Fic J2: Took a right turn at confusion
Title: Took a Right Turn At Confusion
Disney Prompt: The Mighty Ducks
Rating: R for swearing
Word Count: 2196
Community: for the fifth and final round of j2_everafter
Characters: Jensen, Jared, Christian, mentions of Danneel, Steve and David Boreanaz, a douche bag Icelander
Warnings: swearing - a lot of it, use of pain medication, douche bag Icelanders, not a lot of hockey, allusions to space related TV shows
Summary: Jensen Ackles deals with douche bag Icelanders and a good looking Texan - both of which play hockey
A/N: It appears that I like to talk smack about my fellow countrymen, who knew :P
“Not only do I have to deal with douche bag Icelanders ‘cause my great-great-great-grandfather was Danish and my mom chose to name me after him, but also, the opposing team’s coach? He’s like Spock’s son or something. At least fucking butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. His ‘holier-than-thou’ attitude is like more than a mile wide....at least a galaxy!” Jensen paused his tirade and took a big gulp of his beer.
Christian stayed silent. If the texts he had been getting this past week were anything to go by, this rant was far from over and he knew his friend well enough to let him just go on and blow off some steam.
“And the thing is, he’s from Texas! I thought I could, I don’t know, maybe find some common ground with him. But oh no! Mr. High-and-Mighty Coach is too good to speak to peons such as the visiting team’s local guide. And why the fuck that team needs a local guide I have no clue about. Why can’t they be like every other team and find their own fucking way. Seriously! The fucking coach is a fucking misogynist, I’m tellin’ ya!”
If they hadn’t been in their usual bar, Christian would maybe feel concerned about Jensen’s voice level, but, seeing as their friend Dave owned the joint, and that it was three in the afternoon and therefore not a lot of people around, he felt confident in allowing Jensen to rant as much and as loudly as he wished. He obviously needed it.
“Also, why is a fucking team from fucking Iceland visiting Bumfuck, Nowhere to play hockey? I didn’t even realize they played hockey!”
Usually Jensen liked the place they called home, but apparently things had come to such a point that he wished he was anywhere else than here. Preferably on a starship in a different part of the galaxy or even a different one. Christian mentally cursed Danneel and Steve’s recent obsession with space related TV shows. They were totally messing with Jensen’s head, and his as well come to think of it, ‘cause he would never had had that train of thought if he hadn’t been sucked into their TV marathoning vortex.
“How do you know he’s a misogynist?” Christian asked.
“I just know, OK? The assistant coach is a girl. A fucking stunning one and you know how I feel about girls, so that’s saying something. And every time he speaks it’s in a fucking derogatory tone. OK, so they speak in Icelandic and that shit is like Chinese only with a lot more complicated sounds, but I can hear the tone and see the look on the poor girl’s face. And I’m telling you. It’s not pretty. And the fucking Texan is fucking oblivious!”
Christian knew that for Jensen to mention the opposing team’s coach in the middle of a tirade about the Icelanders was saying something about his preferences all right. He knew then what this whole thing was about, but was determined not to let Jensen know that he knew. If Jensen found out, things wouldn’t be pleasant for a long while. At least until Jensen figured it out himself and actually did something about it. Although, Christian figured that he might have to wait a long time if he didn’t help things along, surreptitiously of course.
“So Jay, this Texan?” Christian knew that the nickname would calm his friend down. It wasn’t used often, and then only by the people who really cared about Jensen and often when they wanted to get him to focus, to calm down or when they had something important to say. “What’s he like?” Christian really wanted to know. If the man could rattle his calm-as-you-please friend this much, he must be something alright.
“Oh gods! Fucking Jared fucking Padalecki! He’s a fucking giant. Like taller than fucking Tom, and you know how bloody impossible that actually is! He’s fucking John Sheppard with the hair too!” Jensen downed his beer and signaled to Dave to bring more. Christian was still on his second when Jensen had finished his third and Christian’s third as well.
When Dave brought a couple of more bottles, Jensen downed half a beer in one go, and then continued.
“So, he’s a sasquatch, with fucking dimples! Which he uses on the douche bags assistant coach. Ugh, I’m gonna have to be around those douche bags tomorrow as well. Fucking hell!”
A man who was taller than Jensen, Christian knew, was like a giant magnet for his friend, and add in something as serious as dimples. Well, Christian figured that if things didn’t come to a head soon, this time while the Icelanders were here would involve lots of beer and half-drunken rants in Dave’s bar. Even at Christian’s and Steve’s place, you know, when Dave had had enough and finally kicked them out. Danni would be in high demand, soothing Jensen’s ruffled feathers, Christian was sure of that.
***
When Jensen showed up at the ice skating rink the next day, the douche bags were running suicides on the ice. The coach stood on the sideline and yelled some incomprehensible gibberish at his team.
“Hættu að vera svona mikil kerling Gunnar. Hreyfðu þig! Vörn Baldur, VÖRN! Ætlarðu bara að fara í frí frá markvörslunni þegar við keppum Óðinn? Þú skilur markið eftir galopið ef þú heldur þessu áfram!” (“Stop being such a broad Gunnar! Move it! Defense Baldur, DEFENSE! Are you just gonna take a vacation from the goalkeeping when we’re competing Odin? You’re leaving the goal wide open if you continue like this”)
Jensen looked at the assistant coach and saw her cringe. Apparently it wasn’t anything nice that the head douche bag was saying. She went out onto the ice to try and make the coach calm down.
“What that team needs is to make that guy disappear and have her coach them instead.” Jensen turned his head to see who had spoken and discovered fucking dimples and smiling hazel eyes. Fuck!
“Don’t you want them to fail so spectacularly when you’re playing them?” Jensen asked.
“No, not really. It wouldn’t be fair to my boys to have the game be a cake-walk. They’re from Iceland after all.” Jared mused.
Jensen figured he had a point. Games where the opposing team was completely thrashed were no fun to play or to watch.
“You should know that the majority of the Winnipeg Falcons were Icelanders. You know, the team who won the first ever Olympic Gold Medal in hockey.” Jensen had learned this from the assistant coach. He had heard her name, but gods knew that he couldn’t pronounce it to save his life.
“Well shit son!” Jared remarked. “Why are these guys so astonishingly bad?”
“Guess it’s like you said. Fucking douche bag coach.” Jensen said.
Jared smiled conspiratorially.
“You’re a fucking spy! Hanging with the rivals and probably telling them all our secrets!” The Icelandic coach had turned towards them and started yelling. The assistant coach try to hold him back when he started advancing towards Jensen and Jared, but to no avail.
Jensen stepped out onto the ice to try to reason with the man.
“I don’t understand anything you’re saying. You’re speaking Icelandic to your team and I’ve never ever learnt that language, so how am I supposed to be trading your secrets?”
“You probably have a camera and are showing him our formations!” The coach was positively foaming at the mouth.
“You know what? Fuck this! I didn’t ask to be your fucking local guide, so you can just take this job and shove it!” At that moment Jensen felt his left arm, the one he had started waving about in anger and frustration, crack and saw a puck flying past him. One of the Icelanders had seriously miscalculated his shot. Jensen lost his balance and fell onto the ice, he felt his head smack the ice just before he blacked out.
“You fucking imbecile! Call 911, somebody!” Jensen heard Jared’s voice before he opened his eyes. Jared was kneeling beside him and making several rude gestures towards the Icelanders. The assistant coach was on the phone, presumably calling for an ambulance. His arm fucking hurt. The douche bag was nowhere to be seen.
“Jensen? Are you with me?” Jared’s tone was concerned, “What’s the status on that ambulance? Can’t you see his arm is broken and he probably has a concussion. Jensen?” Jared turned back towards Jensen, “is there anyone we should call to meet you at the hospital?”
Jensen tried to speak, but now he had become aware of how much his head was throbbing, and bile had started to rise up.
“Phone. Chris.” He managed to say before he had to puke. Thankfully Jared noticed the signs and made the necessary adjustments so Jensen wouldn’t suffocate on his own vomit.
“Hey!” Jared called towards the assistant coach, “here, take his phone, call Chris and tell them what’s happened. I’ll go with him in the ambulance.” Jared had dug Jensen’s cell phone from his pocket and held it out towards the girl.
The ambulance arrived shortly afterwards and the technicians gave Jensen some delicious morphine that took away all his pain and splintered his arm. Jensen grabbed onto Jared with his good arm once he was settled in the ambulance and didn’t let go all the way to the hospital.
***
Once they got to the hospital, they were met by a frantic looking Christian and a somewhat calmer Steve.
“Jensen! What the fuck happened! We came as soon as we heard. And who was that on your phone? Are you holding out on us boy?” Christian looked between Jensen and Jared, trying to figure everything out.
“’Ris ‘nd stev’! Tis Jar-ed. He’s priiityyyy!” Jensen was high as a kite.
Jared, looking and feeling somewhat embarrassed by that outburst, decided to fill them in as they followed the gurney into the hospital.
“He was arguing with the douche bag, when one of the guys on the team miscalculated the arc the puck would take and it hit his arm, snapped it clear in half. Then Jensen toppled onto the ice and hit his head real bad. He was out for a couple of seconds.”
“You’s dimmpless!” Jensen tried to poke one of them with his good arm, but his aim was off due to the drugs, so his hand just flailed weirdly in the air before falling down.
At that time they were approached by a doctor who wheeled Jensen away for x-rays and other stuff none of them really registered, some because of drugs, some because of shock and others because they didn’t really understand or care.
***
When Jensen came back from x-rays and having a cast put on his arm, he was still a bit high, but more coherent than when he had been admitted. The three men were waiting for him in the ER. Steve was staring into space, probably thinking about some space show, or where he could score his next bag of weed, Christian pacing the cubicle and Jared standing awkwardly, still blushing from what Jensen had said before he left for his sight-seeing tour of the premises.
“Thank fuck you’re back,” Christian said as soon as his friend was rolled into the cubicle.
The doctor said something about Jensen’s ongoing care and handed Christian a prescription for painkillers. Jared was the only one who remotely registered what the doctor had said.
Christian ushered them all out to his car, pushing Jensen in his wheelchair with Jared and Steve trailing behind. After situating Jensen in the back of his car, he turned towards Jared who didn’t really know what he was supposed to be doing.
“You’re coming with us, you know that right? I didn’t understand half of what that doctor said, this guy is high as a kite on prescription meds and that one,” he pointed towards Steve who was getting into the front passenger seat, “is high on the other kind of meds. And I assume that you’re more familiar with this type of injury, being a hockey coach and all. Now get in!” Jared walked meekly to the other side of the car and got in. As soon as he sat down, Jensen slumped against him, with his head on Jared’s shoulder.
***
Once Christian and Steve were occupied with some senseless bickering in the front of the car, Jensen turned his head so he was looking up at Jared.
“You know,” he slurred, “I meant it all. I’ve just been too stubborn to realize it.” He closed his eyes and was asleep in a second.
Jared looked down at him, smiled and said, “thank gods!”.
THE END!
Disney Prompt: The Mighty Ducks
Rating: R for swearing
Word Count: 2196
Community: for the fifth and final round of j2_everafter
Characters: Jensen, Jared, Christian, mentions of Danneel, Steve and David Boreanaz, a douche bag Icelander
Warnings: swearing - a lot of it, use of pain medication, douche bag Icelanders, not a lot of hockey, allusions to space related TV shows
Summary: Jensen Ackles deals with douche bag Icelanders and a good looking Texan - both of which play hockey
A/N: It appears that I like to talk smack about my fellow countrymen, who knew :P
“Not only do I have to deal with douche bag Icelanders ‘cause my great-great-great-grandfather was Danish and my mom chose to name me after him, but also, the opposing team’s coach? He’s like Spock’s son or something. At least fucking butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. His ‘holier-than-thou’ attitude is like more than a mile wide....at least a galaxy!” Jensen paused his tirade and took a big gulp of his beer.
Christian stayed silent. If the texts he had been getting this past week were anything to go by, this rant was far from over and he knew his friend well enough to let him just go on and blow off some steam.
“And the thing is, he’s from Texas! I thought I could, I don’t know, maybe find some common ground with him. But oh no! Mr. High-and-Mighty Coach is too good to speak to peons such as the visiting team’s local guide. And why the fuck that team needs a local guide I have no clue about. Why can’t they be like every other team and find their own fucking way. Seriously! The fucking coach is a fucking misogynist, I’m tellin’ ya!”
If they hadn’t been in their usual bar, Christian would maybe feel concerned about Jensen’s voice level, but, seeing as their friend Dave owned the joint, and that it was three in the afternoon and therefore not a lot of people around, he felt confident in allowing Jensen to rant as much and as loudly as he wished. He obviously needed it.
“Also, why is a fucking team from fucking Iceland visiting Bumfuck, Nowhere to play hockey? I didn’t even realize they played hockey!”
Usually Jensen liked the place they called home, but apparently things had come to such a point that he wished he was anywhere else than here. Preferably on a starship in a different part of the galaxy or even a different one. Christian mentally cursed Danneel and Steve’s recent obsession with space related TV shows. They were totally messing with Jensen’s head, and his as well come to think of it, ‘cause he would never had had that train of thought if he hadn’t been sucked into their TV marathoning vortex.
“How do you know he’s a misogynist?” Christian asked.
“I just know, OK? The assistant coach is a girl. A fucking stunning one and you know how I feel about girls, so that’s saying something. And every time he speaks it’s in a fucking derogatory tone. OK, so they speak in Icelandic and that shit is like Chinese only with a lot more complicated sounds, but I can hear the tone and see the look on the poor girl’s face. And I’m telling you. It’s not pretty. And the fucking Texan is fucking oblivious!”
Christian knew that for Jensen to mention the opposing team’s coach in the middle of a tirade about the Icelanders was saying something about his preferences all right. He knew then what this whole thing was about, but was determined not to let Jensen know that he knew. If Jensen found out, things wouldn’t be pleasant for a long while. At least until Jensen figured it out himself and actually did something about it. Although, Christian figured that he might have to wait a long time if he didn’t help things along, surreptitiously of course.
“So Jay, this Texan?” Christian knew that the nickname would calm his friend down. It wasn’t used often, and then only by the people who really cared about Jensen and often when they wanted to get him to focus, to calm down or when they had something important to say. “What’s he like?” Christian really wanted to know. If the man could rattle his calm-as-you-please friend this much, he must be something alright.
“Oh gods! Fucking Jared fucking Padalecki! He’s a fucking giant. Like taller than fucking Tom, and you know how bloody impossible that actually is! He’s fucking John Sheppard with the hair too!” Jensen downed his beer and signaled to Dave to bring more. Christian was still on his second when Jensen had finished his third and Christian’s third as well.
When Dave brought a couple of more bottles, Jensen downed half a beer in one go, and then continued.
“So, he’s a sasquatch, with fucking dimples! Which he uses on the douche bags assistant coach. Ugh, I’m gonna have to be around those douche bags tomorrow as well. Fucking hell!”
A man who was taller than Jensen, Christian knew, was like a giant magnet for his friend, and add in something as serious as dimples. Well, Christian figured that if things didn’t come to a head soon, this time while the Icelanders were here would involve lots of beer and half-drunken rants in Dave’s bar. Even at Christian’s and Steve’s place, you know, when Dave had had enough and finally kicked them out. Danni would be in high demand, soothing Jensen’s ruffled feathers, Christian was sure of that.
***
When Jensen showed up at the ice skating rink the next day, the douche bags were running suicides on the ice. The coach stood on the sideline and yelled some incomprehensible gibberish at his team.
“Hættu að vera svona mikil kerling Gunnar. Hreyfðu þig! Vörn Baldur, VÖRN! Ætlarðu bara að fara í frí frá markvörslunni þegar við keppum Óðinn? Þú skilur markið eftir galopið ef þú heldur þessu áfram!” (“Stop being such a broad Gunnar! Move it! Defense Baldur, DEFENSE! Are you just gonna take a vacation from the goalkeeping when we’re competing Odin? You’re leaving the goal wide open if you continue like this”)
Jensen looked at the assistant coach and saw her cringe. Apparently it wasn’t anything nice that the head douche bag was saying. She went out onto the ice to try and make the coach calm down.
“What that team needs is to make that guy disappear and have her coach them instead.” Jensen turned his head to see who had spoken and discovered fucking dimples and smiling hazel eyes. Fuck!
“Don’t you want them to fail so spectacularly when you’re playing them?” Jensen asked.
“No, not really. It wouldn’t be fair to my boys to have the game be a cake-walk. They’re from Iceland after all.” Jared mused.
Jensen figured he had a point. Games where the opposing team was completely thrashed were no fun to play or to watch.
“You should know that the majority of the Winnipeg Falcons were Icelanders. You know, the team who won the first ever Olympic Gold Medal in hockey.” Jensen had learned this from the assistant coach. He had heard her name, but gods knew that he couldn’t pronounce it to save his life.
“Well shit son!” Jared remarked. “Why are these guys so astonishingly bad?”
“Guess it’s like you said. Fucking douche bag coach.” Jensen said.
Jared smiled conspiratorially.
“You’re a fucking spy! Hanging with the rivals and probably telling them all our secrets!” The Icelandic coach had turned towards them and started yelling. The assistant coach try to hold him back when he started advancing towards Jensen and Jared, but to no avail.
Jensen stepped out onto the ice to try to reason with the man.
“I don’t understand anything you’re saying. You’re speaking Icelandic to your team and I’ve never ever learnt that language, so how am I supposed to be trading your secrets?”
“You probably have a camera and are showing him our formations!” The coach was positively foaming at the mouth.
“You know what? Fuck this! I didn’t ask to be your fucking local guide, so you can just take this job and shove it!” At that moment Jensen felt his left arm, the one he had started waving about in anger and frustration, crack and saw a puck flying past him. One of the Icelanders had seriously miscalculated his shot. Jensen lost his balance and fell onto the ice, he felt his head smack the ice just before he blacked out.
“You fucking imbecile! Call 911, somebody!” Jensen heard Jared’s voice before he opened his eyes. Jared was kneeling beside him and making several rude gestures towards the Icelanders. The assistant coach was on the phone, presumably calling for an ambulance. His arm fucking hurt. The douche bag was nowhere to be seen.
“Jensen? Are you with me?” Jared’s tone was concerned, “What’s the status on that ambulance? Can’t you see his arm is broken and he probably has a concussion. Jensen?” Jared turned back towards Jensen, “is there anyone we should call to meet you at the hospital?”
Jensen tried to speak, but now he had become aware of how much his head was throbbing, and bile had started to rise up.
“Phone. Chris.” He managed to say before he had to puke. Thankfully Jared noticed the signs and made the necessary adjustments so Jensen wouldn’t suffocate on his own vomit.
“Hey!” Jared called towards the assistant coach, “here, take his phone, call Chris and tell them what’s happened. I’ll go with him in the ambulance.” Jared had dug Jensen’s cell phone from his pocket and held it out towards the girl.
The ambulance arrived shortly afterwards and the technicians gave Jensen some delicious morphine that took away all his pain and splintered his arm. Jensen grabbed onto Jared with his good arm once he was settled in the ambulance and didn’t let go all the way to the hospital.
***
Once they got to the hospital, they were met by a frantic looking Christian and a somewhat calmer Steve.
“Jensen! What the fuck happened! We came as soon as we heard. And who was that on your phone? Are you holding out on us boy?” Christian looked between Jensen and Jared, trying to figure everything out.
“’Ris ‘nd stev’! Tis Jar-ed. He’s priiityyyy!” Jensen was high as a kite.
Jared, looking and feeling somewhat embarrassed by that outburst, decided to fill them in as they followed the gurney into the hospital.
“He was arguing with the douche bag, when one of the guys on the team miscalculated the arc the puck would take and it hit his arm, snapped it clear in half. Then Jensen toppled onto the ice and hit his head real bad. He was out for a couple of seconds.”
“You’s dimmpless!” Jensen tried to poke one of them with his good arm, but his aim was off due to the drugs, so his hand just flailed weirdly in the air before falling down.
At that time they were approached by a doctor who wheeled Jensen away for x-rays and other stuff none of them really registered, some because of drugs, some because of shock and others because they didn’t really understand or care.
***
When Jensen came back from x-rays and having a cast put on his arm, he was still a bit high, but more coherent than when he had been admitted. The three men were waiting for him in the ER. Steve was staring into space, probably thinking about some space show, or where he could score his next bag of weed, Christian pacing the cubicle and Jared standing awkwardly, still blushing from what Jensen had said before he left for his sight-seeing tour of the premises.
“Thank fuck you’re back,” Christian said as soon as his friend was rolled into the cubicle.
The doctor said something about Jensen’s ongoing care and handed Christian a prescription for painkillers. Jared was the only one who remotely registered what the doctor had said.
Christian ushered them all out to his car, pushing Jensen in his wheelchair with Jared and Steve trailing behind. After situating Jensen in the back of his car, he turned towards Jared who didn’t really know what he was supposed to be doing.
“You’re coming with us, you know that right? I didn’t understand half of what that doctor said, this guy is high as a kite on prescription meds and that one,” he pointed towards Steve who was getting into the front passenger seat, “is high on the other kind of meds. And I assume that you’re more familiar with this type of injury, being a hockey coach and all. Now get in!” Jared walked meekly to the other side of the car and got in. As soon as he sat down, Jensen slumped against him, with his head on Jared’s shoulder.
***
Once Christian and Steve were occupied with some senseless bickering in the front of the car, Jensen turned his head so he was looking up at Jared.
“You know,” he slurred, “I meant it all. I’ve just been too stubborn to realize it.” He closed his eyes and was asleep in a second.
Jared looked down at him, smiled and said, “thank gods!”.
THE END!