Let your mind go, let yourself be free (pt6)
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~*~
Everything is frozen silly. Jensen can only feel big hands surround his ankle and pull him up, urgent mumbles drifting into his consciousness. It might not take long to get him upright again, where he sways until he feels Jared grab his hand and pull him after him. He stumbles, doesn't know yet what's up but too soon for comfort, it's glaringly obvious.
Robin must have alarmed them of the guards approaching, which is why Jay tugged at his rope. They'd been switching back and forth for over an hour until then, and Jensen was determined to finish it this time round.
The loud noise a spray-can makes when it drops couldn't have been overheard, even if the security-men where eighty - which they aren't.
Now, they're running, Robin nowhere to be seen and probably already on his way out. Jensen's brain catches up with his feet and he shakes Jared's sweaty hand off, his own palms already soaked inside the stupid gloves.
Still, he's more than glad to be wearing them. With his prints on file and their left-behind equipment, he'd be in prison faster than he'd be able to say “hi”.
Jay looks over at him, apparently satisfied with his state of mind because he grins like a lunatic and takes off, swerving right unexpectedly, steps against the wall and lifts himself up into a cat leap, hands on the upper-floor railing, muscling up swiftly. Jensen swears, can hear the guards' shouts of surprise and anger and instead of trying to follow - he'd never make that jump from where he is now - swerves right to find the stairway.
The escalators are switched off and instead of taking the time to use one step after the other, Jensen does a one-handed side-vault over the rubber-railing onto the second set, the one that's usually going down and repeats that three, four times to get down. It's quicker than using the steps.
Going down was a dumb move, he realizes once he hits the ground-floor. Two more guards appear from the side, closing in on him fast. “Stop, right there!” one of them huffs and nope, not happening. Jensen swirls around to spot one of the men from before on the top of the stairs grinning down at him.
Another side-vault brings Jensen away from the ground-guards, the escalators blocking their paths a little. He takes the opportunity and runs, sprints, switches off his brain to reach the state of mind where he can do anything, even escape. His rubber-soles give the perfect resistance against the slippery, recently cleaned and polished granite and he's determined to make the most of this advantage.
“Fuck!” he curses when he rounds a corner that he was sure leads to the exit but instead is a dead-end with a small bistro in front of the big window to the parking-lot. He can hear snickers from behind, the guards have apparently figured he's trapped now. Which is bull-shit!
He glances around quickly, uses first the tables, then a slight edge in the bistro's outer wall to hoist himself up. With a leap, he grabs the big flag that announces “half-price for pizza”, feels it tear at the edges but it's enough momentum to reach the balcony of the second floor.
That's where the chase nearly ends.
The gloves are too smooth to find purchase, blocking his well-earned calluses from doing their job and Jensen can feel himself slipping, hears the “dumb fool” from below and before he can even think about dropping, Jay's paws grab him and he's pulled up and uses his feet to climb over the railing.
“Dumb fool, indeed, Jens,” Jared huffs “get rid of those death-traps and stop playing around”
“Ass” is all Jensen's got breath for, but he pulls the gloves off and follows Jay, jogging now instead of full-out sprinting.
His ribs sting, but he won't show it. Pride might be your downfall, but at least you'll be looking good on the ground, he always figured.
~*~*~*~
“Hurry up, man. Can't believe you learned to pick a lock, but not how to do it quickly.”
“Shut up, Woody, or I' won't let you play with Jessie.”
“And here I thought you were Captain Buzz all this time... Since it's his girlfriend and all... It fits much better: No sense of humor, dumber than a shoe-box-” the lock opens with a silent snick “-and my best friend in the whole world. Come on, Lightyear. We gotta escape the evil Zurg and his minions.”
Jay tugs him inside the hallway, which sadly prevents him from letting the door close silently and instead shuts with a harsh slam. “Dammit, Jay,” Jensen murmurs, and they start jogging again. “We might get out through the admin-building.”
“Might? Should? Or will? Because I really don't wanna end this challenge before it started.”
“How should I know? I'm the artist.”
“Right. Like I can't spray.”
“I never said that!”
“No, but- “
The rest is swallowed by the sound of a six-foot-four man with a tool-belt full of spray-cans running into an unsuspecting security-guard who was just leaving the restrooms, which has both of them winded on the floor, tangled in each others' legs.
“What the fuck are you doing here? Why're the Feds sneaking...” the guard stops with a frown, looking from Jay's tool-belt to Jensen's goggles. The stand-off is interrupted by the scratchy voice from the guard's radio and the faint echo of his colleagues coming closer.
Jay kicks the man during his hasty scramble upright, apologizes and helps him stand. Sometimes, Jared's too polite to be still breathing.
Jensen shoves the still unbalanced guard back to the floor and they're off again, rushing along the gray corridor. “Did you want to get his picture taken too, Jay?” he huffs while they turn left “or was it just so they'd make sure I'm the Bad Guy?”
“Dude! I'd never do that!”
The door that promised 'Exit' sadly only gets the two back into the mall. At least, it's the ground-floor now, and while they spot the guards fanning out to catch them, the men look dangerously close to dying from exhaustion. Not that Jensen's feeling much better.
His pants have a tear in the instep, for some reason, and his shirt is sticking to his back. His ribs ache and sting, the goggles have left an itch around his eyes and he only wants to go to sleep.
Apparently, the security wants to catch them before he can find a mattress somewhere, though, and with a glance, he tells Jared to split up.
~*~*~*~
He can hear the man huffing behind him, nearly feel his breath against his back. The guards are wearing rubber-soled shoes as well, and this one isn't as old as the others. He's fit and fast, and even though so far, he hasn't gotten a hand on Jensen, it's been too close to comfort once or twice.
The water-play-thingie is off for the night, and Jensen crosses the dry basin, jumps over the narrow wall to cross over to the other side of the wide mall-corridor. It's divided by benches and flower-beds, trashcans and weird things that might or might not be art.
Jensen doesn't turn around, that would be useless and dumb. Instead, he increases his pace and steps on one of the benches, leaps over the backrest with his feet tucked high and lands with a roll on the other side of the corridor, is up again without pause and is now taking the small advance he gained to run closer to the shops. He grabs one of the pillars with his flat hand, uses the momentum to turn sharply around the corner and nearly topples over a bike that someone's forgotten. He doesn't even think about using it, instead tries to stay upright. Jensen fumbles a bit, upper body still faster then his legs and twice, he nearly faceplants before catching himself on his hands.
He's up and running again, though he probably lost all of the distance he gained from the rent-cop.
Next curve, he can see the exit. He can see Robin gesticulating, the iron curtain that's locking the mall off for the night raised a little so he could slip through easily. His breath sounds like a fucking train, everything burns - that Anastacia-chick was so right! - and now he sees Robin's hopeful expression slip away.
And yupp, that's the sound of bike-tires on granite. Definitely.
Instead of the direct line to the outside, to safety - he'll never make it - Jensen drifts to the left, closer to the plain pale outside-wall. He can hear the guard huffing, hopes against hope that he's not smart enough to just cut him off at the exit. To help him decide, Jensen turns his head and grins at the guy - fuck, he's close! - and gives him the finger.
It seems to be working.
“You fucking asshole,” the man growls and Jensen can hear him pick up speed. Perfect.
He leaps, his feet hit the wall and he runs along its side for a split-second before he backflips and drops back to the ground. It's an easy move, one of the first he learned for parkour. But that guard on his bike didn't expect it, was thinking Jensen'd slow down and he can just about pull the breaks before he crashes into the hard surface. Quickly, he rights himself but Jensen's already giving everything he still has left in his body, scratching up every bit of reserve.
With that much speed, he'd crack his skull on the iron but he dives, letting whatever fucking physical force responsible carry him onward on the polished floor, right underneath the curtain. The last inches, he rolls because while granite is fine, concrete is not as nice to slide along and he doesn't stop, keeps running, not really listening but still taking in the sounds of Robin closing the mall right up again, a furious guard yelling bloody murder behind the bars.
~*~*~*~
The night is cold and Jensen can feel his sweat cool against his hot skin. He never stopped running, though it's a much slower pace. His suit is soaked and his feet scream at him, there is something wrong on his knee and he can't stop now. He wants to, but he can't.
There is nobody behind him, nothing but the night. Some dealers dealing with shit in a corner, hookers hooking and drunkards drinking.
Jensen is running.
“Jensen!”
He jerks. Right next to him - where did it come from? - is Robin's car. And Robin. Jay on the passenger-seat.
“Man, you can stop running, Jack” Robin grins “they're still way behind us. C'mon in”
The battered old Volkswagen stops at the curb and Jay gets out. Jensen is beyond breathing, he's huffing. Everything is tight and air is scarce, he feels like he's squeezed into a too-tight scuba-suit.
“Jensen, man, calm down. C'mon, sit.” Jay grabs his shoulders and steers him to the side, lets him slump down. But sitting is worse, and even though Jensens's legs and arms and freaking toes are shaking from the adrenaline, he needs to stretch out to get enough oxygen.
Whatever crap is on the sidewalk doesn't bother him right now. He slumps sideways and lies on his back, looks up into the tired light of the streetlamp.
With oxygen comes clarity.
They did it. They freaking sprayed a mural inside a freaking mall.
Jensen feels his face stretch into a beaming grin and he turns his head. Jay's sitting close, looking down with the same goofy, delighted gleam of mischief and accomplishment in his eyes that he had when they were still little kids.
“We fucking rock, Jay. Whoooohoo! We're amazing. We'll win this fucking contest!”
“Yes, we will. We sure will. Didn't I say so?”
“Yupp, you did. But after this? I actually believe it.”
Jared shuffles over, lies down next to him and they both look up into the lamp. There are no stars, and Jensen wonders what it would be like, lying on a beach and having only stars above them.
“We could go on a vacation. Hawaii?” Jared suggests and Jensen smiles. The way they are wired into each other could be scary, but so far, Jensen's always been reassured by those random hints of telepathy.
“Naww” he answers “too much sand.” He looks over.
“Not enough walls!”
“Not enough walls!”
they say in unison and laugh, still laughing when Robin looks down at them, eyebrows raised
“Dudes, you are so weird. Also, Jack, you're kinda lying in dog-shit.”
~*~*~*~
Sitting at Goldi's bar, Jensen can feel his eyelids droop. He isn't sure how the breakfast would end in his mouth, because there is no way he can make his hand lift the fork to his mouth. Maybe he could just bend down and swallow without his hands? But that might lead to him falling into the eggs, and he's been scrubbed so clean right now, he doesn't want to do it again.
Robin has gone home, after bitching for a while over the lingering smell of dog-shit in his car. Really, they left the windows open. It couldn't have been that bad!
Blue, Bones and Crop aren't back yet but Jay said they sent a text to tell them their gig went without a glitch. They'd send the picture over...
“Fuck!” His head shoots up and he's wide awake suddenly. The exhaustion that was pulling him down only seconds ago has been blown away by the adrenaline. Better than coffee-infusion.
“What?” Jay's still drowsy. But he at least has already eaten his share of food, hair still all over and wearing only a new white shirt and his track-pants. Even as civilians, they dress alike.
“The picture. Fuck, we forgot the picture. And” Jensen groans “no signature. We didn't claim that piece. Fuck!” his head now hits the table, only by sheer luck missing the plate. They went through so much trouble, and now it was for naught? He can't even think about how they could solve the problem, every time he does, he sees the Good Boys signing his mural with their names, or sending in the photo of it. Claiming - stealing! - their work!
“Calm down, man.” Jared is still calm, pushes a few buttons on his phone. “Here.” The picture he took isn't great, but it's clearly their piece. Right-side up, it looks even better. It looks really fucking good, if Jensen can say so.
“When did... what?”
“We signed it, right in the beginning. See? Left-hand corner.” Indeed, when Jensen looks closely, he can spot their names. “Robin took a better picture, when we were nearly finished. Even got your ugly head in it. He told me in the car, will post it right away. It's done. It's claimed. It's ours, and nobody can take it away from us.”
The air and tension and near-panic leave Jensen like hot air leaves a punctured balloon. They really did the unthinkable and now he's just tired. So fucking tired.
Goldi comes over, eyes their plates - or better, Jensen's still half-full one - and tuts. “You guys, need to sleep. And I don't want to know why you got your hair sticking up like that, Jack.” Jensen flinches, and very carefully touches his head. The hair is sticky, even though they rinsed the most awful goo off in a diner-restroom. Probably didn't help as much as he'd hoped... “Go, git up and use my spare-room. You can stay there until you get a new place. Shoo.” She motions them away and they obey, because there really is no alternative to following her advice. “And take a shower, Jack-my-boy. You smell like dog-poop!”
Awesome.
~*~*~*~
The large king-size-bed is more than comfortable. Jensen sleeps much longer than he has in a long time, and when he wakes it's because Jay started to crawl over to his side, for some reason drawn to Jensen's body-heat when he is a fucking furnace himself.
He tries to shift a bit away. He likes Jared close to him, doesn't mind him in the same bed - they shared a bed for so long, he can't really sleep well without the weight of another body pushing the mattress down - but if the bed's not big enough, Jay tends to cuddle.
As a kid, Jensen didn't mind. He liked to have someone clinging to him, to be dependent on him and how it made him feel bigger and tougher than he felt during the day. Because in the light, Jay was the bigger, tougher one of them. This little, wiry, thin kid was like the Tardis, bigger on the inside.
But now, as an adult and not that small - physically and mentally - Jensen prefers his space in bed. He tolerates contact, but he feels choked when people - mostly women - try to drape themselves over him in sleep. Jared is allowed to, sometimes, and Jensen has woken up quite often with Jay's octopus-arms wrapped around him, as if he were Mr Brown, the big teddy that had shared their bed whenever the other one wasn't available.
Maybe he's getting claustrophobic in his old age, Jensen thinks. But really, being followed by a sleeping wookie like a heat-seaking missile would follow its target isn't as funny as it sounds. “Jay, w'ke up. Dude.” He shoves his friend a little, but Jared doesn't seem to be bothered. Normally, he'd wake up and if he doesn't, he probably needs the sleep much more than Jensen thought.
Huffing, he shuffles a bit further away, and with an undignified yelp, he falls over the edge and ends up on the floor.
And of course, Jay is laughing, wide-awake. That fucker!
“You … you just wait!”
It's Jared's turn to yelp when Jensen launches at him, planting himself over Jay's chest and starts tickling. It's a bit like riding a mechanical horse, bucking, twisting, shoving, trying to escape. Only the unmanly giggles and laughter and the tear-stained cheeks make a difference.
Then again, those cowboy-bars draw a weird crowd...
“S-s-s Stop, Jens... pl-please... no, stop...”
“Yield, and I'll consider it!”
“I yield, I yield. Stop-p-p Jensen!”
Just when he's about to claim his victory, a sharp bang against the door throws Jensen up and away from Jared faster then he'd consciously believed possible. Some part of him - a distant one, but still persistent - is expecting an enraged nun to storm into their room, grab his or Jared's ear, hair or shirt-collar and drag them in front of the Reverend Mother, who would dole out the punishment., cranky for being wakened by such a bother.
It's only Goldi, though. “Boys, I really don't want to know what you're doing, but your little rat-pack is here. If you wanna do whatever you thought about, it would be a good idea to get up and at it.”
Jared is grinning, wide and happy and every bad thought vanishes from Jensen's mind. They have a few more jobs to do, though, so he grins back and dashes for the bathroom, laughing over the sounds of Jared trying to disentangle himself fast enough to catch him. He slams the door close right before Jay reaches the room. Still, he only takes a quick shower. The luxury of taking as long as he likes without being ogled by tattooed weirdos is still enticing, but they need all the time they can spare. Tonight was just the beginning, after all.
~*~*~*~
“Jack, come, check this out.” Blue greets him when he gets down to the bar. His friends are sitting on the halfpipe, legs hanging down onto the scruffed-up wood. Bones is holding a camera, his skateboard is rolling up and down the bottom of the pipe like he released it only a few minutes ago. Blue, Crop and Robin are looking over his shoulder at the tiny screen, and Robin seems impressed so Jensen hurries to take a look.
“Show me, Bluebird?” he asks and with a soft look, Blue hands the camera down to him. He looks up at her, trying to gauge if she took his slip into the time when they were a bit more than friends as something serious, but she's just smiling. His little bluebird has flown away, probably already found a new place to nest. Fluttery little thing.
The picture is really impressive. Blue has reached knight-status for a while, real talent but still a bit raw. Sure, Jensen has no clue how much - or if at all - she has improved during his absence, but this piece really looks out of her league.
“Dammit, girl, that's awesome.” he whistles through his teeth and her smile is proud and beaming, as if she really considered his opinion special. “I knew you were good, but this is really fucking good! No kidding. Hey, is that...” he zooms into the photo “... did you really spray Vrigil in there? Cool!”
Virgil was her dog. He was big and ugly, always got into fights and had only half an ear and so many scars that on some parts of his body, the hair wouldn't grow anymore. But that mutt had spirit, a will to fight and live that Jensen hadn't seen in any other dog til then, and not since. Not that they had time to meet many dogs...
“Yeah, that's my boy.” She sounds softer than he knows she is. Virgil died a few years back, at the ripe old age of fifteen. “It's ok if I put him in, right? I mean.. it's my painting but it's kinda your theme and all...”
“Sure, no problem. He was great, that mutt, you know that. And it is your painting. It's really gorgeous. Jay,” he calls as he sees Jared walk into the bar, still damp from the shower “look at what Blue and her guys did!”
~*~*~*~
Their next project is going to be too big to split up. Jensen wanted to do the Myer-Building first, but Jay convinced him that since the next part is going to take so long, it'd be way smarter to start with the wall first and then get on the scaffold. It's really smarter, but still... Jensen really, really wants to go up to that house and do what his fingers ache to do.
“I know, Jens, believe me. And it's going to be next. But it's Tuesday, this thing will take at least two nights and if we hit Myer on Thursday, that's still plenty of time. We can always split up again, let the others do the alley.”
Jensen shakes his head. No. He wouldn't mind dumping some of the work for the wall-mural on his friends, but he and Jay need to do the alley and the high-rise. There is no way someone else can spray what he needs to show. They can help, sure. But he and Jared need to do the fine work, the finishing touches as well as the outline of the characters and the setting. It's important. It's vital for the pictures' soul.
Vital for Jensen's.
~*~
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