Not Such A Damsel In Distress, (1/6), R, Jared/Jensen.
Title: Not Such A Damsel In Distress
Artist name: sillie82
Genre: RPS
Pairing: Jared/Jensen (non-AU)
Rating: R
Word count: 2557
Warnings: Violence, shameless Jensen whump, attempted non-con, homophobic language.
Summary: The cast and crew of Supernatural are one big happy family; they care for and protect one another. But after an outbreak of flu, there are outsiders on the set. Amongst those outsiders is a dangerous predator and his partner, and they have set their sights on what they think is an easy target. Can Jensen prove them wrong, or will he need Jared, his knight in shining armour to come to his rescue?
Robert Singer took a few deep calming breaths; he stood like a general surveying his troops, preparing to get them ready for battle.... if he was honest with himself they weren’t exactly Special Forces. No, these heroic souls were the emergency crew that had been begged, borrowed and stolen from other sets, after a particularly virulent flu virus had swept through the crew and decimated it, leaving him with the walking wounded, and barely recovered. But looking for the silver lining to the dark cloud hanging over his head, he thought he could always use the survivors as zombies. That’s if Sera could rustle up a script pretty quickly.
The flu virus or in the words of Misha the other morning as he played Jared at scrabble, “It's the judgement of God upon us because we depicted him as a drunk, neurotic Penthouse writer! It’ll be a rain of frogs next, you mark my words.”
Bob watched Jared consider this deeply philosophical declaration from his friend, nod in agreement and then spell the word fanion on the scrabble board, grinning triumphantly and punching the air when he triple-word scored.
“Damnit! Not again. Do you even know what the word means, Padalecki?” Misha groaned as Jared shook his head, “That’s it. I want the rules changed, so you can only use words you know the meaning of, not because you just know they make a word.”
As Misha was speaking, Jensen had strolled by reading his script; he looked up and smiled at Jared, “Well, if that’s the case, you’ll be limiting Jay to bodily functions and profanities. Do you really want that, Misha? I can just see your face when he triple-word scores with fart.”
Misha just glared at his two co-stars, his expression reminding Bob of Castiel about to go all New Sheriff of Heaven, preparing to smite them both, just to be sure he got the right guy. He got up and stalked off towards the set, muttering something about assbutts and Sasquatches with dumb luck.
But what Misha’s self-proclaimed biblical plague had actually meant, was half the crew were collapsed in corners. And those who weren’t in the corners of the studio dying were throwing up in buckets while trying to operate cameras. Bob was confronted with falling horrendously behind schedule and having the suits back in L.A. breathing fire down his neck. This had led to him and Sera issuing a plea to the other shows in production nearby, asking to borrow crew members. They’d even promised to return them mostly unharmed and only slightly traumatized by the Js and Misha.
Now Bob was looking at his new ‘team’ and he winced when he recognized a couple of old familiar faces. Or to put it politely - the drunks, rogues and nut jobs of the Canadian television industry. He checked himself when he remembered he was dealing with Jared, Jensen and Misha on a daily basis. He amended nut job with reality challenged. Bob shrugged and thought “Beggars can’t be choosers. We just have to get this episode in the can, and start up the next and we’ll be fine.”
Taking another deep breath Bob got ready to offer a rallying cry to his troops; he struck what he hoped was a heroic pose, ready to do his best Henry V. The new crew stood waiting expectantly alongside the survivors of the plague, and those who had managed to stagger back onto set. “Ladies and gentlemen, first of all I’d like to thank you for coming here at such short notice. And secondly I’d like to explain what we will need from you in the next few days.”
As Bob spoke he became aware that the crew was looking at something behind him. At first there were smiles, and then a few people started to giggle. Finally everyone dissolved into raucous laughter.
Bob felt a presence behind him; he closed his eyes, muttered a quick prayer for strength then turned round. He gawped at the sight in front of him; Jared, Jensen and Misha were standing there. The three of them had gotten hold of hospital scrubs and gowns. They looked as if they were about to step onto the set of Dr Sexy and start in Sam’s field of neuro cardiothoracic surgery.
Jared stepped forward, cleared his throat, and spoke with an earnest sincerity, “Ahh good, I’m glad we’ve caught all of you here at once. In light of the sudden outbreak of Whumpitis amongst the crew, and to protect the three devilishly handsome cast members. And in the case of the youngest Adonis-like cast member...” Jared ignored the outbreak of coughing behind him, with what sounded suspiciously like “bullshit” mixed in.
Jared continued without hesitating “To protect the precious cast, we are here to provide you with your shots for the duration of your time working here. Nurse Collins and Doctor Ackles will be moving among you shortly. I’ll be standing over here, looking pensive and concerned for your well-being.”
On hearing their orders Misha and Jensen stepped forward, and as one they both produced the biggest syringes anyone had ever seen from behind their backs. Jensen moved towards Bob, his eyes crinkling round the sides, proving he was grinning behind his mask. “Mr Singer, if you’ll just drop your pants, this won’t hurt much.” By now the crew were helpless with laughter, and Bob put his head in his hands and sighed.
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I present your cast, and this is utterly normal behaviour from them. So as you leave this little meeting, I will point you in the direction of Craft Services where you will find our crew complaint forms. Take as many as you want and fill them in as necessary.” Bob waved in the general direction of the caterers, “But I must warn you now, the funniest ones are usually read out at the Christmas party, but we do take all complaints about our cast seriously at the time.”
By now Jensen was stripping off his mask and gown leaving him in just his scrubs. Misha pulled his mask down so it was hanging rakishly off his right ear, and Jared had just removed his mask. Bob saw the mischievous look that crossed Jared’s face, and he took a step back for self-preservation.
Jared nodded to Misha, who suddenly hunched forward, raised his left shoulder and curled his arm against his chest, letting his right arm hang limply in front of him. He limped forward, dragging one foot behind him; Jensen was completely unaware of the change in Misha. Jensen was moving closer to Bob to speak him. Jared walked forward quickly and before Jensen could react, he found himself being picked up and flung over Jared’s shoulder in a fireman’s lift.
“Godamnit, Padalecki, what the hell?” Jensen’s voice came from the region of Jared’s ass; it wasn’t that Jensen minded the view but he thought that he and Jared should at least try to be a little discreet in the face of new crew members.
Jared turned to Misha and boomed out, “We must return to my laboratory forthwith. My creature escaped before I could give him a brain, thankfully I have him again. Lead the way, Igor.”
Misha turned away and limped forward a couple of steps and looked back over his raised shoulder, “Yeth, Marthter, I will make hathte and prepare the lab for your return. Do you want the rethtrainth made ready?”
Jared stood and calmly wiped his hand down his face after the impromptu shower he’d gotten during Misha’s speech. He felt Jensen wriggling in his arms, “Yes, get the rethtrainth...I mean, restraints ready. Hurry, Igor, my creature is getting restless. We must away, so I can put Master Edlund’s brain into this poor weak vessel. A talent such as his shouldn’t be allowed to die. It was so tragic when he was run over by that donkey cart full of Twilight fans.”
Jared threw his head back and laughed manically then he strode forward, followed by Misha, with Jensen making loud protests and flailing in an attempt to escape.
Bob Singer turned to the crew, shook his head, shrugged and smiled, “Any questions? Good, then we’ll be filming in five.” He walked away wondering if he was too late to apply to be director of the CW’s latest teen drama entitled, Help my Zombie Vampire, Angel Doesn’t Love Me Anymore.
As the crew dispersed, the retreating figures of Jared, Jensen and Misha were being observed by two men. They moved forward slightly and watched Jared as he finally put Jensen down; they could see the men laughing. Jared pulled Jensen into a one-armed hug, then he let go and wrapped his arm round Jensen’s broad shoulders. Jared adjusted the headlock he had on Misha, and the three of them began to walk towards their trailers.
One man smiled, but there was a calculating hunger in his dark-brown eyes. It diminished the joy from the smile. His eyes were predatory and cold as he followed the men.
His friend studied him, and then he too glanced over at the figures in the distance, “I gotta say, Will, the natives are real friendly round here. The crew and PAs are very accommodating,”
Will turned to the other man, “Oh, very friendly by the looks of it, and damned pretty too. Andy, I think we are gonna like it here and the scenery is breathtaking. I wonder just how friendly the creature is.”
Andy shook his head slightly in warning, “Hold up there, man. Just remember why we’re up here in the damn frozen north in the first place.”
“I thought we were just enjoying a change of scenery until the heat dies down a little. You know how much the weather in L.A. plays havoc with my delicate skin.”
Andy smirked although he felt a little apprehensive, “Yeah, that and orange really don’t suit your damn fucking pasty skin. Do me a little favour, Will. Keep ya dick in your pants, and your fingers away from the valuables for a while. We got a sweet deal here; let’s not screw it up on the first day.”
Will gave a humourless laugh, his eyes still following the three men as they walked away, “Oh, I fully intend to have a good time while I’m here, and I might even find me a pretty little thing to keep me warm. Canada can get pretty damn chilly, and you keep that attitude up and I’ll get frost bite.”
Will threw his arm round Andy’s neck in a friendly gesture, squeezing slightly. Andy flinched a little; he knew he was being warned, and he’d overstepped the mark with his comment. He heeded the silent warning. Andy smiled and laughed nervously. “Look, dude, all I’m sayin’ is, we take it easy. Keep movin’ round like always and we’ll keep slipping under the radar. No need to try and screw your way through the crew in the first couple of days, is there?”
The smiled broadened again, “I promise to behave myself, Andy. You know me. I’m an upstanding citizen. I’m hurt that you think otherwise, and besides the Cannook cops are all hicks, so chill.” Will chuckled humourlessly, “I’m sure I’ll find me someone to keep me company while we’re here. Like I said, the natives are real pretty.”
Will focused once more on the figures disappearing in the distance, licking his lips in anticipation, “It’s always better if I take a little time to get to know my special someone, just relax. We’ll have a good time here, don’t sweat it.”
Andy relaxed a little, “That’s good to know, man, and by the way did you see that hot little blonde chick giving you the eye? The rack on her was something fucking else, and the way those baby blues were flashing. I thought she wanted to come over and take a bite out of you. How about takin’ her for a spin?”
“Sounds like a great idea, man. I might just do that and we’ll see if I can’t hook you up with a friend or something.” Will clapped Andy on the shoulder.
Andy felt relief wash over him; he hoped he had distracted his friend. Will could be very single minded. And if he’d set his heart on having a little fun with the creature then they would be moving on a lot quicker than he’d anticipated.
Will pushed Andy forward; he was thinking about the blonde PA Andy mentioned. He might just take her up on her unspoken offer. She was a looker alright. Nice ass and tits. Real sweet smile on her; he wondered how good her lips would look wrapped round his dick. Then he thought about another pair of lips, and he grinned malevolently. He wouldn’t mind seeing that green-eyed bitch on his knees in front of him. Perhaps that little PA might come in handy after all. They were a mine of information if you wined and dined them right.
Will wasn’t as worried about the cops as Andy was; he’d never been in trouble with them like his friend had. Well, he’d never been caught; he was way too smart for that. He knew their fake identities were good. Fuck, they had cost him enough of his stash. They’d encountered no problems when they’d crossed the border from the States; the guards hadn’t looked twice at them.
Will had to admit that Canada was better than Hollywood these days if you wanted to just disappear among the many different crews working, shooting films and TV shows. No one ever looked too closely at the casual crew members, the ones who did their jobs, picked up their pay checks and moved on.
It was how he’d gotten away with his little side business for so long - work a set, move on quick. Perhaps pick up a few little trinkets here and there. It was just a shame that during their last job, well, the little party afterwards he and Andy had enjoyed had gotten a little too rough. He scratched absently at the scar on his arm; he just knew the damn fucking bitch they had partied with that night could rat them out to the cops. He’d told Andy they were getting out of sunny California for a while, let the heat die down and go and set up in Vancouver. There had been had no problems in the last few months.
But now Will was getting anxious, he needed to get himself a little action once more. He missed the thrill of the chase and the sweet pay-off. This seemed to be the perfect place for another little party; the suits hadn’t checked their details too closely. Plus there was something about Ackles that was too fucking appealing.
Just then Ed, the chief grip, walked past, disturbing Will’s thoughts, “Hey guys, I’m glad I caught you. We need help to move the breakaway Impala for the boys to shoot in.”
Will pushed Andy forward and followed Ed; he smiled slightly to himself. He’d keep his promise to Andy, he wouldn’t move too quickly. He needed to be sure that the green-eyed pretty boy would play nicely, and if not he’d make damn sure he did.
Chapter 2.
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