Wish It Were Just Clowns...
Fandom: Supernatural RPS
Characters: Jensen/Jared
Prompt: Childhood fears
Wordcount: 2,190
Disclaimer: F.I.C.T.I.O.N.
Beta: agent_jl36
Prompt Table # 1
Theme: Kiss
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Jensen's standing in the back of the room, hidden from the crowd by the crowd itself, leaning against the wall and sipping on his coffee, and remaining in the dark. He knows that Jared can barely see him, probably can’t at all, because there's too much light and too many people, and everything masked by strange shadows, but he knows that Jared knows he's there, because Jensen promised he would be.
Jared is a clown, Jensen thinks as he watches him on the stage, goofy and funny, rocking the crowd and flashing smiles in every direction, charisma sparkling. Then he realizes that is completely wrong, because clowns are creepy, violent and just horrible, and scare the livin' crap out of him. Jared doesn't. Jared is none of that. Jared is sweet, charming, witty and unbelievably sexy.
Jensen follows the miles-long legs crossing the stage with his eyes, from left to right, and from right to left, occasionally pausing in the middle when Jared sits down on the chair, only to stand up again five seconds later, unable to stay still for a moment. An addictive mixture of dark floppy hair and pearly white teeth, defined, taut muscles and golden skin, and blinding smiles. And just when it seems that Jared's done being ridiculously cute, he plonks himself down right onto the stage, legs curled underneath him, the white lines of his sneakers casting light from the otherwise dark place. Jensen smiles, shaking his head in amusement, drawn to Jared and his one-man show like all the fans sitting and standing in front of him, pulled in by the energy and the positive vibes he oozes. And still there's something, just a flicker, so easily missed, something insecure, that wavers in Jared's eyes every now and then, making Jensen's breath almost hitch with worries.
He's known Jared for six years. Six seasons that feel like eons and just a blink of an eye simultaneously and has been in love with him for the exact same time, dating him for the last four. He knows, well enough, every side of his personality, knows his strong points and his weaknesses, but it still amazes him how someone as tall and strong as Jared, so muscular and generally huge, can look so fragile sometimes, so vulnerable. It scares him, for some reason. And more than he'd like to admit.
Jared says something especially funny, makes a strange model-like pose, hip cocked and a super silly smirk on his face, and the whole room explodes, walls vibrating and speakers spitting, and Jensen grins, his heart swelling with pride. But the feeling changes before he knows, fast, like a dark, heavy cloud overshadowing the sun, darkness and cold taking its place, and Jensen panics, his smile turning into a twisted, bitter grimace. He makes a vague gesture towards the stage, hopes that Jared can really see him this time and understands, watches Jensen leave with an apologetic wave of his hand, and gathers his security guide, fleeing out into the corridor. Jared's smooth voice and the explosions of laughter that follow every one of his words ushering him out.
Jensen thinks that it all started when Leon died. Jensen was five then, Leon only four. He was a gift for his first birthday, a Bernese Mountain puppy, Jensen's personal taxi and crutches to keep him upright when he started to run, faster and faster, quicker than his legs really managed. Leon was a rock, and a safe place for landing. But Leon was also sick, seriously but unobtrusively, and no one knew until it was too late. He was a living teddy bear, Jensen's shadow and guard, always there to make him smile, to lick away his tears when he fell and scratched his knees, when the world fell upon him, betraying. Until, one day he wasn't. And then never again.
They told him that Leon was ill and in pain, but not anymore. He's in heaven, because all dogs go to heaven, and nothing hurts him anymore. But that he's still watching over Jensen. Jensen didn't like it. His version, for many years, was that God took him because he was jealous. Because Leon was the best dog ever born and God wanted him for Himself.
It was Jensen's first meeting with death, the first recognition that nothing and no one is immortal, that anything and anyone can be here today and gone come morning light, and it was scary. He spent days crying, then he started to have nightmares. Dark and haunting. There were no winged people with red eyes, no yellow faces with fangs, no white figures levitating in the air, no monsters hiding beneath his bed or in the closet. Just one thing. A reaper. A voiceless skeleton in a long black hood with a scythe, entering their house at night and walking through the rooms and floors, taking his mom and his daddy, his brother lying in the bed at the other end of the room, his little sister sleeping in the nursery. Never Jensen. Jensen was always left there, alone, scared to death, but never dying.
Only much later Jensen found out, read in some psychological book, that people don't die in their own dreams. For some reason, they just can't. They always wake up right before. It didn't make him feel any better.
Every night he woke up screaming at the top of his lungs, sweaty and trembling, calling his mom and dad and Josh and their cat Lune who always slept outside and never came, everyone who as much as grazed his confused mind.
They were nightmares, but they weren't limited for nights only. Sometimes it jumped on him during the day, when he was sitting in school, counting decimal arithmetic or writing an essay, the sudden, compressing feeling of loss and wrong.
Daylight made fighting with it easier, somehow. But day could last only so long. Jensen started to fear the moment the sun went down and the time for bed arrived. It wasn’t just bad, scary dreams, but bad thoughts, too. He couldn't stop thinking about what would happen if his daddy died, his mom. And how. Who would take care of Mackenzie, who was still too small, if Josh got taken away from him, too? Who would take care of Jensen? Who, or what would fill the space, the dark holes they would leave behind? The darkness. He couldn't sleep and he didn't want to. What he wanted was to be thirteen, seventeen, twenty, thirty... and get rid of those dreams and feelings. He was sure they would go away, eventually.
They didn't. They just got pushed away by life, outclassed by everyday problems and the organized chaos that was his life. They were still there though, lurking in the dark, waiting, gathering strength. The rarer their visits became, the more powerful they were. Still able to bring Jensen to his knees and fill his eyes with unwanted tears.
Which is what's happening now. Jensen's shaking like a leaf, hot one second, freezing cold the next, rivulets of sweat run down his back and soak through his T-shirt, his palms are sweaty and clumsy as he tries to undo the buckle on his belt, the first button on his jeans, pull the zipper down. He's not really sure how he managed to get rid of his security guy, doesn't remember what he told him to make him go away, can't recall what the man said in return, everything is sort of hazy and lost in darkness, but, at last, he's alone. He doesn't want to be alone, that never works, but neither being surrounded by hundreds of screaming fans.
Jensen presses his forehead against the cold tiles of the shower, letting the steaming water fall and pelt against his skin, the noise deafening and calming at once, letting the vapor cloud his vision. He closes his eyes and turns his face towards the stream, then slides down the wall, hanging his head.
When Jared walks in, fifteen or twenty-five, maybe a thousand minutes later, Jensen's standing at the window, fingers wrapped around a cup of burning hot coffee, watching as the dark liquid shakes, little earthquake-like vibrations drawing circles on the surface. Jared bursts in like a commando, bouncing with energy and shining like sun, and although Jensen still feels like shit, his cheeks are still damp with tears, he realizes that he can suddenly breathe a little easier.
“Hey,” Jared says as he drops his bones on the closest chair with a heavy sigh. “I saw you disappear, did something happen? Jen... are you okay?”
“I'm fine,” Jensen replies without looking up at Jared, finding his voice low and rough, like his throat was scratched with a sand paper.
Jared's not deaf though, nor stupid. “No, you're not.”
“I am,” Jensen insists as he looks up, meeting Jared's warm, worried gaze. “Now.”
“What is it?”
Jensen shakes his head, but Jared stares at him, and keeps on staring, waiting for an answer. Eventually, Jensen sighs and sets his coffee onto the window pane, taking a step forward. “You're-- You're okay. Right?” he asks.
“Me?” Jared chuckles, confused. “You're the one, who--” He pauses then, realizes and remembers, and his face solemnizes. “Oh.” He reaches out with both hands, urging Jensen closer and pulling him into his arms the second Jensen steps in between his spread thighs. “Jensen.”
He knows and he understands, though it hasn't always been that easy. Try explaining to your new friend and soon-to-be lover that you, still at the age of twenty-six, have nightmares. That you have sudden panics of anxiety, random and unexpected, when you're just sure the world is about to fall apart in your hands, because your mind is shattering with fear. Jared's used to them, now, he knows what to do and what not, like having sex, fast and rough and bruising, as Jensen begged him so many times, needing to feel the rush, the pain, the proof of life beating through both of their bodies. Instead, Jared is gentle and careful, patient, acting like he's approaching a scared dog. Jensen hates it, he does, but he can’t help being ridiculously thankful at the same time.
Jensen presses his lips against the top of Jared's head, kissing the soft, dark strands of his hair that tickle his face, and breathes in the well known mixture of sweat and Jared's citrus shampoo. “I love you, I can't lose you.”
Jared's voice is muffled with the shirt Jensen's wearing, his forehead rests somewhere between Jensen's ribs. “You won't. I'm here. I'm okay.”
“You can't promise tomorrow.”
“No... But I can give you today. And tonight.”
“This is so stupid,” Jensen sighs, shaking his head at himself. “I'm... so sorry.”
“No, hey... don't say that.” Jared pushes Jensen off himself gently, forcing him to meet his eyes. His fingers circle Jensen's elbows, keeping him just where he is and holding tight, giving him the certain sense of stability he needs. “It's not stupid. You know better than me that this is something you cannot control. And, look, you were scared when you were just a kid and they could tell you anything, tell you lies to make you sleep better. How are you supposed not to be scared now, when you know how life goes and how fragile everything is? You're entitled to be scared. And you're entitled to be more scared now than back then.”
New tears fill Jensen's eyes, prickling and threatening to spill, and he bites his lip, trying to hold onto the little remnants of dignity he has. “How come you're so smart?”
Jared smirks, “I... have my moments. And hey, you have my shirt.” He tugs at the hem of the plaid shirt Jensen's wearing, Jared's shirt that Jensen grabbed the second he left the shower, on purpose, reaching for a piece of Jared's clothing, as he always does. It gives him some kind of, maybe naïve, sense of stability and safety.
“Yeah, I... Yeah.”
“Does it help?”
“A little... I think. Yeah... It smells like you. I can feel you there. And it's soft.”
“It's a nice shirt.”
“It is.”
Jared releases his hold on Jensen's arms, his hands slide lower and beneath the shirt, moving over Jensen's bare stomach and higher, the tips of his fingers brushing Jensen's ribs. “Bet you'd look even better without it.”
Jensen shivers, can't help it. “You think?”
“Uh-huh. Do you... want to?”
“Maybe later?”
“Good idea. I need a shower first anyway. And something to eat.”
“I'm sure,” Jensen smiles as he reaches out, combing Jared's hair, pushing a few loose strands behind his ears. “You were great up there, you know? So funny and sweet. And so generous. I was so proud of you... And I am sorry I had to leave.”
Jared shakes his head and grins up at Jensen. He pushes open the tails of Jensen's shirt and presses his lips against Jensen's belly, dipping his tongue into Jensen's belly button. It tickles and Jensen laughs. “I'm glad you're here,” Jared whispers.
Characters: Jensen/Jared
Prompt: Childhood fears
Wordcount: 2,190
Disclaimer: F.I.C.T.I.O.N.
Beta: agent_jl36
Prompt Table # 1
Theme: Kiss
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Jensen's standing in the back of the room, hidden from the crowd by the crowd itself, leaning against the wall and sipping on his coffee, and remaining in the dark. He knows that Jared can barely see him, probably can’t at all, because there's too much light and too many people, and everything masked by strange shadows, but he knows that Jared knows he's there, because Jensen promised he would be.
Jared is a clown, Jensen thinks as he watches him on the stage, goofy and funny, rocking the crowd and flashing smiles in every direction, charisma sparkling. Then he realizes that is completely wrong, because clowns are creepy, violent and just horrible, and scare the livin' crap out of him. Jared doesn't. Jared is none of that. Jared is sweet, charming, witty and unbelievably sexy.
Jensen follows the miles-long legs crossing the stage with his eyes, from left to right, and from right to left, occasionally pausing in the middle when Jared sits down on the chair, only to stand up again five seconds later, unable to stay still for a moment. An addictive mixture of dark floppy hair and pearly white teeth, defined, taut muscles and golden skin, and blinding smiles. And just when it seems that Jared's done being ridiculously cute, he plonks himself down right onto the stage, legs curled underneath him, the white lines of his sneakers casting light from the otherwise dark place. Jensen smiles, shaking his head in amusement, drawn to Jared and his one-man show like all the fans sitting and standing in front of him, pulled in by the energy and the positive vibes he oozes. And still there's something, just a flicker, so easily missed, something insecure, that wavers in Jared's eyes every now and then, making Jensen's breath almost hitch with worries.
He's known Jared for six years. Six seasons that feel like eons and just a blink of an eye simultaneously and has been in love with him for the exact same time, dating him for the last four. He knows, well enough, every side of his personality, knows his strong points and his weaknesses, but it still amazes him how someone as tall and strong as Jared, so muscular and generally huge, can look so fragile sometimes, so vulnerable. It scares him, for some reason. And more than he'd like to admit.
Jared says something especially funny, makes a strange model-like pose, hip cocked and a super silly smirk on his face, and the whole room explodes, walls vibrating and speakers spitting, and Jensen grins, his heart swelling with pride. But the feeling changes before he knows, fast, like a dark, heavy cloud overshadowing the sun, darkness and cold taking its place, and Jensen panics, his smile turning into a twisted, bitter grimace. He makes a vague gesture towards the stage, hopes that Jared can really see him this time and understands, watches Jensen leave with an apologetic wave of his hand, and gathers his security guide, fleeing out into the corridor. Jared's smooth voice and the explosions of laughter that follow every one of his words ushering him out.
Jensen thinks that it all started when Leon died. Jensen was five then, Leon only four. He was a gift for his first birthday, a Bernese Mountain puppy, Jensen's personal taxi and crutches to keep him upright when he started to run, faster and faster, quicker than his legs really managed. Leon was a rock, and a safe place for landing. But Leon was also sick, seriously but unobtrusively, and no one knew until it was too late. He was a living teddy bear, Jensen's shadow and guard, always there to make him smile, to lick away his tears when he fell and scratched his knees, when the world fell upon him, betraying. Until, one day he wasn't. And then never again.
They told him that Leon was ill and in pain, but not anymore. He's in heaven, because all dogs go to heaven, and nothing hurts him anymore. But that he's still watching over Jensen. Jensen didn't like it. His version, for many years, was that God took him because he was jealous. Because Leon was the best dog ever born and God wanted him for Himself.
It was Jensen's first meeting with death, the first recognition that nothing and no one is immortal, that anything and anyone can be here today and gone come morning light, and it was scary. He spent days crying, then he started to have nightmares. Dark and haunting. There were no winged people with red eyes, no yellow faces with fangs, no white figures levitating in the air, no monsters hiding beneath his bed or in the closet. Just one thing. A reaper. A voiceless skeleton in a long black hood with a scythe, entering their house at night and walking through the rooms and floors, taking his mom and his daddy, his brother lying in the bed at the other end of the room, his little sister sleeping in the nursery. Never Jensen. Jensen was always left there, alone, scared to death, but never dying.
Only much later Jensen found out, read in some psychological book, that people don't die in their own dreams. For some reason, they just can't. They always wake up right before. It didn't make him feel any better.
Every night he woke up screaming at the top of his lungs, sweaty and trembling, calling his mom and dad and Josh and their cat Lune who always slept outside and never came, everyone who as much as grazed his confused mind.
They were nightmares, but they weren't limited for nights only. Sometimes it jumped on him during the day, when he was sitting in school, counting decimal arithmetic or writing an essay, the sudden, compressing feeling of loss and wrong.
Daylight made fighting with it easier, somehow. But day could last only so long. Jensen started to fear the moment the sun went down and the time for bed arrived. It wasn’t just bad, scary dreams, but bad thoughts, too. He couldn't stop thinking about what would happen if his daddy died, his mom. And how. Who would take care of Mackenzie, who was still too small, if Josh got taken away from him, too? Who would take care of Jensen? Who, or what would fill the space, the dark holes they would leave behind? The darkness. He couldn't sleep and he didn't want to. What he wanted was to be thirteen, seventeen, twenty, thirty... and get rid of those dreams and feelings. He was sure they would go away, eventually.
They didn't. They just got pushed away by life, outclassed by everyday problems and the organized chaos that was his life. They were still there though, lurking in the dark, waiting, gathering strength. The rarer their visits became, the more powerful they were. Still able to bring Jensen to his knees and fill his eyes with unwanted tears.
Which is what's happening now. Jensen's shaking like a leaf, hot one second, freezing cold the next, rivulets of sweat run down his back and soak through his T-shirt, his palms are sweaty and clumsy as he tries to undo the buckle on his belt, the first button on his jeans, pull the zipper down. He's not really sure how he managed to get rid of his security guy, doesn't remember what he told him to make him go away, can't recall what the man said in return, everything is sort of hazy and lost in darkness, but, at last, he's alone. He doesn't want to be alone, that never works, but neither being surrounded by hundreds of screaming fans.
Jensen presses his forehead against the cold tiles of the shower, letting the steaming water fall and pelt against his skin, the noise deafening and calming at once, letting the vapor cloud his vision. He closes his eyes and turns his face towards the stream, then slides down the wall, hanging his head.
When Jared walks in, fifteen or twenty-five, maybe a thousand minutes later, Jensen's standing at the window, fingers wrapped around a cup of burning hot coffee, watching as the dark liquid shakes, little earthquake-like vibrations drawing circles on the surface. Jared bursts in like a commando, bouncing with energy and shining like sun, and although Jensen still feels like shit, his cheeks are still damp with tears, he realizes that he can suddenly breathe a little easier.
“Hey,” Jared says as he drops his bones on the closest chair with a heavy sigh. “I saw you disappear, did something happen? Jen... are you okay?”
“I'm fine,” Jensen replies without looking up at Jared, finding his voice low and rough, like his throat was scratched with a sand paper.
Jared's not deaf though, nor stupid. “No, you're not.”
“I am,” Jensen insists as he looks up, meeting Jared's warm, worried gaze. “Now.”
“What is it?”
Jensen shakes his head, but Jared stares at him, and keeps on staring, waiting for an answer. Eventually, Jensen sighs and sets his coffee onto the window pane, taking a step forward. “You're-- You're okay. Right?” he asks.
“Me?” Jared chuckles, confused. “You're the one, who--” He pauses then, realizes and remembers, and his face solemnizes. “Oh.” He reaches out with both hands, urging Jensen closer and pulling him into his arms the second Jensen steps in between his spread thighs. “Jensen.”
He knows and he understands, though it hasn't always been that easy. Try explaining to your new friend and soon-to-be lover that you, still at the age of twenty-six, have nightmares. That you have sudden panics of anxiety, random and unexpected, when you're just sure the world is about to fall apart in your hands, because your mind is shattering with fear. Jared's used to them, now, he knows what to do and what not, like having sex, fast and rough and bruising, as Jensen begged him so many times, needing to feel the rush, the pain, the proof of life beating through both of their bodies. Instead, Jared is gentle and careful, patient, acting like he's approaching a scared dog. Jensen hates it, he does, but he can’t help being ridiculously thankful at the same time.
Jensen presses his lips against the top of Jared's head, kissing the soft, dark strands of his hair that tickle his face, and breathes in the well known mixture of sweat and Jared's citrus shampoo. “I love you, I can't lose you.”
Jared's voice is muffled with the shirt Jensen's wearing, his forehead rests somewhere between Jensen's ribs. “You won't. I'm here. I'm okay.”
“You can't promise tomorrow.”
“No... But I can give you today. And tonight.”
“This is so stupid,” Jensen sighs, shaking his head at himself. “I'm... so sorry.”
“No, hey... don't say that.” Jared pushes Jensen off himself gently, forcing him to meet his eyes. His fingers circle Jensen's elbows, keeping him just where he is and holding tight, giving him the certain sense of stability he needs. “It's not stupid. You know better than me that this is something you cannot control. And, look, you were scared when you were just a kid and they could tell you anything, tell you lies to make you sleep better. How are you supposed not to be scared now, when you know how life goes and how fragile everything is? You're entitled to be scared. And you're entitled to be more scared now than back then.”
New tears fill Jensen's eyes, prickling and threatening to spill, and he bites his lip, trying to hold onto the little remnants of dignity he has. “How come you're so smart?”
Jared smirks, “I... have my moments. And hey, you have my shirt.” He tugs at the hem of the plaid shirt Jensen's wearing, Jared's shirt that Jensen grabbed the second he left the shower, on purpose, reaching for a piece of Jared's clothing, as he always does. It gives him some kind of, maybe naïve, sense of stability and safety.
“Yeah, I... Yeah.”
“Does it help?”
“A little... I think. Yeah... It smells like you. I can feel you there. And it's soft.”
“It's a nice shirt.”
“It is.”
Jared releases his hold on Jensen's arms, his hands slide lower and beneath the shirt, moving over Jensen's bare stomach and higher, the tips of his fingers brushing Jensen's ribs. “Bet you'd look even better without it.”
Jensen shivers, can't help it. “You think?”
“Uh-huh. Do you... want to?”
“Maybe later?”
“Good idea. I need a shower first anyway. And something to eat.”
“I'm sure,” Jensen smiles as he reaches out, combing Jared's hair, pushing a few loose strands behind his ears. “You were great up there, you know? So funny and sweet. And so generous. I was so proud of you... And I am sorry I had to leave.”
Jared shakes his head and grins up at Jensen. He pushes open the tails of Jensen's shirt and presses his lips against Jensen's belly, dipping his tongue into Jensen's belly button. It tickles and Jensen laughs. “I'm glad you're here,” Jared whispers.