hymns, j2, R.
Title: Hymns.
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: R.
A.N: Angst, for the ‘random songs and drabbles to match’ meme. They all tie in together, though not necessarily in this order.
Notion - Kings of Leon.
Jensen says, let’s get food, as if that will fix it; Jared adds and a beer, knowing that it won’t. Jensen darts straight through to the smoking section, without asking; cigarettes out before he’s even sat down. Jared doesn’t sit at all, just folds his arms and waits.
“Alright, I’ll bite,” Jensen says, muffled, smoke lit and wedged between his lips. “What?”
“I just don’t want to sit there. You know. Nobody puts baby in a corner.”
“Jesus. You’re such a dick.”
Jared smiles and it looks like an open wound. “Is that why you asked me to come here?”
“Is that what’s it’s gonna take for you to sit down? You need collateral?”
“It’s a start.”
“Fine, man. That’s …” Jensen flicks the ash off his smoke, pausing before he looks up. “I want to come home.”
Kryptonite - Three Doors Down.
They fuck like they’re running. Jensen loses his breath before his back hits the mattress; his knees jar and his muscles ache and yeah, Jesus, right there. It’s good. Jared’s go, go, go, everywhere, the same under the sheets as he is on set; come on Jensen, keep up, harder, stronger, faster.
Jensen can hear himself, “Jared,” a distant, desperate voice he doesn’t know. Jared says, “I’ve got you,” and it’s the only truth there is. His hands claw at Jensen, mouth open and teeth catching, and he thrusts in, right in, takes. Jensen’s unwound beneath Jared, letting Jared; offering himself up like a prize, a banquet.
“Please, please, please,” Jensen’s saying, fingers curled and eyes open.
“This okay, you’re okay?”
“Please,” because if he’s not okay it doesn’t matter.
This is it.
Sultans of Swing - Dire Straits.
As Jensen falls asleep, and while Steve fiddles with his guitar, Chris tries to wrestle Jared to the ground. Tries and tries again, attempts a bull run, but Jared pushes him away. The night had been uptight, awkward, so they threw some booze on it just to watch it explode.
“Dude, fuck off. You don’t want to fight me.”
Chris jerks his head and stretches out his arms. “It looks to me that’s exactly what I wanna do, boy.”
“I can hurt you, you know? You get that, right?”
“Throw your weight around, Andre. I’m agile.”
“You’re insane.”
“Hey.” Chris straightens up. He’s stopped playing. “You asked for this.”
“I asked for what, The Battle of Bywater? I didn’t do anything.”
“You made promises I don’t think you can keep.” Jared’s eyes stutter on Chris, but, but, and he looks over at Jensen. But. “You better be willing to fight.”
Black Betty - Ram Jam.
In the bedroom there’s a suitcase on the bed, Jensen throwing his clothes in, hurried. The front door slams, reverbs in his bones, and Jared’s there. Quick, hot and angry. A slap in the face. Jared doesn’t get past the threshold, or can’t bear to, and Jensen doesn’t stop moving.
“You’re doing this? You’re really doing this?”
“I can’t stay here. I can’t do this. It’s fucking crazy, we’re crazy.”
“Jesus, Jensen. Who started it? Who said ‘I want you’ over a goddamn cup of coffee?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Jared’s there in one quick stride, pushing Jensen, watching as Jensen’s knee buckles against the bed. Firm. “Bull shit,” he spits. “You convinced me. You showed me what I was missing, what it was worth. You don’t get the upper hand here.”
“The upper - ”Jensen scowls, as if he’s repulsed, ashamed. “They know, Jared. They all know and they’re going to write about it and talk about it and laugh about it. They’re going to treat us like we’re jesters and then they’re going to say, but hey, they get paid, what do they expect? Don’t - there is no upper hand.”
“There’s us,” Jared says, and it’s quiet but it’s proud. “That’s all that matters.”
“No, it’s not. You’re being - ” he could say childish. He might mean stupid. “There’s our families, and our futures.”
“You’re such a fucking coward,” Jared says, because all those things, they can work it out. Jared without Jensen without Jared: there’s only one way to fix that.
Jensen tells him, “I’m sorry,” and takes his suitcase when he leaves.
California - Phantom Planet.
Jared has his seat back, his aviators on and his eyes closed. They’re supposed to switch over, soon, twenty miles, but Jensen will wait. He turns the music down, the AC up, settles in to watch the sun melt into the horizon.
“You look - ” Jared says, and Jensen shouts, almost hits the roof.
“Fuck,” he protests, but Jared has deaf ears and a too loud laugh. “Idiot. I thought you were asleep.”
“I was gonna say you look good,” Jared admits once he’s stopped laughing. He sits up, a lazy hand out to grip Jensen’s knee. “Relaxed.”
“I’m high,” Jensen says, off hand, rubbing his eyes with dull knuckles.
“You want to pull over? I’ll drive.”
Jensen just nods, finds the quickest route off the highway and stumbles out. Onto his last legs. They meet half way, around the front of the car, Jared stopping and stopping Jensen. He runs fingers through Jensen’s hair, coerces Jensen’s head onto his shoulder and holds him. Takes a deep breath of Jensen’s skin.
“We should stop somewhere tonight. Get a room.”
“Okay,” Jensen says, tired hands clutching the hem of Jared’s tee.
Jared chuckles. “Kiss me.”
“Okay.”
Blue Moon - Ella Fitzgerald.
The house is splashed with grey, and cut with black, but they don’t bother turning a light on. They stroll right through to the kitchen, just the jangle of Jared’s keys and the heavy, nervous clomp of Jensen’s footsteps. They stop [been on pause since Jensen walked out; door closed and end scene].
Jensen says, “It’s the same,” and coughs and scratches his head. “The house, it looks …”
“It is. Everything is exactly the same.”
“I know, Jared.”
“You better,” and he looks up with a sadness Jensen can’t bear. “You better know, Jensen, you better be sure. I can’t watch you walk out on me again… I won’t.”
Jensen walks over, rewinds and starts again.
-end-
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: R.
A.N: Angst, for the ‘random songs and drabbles to match’ meme. They all tie in together, though not necessarily in this order.
Notion - Kings of Leon.
Jensen says, let’s get food, as if that will fix it; Jared adds and a beer, knowing that it won’t. Jensen darts straight through to the smoking section, without asking; cigarettes out before he’s even sat down. Jared doesn’t sit at all, just folds his arms and waits.
“Alright, I’ll bite,” Jensen says, muffled, smoke lit and wedged between his lips. “What?”
“I just don’t want to sit there. You know. Nobody puts baby in a corner.”
“Jesus. You’re such a dick.”
Jared smiles and it looks like an open wound. “Is that why you asked me to come here?”
“Is that what’s it’s gonna take for you to sit down? You need collateral?”
“It’s a start.”
“Fine, man. That’s …” Jensen flicks the ash off his smoke, pausing before he looks up. “I want to come home.”
Kryptonite - Three Doors Down.
They fuck like they’re running. Jensen loses his breath before his back hits the mattress; his knees jar and his muscles ache and yeah, Jesus, right there. It’s good. Jared’s go, go, go, everywhere, the same under the sheets as he is on set; come on Jensen, keep up, harder, stronger, faster.
Jensen can hear himself, “Jared,” a distant, desperate voice he doesn’t know. Jared says, “I’ve got you,” and it’s the only truth there is. His hands claw at Jensen, mouth open and teeth catching, and he thrusts in, right in, takes. Jensen’s unwound beneath Jared, letting Jared; offering himself up like a prize, a banquet.
“Please, please, please,” Jensen’s saying, fingers curled and eyes open.
“This okay, you’re okay?”
“Please,” because if he’s not okay it doesn’t matter.
This is it.
Sultans of Swing - Dire Straits.
As Jensen falls asleep, and while Steve fiddles with his guitar, Chris tries to wrestle Jared to the ground. Tries and tries again, attempts a bull run, but Jared pushes him away. The night had been uptight, awkward, so they threw some booze on it just to watch it explode.
“Dude, fuck off. You don’t want to fight me.”
Chris jerks his head and stretches out his arms. “It looks to me that’s exactly what I wanna do, boy.”
“I can hurt you, you know? You get that, right?”
“Throw your weight around, Andre. I’m agile.”
“You’re insane.”
“Hey.” Chris straightens up. He’s stopped playing. “You asked for this.”
“I asked for what, The Battle of Bywater? I didn’t do anything.”
“You made promises I don’t think you can keep.” Jared’s eyes stutter on Chris, but, but, and he looks over at Jensen. But. “You better be willing to fight.”
Black Betty - Ram Jam.
In the bedroom there’s a suitcase on the bed, Jensen throwing his clothes in, hurried. The front door slams, reverbs in his bones, and Jared’s there. Quick, hot and angry. A slap in the face. Jared doesn’t get past the threshold, or can’t bear to, and Jensen doesn’t stop moving.
“You’re doing this? You’re really doing this?”
“I can’t stay here. I can’t do this. It’s fucking crazy, we’re crazy.”
“Jesus, Jensen. Who started it? Who said ‘I want you’ over a goddamn cup of coffee?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Jared’s there in one quick stride, pushing Jensen, watching as Jensen’s knee buckles against the bed. Firm. “Bull shit,” he spits. “You convinced me. You showed me what I was missing, what it was worth. You don’t get the upper hand here.”
“The upper - ”Jensen scowls, as if he’s repulsed, ashamed. “They know, Jared. They all know and they’re going to write about it and talk about it and laugh about it. They’re going to treat us like we’re jesters and then they’re going to say, but hey, they get paid, what do they expect? Don’t - there is no upper hand.”
“There’s us,” Jared says, and it’s quiet but it’s proud. “That’s all that matters.”
“No, it’s not. You’re being - ” he could say childish. He might mean stupid. “There’s our families, and our futures.”
“You’re such a fucking coward,” Jared says, because all those things, they can work it out. Jared without Jensen without Jared: there’s only one way to fix that.
Jensen tells him, “I’m sorry,” and takes his suitcase when he leaves.
California - Phantom Planet.
Jared has his seat back, his aviators on and his eyes closed. They’re supposed to switch over, soon, twenty miles, but Jensen will wait. He turns the music down, the AC up, settles in to watch the sun melt into the horizon.
“You look - ” Jared says, and Jensen shouts, almost hits the roof.
“Fuck,” he protests, but Jared has deaf ears and a too loud laugh. “Idiot. I thought you were asleep.”
“I was gonna say you look good,” Jared admits once he’s stopped laughing. He sits up, a lazy hand out to grip Jensen’s knee. “Relaxed.”
“I’m high,” Jensen says, off hand, rubbing his eyes with dull knuckles.
“You want to pull over? I’ll drive.”
Jensen just nods, finds the quickest route off the highway and stumbles out. Onto his last legs. They meet half way, around the front of the car, Jared stopping and stopping Jensen. He runs fingers through Jensen’s hair, coerces Jensen’s head onto his shoulder and holds him. Takes a deep breath of Jensen’s skin.
“We should stop somewhere tonight. Get a room.”
“Okay,” Jensen says, tired hands clutching the hem of Jared’s tee.
Jared chuckles. “Kiss me.”
“Okay.”
Blue Moon - Ella Fitzgerald.
The house is splashed with grey, and cut with black, but they don’t bother turning a light on. They stroll right through to the kitchen, just the jangle of Jared’s keys and the heavy, nervous clomp of Jensen’s footsteps. They stop [been on pause since Jensen walked out; door closed and end scene].
Jensen says, “It’s the same,” and coughs and scratches his head. “The house, it looks …”
“It is. Everything is exactly the same.”
“I know, Jared.”
“You better,” and he looks up with a sadness Jensen can’t bear. “You better know, Jensen, you better be sure. I can’t watch you walk out on me again… I won’t.”
Jensen walks over, rewinds and starts again.
-end-