FUCK, FUCK! DROP AND ROLL, DROP AND ROLL.” Jensen’s screams frantically at Jared. Then, in a state of complete and utter arm flailing panic, Jensen makes a grab for the (now empty of beer) beer cooler and races the short distance to the edge of the lake.
By the time Jensen gets back, water sloshing out of the cooler as he runs-and he’s literally been gone no time at all-he finds Jared laid on his stomach, still right by the side of the camp fire. Jared’s arm is no longer on fire but his coat is badly singed and there are wisps of smoke curling up from the now blackened material. Jared isn’t moving.
Jensen hurries over on legs as unsteady as a newborn lamb and tips what’s left of the water he’s collected over Jared’s slightly smouldering sleeve.
There’s a thin trickle of blood running from a small cut on Jared’s forehead and Jensen isn’t new to the sight of blood on Jared’s face. What with filming Supernatural, they’ve both been practically bathed in it at one stage or another but this isn’t corn syrup or the gross concoction the effects crew make which tastes of ass. It’s real blood, Jared’s blood and as Jensen pulls his unconscious boyfriend into his lap and scrambles to yank his cell phone out of his pocket his face is whiter than virgin snow at New Years.
XXX
“I’m fine. I only actually singed like two arm hairs or something.” Jared’s says ruefully from his hospital bed.
The top of the bed is elevated so that Jared is sitting up and his left arm is wrapped in something which looks like plastic-wrap, like a chicken leg at a buffet. His skin is red and sore but-thank fuck- it’s nowhere near being the blistered ruined flesh Jensen has been having severe palpitations just thinking about.
“And the concussion you got when you hit your head, that’s what? A teeny widdle boo-boo?” Jensen huffs, stretching out his legs as he tries-unsuccessfully-to get comfortable in the hard plastic chair by Jared’s bedside.
The fact that Jared almost turned himself into flambé is still gnawing on Jensen’s last nerve. The fact that Jared’s coat sleeve caught fire because he was trying to save Jensen’s chocolate filled banana when it fell off its stick into the campfire makes it damn hard for Jensen to remain pissed off.
Jensen wiggles around trying to work some sensation back into his rear end and then quickly sneaks a peek inside his jacket, reaching in to shove a small orange head out of sight. Because there may or may not be a small stuffed tiger wedged inside Jensen’s jacket. Jensen bought it on a spur of the moment thing from the shop in the hospital foyer. It’s wearing a little woollen hat which made it remind Jensen of Jared’s dailies from “The Christmas Cottage.” On its stomach in big looping letters it says the words, “I heart you.” Afterwards, Jensen felt downright stupid for buying it- Jared’s twenty-six years old for Christ’s sake-and so the tiger ended up being hidden hastily out of sight before Jensen returned to Jared’s room.
“I told you to drop and roll, not drop on your head and knock yourself out cold.”
“Although that is still somewhat catchy, Jen.” Jared’s lips twitch in a grin. “Maybe you should send it to Smokey?”
“Next time, I’m opening the marshmallows and watching your ass burn.”
“Jen, come here.”
“Why?”
“Wanna see if the controls for these beds are as fun to play with as they look?”
“Jeez, you are so...yeah I can see how that would be fun actually.”
Jensen gets up from his chair and clambers onto the bed, trying to squeeze himself into the virtually none-existent space not already taken up by Padalecki sprawl. He loses himself for a moment in the feel of Jared's body pressed close to his. There's a wayward curl of brown hair by Jared's eye and a days worth of stubble on his face and Jensen’s eyes continue to travel and map every inch of him because he's still enjoying discovering the ways in which he finds Jared perfect. The moment ends with an ache of dull pain which blossoms in the depths of Jensen’s chest because however many times he tries not to think about it, he could have lost Jared tonight.
“Hey, what’s this?” Jared says suddenly and before Jensen can dart away off the bed, Jared’s ridiculous orang-utan arms have stretched out and snagged the tiger, whose fluffy ear was sticking out from under the folds of Jensen’s jacket.
“It’s...I bought it for you, okay?” Jensen grouches as he glances around the room unable to meet Jared’s eyes and waits for the endless mickey taking which is no doubt going to start, any second now.
“Jen, this is...thank you. I’m going to call him Dean.”
Jensen does an elaborate head in hands gesture which makes Jared laugh out loud. Jared is still grinning from ear to ear as he places Dean on the table by his bed and as he reaches down to snag his fingers into the beltloops on Jensen pants and tug him closer, Jensen loves him just a tiny smidge more.
-end-
Dean (sadly sans hat) -
The third story in this verse is now posted and you can read it - by clicking here.