Fic: A Warm Place (J2)
Title: A Warm Place
Word Count: 1,622
Fandom: SPN RPS (Jared/Jensen, but non-sexual)
Rating: Ouhm, we'll say PG-13?
Warnings: Non-sexual puppy-play
Summary: A cage isn't always a bad thing for a puppy.
Many thanks to Mike and Nepal for the beta. Much love, guys!
Jared kicked off his shoes, haphazardly kicking them under the table in the hall as he hooked his keys in their spot, and paused for a moment, letting the quiet and peace of the empty house ease the tension in his shoulders. Filming had sucked, lines getting flubbed left and right, and if the lines were right, then there was some technical problems. Still, he was home, even if Jensen had to stay a bit later to finish off his own filming and wouldn’t be home for a few more hours.
His eyes drifted to the crate nestled between the two armchairs, thick blanket snug around the sides and back made the whole thing dark and inviting, and he groaned at the temptation. It was so tempting to let Austin out, to let his pup-side wash away the stress for a bit, but he was a responsible adult, and if his day had been long, Jensen’s was even longer. He’d be hungry and exhausted when he got home, not in the mood to cook their dinners and play with a puppy. He firmly reminded himself of that as he trudged up the stairs, told himself that he was a mature and responsible adult that would care for their mate. If they were lucky, they’d get a few days off coming up soon, and he might pup-out then. But not tonight.
He kept that thought steady through the shower, hot water a blessing as he soaped away some of the stress and all the grime of the day, and grinned as he shook his hair out like a dog when he was done. He couldn’t refrain fully from his pup-side, after all. He dried off, mind absently planning and scheming as he redressed, resigned to the dullness of an average night in. Up until he sat on the bed to tug on his slippers, and the tongue of a buckle dug into his ass. He frowned, rummaging in the sheets until he brushed against soft leather, and tried not to groan as he realized they never put away Austin’s collar. Damnit, but it was very, very tempting to give in. He steeled himself, set it on the nightstand and went about tidying up the rest of the room. But his eyes kept drifting back to the innocent leather laying sweetly on the wood, calling and tempting, and when he knelt by the side of the bed to pull out one of Jensen’s sleep shirts that had been trying to crawl away under the frame, and he saw Austin’s favorite talking-toy under there, he sighed and gave up. He could only be so good. He slipped the leather around his neck, surrendering as the buckle chimed merrily as it slid into place. Austin shook himself, settling back into his skin, and sneezed at the foolishness of his human part. As if their Jensen would ever not enjoy their company. Humans were so silly at times.
He peered underneath the bed, huffing when he saw the talking plushy still under there, the little beady eyes mocking him as it stayed just out of his reach. He pawed at it, growling softly when he brushed the spotted tail. Stupid Charo. He barked at her, scrabbling at the carpet in frustration when she stayed just out of reach, and finally huffed when it became obvious he wasn’t getting her.
But Jensen could! He thundered to the top of the stairs and barked loudly, wagging in anticipation, slowing as the house remained quiet. He frowned, barked again loud and echoing, but there was no answer, and he sighed. His Jensen had gotten lost again it seemed. He eyed the stairs for a long moment before resigning himself to having to go down them. He trotted back into the bedroom, tugged out his Master’s shirt and took it with him, the warm and sleepy scent of Jensen reminding him why he was messing with the stairs at all. He whined at the top of the stairs, the sound muffled by the fabric, and shifted anxiously from paw to paw. He hates the stairs. Hates them, hates them, hates them. Probably more than the squirrel that steals off the back porch and then threatens him from the low branches of the tree. He dropped the shirt and cried again, stilling to hear if maybe, possibly, Master is coming to help him, but the house was still quiet and still. He huffed in agitation before gingerly picking up the shirt and steeling himself to the stairs. His Jensen is somewhere, and he’s got to find him. He held that thought close like a peanut butter filled Kong, and started his descent.
He’s so thankful they don’t have cameras in the house to record the spectacular tumble he takes part way down. He growled at the stairs for a moment before picking up the shirt and wandering through to find Jensen, getting more anxious at every empty room he finds. He eventually found his crate, dropping the shirt to stay safe there, and nosed aside the curtains to peer out, whining quietly when he didn’t see the truck in the driveway.
Master wasn’t home.
Austin sighed, and moped back to his crate, upset that Master wasn't home, but he knew how to be a good boy. He bit (gently, always gentle with Master’s clothes) and pushed and pulled the shirt until it was nice and piled perfectly, just right for flopping his head down onto, and glanced once more at the door, hoping perhaps Master might be coming through. But the door stayed stubbornly shut, and the garage behind silent, and he sighed as he laid down, back leg kicking out abruptly as he relaxed. He rubbed his face against Master’s shirt, and let the darkness and peace of his den wash over him and lull him into sleep.
***
He slowly became aware of a yummy smell, hot and sizzling and making his tummy growl, and he stretched as he stumbled out of his den, enjoying the slight burn as he woke up. He shook himself, and trotted to the kitchen, where Master was stirring something on the stove. He ambled over, headbutting Master’s legs and sighing contentedly. “Hey there Austin,” Master said, reaching down to scratch lightly behind his ear, and Austin groaned in pleasure, arching into the fingers and grumbling happily. “I know, you like that.” The fingers withdrew, and he sat, staring up mournfully. “You know the rules. Daska.” He pulled his ears back, glowering a bit, but Master just snapped his fingers, pointing to the rug in front of the sink, and he sighed heavily as he obeyed, flopping on the spot while grumbling. Jensen arched a brow at the noise, but fished a cookie out of the treat jar and offered it, petting him briefly. “That’s a good boy. You know heat and puppies don’t mix.” He turned back to the pan, stirring it while he hummed quietly, and Austin settled in a bit more, relaxing into the comfort of having Master home and close, even if he wasn’t petting.
Eventually, Master pulls the pan off the heat and sets it beside the sink before heading into the living room. He perks up, sitting anxiously since Master hadn’t said he could get up, and shuffles from paw to paw when he hears his food dish clank. Master returns quickly, his water bottle nestled into his food dish, and he can’t help when his butt rises off the rug to wag frantically.
He’s gonna get food.
Master fills the water bottle and caps it again, setting it aside before dishing up the food out of the pans, putting the metal dish into the freezer. He whines, and Jensen just raises a brow at him. “Austin, wait.” He grumbles, but stays put. Stay means to sit and not move at all, wait means he can wriggle and squirm, but not leave his rug. Master gives him a pet, and returns his attention to plating up his own meal. He seems a bit distracted, walking around Austin a few times in his trips, sometimes patting, sometimes not noticing. Eventually he takes his drink and Austin’s water bottle back in the other room, attaching it to the cage with the clink of the wire, and Austin’s butt lifts, wagging in excitement as Jensen comes back in. Master smiles at him, pulling his dish out of the freezer and stirring a little, touching it, and finally says “Okay”, which is awesome. He prances off the rug, headbutting Master’s knee before dashing into the living room, woofing at Master when he takes too long to bring in the food. He charges back into the kitchen, and whines until Master follows, and then leads him to the cage, prancing excitedly until Master says “Ava”, and he charges into his cage, sitting promptly and squirming until his food dish settles onto the floor beside him. He snuffs at it but waits until Jensen says “Okay” again, and then it’s food time, the chicken still warm but not hot as he chases the pieces around the steel, picking out the tastiest ones. He glances up, and Master is watching him with warm eyes, smiling a little as he picks out his own morsels off his own plate, which, if he’s sneaky and sly, he might be able to clean for Master later. Jensen is home, safe, and apparently not going anywhere, so he slows down a little, rooting through the bowl to pick out the water chestnuts from the stir-fry, crunching them with relish as Master laughs.
He’s got a full belly of warm food, a soft and stolen t-shirt slash pillow, and Master just took off his shoes, so they’re not going anywhere tonight. He settles in more comfortably into his cage, content and happy.
This entry originally posted at (http://silverblaze85.dreamwidth.org/83207.html), where there are
comments on it. :)
Word Count: 1,622
Fandom: SPN RPS (Jared/Jensen, but non-sexual)
Rating: Ouhm, we'll say PG-13?
Warnings: Non-sexual puppy-play
Summary: A cage isn't always a bad thing for a puppy.
Many thanks to Mike and Nepal for the beta. Much love, guys!
Jared kicked off his shoes, haphazardly kicking them under the table in the hall as he hooked his keys in their spot, and paused for a moment, letting the quiet and peace of the empty house ease the tension in his shoulders. Filming had sucked, lines getting flubbed left and right, and if the lines were right, then there was some technical problems. Still, he was home, even if Jensen had to stay a bit later to finish off his own filming and wouldn’t be home for a few more hours.
His eyes drifted to the crate nestled between the two armchairs, thick blanket snug around the sides and back made the whole thing dark and inviting, and he groaned at the temptation. It was so tempting to let Austin out, to let his pup-side wash away the stress for a bit, but he was a responsible adult, and if his day had been long, Jensen’s was even longer. He’d be hungry and exhausted when he got home, not in the mood to cook their dinners and play with a puppy. He firmly reminded himself of that as he trudged up the stairs, told himself that he was a mature and responsible adult that would care for their mate. If they were lucky, they’d get a few days off coming up soon, and he might pup-out then. But not tonight.
He kept that thought steady through the shower, hot water a blessing as he soaped away some of the stress and all the grime of the day, and grinned as he shook his hair out like a dog when he was done. He couldn’t refrain fully from his pup-side, after all. He dried off, mind absently planning and scheming as he redressed, resigned to the dullness of an average night in. Up until he sat on the bed to tug on his slippers, and the tongue of a buckle dug into his ass. He frowned, rummaging in the sheets until he brushed against soft leather, and tried not to groan as he realized they never put away Austin’s collar. Damnit, but it was very, very tempting to give in. He steeled himself, set it on the nightstand and went about tidying up the rest of the room. But his eyes kept drifting back to the innocent leather laying sweetly on the wood, calling and tempting, and when he knelt by the side of the bed to pull out one of Jensen’s sleep shirts that had been trying to crawl away under the frame, and he saw Austin’s favorite talking-toy under there, he sighed and gave up. He could only be so good. He slipped the leather around his neck, surrendering as the buckle chimed merrily as it slid into place. Austin shook himself, settling back into his skin, and sneezed at the foolishness of his human part. As if their Jensen would ever not enjoy their company. Humans were so silly at times.
He peered underneath the bed, huffing when he saw the talking plushy still under there, the little beady eyes mocking him as it stayed just out of his reach. He pawed at it, growling softly when he brushed the spotted tail. Stupid Charo. He barked at her, scrabbling at the carpet in frustration when she stayed just out of reach, and finally huffed when it became obvious he wasn’t getting her.
But Jensen could! He thundered to the top of the stairs and barked loudly, wagging in anticipation, slowing as the house remained quiet. He frowned, barked again loud and echoing, but there was no answer, and he sighed. His Jensen had gotten lost again it seemed. He eyed the stairs for a long moment before resigning himself to having to go down them. He trotted back into the bedroom, tugged out his Master’s shirt and took it with him, the warm and sleepy scent of Jensen reminding him why he was messing with the stairs at all. He whined at the top of the stairs, the sound muffled by the fabric, and shifted anxiously from paw to paw. He hates the stairs. Hates them, hates them, hates them. Probably more than the squirrel that steals off the back porch and then threatens him from the low branches of the tree. He dropped the shirt and cried again, stilling to hear if maybe, possibly, Master is coming to help him, but the house was still quiet and still. He huffed in agitation before gingerly picking up the shirt and steeling himself to the stairs. His Jensen is somewhere, and he’s got to find him. He held that thought close like a peanut butter filled Kong, and started his descent.
He’s so thankful they don’t have cameras in the house to record the spectacular tumble he takes part way down. He growled at the stairs for a moment before picking up the shirt and wandering through to find Jensen, getting more anxious at every empty room he finds. He eventually found his crate, dropping the shirt to stay safe there, and nosed aside the curtains to peer out, whining quietly when he didn’t see the truck in the driveway.
Master wasn’t home.
Austin sighed, and moped back to his crate, upset that Master wasn't home, but he knew how to be a good boy. He bit (gently, always gentle with Master’s clothes) and pushed and pulled the shirt until it was nice and piled perfectly, just right for flopping his head down onto, and glanced once more at the door, hoping perhaps Master might be coming through. But the door stayed stubbornly shut, and the garage behind silent, and he sighed as he laid down, back leg kicking out abruptly as he relaxed. He rubbed his face against Master’s shirt, and let the darkness and peace of his den wash over him and lull him into sleep.
***
He slowly became aware of a yummy smell, hot and sizzling and making his tummy growl, and he stretched as he stumbled out of his den, enjoying the slight burn as he woke up. He shook himself, and trotted to the kitchen, where Master was stirring something on the stove. He ambled over, headbutting Master’s legs and sighing contentedly. “Hey there Austin,” Master said, reaching down to scratch lightly behind his ear, and Austin groaned in pleasure, arching into the fingers and grumbling happily. “I know, you like that.” The fingers withdrew, and he sat, staring up mournfully. “You know the rules. Daska.” He pulled his ears back, glowering a bit, but Master just snapped his fingers, pointing to the rug in front of the sink, and he sighed heavily as he obeyed, flopping on the spot while grumbling. Jensen arched a brow at the noise, but fished a cookie out of the treat jar and offered it, petting him briefly. “That’s a good boy. You know heat and puppies don’t mix.” He turned back to the pan, stirring it while he hummed quietly, and Austin settled in a bit more, relaxing into the comfort of having Master home and close, even if he wasn’t petting.
Eventually, Master pulls the pan off the heat and sets it beside the sink before heading into the living room. He perks up, sitting anxiously since Master hadn’t said he could get up, and shuffles from paw to paw when he hears his food dish clank. Master returns quickly, his water bottle nestled into his food dish, and he can’t help when his butt rises off the rug to wag frantically.
He’s gonna get food.
Master fills the water bottle and caps it again, setting it aside before dishing up the food out of the pans, putting the metal dish into the freezer. He whines, and Jensen just raises a brow at him. “Austin, wait.” He grumbles, but stays put. Stay means to sit and not move at all, wait means he can wriggle and squirm, but not leave his rug. Master gives him a pet, and returns his attention to plating up his own meal. He seems a bit distracted, walking around Austin a few times in his trips, sometimes patting, sometimes not noticing. Eventually he takes his drink and Austin’s water bottle back in the other room, attaching it to the cage with the clink of the wire, and Austin’s butt lifts, wagging in excitement as Jensen comes back in. Master smiles at him, pulling his dish out of the freezer and stirring a little, touching it, and finally says “Okay”, which is awesome. He prances off the rug, headbutting Master’s knee before dashing into the living room, woofing at Master when he takes too long to bring in the food. He charges back into the kitchen, and whines until Master follows, and then leads him to the cage, prancing excitedly until Master says “Ava”, and he charges into his cage, sitting promptly and squirming until his food dish settles onto the floor beside him. He snuffs at it but waits until Jensen says “Okay” again, and then it’s food time, the chicken still warm but not hot as he chases the pieces around the steel, picking out the tastiest ones. He glances up, and Master is watching him with warm eyes, smiling a little as he picks out his own morsels off his own plate, which, if he’s sneaky and sly, he might be able to clean for Master later. Jensen is home, safe, and apparently not going anywhere, so he slows down a little, rooting through the bowl to pick out the water chestnuts from the stir-fry, crunching them with relish as Master laughs.
He’s got a full belly of warm food, a soft and stolen t-shirt slash pillow, and Master just took off his shoes, so they’re not going anywhere tonight. He settles in more comfortably into his cage, content and happy.
This entry originally posted at (http://silverblaze85.dreamwidth.org/83207.html), where there are
comments on it. :)