New RPS fic - JA/JP - in a random bar in vancouver
Here's the first of my 25 j2 fics for slashfic25, and it just so happened that this is for prompt #1, Strangers, but oh my lord, don't think I'm going to do these all in order, lol. uhm. I think I also how have to figure out how to fuck with the table to link to this fic, yeah? I'm guessing that's what I do. *flaps hands* Whatever! I shall figure it out!
This was ALSO one of the two fics I wrote on the plane last week, so, I'm still not sure how I feel about this whole *pen and paper* deal, but I guess it served its purpose.
Thanks to esorlehcar for the super fast and awesome and perfect beta!
Title - in a random bar in vancouver
Pairing - JA/JP
Prompt - #1 - Strangers
Size - 1200 words
in a random bar in vancouver
Sometimes, Jensen wonders what it would have been like to meet Jared somewhere else. Somewhere not having anything to do with his job or TV or the show. Without the sixteen-hour days and always working too hard on too little energy. Somewhere neutral. Somewhere with no expectations and no rules and no "Hey, wait right there, lemme introduce you to my girlfriend, Sandy," speech. Somewhere totally random.
Somewhere like a bar, late at night, when no one else was out except Jensen and his good buddy Jack Daniels. Maybe Jensen would be working on a show, or maybe he wouldn't. Maybe Jared would be in between gigs, a sitcom or some other crapass movie. It wouldn't even matter. Jensen would be there, sitting back, drinking his drink, and it would happen.
It would be late at night, and Jensen would be tired. Maybe he had been shooting that day, but no one else had been up to going out after. Jensen, though, he'd be too wound up, too wired to just go home and go to sleep. All that energy and no where to put it except into half a bottle of Jack and the dartboard hanging crooked in the back corner of the bar.
So Jensen would stop by the bar at the end of the night instead of heading home to sleep. He'd maybe grab some food, have a few drinks. The bar would be quiet, close to quitting time and local bars in Vancouver on a Tuesday weren't exactly the hottest places to hang out. Jensen would maybe be sitting there, just leaning back, enjoying his drink, when he'd look over and spot Jared.
Jared, who'd been watching him the whole time with a glint in his eyes and a smile curving his lips. Jared with the prettiest fucking mouth Jensen had ever seen. He'd have been watching Jensen quietly, his wide, tanned hand wrapped around his bottle of beer. Jared would almost slide off his chair. Walk across the bar and when he got close enough he'd nod at the barstool next to Jensen's and ask, "Anyone here?" with a low roll to his voice.
Jensen would just smile back, real slow and easy, and say, "All yours, man."
Sometimes Jensen thinks it could have been as easy as that.
They'd have sat there that first night, shooting the shit and drinking until the bar closed. They'd have talked about nothing, everything. Jensen would for some reason say that he was from Dallas, and Jared would laugh, sharp and bright and say, No shit, man. San Antone, here. Then they'd spend the rest of the night arguing over football and basketball like two guys from Dallas and San Antonio would do.
It would only be one night, but Jared would remind Jensen of home more than anything had since the day he packed his shit and boarded a flight for L.A.. Jared would maybe lean back in his chair, shake his head and laugh quietly. "Man, I haven't had this much fun in months," he'd tell Jensen, his eyes soft and serious. Jensen would smile back. "Yeah. Me too."
And then it would be that part of the night that was always a crapshoot. Random hookups were hard enough to deal with, though Jensen never really had a problem finding a girl with quick hands or a sweet mouth whenever he needed. But guys. Guys were funny, and half the time that you thought, Hey, maybe, it was really, Not really, no fucking way.
Jared, though - Jared would lean over, bringing his head close to Jensen's ear and whisper, "Hey, you wanna maybe?" without giving it a second thought.
His breath would be warm and a little sour from beer. And that night, Jensen would turn his head. Catch Jared's eye and lick his lips and say, "Yeah. Come on."
Maybe they wouldn't even make it out of the parking lot. Maybe Jensen would take a few steps toward his truck and then stop. Turn around and grab Jared's arm. Pull him into a dark corner, up against the building, tucked far away and back from the cars passing by on the street.
Jared would say Jensen's name, deep and low down, and Jensen would ache all the way to his teeth with wanting him. He'd make a fist in Jared's hair. Hold his head right where he wanted it, right where it was perfect, and then he'd slant his mouth across Jared's and slip his tongue into Jared's mouth.
And god, Jensen would shake as Jared kissed him back, his mouth hot and wet. Jared's hand would slide between Jensen's legs, his palm rubbing over Jensen's cock. Jensen would be harder than he'd been in months.
There's nothing Jensen wants as much as this.
He'd want to drag Jared to the car, fuck him over the hood, in the backseat, right there, in the cold dark where anyone could see. He'd want to drive them home and fuck him boneless in his bed, or cover Jared's body with his on the floor in the middle of his kitchen.
Maybe that night they'd finally stop kissing in the parking lot, breaking away from each other, breathless and smiling. Jared would duck his head. "My place is kinda far," he'd start to say, so Jensen would answer, "Then my place, all right?" and Jared would smile.
Later that night, Jensen would lay down Jared in his bed, his skin smooth and tan against Jensen's white sheets. He'd feel Jared's hands in his hair as he kissed across Jared's throat, down his chest. Jared's skin would be warm. Jensen would run his hands down Jared's sides, kiss his belly. Jared would breathe out Jensen's name, his voice quiet and rough.
The lights would be out, and the air would be still. Jensen would run his lips over the head of Jared's cock. Taste him and feel him and Jared would gasp and moan, "Yeah," and "Fuck," and "Harder," and Jensen would answer, "Yeah, yes, okay."
Sometimes, Jensen wonders what would have happened if he'd met Jared like that. If he would have seen Jared again after that night, or if he'd have woken up the next morning in an empty bed and the taste of Jared, bitter and salty, still on his tongue.
Jensen wonders, if it had happened like that, would he have gotten to know Jared like he does now. Everything that Jared has, good and bad, all of it right there for Jensen to take if he wants. Jared's bright, easy smiles, and his arm, warm and strong around Jensen's shoulders.
He wonders, sometimes, if he'd have that if he had started with the other. If he'd have what he has now, Jared's friendship and his trust, and most of the time he thinks, no. That this is something else entirely. Something like friends but more. Like brothers but better. Something that means everything.
And he knows it wouldn't have been worth it. Not traded for what he has. What they have. He knows that.
But sometimes, he watches Jared just a little too long, and wonders.
-end-
This was ALSO one of the two fics I wrote on the plane last week, so, I'm still not sure how I feel about this whole *pen and paper* deal, but I guess it served its purpose.
Thanks to esorlehcar for the super fast and awesome and perfect beta!
Title - in a random bar in vancouver
Pairing - JA/JP
Prompt - #1 - Strangers
Size - 1200 words
in a random bar in vancouver
Sometimes, Jensen wonders what it would have been like to meet Jared somewhere else. Somewhere not having anything to do with his job or TV or the show. Without the sixteen-hour days and always working too hard on too little energy. Somewhere neutral. Somewhere with no expectations and no rules and no "Hey, wait right there, lemme introduce you to my girlfriend, Sandy," speech. Somewhere totally random.
Somewhere like a bar, late at night, when no one else was out except Jensen and his good buddy Jack Daniels. Maybe Jensen would be working on a show, or maybe he wouldn't. Maybe Jared would be in between gigs, a sitcom or some other crapass movie. It wouldn't even matter. Jensen would be there, sitting back, drinking his drink, and it would happen.
It would be late at night, and Jensen would be tired. Maybe he had been shooting that day, but no one else had been up to going out after. Jensen, though, he'd be too wound up, too wired to just go home and go to sleep. All that energy and no where to put it except into half a bottle of Jack and the dartboard hanging crooked in the back corner of the bar.
So Jensen would stop by the bar at the end of the night instead of heading home to sleep. He'd maybe grab some food, have a few drinks. The bar would be quiet, close to quitting time and local bars in Vancouver on a Tuesday weren't exactly the hottest places to hang out. Jensen would maybe be sitting there, just leaning back, enjoying his drink, when he'd look over and spot Jared.
Jared, who'd been watching him the whole time with a glint in his eyes and a smile curving his lips. Jared with the prettiest fucking mouth Jensen had ever seen. He'd have been watching Jensen quietly, his wide, tanned hand wrapped around his bottle of beer. Jared would almost slide off his chair. Walk across the bar and when he got close enough he'd nod at the barstool next to Jensen's and ask, "Anyone here?" with a low roll to his voice.
Jensen would just smile back, real slow and easy, and say, "All yours, man."
Sometimes Jensen thinks it could have been as easy as that.
They'd have sat there that first night, shooting the shit and drinking until the bar closed. They'd have talked about nothing, everything. Jensen would for some reason say that he was from Dallas, and Jared would laugh, sharp and bright and say, No shit, man. San Antone, here. Then they'd spend the rest of the night arguing over football and basketball like two guys from Dallas and San Antonio would do.
It would only be one night, but Jared would remind Jensen of home more than anything had since the day he packed his shit and boarded a flight for L.A.. Jared would maybe lean back in his chair, shake his head and laugh quietly. "Man, I haven't had this much fun in months," he'd tell Jensen, his eyes soft and serious. Jensen would smile back. "Yeah. Me too."
And then it would be that part of the night that was always a crapshoot. Random hookups were hard enough to deal with, though Jensen never really had a problem finding a girl with quick hands or a sweet mouth whenever he needed. But guys. Guys were funny, and half the time that you thought, Hey, maybe, it was really, Not really, no fucking way.
Jared, though - Jared would lean over, bringing his head close to Jensen's ear and whisper, "Hey, you wanna maybe?" without giving it a second thought.
His breath would be warm and a little sour from beer. And that night, Jensen would turn his head. Catch Jared's eye and lick his lips and say, "Yeah. Come on."
Maybe they wouldn't even make it out of the parking lot. Maybe Jensen would take a few steps toward his truck and then stop. Turn around and grab Jared's arm. Pull him into a dark corner, up against the building, tucked far away and back from the cars passing by on the street.
Jared would say Jensen's name, deep and low down, and Jensen would ache all the way to his teeth with wanting him. He'd make a fist in Jared's hair. Hold his head right where he wanted it, right where it was perfect, and then he'd slant his mouth across Jared's and slip his tongue into Jared's mouth.
And god, Jensen would shake as Jared kissed him back, his mouth hot and wet. Jared's hand would slide between Jensen's legs, his palm rubbing over Jensen's cock. Jensen would be harder than he'd been in months.
There's nothing Jensen wants as much as this.
He'd want to drag Jared to the car, fuck him over the hood, in the backseat, right there, in the cold dark where anyone could see. He'd want to drive them home and fuck him boneless in his bed, or cover Jared's body with his on the floor in the middle of his kitchen.
Maybe that night they'd finally stop kissing in the parking lot, breaking away from each other, breathless and smiling. Jared would duck his head. "My place is kinda far," he'd start to say, so Jensen would answer, "Then my place, all right?" and Jared would smile.
Later that night, Jensen would lay down Jared in his bed, his skin smooth and tan against Jensen's white sheets. He'd feel Jared's hands in his hair as he kissed across Jared's throat, down his chest. Jared's skin would be warm. Jensen would run his hands down Jared's sides, kiss his belly. Jared would breathe out Jensen's name, his voice quiet and rough.
The lights would be out, and the air would be still. Jensen would run his lips over the head of Jared's cock. Taste him and feel him and Jared would gasp and moan, "Yeah," and "Fuck," and "Harder," and Jensen would answer, "Yeah, yes, okay."
Sometimes, Jensen wonders what would have happened if he'd met Jared like that. If he would have seen Jared again after that night, or if he'd have woken up the next morning in an empty bed and the taste of Jared, bitter and salty, still on his tongue.
Jensen wonders, if it had happened like that, would he have gotten to know Jared like he does now. Everything that Jared has, good and bad, all of it right there for Jensen to take if he wants. Jared's bright, easy smiles, and his arm, warm and strong around Jensen's shoulders.
He wonders, sometimes, if he'd have that if he had started with the other. If he'd have what he has now, Jared's friendship and his trust, and most of the time he thinks, no. That this is something else entirely. Something like friends but more. Like brothers but better. Something that means everything.
And he knows it wouldn't have been worth it. Not traded for what he has. What they have. He knows that.
But sometimes, he watches Jared just a little too long, and wonders.
-end-