Snippety snip snip
In case any of you were wondering why this particular journal is on your flist,because god knows there hasn't been any fiction here since March (except for a few drabbles) I thought I'd give you a taste. Or, you know, try and see if I can hold on to you a little longer by waving weak promises in your face. So here are some snippets from stuff I'm working on. Some is old, some is newer, some is just starting to happen. Bear in mind these are all just drafts, unbeta'd and not nearly finished.
The one about how Sam lost his virginity. Sam/Dean
He looked up at the house, not sure if he should feel awed or abhorred, then glanced over at Dean who was still checking his hair in the rearview mirror, tongue poking out between his lips.
“Maybe we shouldn’t…” he started but Dean shot him an annoyed look and he promptly shut his mouth. After all he was the one who’d asked to come with. He just hadn’t counted on the place looking like it was on the narc’s hotlist.
“It’s just a party, bro,” Dean said and gave himself a final grin in the mirror before putting it back at its right angle. “Chill.”
“Chill?” Sam quirked his eyebrow. “You T.J. Hooker now?”
“Shut up.” Dean reached into the glove apartment and pulled out a brown paper bag. “You wanna stay in the car, Sam? Then stay in the car. But don’t come whining to me that I never take you anywhere.”
“I didn’t mean…” Sam gritted his teeth. “I just… It looks pretty wild.”
“Dude, it’s a graduation party,” Dean said and rolled his eyes. “It’s supposed to be wild. Sex, drugs and rock ‘n roll, Sammy. That’s what it’s all about.” He paused. “Well, sex and rock ‘n roll, anyway. Stay away from the drugs or I’ll kick your scrawny ass. And no more than two beers ‘cos you’re driving home, bro.”
He started to get out of the car when Sam grabbed his jacket, feeling stupid but he just couldn’t go in there if…
“Dean?” Sam bit his lip, hating the way he was blushing. “You’re not gonna, you know, dump me for some girl, are you? I mean, once we get in there…”
Dean looked at him, his face unreadable at first but then he smirked and reached over to ruffle Sam’s hair. “Hey, c’mon. Would I do that to you?”
“I don’t know. I mean, we never said… And you used to…” Sam swallowed and looked away. “I don’t know.”
Dean sighed. “Sammy. Now I’ve got you. Alright? It’s just you.” Dean gave him a reassuring smile, then glanced around before tugging at Sam’s hair, pulling him in for a quick kiss. “Think of this as foreplay,” he whispered. “We’re just having a little fun and then we go home and I blow your brains out. Ok?”
The one where... Erm... I haven't decided yet. Sam/Dean
Sam, at the age of seventeen, shoots with a look of deep concentration and even deeper disdain on his face. Where once handling a gun was exciting, a way to be more like Dean, it’s now a necessity and a symbol of everything Sam hates about his life. That doesn’t mean he slackens because Samuel Winchester doesn't do anything half-ass and despite what Dean may say about that, he sort of admires Sam for it.
Dean will never admit to anyone, least of all himself, that he would have given anything for Sam not having to handle a gun at all. But Dean’s protection only reaches so far, especially when it comes to Dad.
The first time Dad put a gun in Sam’s small hand Dean wanted to snatch it from his fumbling fingers and throw it away. ‘Not him, no. Not this for Sammy. Please, dad, no.’ Instead he grinned and told Sam he was all big now.
“Seven years old, kiddo. About time you became useful,” he teased, digging his fingers into Sam’s shoulder as his arm started trembling from the weight of the gun.
The day Sam made his first kill Dean took him for a walk into the woods while Dad burned the body. He supported Sam as he threw up what little he had managed to eat that morning and then held him tight afterwards, using Sam’s sobs to mask his own hitched breathing. When they came back to the car John was sitting behind the wheel, eyes that moments before had been filled with pride now downcast. The boys climbed into the backseat together and after a moments silence Dad started the car and drove them back to the motel.
By his fifth kill Sam had stopped throwing up but Dean still feels nauseous.
The one where Sam has a secret and Dean doesn't have a clue. Sam/Dean
“Dean?”
Dean keeps his eyes on the TV a little longer before raising his head and giving Sam a patient look. Sam’s been hovering over him for the last hour…
No, scratch that. He’s been hovering for over a week now. Constantly watching Dean, seeming on the edge of saying something but always retreating at the last moment. Dean’s been tempted to ask him what’s up but he’s swallowed his curiosity and kept patiently silent.
At sixteen Sam’s not really the kind to keep quiet about anything, in fact he voices his opinion a little too often and way too loud in Dean’s opinion. So whatever this is it must be something important to Sam and to tell the truth Dean would rather put it off as long as he can. He’s not really feeling up to another round of Why Our Life Sucks or How John Has Failed Us As A Father. Seems those (rather one-sided) conversations always pop up whenever dad is away on a hunt and seeing as he just left that morning, that’s probably what Sam’s been waiting for.
Although, knowing Sam, it might be about dying whales and tree hugging or something equally boring.
“Can we talk? Like, can you turn that off? I mean… I kinda need to talk to you.”
Sam seems nervous, plucking at the nail on his thumb with his index finger and biting his lower lip. Dean cocks one eyebrow at him, but Sam refuses to elaborate, just presses his lips together and shifts his eyes to the TV and back again.
“Please?”
With a sigh Dean reaches over and turns the TV off before settling back on the bed, arms crossed. “Ok, it’s off. What?”
Sam shifts from one leg to another, the cant of his hips threatening to let the jeans slip down. He’s grown so much the last year, shooting up like a beanstalk, and he seems to feel awkward with his new height, constantly stooping to look smaller. Clothes are hard to find, pants that are long enough for his gangly legs could fit him twice around the waist and the sleeves on most of his shirts and sweaters stop a couple of inches from his wrists. Sam once told Dean he felt like he didn’t even fit into his own skin anymore.
Of course Dean was hard for sympathy, seeing as Sam had broken the unwritten rule of siblings and is now at least three inches taller than his older brother. That's just wrong, man!
“I…” Sam takes a step forward and then back again. “I kinda…” He stops.
Dean sighs. “Dude, sit down. You’re making me itch with all that shuffling around. Looks like you’ve got fleas in your pants.”
“Funny,” Sam scowls but he sits down on the other bed, giant hands dangling between his knees. He sits silent for a while and Dean’s just about to reach over and turn on the TV again, just to make a point, when Sam licks his lips and says, “I kinda need to tell you something.”
“Ok,” Dean says slowly. Please God, don’t let him have knocked some girl up. Is he even having sex yet? Sam may be a blabbermouth but when it comes to girls he never tells Dean anything. Which, to tell the truth, is kinda insulting, considering all the stories Dean’s told Sam of his own adventures. Repeatedly. “What is it?”
The one where Jensen confesses and Jared doesn't freak out. Much. Jensen/Jared
“Don’t lie to me, man.” Jared suddenly feels so very tired. “Not you. And not to me. That’s not who we are.”
Jensen bites his lip. His eyes flicker from the floor to the mirror and back again. “Then who are we?” he finally says. “What are we? I mean… if I say yes, I did mean what I said, it’s gonna fuck everything up. I can’t… Fuck, Jay, just forget it, ok?”
Jared swallows. “Who says it has to fuck everything up?”
The low laughter is anything but merry. “C’mon, man. Don’t act like you don’t care.”
“Care about what? That you’re gay?” Jared shakes his head angrily. “That why you didn’t tell me? Shit, Jen, who the hell do you think I am?”
“It’s not… ” Jensen closes his eyes, breathing in deeply before he opens them again, looking weary and defeated. “I know you’re not like that. I just… I’ve never told anyone, ok? And you… Jay, you’re my best friend, you know that.”
“Yeah, well, I thought I was,” Jared huffs. “Until I found out my best friend doesn’t even trust me enough to tell me he’s gay. How the hell is that supposed to make me feel?”
Jensen blushes. “I’m more like bi… I mean, I’ve had girlfriends. I like women. I’m not…”
“Dude, whatever.” Jared would roll his eyes if he wasn’t feeling so damn pissed off. “Gay, bi, it still doesn’t change the fact that you didn’t tell me, man.”
“I’m sorry, ok? I didn’t…” Jensen hesitates. “Look, I didn’t think you’d freak out about me liking guys. That wasn’t it.”
“What was it then?”
“I- I thought you’d freak out about me liking you,” Jensen says quietly.
Jared breathes out. Now that it’s confirmed he feels oddly calm about the whole thing.
“Ok,” he says. “I get that. And you weren’t wrong. I kinda did, you know, freak out, when I heard your message. Because I had no idea.”
Jensen nods, his shoulder slumping even further. He looks utterly defeated and hopeless. “I wasn’t gonna tell you. I just got so damn drunk. I’m sorry. It’s all my fucking fault.” He rubs his face tiredly. “So now what? Maybe we can, I don’t know, ask Kripke if he can send Dean on a solo road trip or something. Then you don’t have to…”
Jared blinks. “What are you on about?”
“Look, it’s ok. I get it. You’re freaked and this thing changes everything. I’ll talk to Eric and…”
“I’m not freaked.”
Jensen sighs. “Jare, you just told me you are. It’s ok. You’ve got every right…”
“Jen, shut up. I said I freaked out when I heard your message. That was like two days ago.” Jared waves his hand dismissively. “I’m over it. The freaking out part, I mean.”
“What?”
“I’m over it. No more freaking out. So you like me.” He shrugs. “That’s alright. Lots of people like me.”
“Erm… Jare. You do realize when I say ‘like you’ I mean…”
“You mean you wanna bend me over and fuck me. Yeah, I got that. I’m not stupid, you know.” Jared gets slowly to his feet. He still feels faintly dizzy and his head is throbbing. “Please don’t tell me you’ve been agonizing over this for two years, Jen.”
The one where they're friends, until they aren't. Jensen/Jared
Even during hiatus they can’t stay away from each other for long. They send each other text messages and leave drunken voicemails. Email links to goats on roller skates and show up unexpectedly with a sixpack and matching grins that would get away with anything.
Sandy rolls her eyes and calls them the two Stooges.
“I thought we were the Hardy boys,” Jared asks with a frown and Jensen falls into a fit of giggles, snorting “Hardy” and coughing sweet smoke out of his nostrils as Jared steals his joint.
The summer after season two ends they’re both so busy weeks go by without contact. Jared doesn’t sweat it. He has Sandy and his dogs and time flies faster than ever before.
When he lands in Vancouver he doesn’t even call Jensen for two days and when he finally does pick up his phone Jensen answers out of breath and trying to shush the giggles of a couple of girls in the background.
“You’re back,” he says and then, “Eight o’clock tomorrow morning, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Jared says and hangs up. He’s annoyed and he doesn’t even know why.
When the car picks him up the next morning he greets Jensen with a slap on the shoulder and a tired smile. Jensen grunts his reply, sips his coffee and before they know it they’re on set, settling back into things like always.
Except they aren’t.
Jared doesn’t even notice at first, he’s too wrapped up in this new development of Sam, trying to get into the mindset of a man on the brink of desperation. They work, like always, share a car and an occasional drink but the times spent in each other’s company for the fun of it are fewer and further between. Suddenly it’s been three weeks since they went out for a drink, two since Jared called Jensen and asked him over to watch the game. Jensen’s deadpan humor starts to irritate him, because seriously, it’s not all that funny and sometimes it’s just downright mean. And Jared’s attempts at lightening things up at set are more often met with a frown of annoyance than the soft smile of quiet amusement.
Jared imagines this must be what happens to married couples after a while. They get so used to each other they’re just… bored. The things that made the other endearing are just things now, ordinary and sometimes annoying.
As it is, when the writers go on strike, he’s almost relieved. He just needs to get away, to get some fresh air. Once they’ve given each other some space things are bound to get back to normal. They say goodbye without so much as a promise of keeping in touch and Jared watches Jensen board his airplane, the warmth of Jensen’s handshake - handshake for Christ’s sake! - still lingering on his palm.
“You’re breaking up,” Sandy says shocked when he mentions it, offhandedly as if it doesn’t matter at all.
“You make it sound like we’re a couple,” he says, annoyed. “We’re just friends. Colleagues.”
She just stares at him like he’s insane. “Jared, you and Jensen… You’re not just friends. What the hell happened?”
“I don’t know,” he answers and suddenly he feels unexplainably sad because she’s right, they weren’t just friends. They were best friends. They had the kind of friendship that some people long for all their lives. And now they… don’t. “I don’ know.”
That night he calls Jensen but it goes to voicemail and he doesn’t really know what he wanted to say anyway.
“What if the strike doesn’t end and they cancel the show?” Sandy asks.
“What if the strike doesn’t end and they cancel the show?” Jared asks back and it takes him a moment to realize they’re saying the complete opposite thing.
The one where Jared works at a daycare and Jensen is a scary dad. AU Jensen/Jared
He grumpily got up and padded barefoot to the bathroom, ignoring Chad who was sitting on the toilet, flipping through some skinny magazine while going about his business. Jared hoped it was limited to peeing.
“Mornin’,” he grumbled sleepily.
Chad jerked awake and frantically attacked him with the magazine. “Dude, I’m on the can! Get your gay ass out of here.”
“Fuck off, Chad. I’m late. I have to take a shower.”
He dropped his boxers, smirking at Chad’s horrified squeak, and then he turned on the water and stepped under it, not waiting until it turned warm. Better to wake him up anyway.
“We have rules, man! No naked bathroom sharing and no jerking off when…”
Jared tuned out Chad’s muttering while he lathered up his hair and then did a quick shower shave, hoping he wasn’t missing any obvious spots. He was just turning off the water when Chad’s rambling finally paused and then there came a bright whistle.
“Holy shit! Hey, isn’t this Sandy? Oh wow!”
“What?” Jared stuck his head out from behind the shower curtain, sweeping wet hair from his eyes. “Where?”
“Here,” Chad said gleefully and raised the magazine, unfolding the center. “Shit. Remind me why you broke up with her again?”
“Gay. G.A.Y. Ring a bell?” Jared growled, trying to grab the magazine. “Gimme that!”
“Nuhuh. Man, she was hot with her clothes on but this… Holy fuck.” Chad leered sordidly then yelped when Jared hauled him off the toilet and put him in a headlock, bare ass in the air. “Get off me! You’re fucking naked, asshole! And wet! Stop molesting me, you fucking pervert!”
“Give me the magazine or I’ll put your head down the damn toilet. Which… Yeurgh! What the hell did you eat yesterday?”
“Ok, ok! Take it!” Chad thrust the now wrinkled magazine at Jared and desperately tried to haul up his pants that were sliding down to the floor. “You’re a fucking asshole, Jared. Let me go!”
Jared let go off him with an evil laugh that died quickly when he finally got a decent look at the picture Chad had been ogling. Fuck. It was Sandy. More or less naked and spread out across the centerfold. His fingers left wet prints on the pages, somehow making the whole thing even more sordid. Shit.
It had been a year since they broke up but he still felt protective of her and the thought of thousands or even millions of dirty men like Chad jerking off to her picture... Dammit! And she hadn’t even told him. He felt ridiculously hurt.
“Can I have it back? Yo, Jarhead! I paid good money for that!”
“You stole it from your work,” Jared said absently, crumbling the magazine in his hand. “And no, you can’t have it back.”
“I’ll just steal another,” Chad bit back. “Dude, she’s not your girlfriend anymore. What do you care?”
“I care, ok? I… Fuck you, Chad. You wanna steal another, then fucking steal another. But don’t bring it here. I don’t want to see it.”
He violently ripped up the magazine and stormed into the small kitchen, thrusting the tattered pages into the trash. Slimy spaghetti and onions slid across Sandy’s naked ass, glowing unnaturally tanned on the glossy page, and he fought the urge to grab the bag and run with it out into the dumpster. Heaving for breath he looked up and found Mrs. Jenkins, their elderly neighbor, standing at her own kitchen window, watching him with wide eyes. Suddenly she grinned and gave him a little wave, one eye closing in a wink. He frowned. Wha-?
He looked down. He was completely naked and their window had no curtains.
Instead of giving into the urge to cover himself he smiled stiffly back and then turned around and stalked into the bedroom. What was one old lady seeing his dick (and now ass) compared to thousands of men ogling Sandy’s… everything?
Possible sequel to In a Mirror Distorted. Jensen/Jared
He’s on edge without really knowing why. Part of it is the idea of Jared being in therapy with him. It’s one thing talking to a stranger, it’s quite another gutting himself open with Jared watching.
It could also be the session this morning. She’d asked him about his father and after some initial resistance he’d found himself talking about stuff he never even realized bothered him before. Like the way his dad would put down his mom’s cooking or correct her grammar and how she just allowed him to do that, whether it was just the family present or even larger company. Or the time he’d overheard his father telling his mother that she had to stop coddling Jensen or ‘he’ll turn into a sissy boy’.
“And he was right, I did.”
“You really think so?” Dr Stevens had asked, letting the pen rest on her notebook as she gazed at him from behind her glasses.
“Oh sorry, what’s the politically correct term?” he’d answered with a sneer. “Masculinly challenged?”
“You feel being gay lessens your masculinity?”
He’d stiffened as he always does when she says the g-word. “Can we not talk about this?”
“You know, at some point we’ll have to. We might as well start now.”
He’d grimaced. “It’s just… It’s what people instantly think of, right? Some skinny guy in too tight jeans, waving his limp wrists and saying everything is fabulous in this really annoying high-pitched voice. Doesn’t get much girlier than that.”
“Huh,” she’d said with a small tilt of her head. “No girls I know.”
“You know what I mean. It’s… annoying.”
“The stereotyping or the stereotype?”
“Both. I mean, it’s annoying that that’s what people will think of if I ever… you know. Just because I’m…” He’d swallowed, gritting his teeth to get the word out, “...gay doesn’t mean I want to prance around singing I will survive. That’s not who I am.”
“You’re kind of contradicting yourself. You say being gay emasculates you but at the same time you think you’re too masculine to be how you think a gay person should be.”
“That’s…” He’d frowned. “Ok, so I’m stupid too.”
She’d shaken her head. “I think maybe you’re forgetting that stereotypes are just that, they’re not really representative of everyone they’re supposed to represent. Now, Jared’s not very ‘girly’, is he?”
Jensen had snorted. “He does wear pink a lot.”
“Apart from that,” she’d replied with a smile. “He’s very big and strong. Very masculine.”
“Yeah, but…”
“So you know being gay doesn’t mean being any less male. Yes, there are gay men who come across somewhat the way you described but it’s not a requirement. They are the way they are and you are the way you are. Neither is better or worse than the other, it’s just different personalities. We’re not trying to make you into what you think you should be like, gay or straight. We’re trying to make you come to terms with who you really are.”
“I know. I just don’t know who I am anymore.”
The one that may or may not be a remake of a Disney movie *blushes* AU Jensen/Jared
They seemed to run forever, bumping into people - Jared repeatedly apologizing, Chad yelling at them to get the fuck out of his way - slip-sliding against cars and skidding around corners. Just as Jared thought his lungs would burst Chad pulled him through a doorway and stopped. They stood heaving for breath, listening intently for anyone shouting for them, but everything was quiet.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” Chad gasped, and for once Jared was inclined to agree with him. “That was too fucking close.”
“No kidding.” Jared shook his head, feeling dizzy and his muscles like rubber as he tried to will his heart to slow down. “That old lady screamed like a banshee!”
They looked at each other and then burst out laughing.
“You sho-ould ha-ave seen yo-our face!” Chad hiccupped. “Ow, ow, stop it!” he imitated in a shrill voice. “Help, help! Grandma is kicking my ass!”
“Shut up!” Jared said and punched him, even if he couldn’t help laughing with. “That lady was mean! And her cane was made of some goddamn lead or something.”
“Whatever. Face it, you got your ass kicked by an eighty year old woman. Pussy.”
Jared punched him again for good measure and then risked a glance out of the doorway. He frowned. “Dude, where the hell are we?”
“What?” Chad came up behind him and then whistled. “Holy shit, talk about running into the frying pan.”
Jared was pretty sure that wasn’t how that saying went but he was too busy staring to correct him. They must have run a lot faster and longer than he’d thought because the neighborhood was hardly the one they were used to. For one thing, no one around their place had high fences around their houses with gates that seemed strong enough to hold back the invasion of Genghis Khan.
“Are we in the Hills?” he asked nervously. People in the Hills had security guards and watch dogs and even though most people in their street owned guns, he was pretty sure here they felt justified shooting guys like him and Chad, just for being there. “Chad, we gotta get out of here.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I know,” Chad answered but his voice said he wasn’t listening. “Dude, how much do you think we could get out of just one of these houses? Big-ass flat screen TVs, laptops, whatever the fuck we want.”
“Are you serious? Chad, we’ll be shot before we even cross the lawn!”
“Bet they have money just lying around,” Chad continued, ignoring him. Piles of money, just lying there.”
“Ok, that’s it. You’re losing it. C’mon.” Jared tried to pull Chad off the street where he had wandered in awe, obviously unaware of what a stupid target he was making himself. “Dude, drop it.”
“I’m just…” Chad mumbled dazedly but before he could go further there was a squeal of tires and when Jared looked around he saw a silver Porsche heading straight for them.
The one where Jensen is... different. AU Jensen/Jared
“Who’s that?” Jared asks Sandy one warm and stuffy Saturday in September when they’re getting ice cream at the stand in the park.
Sandy looks where he’s pointing (discreetly, because his mom taught him it’s not nice to point or stare or in any way make people feel self-conscious) at a small boy sitting under a tree, solemnly watching children play all around him. Her eyes widen and then she looks away, this odd expression on her face that Jared’s never seen before.
“That’s just Jensen,” she says but the strain in her voice and the tension riding her shoulders tells Jared there is no such thing as ‘just Jensen’.
“He’s in your class, right?” he asks and she nods reluctantly, nose slightly scrunched up as if she’d rather not think about that.
Jared glances at the boy, Jensen, again. He’s playing with the leaves on the ground, throwing them in the air and watching them twist and twirl in the warm autumn breeze. He’s got dirt blond hair and is wearing cut off jeans and a t-shirt. He looks lonely.
“He looks lonely,” Jared says hesitantly. “Maybe we should talk to him. Ask him if he wants to play.”
“No!”
He looks at her, startled. Her cheeks are flushed and she’s biting her lip as if she’s embarrassed but she’s still shaking her head.
“No one talks to Jensen,” she says. “He’s… weird.”
Jared blinks. “Weird? Weird how?”
“I don’t know,” she says and looks genuinely puzzled. “He just is. He makes everyone feel uncomfortable.”
That seems like a lousy reason for not talking to someone, Jared thinks.
Sandy sees the look on Jared’s face and her lips set in a thin stubborn line. “I’m not being mean to him. He just… He makes me feel weird inside. Like… seeing planes.” She looks away, lower lip trembling.
Oh.
She looks so sad Jared hastily offers her a lick of his ice cream and then bumps it into her nose, giving it a white topping. She yelps but then she’s laughing and everything is good again. They walk back to join Jared’s mom and little sister on the playground, smiling and bumping into each other playfully. When Jared finally looks over to the tree, a whole ice cream and three rides on the slide later, the boy is gone, leaving only twirling leaves in his wake.
Hope at least one of those sound intriguing.
The one about how Sam lost his virginity. Sam/Dean
He looked up at the house, not sure if he should feel awed or abhorred, then glanced over at Dean who was still checking his hair in the rearview mirror, tongue poking out between his lips.
“Maybe we shouldn’t…” he started but Dean shot him an annoyed look and he promptly shut his mouth. After all he was the one who’d asked to come with. He just hadn’t counted on the place looking like it was on the narc’s hotlist.
“It’s just a party, bro,” Dean said and gave himself a final grin in the mirror before putting it back at its right angle. “Chill.”
“Chill?” Sam quirked his eyebrow. “You T.J. Hooker now?”
“Shut up.” Dean reached into the glove apartment and pulled out a brown paper bag. “You wanna stay in the car, Sam? Then stay in the car. But don’t come whining to me that I never take you anywhere.”
“I didn’t mean…” Sam gritted his teeth. “I just… It looks pretty wild.”
“Dude, it’s a graduation party,” Dean said and rolled his eyes. “It’s supposed to be wild. Sex, drugs and rock ‘n roll, Sammy. That’s what it’s all about.” He paused. “Well, sex and rock ‘n roll, anyway. Stay away from the drugs or I’ll kick your scrawny ass. And no more than two beers ‘cos you’re driving home, bro.”
He started to get out of the car when Sam grabbed his jacket, feeling stupid but he just couldn’t go in there if…
“Dean?” Sam bit his lip, hating the way he was blushing. “You’re not gonna, you know, dump me for some girl, are you? I mean, once we get in there…”
Dean looked at him, his face unreadable at first but then he smirked and reached over to ruffle Sam’s hair. “Hey, c’mon. Would I do that to you?”
“I don’t know. I mean, we never said… And you used to…” Sam swallowed and looked away. “I don’t know.”
Dean sighed. “Sammy. Now I’ve got you. Alright? It’s just you.” Dean gave him a reassuring smile, then glanced around before tugging at Sam’s hair, pulling him in for a quick kiss. “Think of this as foreplay,” he whispered. “We’re just having a little fun and then we go home and I blow your brains out. Ok?”
The one where... Erm... I haven't decided yet. Sam/Dean
Sam, at the age of seventeen, shoots with a look of deep concentration and even deeper disdain on his face. Where once handling a gun was exciting, a way to be more like Dean, it’s now a necessity and a symbol of everything Sam hates about his life. That doesn’t mean he slackens because Samuel Winchester doesn't do anything half-ass and despite what Dean may say about that, he sort of admires Sam for it.
Dean will never admit to anyone, least of all himself, that he would have given anything for Sam not having to handle a gun at all. But Dean’s protection only reaches so far, especially when it comes to Dad.
The first time Dad put a gun in Sam’s small hand Dean wanted to snatch it from his fumbling fingers and throw it away. ‘Not him, no. Not this for Sammy. Please, dad, no.’ Instead he grinned and told Sam he was all big now.
“Seven years old, kiddo. About time you became useful,” he teased, digging his fingers into Sam’s shoulder as his arm started trembling from the weight of the gun.
The day Sam made his first kill Dean took him for a walk into the woods while Dad burned the body. He supported Sam as he threw up what little he had managed to eat that morning and then held him tight afterwards, using Sam’s sobs to mask his own hitched breathing. When they came back to the car John was sitting behind the wheel, eyes that moments before had been filled with pride now downcast. The boys climbed into the backseat together and after a moments silence Dad started the car and drove them back to the motel.
By his fifth kill Sam had stopped throwing up but Dean still feels nauseous.
The one where Sam has a secret and Dean doesn't have a clue. Sam/Dean
“Dean?”
Dean keeps his eyes on the TV a little longer before raising his head and giving Sam a patient look. Sam’s been hovering over him for the last hour…
No, scratch that. He’s been hovering for over a week now. Constantly watching Dean, seeming on the edge of saying something but always retreating at the last moment. Dean’s been tempted to ask him what’s up but he’s swallowed his curiosity and kept patiently silent.
At sixteen Sam’s not really the kind to keep quiet about anything, in fact he voices his opinion a little too often and way too loud in Dean’s opinion. So whatever this is it must be something important to Sam and to tell the truth Dean would rather put it off as long as he can. He’s not really feeling up to another round of Why Our Life Sucks or How John Has Failed Us As A Father. Seems those (rather one-sided) conversations always pop up whenever dad is away on a hunt and seeing as he just left that morning, that’s probably what Sam’s been waiting for.
Although, knowing Sam, it might be about dying whales and tree hugging or something equally boring.
“Can we talk? Like, can you turn that off? I mean… I kinda need to talk to you.”
Sam seems nervous, plucking at the nail on his thumb with his index finger and biting his lower lip. Dean cocks one eyebrow at him, but Sam refuses to elaborate, just presses his lips together and shifts his eyes to the TV and back again.
“Please?”
With a sigh Dean reaches over and turns the TV off before settling back on the bed, arms crossed. “Ok, it’s off. What?”
Sam shifts from one leg to another, the cant of his hips threatening to let the jeans slip down. He’s grown so much the last year, shooting up like a beanstalk, and he seems to feel awkward with his new height, constantly stooping to look smaller. Clothes are hard to find, pants that are long enough for his gangly legs could fit him twice around the waist and the sleeves on most of his shirts and sweaters stop a couple of inches from his wrists. Sam once told Dean he felt like he didn’t even fit into his own skin anymore.
Of course Dean was hard for sympathy, seeing as Sam had broken the unwritten rule of siblings and is now at least three inches taller than his older brother. That's just wrong, man!
“I…” Sam takes a step forward and then back again. “I kinda…” He stops.
Dean sighs. “Dude, sit down. You’re making me itch with all that shuffling around. Looks like you’ve got fleas in your pants.”
“Funny,” Sam scowls but he sits down on the other bed, giant hands dangling between his knees. He sits silent for a while and Dean’s just about to reach over and turn on the TV again, just to make a point, when Sam licks his lips and says, “I kinda need to tell you something.”
“Ok,” Dean says slowly. Please God, don’t let him have knocked some girl up. Is he even having sex yet? Sam may be a blabbermouth but when it comes to girls he never tells Dean anything. Which, to tell the truth, is kinda insulting, considering all the stories Dean’s told Sam of his own adventures. Repeatedly. “What is it?”
The one where Jensen confesses and Jared doesn't freak out. Much. Jensen/Jared
“Don’t lie to me, man.” Jared suddenly feels so very tired. “Not you. And not to me. That’s not who we are.”
Jensen bites his lip. His eyes flicker from the floor to the mirror and back again. “Then who are we?” he finally says. “What are we? I mean… if I say yes, I did mean what I said, it’s gonna fuck everything up. I can’t… Fuck, Jay, just forget it, ok?”
Jared swallows. “Who says it has to fuck everything up?”
The low laughter is anything but merry. “C’mon, man. Don’t act like you don’t care.”
“Care about what? That you’re gay?” Jared shakes his head angrily. “That why you didn’t tell me? Shit, Jen, who the hell do you think I am?”
“It’s not… ” Jensen closes his eyes, breathing in deeply before he opens them again, looking weary and defeated. “I know you’re not like that. I just… I’ve never told anyone, ok? And you… Jay, you’re my best friend, you know that.”
“Yeah, well, I thought I was,” Jared huffs. “Until I found out my best friend doesn’t even trust me enough to tell me he’s gay. How the hell is that supposed to make me feel?”
Jensen blushes. “I’m more like bi… I mean, I’ve had girlfriends. I like women. I’m not…”
“Dude, whatever.” Jared would roll his eyes if he wasn’t feeling so damn pissed off. “Gay, bi, it still doesn’t change the fact that you didn’t tell me, man.”
“I’m sorry, ok? I didn’t…” Jensen hesitates. “Look, I didn’t think you’d freak out about me liking guys. That wasn’t it.”
“What was it then?”
“I- I thought you’d freak out about me liking you,” Jensen says quietly.
Jared breathes out. Now that it’s confirmed he feels oddly calm about the whole thing.
“Ok,” he says. “I get that. And you weren’t wrong. I kinda did, you know, freak out, when I heard your message. Because I had no idea.”
Jensen nods, his shoulder slumping even further. He looks utterly defeated and hopeless. “I wasn’t gonna tell you. I just got so damn drunk. I’m sorry. It’s all my fucking fault.” He rubs his face tiredly. “So now what? Maybe we can, I don’t know, ask Kripke if he can send Dean on a solo road trip or something. Then you don’t have to…”
Jared blinks. “What are you on about?”
“Look, it’s ok. I get it. You’re freaked and this thing changes everything. I’ll talk to Eric and…”
“I’m not freaked.”
Jensen sighs. “Jare, you just told me you are. It’s ok. You’ve got every right…”
“Jen, shut up. I said I freaked out when I heard your message. That was like two days ago.” Jared waves his hand dismissively. “I’m over it. The freaking out part, I mean.”
“What?”
“I’m over it. No more freaking out. So you like me.” He shrugs. “That’s alright. Lots of people like me.”
“Erm… Jare. You do realize when I say ‘like you’ I mean…”
“You mean you wanna bend me over and fuck me. Yeah, I got that. I’m not stupid, you know.” Jared gets slowly to his feet. He still feels faintly dizzy and his head is throbbing. “Please don’t tell me you’ve been agonizing over this for two years, Jen.”
The one where they're friends, until they aren't. Jensen/Jared
Even during hiatus they can’t stay away from each other for long. They send each other text messages and leave drunken voicemails. Email links to goats on roller skates and show up unexpectedly with a sixpack and matching grins that would get away with anything.
Sandy rolls her eyes and calls them the two Stooges.
“I thought we were the Hardy boys,” Jared asks with a frown and Jensen falls into a fit of giggles, snorting “Hardy” and coughing sweet smoke out of his nostrils as Jared steals his joint.
The summer after season two ends they’re both so busy weeks go by without contact. Jared doesn’t sweat it. He has Sandy and his dogs and time flies faster than ever before.
When he lands in Vancouver he doesn’t even call Jensen for two days and when he finally does pick up his phone Jensen answers out of breath and trying to shush the giggles of a couple of girls in the background.
“You’re back,” he says and then, “Eight o’clock tomorrow morning, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Jared says and hangs up. He’s annoyed and he doesn’t even know why.
When the car picks him up the next morning he greets Jensen with a slap on the shoulder and a tired smile. Jensen grunts his reply, sips his coffee and before they know it they’re on set, settling back into things like always.
Except they aren’t.
Jared doesn’t even notice at first, he’s too wrapped up in this new development of Sam, trying to get into the mindset of a man on the brink of desperation. They work, like always, share a car and an occasional drink but the times spent in each other’s company for the fun of it are fewer and further between. Suddenly it’s been three weeks since they went out for a drink, two since Jared called Jensen and asked him over to watch the game. Jensen’s deadpan humor starts to irritate him, because seriously, it’s not all that funny and sometimes it’s just downright mean. And Jared’s attempts at lightening things up at set are more often met with a frown of annoyance than the soft smile of quiet amusement.
Jared imagines this must be what happens to married couples after a while. They get so used to each other they’re just… bored. The things that made the other endearing are just things now, ordinary and sometimes annoying.
As it is, when the writers go on strike, he’s almost relieved. He just needs to get away, to get some fresh air. Once they’ve given each other some space things are bound to get back to normal. They say goodbye without so much as a promise of keeping in touch and Jared watches Jensen board his airplane, the warmth of Jensen’s handshake - handshake for Christ’s sake! - still lingering on his palm.
“You’re breaking up,” Sandy says shocked when he mentions it, offhandedly as if it doesn’t matter at all.
“You make it sound like we’re a couple,” he says, annoyed. “We’re just friends. Colleagues.”
She just stares at him like he’s insane. “Jared, you and Jensen… You’re not just friends. What the hell happened?”
“I don’t know,” he answers and suddenly he feels unexplainably sad because she’s right, they weren’t just friends. They were best friends. They had the kind of friendship that some people long for all their lives. And now they… don’t. “I don’ know.”
That night he calls Jensen but it goes to voicemail and he doesn’t really know what he wanted to say anyway.
“What if the strike doesn’t end and they cancel the show?” Sandy asks.
“What if the strike doesn’t end and they cancel the show?” Jared asks back and it takes him a moment to realize they’re saying the complete opposite thing.
The one where Jared works at a daycare and Jensen is a scary dad. AU Jensen/Jared
He grumpily got up and padded barefoot to the bathroom, ignoring Chad who was sitting on the toilet, flipping through some skinny magazine while going about his business. Jared hoped it was limited to peeing.
“Mornin’,” he grumbled sleepily.
Chad jerked awake and frantically attacked him with the magazine. “Dude, I’m on the can! Get your gay ass out of here.”
“Fuck off, Chad. I’m late. I have to take a shower.”
He dropped his boxers, smirking at Chad’s horrified squeak, and then he turned on the water and stepped under it, not waiting until it turned warm. Better to wake him up anyway.
“We have rules, man! No naked bathroom sharing and no jerking off when…”
Jared tuned out Chad’s muttering while he lathered up his hair and then did a quick shower shave, hoping he wasn’t missing any obvious spots. He was just turning off the water when Chad’s rambling finally paused and then there came a bright whistle.
“Holy shit! Hey, isn’t this Sandy? Oh wow!”
“What?” Jared stuck his head out from behind the shower curtain, sweeping wet hair from his eyes. “Where?”
“Here,” Chad said gleefully and raised the magazine, unfolding the center. “Shit. Remind me why you broke up with her again?”
“Gay. G.A.Y. Ring a bell?” Jared growled, trying to grab the magazine. “Gimme that!”
“Nuhuh. Man, she was hot with her clothes on but this… Holy fuck.” Chad leered sordidly then yelped when Jared hauled him off the toilet and put him in a headlock, bare ass in the air. “Get off me! You’re fucking naked, asshole! And wet! Stop molesting me, you fucking pervert!”
“Give me the magazine or I’ll put your head down the damn toilet. Which… Yeurgh! What the hell did you eat yesterday?”
“Ok, ok! Take it!” Chad thrust the now wrinkled magazine at Jared and desperately tried to haul up his pants that were sliding down to the floor. “You’re a fucking asshole, Jared. Let me go!”
Jared let go off him with an evil laugh that died quickly when he finally got a decent look at the picture Chad had been ogling. Fuck. It was Sandy. More or less naked and spread out across the centerfold. His fingers left wet prints on the pages, somehow making the whole thing even more sordid. Shit.
It had been a year since they broke up but he still felt protective of her and the thought of thousands or even millions of dirty men like Chad jerking off to her picture... Dammit! And she hadn’t even told him. He felt ridiculously hurt.
“Can I have it back? Yo, Jarhead! I paid good money for that!”
“You stole it from your work,” Jared said absently, crumbling the magazine in his hand. “And no, you can’t have it back.”
“I’ll just steal another,” Chad bit back. “Dude, she’s not your girlfriend anymore. What do you care?”
“I care, ok? I… Fuck you, Chad. You wanna steal another, then fucking steal another. But don’t bring it here. I don’t want to see it.”
He violently ripped up the magazine and stormed into the small kitchen, thrusting the tattered pages into the trash. Slimy spaghetti and onions slid across Sandy’s naked ass, glowing unnaturally tanned on the glossy page, and he fought the urge to grab the bag and run with it out into the dumpster. Heaving for breath he looked up and found Mrs. Jenkins, their elderly neighbor, standing at her own kitchen window, watching him with wide eyes. Suddenly she grinned and gave him a little wave, one eye closing in a wink. He frowned. Wha-?
He looked down. He was completely naked and their window had no curtains.
Instead of giving into the urge to cover himself he smiled stiffly back and then turned around and stalked into the bedroom. What was one old lady seeing his dick (and now ass) compared to thousands of men ogling Sandy’s… everything?
Possible sequel to In a Mirror Distorted. Jensen/Jared
He’s on edge without really knowing why. Part of it is the idea of Jared being in therapy with him. It’s one thing talking to a stranger, it’s quite another gutting himself open with Jared watching.
It could also be the session this morning. She’d asked him about his father and after some initial resistance he’d found himself talking about stuff he never even realized bothered him before. Like the way his dad would put down his mom’s cooking or correct her grammar and how she just allowed him to do that, whether it was just the family present or even larger company. Or the time he’d overheard his father telling his mother that she had to stop coddling Jensen or ‘he’ll turn into a sissy boy’.
“And he was right, I did.”
“You really think so?” Dr Stevens had asked, letting the pen rest on her notebook as she gazed at him from behind her glasses.
“Oh sorry, what’s the politically correct term?” he’d answered with a sneer. “Masculinly challenged?”
“You feel being gay lessens your masculinity?”
He’d stiffened as he always does when she says the g-word. “Can we not talk about this?”
“You know, at some point we’ll have to. We might as well start now.”
He’d grimaced. “It’s just… It’s what people instantly think of, right? Some skinny guy in too tight jeans, waving his limp wrists and saying everything is fabulous in this really annoying high-pitched voice. Doesn’t get much girlier than that.”
“Huh,” she’d said with a small tilt of her head. “No girls I know.”
“You know what I mean. It’s… annoying.”
“The stereotyping or the stereotype?”
“Both. I mean, it’s annoying that that’s what people will think of if I ever… you know. Just because I’m…” He’d swallowed, gritting his teeth to get the word out, “...gay doesn’t mean I want to prance around singing I will survive. That’s not who I am.”
“You’re kind of contradicting yourself. You say being gay emasculates you but at the same time you think you’re too masculine to be how you think a gay person should be.”
“That’s…” He’d frowned. “Ok, so I’m stupid too.”
She’d shaken her head. “I think maybe you’re forgetting that stereotypes are just that, they’re not really representative of everyone they’re supposed to represent. Now, Jared’s not very ‘girly’, is he?”
Jensen had snorted. “He does wear pink a lot.”
“Apart from that,” she’d replied with a smile. “He’s very big and strong. Very masculine.”
“Yeah, but…”
“So you know being gay doesn’t mean being any less male. Yes, there are gay men who come across somewhat the way you described but it’s not a requirement. They are the way they are and you are the way you are. Neither is better or worse than the other, it’s just different personalities. We’re not trying to make you into what you think you should be like, gay or straight. We’re trying to make you come to terms with who you really are.”
“I know. I just don’t know who I am anymore.”
The one that may or may not be a remake of a Disney movie *blushes* AU Jensen/Jared
They seemed to run forever, bumping into people - Jared repeatedly apologizing, Chad yelling at them to get the fuck out of his way - slip-sliding against cars and skidding around corners. Just as Jared thought his lungs would burst Chad pulled him through a doorway and stopped. They stood heaving for breath, listening intently for anyone shouting for them, but everything was quiet.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” Chad gasped, and for once Jared was inclined to agree with him. “That was too fucking close.”
“No kidding.” Jared shook his head, feeling dizzy and his muscles like rubber as he tried to will his heart to slow down. “That old lady screamed like a banshee!”
They looked at each other and then burst out laughing.
“You sho-ould ha-ave seen yo-our face!” Chad hiccupped. “Ow, ow, stop it!” he imitated in a shrill voice. “Help, help! Grandma is kicking my ass!”
“Shut up!” Jared said and punched him, even if he couldn’t help laughing with. “That lady was mean! And her cane was made of some goddamn lead or something.”
“Whatever. Face it, you got your ass kicked by an eighty year old woman. Pussy.”
Jared punched him again for good measure and then risked a glance out of the doorway. He frowned. “Dude, where the hell are we?”
“What?” Chad came up behind him and then whistled. “Holy shit, talk about running into the frying pan.”
Jared was pretty sure that wasn’t how that saying went but he was too busy staring to correct him. They must have run a lot faster and longer than he’d thought because the neighborhood was hardly the one they were used to. For one thing, no one around their place had high fences around their houses with gates that seemed strong enough to hold back the invasion of Genghis Khan.
“Are we in the Hills?” he asked nervously. People in the Hills had security guards and watch dogs and even though most people in their street owned guns, he was pretty sure here they felt justified shooting guys like him and Chad, just for being there. “Chad, we gotta get out of here.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I know,” Chad answered but his voice said he wasn’t listening. “Dude, how much do you think we could get out of just one of these houses? Big-ass flat screen TVs, laptops, whatever the fuck we want.”
“Are you serious? Chad, we’ll be shot before we even cross the lawn!”
“Bet they have money just lying around,” Chad continued, ignoring him. Piles of money, just lying there.”
“Ok, that’s it. You’re losing it. C’mon.” Jared tried to pull Chad off the street where he had wandered in awe, obviously unaware of what a stupid target he was making himself. “Dude, drop it.”
“I’m just…” Chad mumbled dazedly but before he could go further there was a squeal of tires and when Jared looked around he saw a silver Porsche heading straight for them.
The one where Jensen is... different. AU Jensen/Jared
“Who’s that?” Jared asks Sandy one warm and stuffy Saturday in September when they’re getting ice cream at the stand in the park.
Sandy looks where he’s pointing (discreetly, because his mom taught him it’s not nice to point or stare or in any way make people feel self-conscious) at a small boy sitting under a tree, solemnly watching children play all around him. Her eyes widen and then she looks away, this odd expression on her face that Jared’s never seen before.
“That’s just Jensen,” she says but the strain in her voice and the tension riding her shoulders tells Jared there is no such thing as ‘just Jensen’.
“He’s in your class, right?” he asks and she nods reluctantly, nose slightly scrunched up as if she’d rather not think about that.
Jared glances at the boy, Jensen, again. He’s playing with the leaves on the ground, throwing them in the air and watching them twist and twirl in the warm autumn breeze. He’s got dirt blond hair and is wearing cut off jeans and a t-shirt. He looks lonely.
“He looks lonely,” Jared says hesitantly. “Maybe we should talk to him. Ask him if he wants to play.”
“No!”
He looks at her, startled. Her cheeks are flushed and she’s biting her lip as if she’s embarrassed but she’s still shaking her head.
“No one talks to Jensen,” she says. “He’s… weird.”
Jared blinks. “Weird? Weird how?”
“I don’t know,” she says and looks genuinely puzzled. “He just is. He makes everyone feel uncomfortable.”
That seems like a lousy reason for not talking to someone, Jared thinks.
Sandy sees the look on Jared’s face and her lips set in a thin stubborn line. “I’m not being mean to him. He just… He makes me feel weird inside. Like… seeing planes.” She looks away, lower lip trembling.
Oh.
She looks so sad Jared hastily offers her a lick of his ice cream and then bumps it into her nose, giving it a white topping. She yelps but then she’s laughing and everything is good again. They walk back to join Jared’s mom and little sister on the playground, smiling and bumping into each other playfully. When Jared finally looks over to the tree, a whole ice cream and three rides on the slide later, the boy is gone, leaving only twirling leaves in his wake.
Hope at least one of those sound intriguing.