Grab Hold of Morning (Jared/Jensen, PG-13)
Title: Grab Hold of Morning
Characters/Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1000
Warnings: language, violence
Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership
Summary: Jared’s a bored assassin and Jensen’s his grumpy, dorky worried boyfriend.
Note: I watched Faster last night and was drawn to the C-Plot, which was this strange love story between an assassin and his girlfriend. Naturally I had J2-ify it.
Read on: AO3
Grab Hold of Morning
“You have a job.”
The words cut through the air. Jared lifted his head a quarter of an inch but didn’t respond. The matter-of-fact manner they were delivered told him it wasn’t a question, and therefore didn’t need an answer. He carried on cleaning his guns. Meticulously wiped them with the cloth and after a long minute, he looked up. Met Jensen’s eye and smiled a little.
“Remember when this turned you on?” He asked. Light bounced off the gun’s surface as he held it up.
“I remember when you told me you were done,” Jensen replied simply. His arms crossed his chest. He was wearing one of Jared’s t-shirts. The black was faded almost gray and the Longhorns logo was cracked.
“You’re worried.”
“I’m pissed.”
“One last job,” He said, choosing to ignore the clip in Jensen’s tone. “One last job and then we can take a much needed vacation.”
“Can only vacation if you’re alive.”
“And I will be. Promise.”
He blew Jensen a kiss.
Jensen in turn rolled his eyes, but Jared didn’t miss the subtle way he opened his palm. He caught the kiss and muttered a quiet, “I’m keeping this,” before he walked away. Because Jensen is a dork. A grumpy dork, but a dork nonetheless. Jared grinned and carried on with his guns.
/
One last job.
It was too easy now. The whole assassin shtick. He was too good and needed a new challenge. Maybe he could become a farmer. Build a house in the middle of nowhere Midwest and live off the land. He didn’t know a thing about farming, and that excited him.
With thoughts of tractors and balers drifting through his mind, he pressed down on the accelerator. Zipped down on the open road and kept one eye on the GPS, which would lead him to his target.
/
He’d met Jensen on a job.
Jared had been standing in the hall of an apartment complex, gun trained on his target and about to pull the trigger when Jensen had walked out of the apartment in front of him. Stepped into the immediate line of fire and Jared had cursed. Muttered an irritated, “Fuck” aloud which attracted the attention of his target. The guy turned. Opened fire on them both and Jared had tackled Jensen back into his apartment. Called him a thousand different names and basically cursed his existence before he finally looked at the guy beneath him and noticed the way he was smiling.
“What?” He’d snapped.
“Kind of funny,” Jensen had said. “Big, bad killer doubling as hero.”
“You’re an idiot. And you might have cost me this job.”
“You should call me.” Jensen had rolled out from underneath Jared and reached for a notepad. Scribbled down his number and pushed it into the pocket of Jared’s jeans. His fingertips had grazed his thigh. Sent a shiver of excitement through his body and then Jensen had added, “Since, y’know, when the cops get here no one is going to remember what you looked like.”
“That so?”
“Lousy memory I’ve got.”
Jared had intended to throw the number away, but somehow never did.
/
The job-and his career as an assassin-ended with a whimper rather than a bang.
Sure, the target got a few shots in. Noticed Jared following him and shifted into reverse. Peeling backward down the busy road, he wove in and out of cars and fired a few shots once he was parallel with Jared. The bullets shattered his passenger’s window. Cracked the driver’s window.
He didn’t like this car all that much, anyway.
Jared fired back. Followed him when he sped off and they wound up facing off once the guy rolled his car a few miles down the road. On a scale of one to Holy-Shit-How-Am-I-Alive he would place this job at a six. Not as easy walking up behind the guy and simply putting a bullet through his skull; not as hard as falling two stories and having the gun pressed to his head jam.
God that had been a fun job. Challenging.
Now, he shot the target’s hand. Blew the gun right out of his grip and then, after letting the guy scramble and scream for a couple of seconds, he put him out of his misery. Shot him in the head and then walked away.
He dialed Jensen as he walked. It rang once and Jensen picked up.
“Pack the bags, babe,” He said.
“Don’t call me babe, babe,” Jensen replied.
Jared laughed. Gravel crunched beneath his boots and he stopped next to his car. Unlocked it (despite the shattered windows) and slipped inside.
“I’m coming home,” He said.
/
“I’d like to grow some corn,” Jared said.
Miles of green, rolling field stretched before them. One hundred acres of Wisconsin land was easily theirs and the house they built stood in stark contrast to the ramshackled farms that surrounded them. Now, the sun poked its head above the horizon. The sky around it was a vibrant orange and a few clouds mottled its beauty. They’d pass soon-forecast today was high 80s with clear skies.
Jensen sat next to him on the deck. His legs were crossed beneath him and he nursed his coffee. “Good luck with that,” He replied.
“You don’t think I can do it.”
“I know you can do anything. But I also know you’d rather hear some fightin’ words so… no, Jared. I don’t think you can do it. Prove me wrong you brawny, hunky, wannabe farmer, you.” His tone was dry and Jared laughed. He knocked his shoulder lightly against Jensen’s.
“You want some Cows?” He asked. “We should get some cows.”
“Mutant cows?”
“I was thinking regular, but if you want mutant cows…”
“Nah. Regular’s fine. Maybe some chickens, too.”
“Chickens. Nice touch. What about peacocks?”
“Why the fuck would we want peacocks?”
“They’re awful pretty,” Jared said and now it was Jensen’s turn to laugh. He knocked his shoulder back into Jared’s.
“Then we’ll get the prettiest peacocks around,” He said.
And they did.
Characters/Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1000
Warnings: language, violence
Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership
Summary: Jared’s a bored assassin and Jensen’s his grumpy, dorky worried boyfriend.
Note: I watched Faster last night and was drawn to the C-Plot, which was this strange love story between an assassin and his girlfriend. Naturally I had J2-ify it.
Read on: AO3
Grab Hold of Morning
“You have a job.”
The words cut through the air. Jared lifted his head a quarter of an inch but didn’t respond. The matter-of-fact manner they were delivered told him it wasn’t a question, and therefore didn’t need an answer. He carried on cleaning his guns. Meticulously wiped them with the cloth and after a long minute, he looked up. Met Jensen’s eye and smiled a little.
“Remember when this turned you on?” He asked. Light bounced off the gun’s surface as he held it up.
“I remember when you told me you were done,” Jensen replied simply. His arms crossed his chest. He was wearing one of Jared’s t-shirts. The black was faded almost gray and the Longhorns logo was cracked.
“You’re worried.”
“I’m pissed.”
“One last job,” He said, choosing to ignore the clip in Jensen’s tone. “One last job and then we can take a much needed vacation.”
“Can only vacation if you’re alive.”
“And I will be. Promise.”
He blew Jensen a kiss.
Jensen in turn rolled his eyes, but Jared didn’t miss the subtle way he opened his palm. He caught the kiss and muttered a quiet, “I’m keeping this,” before he walked away. Because Jensen is a dork. A grumpy dork, but a dork nonetheless. Jared grinned and carried on with his guns.
/
One last job.
It was too easy now. The whole assassin shtick. He was too good and needed a new challenge. Maybe he could become a farmer. Build a house in the middle of nowhere Midwest and live off the land. He didn’t know a thing about farming, and that excited him.
With thoughts of tractors and balers drifting through his mind, he pressed down on the accelerator. Zipped down on the open road and kept one eye on the GPS, which would lead him to his target.
/
He’d met Jensen on a job.
Jared had been standing in the hall of an apartment complex, gun trained on his target and about to pull the trigger when Jensen had walked out of the apartment in front of him. Stepped into the immediate line of fire and Jared had cursed. Muttered an irritated, “Fuck” aloud which attracted the attention of his target. The guy turned. Opened fire on them both and Jared had tackled Jensen back into his apartment. Called him a thousand different names and basically cursed his existence before he finally looked at the guy beneath him and noticed the way he was smiling.
“What?” He’d snapped.
“Kind of funny,” Jensen had said. “Big, bad killer doubling as hero.”
“You’re an idiot. And you might have cost me this job.”
“You should call me.” Jensen had rolled out from underneath Jared and reached for a notepad. Scribbled down his number and pushed it into the pocket of Jared’s jeans. His fingertips had grazed his thigh. Sent a shiver of excitement through his body and then Jensen had added, “Since, y’know, when the cops get here no one is going to remember what you looked like.”
“That so?”
“Lousy memory I’ve got.”
Jared had intended to throw the number away, but somehow never did.
/
The job-and his career as an assassin-ended with a whimper rather than a bang.
Sure, the target got a few shots in. Noticed Jared following him and shifted into reverse. Peeling backward down the busy road, he wove in and out of cars and fired a few shots once he was parallel with Jared. The bullets shattered his passenger’s window. Cracked the driver’s window.
He didn’t like this car all that much, anyway.
Jared fired back. Followed him when he sped off and they wound up facing off once the guy rolled his car a few miles down the road. On a scale of one to Holy-Shit-How-Am-I-Alive he would place this job at a six. Not as easy walking up behind the guy and simply putting a bullet through his skull; not as hard as falling two stories and having the gun pressed to his head jam.
God that had been a fun job. Challenging.
Now, he shot the target’s hand. Blew the gun right out of his grip and then, after letting the guy scramble and scream for a couple of seconds, he put him out of his misery. Shot him in the head and then walked away.
He dialed Jensen as he walked. It rang once and Jensen picked up.
“Pack the bags, babe,” He said.
“Don’t call me babe, babe,” Jensen replied.
Jared laughed. Gravel crunched beneath his boots and he stopped next to his car. Unlocked it (despite the shattered windows) and slipped inside.
“I’m coming home,” He said.
/
“I’d like to grow some corn,” Jared said.
Miles of green, rolling field stretched before them. One hundred acres of Wisconsin land was easily theirs and the house they built stood in stark contrast to the ramshackled farms that surrounded them. Now, the sun poked its head above the horizon. The sky around it was a vibrant orange and a few clouds mottled its beauty. They’d pass soon-forecast today was high 80s with clear skies.
Jensen sat next to him on the deck. His legs were crossed beneath him and he nursed his coffee. “Good luck with that,” He replied.
“You don’t think I can do it.”
“I know you can do anything. But I also know you’d rather hear some fightin’ words so… no, Jared. I don’t think you can do it. Prove me wrong you brawny, hunky, wannabe farmer, you.” His tone was dry and Jared laughed. He knocked his shoulder lightly against Jensen’s.
“You want some Cows?” He asked. “We should get some cows.”
“Mutant cows?”
“I was thinking regular, but if you want mutant cows…”
“Nah. Regular’s fine. Maybe some chickens, too.”
“Chickens. Nice touch. What about peacocks?”
“Why the fuck would we want peacocks?”
“They’re awful pretty,” Jared said and now it was Jensen’s turn to laugh. He knocked his shoulder back into Jared’s.
“Then we’ll get the prettiest peacocks around,” He said.
And they did.