Prompt #350 - Bondage - 'The Power of One'
Title: The Power of One
Author: tabaqui
Pairing: Christian Kane/Jason Behr, Jensen & Jared
Rating: Adult
Word Count: 500 (ficlet)
Warnings:
Beta'd by darkhavens, as usual. :)
"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon…" Jensen chanted under his breath, staring hard at the road unfurling from the headlights; crappy dirt road, all washboards and washouts. Jared drove like a crazy person, because he was more sober than Jensen, but his skills behind the wheel left something to be desired.
Or it was just nerves. Probably it was nerves. Jensen felt like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, and only his death-grip on the baseball bat was keeping him from tearing Jared a new one every time he clipped a pothole or skidded on a washboard.
Fretting about the damn road and the damn truck at least made it easier to not fret about what might be - could be - happening to Christian right at that moment.
Finally, finally, they made the turn, tore up Christian's drive and skidded to a stop six inches from his porch steps. Jensen was fumbling the door open before Jared could even put the truck in park, sliding to the ground and leaping up the steps, three in one bound.
"Jensen- fuck! Hold on, slow down!" Jared hissed. Jensen stopped short of the screen door, trying to see in, but the house was black as (a grave, black as a grave, oh God, what if he's dead, what if that fucking nutjob killed Chris-) a mine, and Jensen couldn't see anything but his own shadow, limned in the dazzle of headlights.
"Okay, together-" Jared was right there, shotgun held up and ready, and Jensen nodded once, then reached out and tugged open the screen door. Jared got his foot against it and held it wide, and Jensen tested the door knob. Unlocked. He took a deep breath and looked over at Jared before twisting the knob and shoving the door open, hard enough to send it crashing into the wall.
The headlights showed Christian's boots and socks, a broken picture frame, eddying dust. From behind the house, an engine revved and even as Jensen turned, as Jared did, Christian's truck shot out from behind the house and all but flew away down the drive, out onto the road and gone. Ten seconds, less, and the engine noise was fading, fading...gone.
"Fuck. fuck! Should we-? We should follow him, we should-" Jared took a hesitant step toward Jensen's truck, and Jensen put his hand on Jared's arm.
"No, no. We gotta- Jared, we gotta...see if...Chris might be - in the house, we gotta...see."
"Shit." Jared's eyes were huge - his face looked white as milk - and Jensen himself felt bloodless, not quite there.
"Yeah. Fuck. Okay - don't...don't touch anything. We can't - mess it up. The cops'll...need everything…."
"Yeah, right, okay." Jared took a sharp, hitching breath and then Jensen did, and they went slowly inside.
They found bloodied towels, Christian's shattered phone, bits of rope. In the side yard was a monster, gleaming black hulk of a bike, reflecting the flashing blue and red of the police car's lights like a carnival. Christian, and that guy, were gone.
Author: tabaqui
Pairing: Christian Kane/Jason Behr, Jensen & Jared
Rating: Adult
Word Count: 500 (ficlet)
Warnings:
Beta'd by darkhavens, as usual. :)
"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon…" Jensen chanted under his breath, staring hard at the road unfurling from the headlights; crappy dirt road, all washboards and washouts. Jared drove like a crazy person, because he was more sober than Jensen, but his skills behind the wheel left something to be desired.
Or it was just nerves. Probably it was nerves. Jensen felt like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, and only his death-grip on the baseball bat was keeping him from tearing Jared a new one every time he clipped a pothole or skidded on a washboard.
Fretting about the damn road and the damn truck at least made it easier to not fret about what might be - could be - happening to Christian right at that moment.
Finally, finally, they made the turn, tore up Christian's drive and skidded to a stop six inches from his porch steps. Jensen was fumbling the door open before Jared could even put the truck in park, sliding to the ground and leaping up the steps, three in one bound.
"Jensen- fuck! Hold on, slow down!" Jared hissed. Jensen stopped short of the screen door, trying to see in, but the house was black as (a grave, black as a grave, oh God, what if he's dead, what if that fucking nutjob killed Chris-) a mine, and Jensen couldn't see anything but his own shadow, limned in the dazzle of headlights.
"Okay, together-" Jared was right there, shotgun held up and ready, and Jensen nodded once, then reached out and tugged open the screen door. Jared got his foot against it and held it wide, and Jensen tested the door knob. Unlocked. He took a deep breath and looked over at Jared before twisting the knob and shoving the door open, hard enough to send it crashing into the wall.
The headlights showed Christian's boots and socks, a broken picture frame, eddying dust. From behind the house, an engine revved and even as Jensen turned, as Jared did, Christian's truck shot out from behind the house and all but flew away down the drive, out onto the road and gone. Ten seconds, less, and the engine noise was fading, fading...gone.
"Fuck. fuck! Should we-? We should follow him, we should-" Jared took a hesitant step toward Jensen's truck, and Jensen put his hand on Jared's arm.
"No, no. We gotta- Jared, we gotta...see if...Chris might be - in the house, we gotta...see."
"Shit." Jared's eyes were huge - his face looked white as milk - and Jensen himself felt bloodless, not quite there.
"Yeah. Fuck. Okay - don't...don't touch anything. We can't - mess it up. The cops'll...need everything…."
"Yeah, right, okay." Jared took a sharp, hitching breath and then Jensen did, and they went slowly inside.
They found bloodied towels, Christian's shattered phone, bits of rope. In the side yard was a monster, gleaming black hulk of a bike, reflecting the flashing blue and red of the police car's lights like a carnival. Christian, and that guy, were gone.