ir vestido de gris 5/5
Losers, comic!verse
pairings: somewhat cougar/jensen. (it's practically canon anywho)
warnings: slight!comic!spoilers, burning children, sadness, swearing (like a motherfucker) and the end of things.
summary:It's not a magical fix by any means.
Beta'd by the lovely choasangel - though any remaining mistakes are very likely mine.
(also, I feel I need to express how much I love you right now. Honestly, you are my favourite person - even if you don't like my alrights XP)
I II III IV
It's not a magical fix by any means. But somehow, now they've somewhat talked about - they're still men, so the talking was more like kicking dirt with their boots while everyone says nothing - and they get that he's not fucking around for the hell of it, somehow that knowledge makes it easier.
It probably helps that they get their first leave in six months, and according to Jensen it's their first leave in fuck-knows-how-long-yes-thats-the-technical-term that hasn't come about because they're fucked up.
They've all got some serious bruises, and a couple of Cougar's ribs might be cracked, but they're hole free and halle-fuckin-lujah no one's on crutches.
Clay thinks he's maybe getting sentimental in his old age, but when Cougar and Jensen catch a flight to Cancun he can't help but feel fucking grateful.
It's like every time something's wrong with their thing, it always translates into the team. Which makes it sound like everything's their fault. It's probably the other way 'round, if Clay was to actually put thought into it - which no, he is definitely not - but still it's good to have things feel a little like they did before.
He spends his leave on base. Apparently they're been sent back to Afghanistan, and really, it's been awhile. Clay quite likes it out there. Which, he's pretty sure, will never be something he can say out aloud. But even though it's charged with paranoia and dodgy as fuck, there's a simplicity to it that Clay appreciates.
Plus the level of support out there is fucking phenomenal.
They hit the sand running. Turns out the company wants them running around the backend of the country, because it'd be too much fucking trouble for them to have an easy day.
By the sixth week they're tired and overworked. And everytime it looks like there's the sweet light of downtime at the end of the tunnel, some fucking raghead comes out of hiding and they get whisked up and thrown in a new direction.
They're actually sitting down at a proper base and not in a hotzone, so for now everything is sweet. Clay leaves the team to cheat each other in cards and goes to find out why they've gotten so lucky.
They're on a chopper headed for the Hindu Kush three hours later.
None of them really talk after. Clay gets the occasional grunt from Roque or Pooch, he can get an absent 'hmmm' from Jensen, the only time he got an answer with words in it is when he'd question Jensen on why he was lugging his laptop and army tech across the desert with them.
Jensen had just frowned, a hand scrubbing back and forth through his hair and guilt passing across his face.
"I'm still alive, Colonel."
Which Clay supposes makes sense, Jensen's best weapon is his tech.
Cougar just stares out at the miles of sand and says nothing.
When Clay pushes him on the burns he's got all up his arms, the sniper fucking growls at him.
It's always a long trip out of the sand. It's a fucking lot more longer on foot. They cross a border and travel six hundred miles before they feel even a little safe.
Roque secures them a tiny run down house, no one asks how. It's shitty, only three rooms and one of them is the bathroom but it's got a roof that doesn't leak and more importantly it's got hot water.
They spend the next week ignoring each other as they sleep, shower and try to sweat the smell of burning flesh off of them.
None of them seem to live in the same timezone, Roque disappears at random intervals, Pooch wanders the neighbourhoods in the early morning sun, Clay finds himself up at midnight, Cougar stays wrapped up in his bunk and only comes out to sit outside during the hottest hour of the day and Jensen sets up his computer in the kitchen and Clay hasn't seen him sleep or move since then.
Jensen doesn't say a word until four o'clock one morning when they all hear the clatter of pots and pans and the sound of something frying in the kitchen.
There's a yelp a minute later and something gets thrown out the window.
Then Jensen starts talking.
And doesn't shut the fuck up.
They can't really hear what he's talking about, but he's still monologuing when they drift into the kitchen with the daylight.
Pancakes.
He's cooking pancakes, chatting loudly about nothing - he gestures violently with his pan, pointing in the direction of an old lady hanging washing across the road. She's not watching him - "She's watching me" - he says, and spends the next twenty minutes flipping pancakes and telling them about how freaking suspicious washing lady is.
Half of the pancakes are cold and theres a reason why Jensen isn't the designated cook (that's Pooch, or Cougar, OR if they're insanely desperate, Roque) but they haven't eaten properly cooked food for weeks, it tastes like home.
Roque eats everything on his plate and half of what's on the plates of Clay and Pooch sitting either side of him.
Cougar pushes his pieces around his plate like a six year old until Jensen starts stealing a piece everytime he passes. Boot camp habit kicks in and Cougar starts shoveling food in to his mouth with one hand and guards his plate - fends off Jensen - with the other.
After pancakes, after everyone has drifted in different directions, Jensen hands Clay the laptop he's been carrying for the last month, and tells him that it should be safe to use -
"As long as you don't google yourself."
"What about you?" Because, isn't Jensen the man with the computer? Really what the hell?
"I'm all set up." Jensen hefts up a shiny, new, expensive looking laptop and Clay narrows his eyes.
"Where the fuck did you get that?" Clay really wants to know.
"Called in some favours."
"You realise you're supposed to be dead? Dead people don't cash in on favours!" He maybe throws his hands in the air with disgust, Clay doesn't know why everytime he talks to Jensen he gets over dramatic.
"Oh, no, those guys don't know my name, or about any of this really." He waves his hand in the air in a way that is supposed to describe their situation.
"People who don't know you, bought you a laptop?"
"The internet, Colonel. It's full of perverts and samaritans. And honestly? No one uses their real name on the internet anyway." Clay does, but then again he's not really on the internet.
"Actually the hardest part was getting it posted here. I needed money to get a post box, so they could send this somewhere, and i needed this to get money. God, I felt like that guy that gets shipwrecked on an island. You the 'oh i need a net to catch fish, so I'll make hat' guy?"
Clay has no idea what he's going on about, so he just nods, commiserates - I'm sure it was very hard - and leaves the room with a laptop.
They can't stay here forever, but Clay is at a loss for what they should do. What's keeping them alive is the fact that no one's looking for them.
Jensen had quietly pulled him aside, looking around to make sure none of the guys are near, opened his laptop and on the screen is articles about them and official reports that look seriously confidential.
The public records say they died in a tragic training accident, even the more confidential ones don't mention the kids - oh god the kids - just some lucky Afghani with an RPG taking out a SpecOps team.
Someone had done alot of leaning to make sure no one looked too closely at the crash site. Ironically that also kept their survival a secret at the same time.
They have to split up. Go to ground and just be dead for awhile. Give it time for anyone who might be watching their families to get bored and convince themselves that they're really dead.
Give themselves time to regroup, try to work through the shit they've learnt, before they decide what they're going to do about it.
They stay as long as they dare. The cover up and media lies keep them fairly safe from anyone looking for the specifically, but five foreign guys, appearing from nowhere in the middle of the night and living in one house, that shit's sure to be cause for comment amongst the locals.
Clay talks to the guys about going seperate ways. They're mostly agreeing, it's logical and fuck it if they don't see burning children and mangled chopper wrecks everytime they look at each other.
Roque's apparently got his eye set on Eastern Europe, he says it suits his temperment and it does. He produces dodgy passports for them all a week later, they probably wouldn't pass inspection, but after Jensen fiddles with his computer, they should pass checks just fine.
Cougar will be in Latin America. Somewhere.
Pooch is going home. Do not fucking doubt that. Clay's thought about maybe saying something, but in the end there's no fucking point.
Jensen, Clay thought'd he'd be going back to America, he has a sister and niece that he is insanely protective of. But he just grins, shakes his head and says he's going island hopping. And Clay realises he doesn't need to tell his sister that he's alive, because she already fucking knows.
"Goddammit Jensen."
It's not his fault, Jensen whines, and as it turns out, it only kind of is. Apparently Jensen has a very distinctive signature to his hacking, a signature you probably wouldn't notice unless you'd lived with the insane hacker for years and were freakishly good with computers as well. All of the tramping he's done through DOD had apparently raised some flags with the one person who knew how to look for him. Jensen sheepishly shows the highly encrypted - seriously, Clay's seen CIA death orders with less encryption - message to Clay and he laughs for half an hour.
you four eyed zombie son of a bitch. where the fuck are you?
It's not that funny, only it is, because by now she's let Jolene know and that makes it a fuckload easier for Pooch to waltz back into his family's lives.
It's late afternoon and Roque's already left when Pooch ambushes him.
"Don't split them up, Colonel."
And Clay has no idea what he's talking about.
"Jensen and Cougar."
Oh. That.
"You want us all to disappear in different directions, but have you actually looked at Cougar? The guy's cracked apart."
Clay has looked at Cougar. Just hasn't really noticed anything, the plans and schemes to get back at Max are the only thing he's been paying attention to.
"You want him to actually still be around when you try and call us back? You send Jensen with him. Kid'll keep him sane, heh, as fucked up as that sounds. Maybe just drive him an all right kind of crazy."
Pooch says nothing more on the subject, just gives him a significant look and leaves the room.
"So there is an all right kind of crazy."
And holy shit, is it fucking Sneak Up On Clay day? When did Jensen get so fucking good at sneaking up on people? Had he been there the entire conversation?
"The Pooch is truly a fan of true love." Jensen says it sadly, like Pooch is a fan of unicorns, leprechauns and happy endings. "He probably writes smoopy RPF about us in his free time. Where we're sighing and fluttering our long lashes at each other."
Clay is not following this monologue at all.
"I bet he's the kind of fucker that calls me alabaster and Cougar mocha. Cougs ain't mocha, man I'd be all over that shit. Think we're bad now? Fucker was coffee flavoured? Mornings with us would be all kinds of X rated."
Clay frowns at him as he walks off, still babbling about coffee? Clay's going to say it was about coffee. He's a little stunned, his mind is stuttering and repeating itself.
Did Jensen just out himself?
Clay shrugs, then wonders what the fuck RPF is supposed to be. He goes so far as to load up Google before remembering the last time he actually looked up something Jensen had babbled about. He closes the laptop down and congratulates himself on not getting caught in what is no doubt a cleverly laid Jensen trap.
Later that night, their last night together, Clay's making rounds of the house and definitely not looking to overhear any intimate conversations.
They're just out the front door, legs dangling off the front step, Cougar's hunched over, sitting, Jensen's laying back, a hand lazily playing with the frayed hem of Cougar's t-shirt.
"You all set? For tomorrow I mean?"
Cougar makes a small noise, something that probably means 'As ready as I'll ever be.'
Jensen sits up and bumps his shoulder against the sniper's.
"Hey, it's only for a bit. You leave me the signal, hey!" He bumps Cougar harder, knocking his hat upwards.
"You leave me the signal and I'll find you. I'll find you, I'm good at that you know."
Clay sees a small almost smile on Cougar's face and walks away. Somethings aren't for seeing.
The next morning Clay is worrying about sending them out alone.
Roque, he figures, he can get back with the right mix of old army buddy-ness, 'what else you gonna do?' and a whole lot of sweet revenge. Roque probably wouldn't go for the whole 'they'd been used to kill an American thing' speel, but the fact that they'd tried to kill him (and were shit at it, to be honest), well. That's the sort of shit that Roque takes personally.
Cougar will most likely disappear. Clay would be worried about finding him again, but one look at the haunted look in his eyes, the way he shifts from barely contained seething rage to brooding silently in the dark and Clay's pretty sure even the vaguest promise of retribution will bring him running.
Jensen. Clay works out his chances at about fifty/fifty. Maybe tipped a little to the yes because the kid likes the adventure and adrenaline that comes with the job, and, more importantly, if Cougar's in, Jensen's in.
Pooch is the only one Clay's not sure he can convince. Technically Jensen's the genius of the company, but Pooch is the one with the most sense. And the best reason to stay away.
When the time comes, Clay is going to be a truly bad person and lure him back with false promises of being able to live a normal life with his family, and when Pooch sees through that bullshit, Clay is going to guilt him into returning.
(They need him, does he want them to die because he wasn't there?)
END
small note - the story that Jensen is referring to (God, I felt like that guy that gets shipwrecked on an island. You the 'oh i need a net to catch fish, so I'll make hat' guy) is from The Old Sailor by A.A. Milne. it's pretty funny if you ever feel the need to read nonsensical poetry.
also: added super!short!fic with epic comic spoilers, that I don't seem to be able to write any more for. D:
It's the end, Clay can feel it in his bones, but when he looks up, there's two very familiar silhouettes behind Max's gloating form. Jensen's grinning behind a shushing finger. Hell, even Cougar's grinning like Chirstmas came fucking early this year.
Clay relaxes, let's out a breath and dares to hope that they'll finally end this thing.
And then the world erupts in fire and all Clay sees is Max.
T_T
NOW WITH ADDED COMPANION FIC ~
pairings: somewhat cougar/jensen. (it's practically canon anywho)
warnings: slight!comic!spoilers, burning children, sadness, swearing (like a motherfucker) and the end of things.
summary:It's not a magical fix by any means.
Beta'd by the lovely choasangel - though any remaining mistakes are very likely mine.
(also, I feel I need to express how much I love you right now. Honestly, you are my favourite person - even if you don't like my alrights XP)
I II III IV
It's not a magical fix by any means. But somehow, now they've somewhat talked about - they're still men, so the talking was more like kicking dirt with their boots while everyone says nothing - and they get that he's not fucking around for the hell of it, somehow that knowledge makes it easier.
It probably helps that they get their first leave in six months, and according to Jensen it's their first leave in fuck-knows-how-long-yes-thats-the-technical-term that hasn't come about because they're fucked up.
They've all got some serious bruises, and a couple of Cougar's ribs might be cracked, but they're hole free and halle-fuckin-lujah no one's on crutches.
Clay thinks he's maybe getting sentimental in his old age, but when Cougar and Jensen catch a flight to Cancun he can't help but feel fucking grateful.
It's like every time something's wrong with their thing, it always translates into the team. Which makes it sound like everything's their fault. It's probably the other way 'round, if Clay was to actually put thought into it - which no, he is definitely not - but still it's good to have things feel a little like they did before.
He spends his leave on base. Apparently they're been sent back to Afghanistan, and really, it's been awhile. Clay quite likes it out there. Which, he's pretty sure, will never be something he can say out aloud. But even though it's charged with paranoia and dodgy as fuck, there's a simplicity to it that Clay appreciates.
Plus the level of support out there is fucking phenomenal.
They hit the sand running. Turns out the company wants them running around the backend of the country, because it'd be too much fucking trouble for them to have an easy day.
By the sixth week they're tired and overworked. And everytime it looks like there's the sweet light of downtime at the end of the tunnel, some fucking raghead comes out of hiding and they get whisked up and thrown in a new direction.
They're actually sitting down at a proper base and not in a hotzone, so for now everything is sweet. Clay leaves the team to cheat each other in cards and goes to find out why they've gotten so lucky.
They're on a chopper headed for the Hindu Kush three hours later.
None of them really talk after. Clay gets the occasional grunt from Roque or Pooch, he can get an absent 'hmmm' from Jensen, the only time he got an answer with words in it is when he'd question Jensen on why he was lugging his laptop and army tech across the desert with them.
Jensen had just frowned, a hand scrubbing back and forth through his hair and guilt passing across his face.
"I'm still alive, Colonel."
Which Clay supposes makes sense, Jensen's best weapon is his tech.
Cougar just stares out at the miles of sand and says nothing.
When Clay pushes him on the burns he's got all up his arms, the sniper fucking growls at him.
It's always a long trip out of the sand. It's a fucking lot more longer on foot. They cross a border and travel six hundred miles before they feel even a little safe.
Roque secures them a tiny run down house, no one asks how. It's shitty, only three rooms and one of them is the bathroom but it's got a roof that doesn't leak and more importantly it's got hot water.
They spend the next week ignoring each other as they sleep, shower and try to sweat the smell of burning flesh off of them.
None of them seem to live in the same timezone, Roque disappears at random intervals, Pooch wanders the neighbourhoods in the early morning sun, Clay finds himself up at midnight, Cougar stays wrapped up in his bunk and only comes out to sit outside during the hottest hour of the day and Jensen sets up his computer in the kitchen and Clay hasn't seen him sleep or move since then.
Jensen doesn't say a word until four o'clock one morning when they all hear the clatter of pots and pans and the sound of something frying in the kitchen.
There's a yelp a minute later and something gets thrown out the window.
Then Jensen starts talking.
And doesn't shut the fuck up.
They can't really hear what he's talking about, but he's still monologuing when they drift into the kitchen with the daylight.
Pancakes.
He's cooking pancakes, chatting loudly about nothing - he gestures violently with his pan, pointing in the direction of an old lady hanging washing across the road. She's not watching him - "She's watching me" - he says, and spends the next twenty minutes flipping pancakes and telling them about how freaking suspicious washing lady is.
Half of the pancakes are cold and theres a reason why Jensen isn't the designated cook (that's Pooch, or Cougar, OR if they're insanely desperate, Roque) but they haven't eaten properly cooked food for weeks, it tastes like home.
Roque eats everything on his plate and half of what's on the plates of Clay and Pooch sitting either side of him.
Cougar pushes his pieces around his plate like a six year old until Jensen starts stealing a piece everytime he passes. Boot camp habit kicks in and Cougar starts shoveling food in to his mouth with one hand and guards his plate - fends off Jensen - with the other.
After pancakes, after everyone has drifted in different directions, Jensen hands Clay the laptop he's been carrying for the last month, and tells him that it should be safe to use -
"As long as you don't google yourself."
"What about you?" Because, isn't Jensen the man with the computer? Really what the hell?
"I'm all set up." Jensen hefts up a shiny, new, expensive looking laptop and Clay narrows his eyes.
"Where the fuck did you get that?" Clay really wants to know.
"Called in some favours."
"You realise you're supposed to be dead? Dead people don't cash in on favours!" He maybe throws his hands in the air with disgust, Clay doesn't know why everytime he talks to Jensen he gets over dramatic.
"Oh, no, those guys don't know my name, or about any of this really." He waves his hand in the air in a way that is supposed to describe their situation.
"People who don't know you, bought you a laptop?"
"The internet, Colonel. It's full of perverts and samaritans. And honestly? No one uses their real name on the internet anyway." Clay does, but then again he's not really on the internet.
"Actually the hardest part was getting it posted here. I needed money to get a post box, so they could send this somewhere, and i needed this to get money. God, I felt like that guy that gets shipwrecked on an island. You the 'oh i need a net to catch fish, so I'll make hat' guy?"
Clay has no idea what he's going on about, so he just nods, commiserates - I'm sure it was very hard - and leaves the room with a laptop.
They can't stay here forever, but Clay is at a loss for what they should do. What's keeping them alive is the fact that no one's looking for them.
Jensen had quietly pulled him aside, looking around to make sure none of the guys are near, opened his laptop and on the screen is articles about them and official reports that look seriously confidential.
The public records say they died in a tragic training accident, even the more confidential ones don't mention the kids - oh god the kids - just some lucky Afghani with an RPG taking out a SpecOps team.
Someone had done alot of leaning to make sure no one looked too closely at the crash site. Ironically that also kept their survival a secret at the same time.
They have to split up. Go to ground and just be dead for awhile. Give it time for anyone who might be watching their families to get bored and convince themselves that they're really dead.
Give themselves time to regroup, try to work through the shit they've learnt, before they decide what they're going to do about it.
They stay as long as they dare. The cover up and media lies keep them fairly safe from anyone looking for the specifically, but five foreign guys, appearing from nowhere in the middle of the night and living in one house, that shit's sure to be cause for comment amongst the locals.
Clay talks to the guys about going seperate ways. They're mostly agreeing, it's logical and fuck it if they don't see burning children and mangled chopper wrecks everytime they look at each other.
Roque's apparently got his eye set on Eastern Europe, he says it suits his temperment and it does. He produces dodgy passports for them all a week later, they probably wouldn't pass inspection, but after Jensen fiddles with his computer, they should pass checks just fine.
Cougar will be in Latin America. Somewhere.
Pooch is going home. Do not fucking doubt that. Clay's thought about maybe saying something, but in the end there's no fucking point.
Jensen, Clay thought'd he'd be going back to America, he has a sister and niece that he is insanely protective of. But he just grins, shakes his head and says he's going island hopping. And Clay realises he doesn't need to tell his sister that he's alive, because she already fucking knows.
"Goddammit Jensen."
It's not his fault, Jensen whines, and as it turns out, it only kind of is. Apparently Jensen has a very distinctive signature to his hacking, a signature you probably wouldn't notice unless you'd lived with the insane hacker for years and were freakishly good with computers as well. All of the tramping he's done through DOD had apparently raised some flags with the one person who knew how to look for him. Jensen sheepishly shows the highly encrypted - seriously, Clay's seen CIA death orders with less encryption - message to Clay and he laughs for half an hour.
you four eyed zombie son of a bitch. where the fuck are you?
It's not that funny, only it is, because by now she's let Jolene know and that makes it a fuckload easier for Pooch to waltz back into his family's lives.
It's late afternoon and Roque's already left when Pooch ambushes him.
"Don't split them up, Colonel."
And Clay has no idea what he's talking about.
"Jensen and Cougar."
Oh. That.
"You want us all to disappear in different directions, but have you actually looked at Cougar? The guy's cracked apart."
Clay has looked at Cougar. Just hasn't really noticed anything, the plans and schemes to get back at Max are the only thing he's been paying attention to.
"You want him to actually still be around when you try and call us back? You send Jensen with him. Kid'll keep him sane, heh, as fucked up as that sounds. Maybe just drive him an all right kind of crazy."
Pooch says nothing more on the subject, just gives him a significant look and leaves the room.
"So there is an all right kind of crazy."
And holy shit, is it fucking Sneak Up On Clay day? When did Jensen get so fucking good at sneaking up on people? Had he been there the entire conversation?
"The Pooch is truly a fan of true love." Jensen says it sadly, like Pooch is a fan of unicorns, leprechauns and happy endings. "He probably writes smoopy RPF about us in his free time. Where we're sighing and fluttering our long lashes at each other."
Clay is not following this monologue at all.
"I bet he's the kind of fucker that calls me alabaster and Cougar mocha. Cougs ain't mocha, man I'd be all over that shit. Think we're bad now? Fucker was coffee flavoured? Mornings with us would be all kinds of X rated."
Clay frowns at him as he walks off, still babbling about coffee? Clay's going to say it was about coffee. He's a little stunned, his mind is stuttering and repeating itself.
Did Jensen just out himself?
Clay shrugs, then wonders what the fuck RPF is supposed to be. He goes so far as to load up Google before remembering the last time he actually looked up something Jensen had babbled about. He closes the laptop down and congratulates himself on not getting caught in what is no doubt a cleverly laid Jensen trap.
Later that night, their last night together, Clay's making rounds of the house and definitely not looking to overhear any intimate conversations.
They're just out the front door, legs dangling off the front step, Cougar's hunched over, sitting, Jensen's laying back, a hand lazily playing with the frayed hem of Cougar's t-shirt.
"You all set? For tomorrow I mean?"
Cougar makes a small noise, something that probably means 'As ready as I'll ever be.'
Jensen sits up and bumps his shoulder against the sniper's.
"Hey, it's only for a bit. You leave me the signal, hey!" He bumps Cougar harder, knocking his hat upwards.
"You leave me the signal and I'll find you. I'll find you, I'm good at that you know."
Clay sees a small almost smile on Cougar's face and walks away. Somethings aren't for seeing.
The next morning Clay is worrying about sending them out alone.
Roque, he figures, he can get back with the right mix of old army buddy-ness, 'what else you gonna do?' and a whole lot of sweet revenge. Roque probably wouldn't go for the whole 'they'd been used to kill an American thing' speel, but the fact that they'd tried to kill him (and were shit at it, to be honest), well. That's the sort of shit that Roque takes personally.
Cougar will most likely disappear. Clay would be worried about finding him again, but one look at the haunted look in his eyes, the way he shifts from barely contained seething rage to brooding silently in the dark and Clay's pretty sure even the vaguest promise of retribution will bring him running.
Jensen. Clay works out his chances at about fifty/fifty. Maybe tipped a little to the yes because the kid likes the adventure and adrenaline that comes with the job, and, more importantly, if Cougar's in, Jensen's in.
Pooch is the only one Clay's not sure he can convince. Technically Jensen's the genius of the company, but Pooch is the one with the most sense. And the best reason to stay away.
When the time comes, Clay is going to be a truly bad person and lure him back with false promises of being able to live a normal life with his family, and when Pooch sees through that bullshit, Clay is going to guilt him into returning.
(They need him, does he want them to die because he wasn't there?)
END
small note - the story that Jensen is referring to (God, I felt like that guy that gets shipwrecked on an island. You the 'oh i need a net to catch fish, so I'll make hat' guy) is from The Old Sailor by A.A. Milne. it's pretty funny if you ever feel the need to read nonsensical poetry.
also: added super!short!fic with epic comic spoilers, that I don't seem to be able to write any more for. D:
It's the end, Clay can feel it in his bones, but when he looks up, there's two very familiar silhouettes behind Max's gloating form. Jensen's grinning behind a shushing finger. Hell, even Cougar's grinning like Chirstmas came fucking early this year.
Clay relaxes, let's out a breath and dares to hope that they'll finally end this thing.
And then the world erupts in fire and all Clay sees is Max.
T_T
NOW WITH ADDED COMPANION FIC ~