(no subject)
Kairos
Supernatural RPF
Jensen/Jared/Sandy; R
~400 words
A/N: with thanks to mcee for drive-by beta.
Oh god, she thinks. What have we done.
She sits on the cold toilet with her panties around her knees and her head in her hands, counting the faint tick-tick-ticks of her watch.
Thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty.
She got sick after lunch the week before, blamed it on bad Mexican and too much ice cream, and what was with that, anyway? She doesn't even like enchiladas, but she ate the whole plate, along half of Jared's chimichanga and most of the dessert, too.
In the parking lot, Jared crowded her against the side of his truck, palmed her ass and said she'd be sexy as hell with a little more booty. She kissed him deep and dirty, fingers curled in his collar, and told him she wasn't gonna get fat for him.
Forty-five, forty-six.
Jensen was already there when they got back to the house, smoking on the front steps because Sandy won't let him do it inside, and because he forgot his key. He kissed her cheek, and she kissed his mouth. She only ever liked the taste of cigarettes secondhand, on him.
They fucked on the sofa, Jared's cock in her mouth and Jensen's in her cunt and both of their hands all over her tits. Jared brought her off again with his tongue, his fingers, and Jensen watched with half-lidded eyes and his dick in his fist while Jared licked her clean.
Fifty-eight, fifty-nine.
She woke up sweating and queasy, pinned under Jared's leg, Jensen's arm. They grunted in their sleep as she shoved her way out, bare feet slapping the hardwood as she ran for the bathroom.
Sixty.
The pattern of the floor tile dances in front of her eyes when her gaze cuts to the countertop. To the brilliant blue tip of the test stick.
She wonders if they make them that color because blue is supposed to be soothing, calming. Her stomach rolls the wrong way and it's just nerves this time, just fear. She's been eating Saltines and drinking ginger ale for days. She doesn't feel calm.
Out in the living room she hears their voices, the game on the TV just this side of too loud. The crowd roars, Jared whoops, Jensen grumbles. Her whole world narrows down to that damn blue stick, their laughter, her heartbeat.
Supernatural RPF
Jensen/Jared/Sandy; R
~400 words
A/N: with thanks to mcee for drive-by beta.
Oh god, she thinks. What have we done.
She sits on the cold toilet with her panties around her knees and her head in her hands, counting the faint tick-tick-ticks of her watch.
Thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty.
She got sick after lunch the week before, blamed it on bad Mexican and too much ice cream, and what was with that, anyway? She doesn't even like enchiladas, but she ate the whole plate, along half of Jared's chimichanga and most of the dessert, too.
In the parking lot, Jared crowded her against the side of his truck, palmed her ass and said she'd be sexy as hell with a little more booty. She kissed him deep and dirty, fingers curled in his collar, and told him she wasn't gonna get fat for him.
Forty-five, forty-six.
Jensen was already there when they got back to the house, smoking on the front steps because Sandy won't let him do it inside, and because he forgot his key. He kissed her cheek, and she kissed his mouth. She only ever liked the taste of cigarettes secondhand, on him.
They fucked on the sofa, Jared's cock in her mouth and Jensen's in her cunt and both of their hands all over her tits. Jared brought her off again with his tongue, his fingers, and Jensen watched with half-lidded eyes and his dick in his fist while Jared licked her clean.
Fifty-eight, fifty-nine.
She woke up sweating and queasy, pinned under Jared's leg, Jensen's arm. They grunted in their sleep as she shoved her way out, bare feet slapping the hardwood as she ran for the bathroom.
Sixty.
The pattern of the floor tile dances in front of her eyes when her gaze cuts to the countertop. To the brilliant blue tip of the test stick.
She wonders if they make them that color because blue is supposed to be soothing, calming. Her stomach rolls the wrong way and it's just nerves this time, just fear. She's been eating Saltines and drinking ginger ale for days. She doesn't feel calm.
Out in the living room she hears their voices, the game on the TV just this side of too loud. The crowd roars, Jared whoops, Jensen grumbles. Her whole world narrows down to that damn blue stick, their laughter, her heartbeat.