More comment!fics
RPS, Jared/Jensen, 10 Things I Hate About You
Jared's mother was an english teacher. Shakespeare was his bread and butter, growing up. He had been shouting "Forsooth!" and smacking adults in the knees with wooden swords since the knees were all he could reach, which for Jared was a VERY long time ago. And yes, he was enough of a dork to go see Ten Things I Hate About You back when it came out even if it WAS a romantic comedy, just because he KNEW his mother would call him up one day with a crisp, "Ten Things and The Taming of the Shrew. Compare."
But he was pretty certain that it was not a movie that Jensen would ever see. Ever. So when he came home to a note in Jensen's handwriting taped to the fridge, he was, to say the least, surprised. The fact that it was there wasn't surprising - on each other's off days they'd always leave each other sticky notes and random, silly letters everywhere - but it's content? That was unexpected.
"Ten Things I Hate About You:
1) How fucking HUGE you are. No, not like that, asshole. I mean in everyday stuff. Seriously man, take up more couch space, would you?
2) How you always "sing" (and I use the term REALLY loosely) along to songs that I actually like, thus ruining them forever.
3) How you look at me at conventions. Fuck, dude, you KNOW I'm yours, all the screaming teenage girls don't need to.
4) Your damn body heat. If you're going to sprawl all over me in bed, do you seriously need to radiate heat like it's nuclear winter? We live in Vancouver, and still I swear I'm gonna sweat to death. I seriously cannot imagine what we'll do when we move back to LA. Maybe pack you in ice on the flight and it'll last a few weeks.
5) Your morning breath. I know you call Sadie and Harley your kids, but that doesn't mean you have to SMELL like them. Plus Sadie's totally my baby.
6) How much Danneel likes you. Bitch, she's MY fake girlfriend. Get your own. Oh, wait, you tried, but Gen totally shot you down. Girl's too smart for our good.
7) The beard. No, I'm serious on this one. Shave it now. You look like a lumberjack, and it is NOT okay.
8) Your irrational, idiotic and masochistic love for the Spurs.
9) How you keep reaching for your pocket when you wear that coat, you know the one, and then chickening out. Just ASK, man. You know what I'll say, and if you don't do it soon I will, and then who's the fucking girl?
10) Yeah, no, I actually hate you. Hate your laugh and your voice and your smile (and your fucking dimples) and your neck and your ass and your gorgeous, giant hands and I'm late for set so I'll see you later we're out of milk but I'm too lazy to throw it out if you drink the sour stuff and then try to kiss me I will fucking KILL you.
**
Supernatural, demon!Castiel/Castiel, a little push
"All it would take..." His own voice echoes strangely, on the outside of the vessel's head, "Is a little push." Castiel stares into the darkness. He knows what this is - Dean had once dreamt of a similar thing, of what he would become when he went to hell, back before he found out - but somehow that doesn't help. The Song of his Father is quieter than it has ever been, and he knows with a sudden shock that it has been growing gradually and gradually quieter since...
Since he put his foot on the first rung of Jacob's Ladder and began to descend.
He takes a deep breath and looks behind him into piercing blue eyes that are all too familiar. His double smirks, sideways and edged. "You know I'm right. You know how easy it would be...how easy it WILL be." He slides his long fingers around Castiel's neck, tracing silk and skin and silk again, pulling the ends of his tie tight. Castiel closes his eyes and listens very hard to the slight, off-beat echoes of his own voice, the details that tell him it's NOT his own.
"You think you are the only ones who can manipulate time? I can tell you...this is you. I am you. This...this is only a slide away, only a laugh, only a fear, only a doubt." His double walks around him, hands on his chest, now, his waist, pulling him close. He nudges along Castiel's jaw, and the angel clenches his teeth, his vessel reacting to the shivering slide of breath and then, abruptly, the tongue against his skin. "Only a moan..." the demon whispers, hoarse and low, mouthing against Castiel's neck. "Only a sigh, only a scream..."
He pulls back slightly and despite himself Castiel is breathing hard, his hands twitching at his sides, wanting to feel and touch in return. It is like nothing else, this contact, this body of his, and he swallows sharply, trying to remember why the man in front of him, beautiful and lonely and burning with desire and heat, is not the man he wants to be. The voice, again, slides into his ear, and his double's face is suddenly close again. "Only a kiss."
The Ladder's rung breaks under his foot as Castiel closes the gap between past and future.
**
RPS, stoned!Steve/Chris, time for bed
Steve curled closer to Chris, letting his head fall against his shoulder. He took a long drag off the joint and released it, hot and fragrant, against the line of his best friend's jaw.
Chris chuckled throatily, his arm slung comfortably around Steve's waist. "Alright, time for bed, boy. You're high out of your mind." He squirmed slightly, which Steve personally thought a lovely idea, and pushed as if to stand up, which Steve didn't.
He shook his head and turned, swinging a leg across Chris' lap, and looked him in the eyes. "No," He said, and leaned in.
He caught Chris' lips possessively and confidently. After a moment, Chris relaxed, the hand on Steve's waist slipping under his shirt and tracing gentle patterns across the skin of his stomach. Steve brought his hand up to tangle in Chris' hair and deepened the kiss, his tongue demanding entrance to the wet heat of his best friend's mouth. Chris moaned against him and Steve shivered at the noise. He slid his other hand up Chris' thigh and higher, tracing the swell he found there with almost reverential fingers. He broke the kiss to just breathe, which was fucking hard because Chris was right THERE, looking at him with eyes like THAT, all blown wide and shining with lust and love and awe, and he let out a huff of laughter.
"NOW it's time for bed."
Jared's mother was an english teacher. Shakespeare was his bread and butter, growing up. He had been shouting "Forsooth!" and smacking adults in the knees with wooden swords since the knees were all he could reach, which for Jared was a VERY long time ago. And yes, he was enough of a dork to go see Ten Things I Hate About You back when it came out even if it WAS a romantic comedy, just because he KNEW his mother would call him up one day with a crisp, "Ten Things and The Taming of the Shrew. Compare."
But he was pretty certain that it was not a movie that Jensen would ever see. Ever. So when he came home to a note in Jensen's handwriting taped to the fridge, he was, to say the least, surprised. The fact that it was there wasn't surprising - on each other's off days they'd always leave each other sticky notes and random, silly letters everywhere - but it's content? That was unexpected.
"Ten Things I Hate About You:
1) How fucking HUGE you are. No, not like that, asshole. I mean in everyday stuff. Seriously man, take up more couch space, would you?
2) How you always "sing" (and I use the term REALLY loosely) along to songs that I actually like, thus ruining them forever.
3) How you look at me at conventions. Fuck, dude, you KNOW I'm yours, all the screaming teenage girls don't need to.
4) Your damn body heat. If you're going to sprawl all over me in bed, do you seriously need to radiate heat like it's nuclear winter? We live in Vancouver, and still I swear I'm gonna sweat to death. I seriously cannot imagine what we'll do when we move back to LA. Maybe pack you in ice on the flight and it'll last a few weeks.
5) Your morning breath. I know you call Sadie and Harley your kids, but that doesn't mean you have to SMELL like them. Plus Sadie's totally my baby.
6) How much Danneel likes you. Bitch, she's MY fake girlfriend. Get your own. Oh, wait, you tried, but Gen totally shot you down. Girl's too smart for our good.
7) The beard. No, I'm serious on this one. Shave it now. You look like a lumberjack, and it is NOT okay.
8) Your irrational, idiotic and masochistic love for the Spurs.
9) How you keep reaching for your pocket when you wear that coat, you know the one, and then chickening out. Just ASK, man. You know what I'll say, and if you don't do it soon I will, and then who's the fucking girl?
10) Yeah, no, I actually hate you. Hate your laugh and your voice and your smile (and your fucking dimples) and your neck and your ass and your gorgeous, giant hands and I'm late for set so I'll see you later we're out of milk but I'm too lazy to throw it out if you drink the sour stuff and then try to kiss me I will fucking KILL you.
**
Supernatural, demon!Castiel/Castiel, a little push
"All it would take..." His own voice echoes strangely, on the outside of the vessel's head, "Is a little push." Castiel stares into the darkness. He knows what this is - Dean had once dreamt of a similar thing, of what he would become when he went to hell, back before he found out - but somehow that doesn't help. The Song of his Father is quieter than it has ever been, and he knows with a sudden shock that it has been growing gradually and gradually quieter since...
Since he put his foot on the first rung of Jacob's Ladder and began to descend.
He takes a deep breath and looks behind him into piercing blue eyes that are all too familiar. His double smirks, sideways and edged. "You know I'm right. You know how easy it would be...how easy it WILL be." He slides his long fingers around Castiel's neck, tracing silk and skin and silk again, pulling the ends of his tie tight. Castiel closes his eyes and listens very hard to the slight, off-beat echoes of his own voice, the details that tell him it's NOT his own.
"You think you are the only ones who can manipulate time? I can tell you...this is you. I am you. This...this is only a slide away, only a laugh, only a fear, only a doubt." His double walks around him, hands on his chest, now, his waist, pulling him close. He nudges along Castiel's jaw, and the angel clenches his teeth, his vessel reacting to the shivering slide of breath and then, abruptly, the tongue against his skin. "Only a moan..." the demon whispers, hoarse and low, mouthing against Castiel's neck. "Only a sigh, only a scream..."
He pulls back slightly and despite himself Castiel is breathing hard, his hands twitching at his sides, wanting to feel and touch in return. It is like nothing else, this contact, this body of his, and he swallows sharply, trying to remember why the man in front of him, beautiful and lonely and burning with desire and heat, is not the man he wants to be. The voice, again, slides into his ear, and his double's face is suddenly close again. "Only a kiss."
The Ladder's rung breaks under his foot as Castiel closes the gap between past and future.
**
RPS, stoned!Steve/Chris, time for bed
Steve curled closer to Chris, letting his head fall against his shoulder. He took a long drag off the joint and released it, hot and fragrant, against the line of his best friend's jaw.
Chris chuckled throatily, his arm slung comfortably around Steve's waist. "Alright, time for bed, boy. You're high out of your mind." He squirmed slightly, which Steve personally thought a lovely idea, and pushed as if to stand up, which Steve didn't.
He shook his head and turned, swinging a leg across Chris' lap, and looked him in the eyes. "No," He said, and leaned in.
He caught Chris' lips possessively and confidently. After a moment, Chris relaxed, the hand on Steve's waist slipping under his shirt and tracing gentle patterns across the skin of his stomach. Steve brought his hand up to tangle in Chris' hair and deepened the kiss, his tongue demanding entrance to the wet heat of his best friend's mouth. Chris moaned against him and Steve shivered at the noise. He slid his other hand up Chris' thigh and higher, tracing the swell he found there with almost reverential fingers. He broke the kiss to just breathe, which was fucking hard because Chris was right THERE, looking at him with eyes like THAT, all blown wide and shining with lust and love and awe, and he let out a huff of laughter.
"NOW it's time for bed."