Fic: Save the best for last
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: R
Words: 1940
Summary: When the show ends, it's time to remember the past. Or: Jensen's always taken good care of Jared.
Notes: Written for spn_j2_xmas for just_chiara. I'm so sorry for the delay!
AO3 link.
Save the best for last
It happens when Jared reaches for the last couple of glasses on the highest shelf, the one that's too far up even for him. It's always been mounted a little precariously, and when Jared's hand knocks against the side, it all comes easily down.
Jensen's in the kitchen a minute later, likely alerted by the loud crash, taking in the scene: the shelf and glasses on the floor, Jared pressing a kitchen towel to his forehead.
"Can't leave you alone for a minute," Jensen mutters as he carefully sidesteps the broken shards to gently tug the towel away from Jared's face and assess the damage.
Later, when Jensen's taped a band-aid over the cut and given in to Jared's demand to kiss it better, Jared remarks, "You take such good care of me."
"Always," Jensen says.
***
They hadn't even been in this bar for ten minutes, Jensen thought, and already he watched Jared hold up his hands and talk intensely to the guy in front of him. The man was a full head smaller than Jared - not a particularly difficult feat - but didn't seem to care about that. Neither did the two angry-looking people behind him.
Jensen downed the last of his bourbon and set his glass on a nearby table to have his hands free as he made his way over. He caught "... girlfriend..." and "hey, man, no, I swear..." but the bar was still too loud to get the full picture of what was going on.
"Problem?" Jensen asked as he settled a hopefully reassuring hand on the small of Jared's back.
The question was directed at Jared, but it was the guy who answered, "The jerk hit on my girlfriend."
Jensen angled his body slightly so he stood between the two. "I'm sure it's just -" was as far as he got before the guy threw his first punch. Now Jensen hadn't been training for Dean's fight scenes for two months for nothing. He went in with both fists flying.
They both stumbled out of the taxi at Jared's place because Jared had the dogs to feed and Jensen didn't have the energy to direct the cabbie another fifteen minutes around town to his own apartment. The bar owner had sided with them but still asked them to leave, which Jensen hadn't really minded.
Jensen leaned against the wall beside the door while Jared tried to find the right key, an irritated frown on his face when he caught the wrong one the first two times. He was still holding his left arm stiffly, his lip was split and a scrape sat on his cheek. His hair looked like it was competing with a bird's nest - although Jensen feared he didn't look much better himself.
"Did you see the glances that driver kept shooting us?"
Jared paused in his quest for the key, his mouth twitching. "Like he was debating whether he should leave us at the side of the road." He pushed a hand through his hair. "God, I've never been in a bar fight before."
"In Canada, eh?" Jensen said.
Then they were laughing hysterically, loud enough for one of the dogs to give a bark from inside and scratch at the door, which only made them laugh even harder.
***
Every time Jensen tells the story, it gets more exaggerated. One day, Jared is sure, Jensen will make it sound as if they went up against half the Canadian hockey team.
Jared wanders in from the kitchen at the tail end of it, where Jensen drags a barely conscious Jared through his door, cleans him up and tucks him in bed. Jared takes a pull of his fresh beer and rolls his eyes. As if hey hadn't shared a shower - and later, a bed - for the first time that night.
Mark, Misha and Richard are roaring with laughter at Jensen's rendition of Jared as the damsel in distress, though, so Jared only cuffs Jensen over the head and lets it be.
***
When Jared broke his wrist, everybody said that it was Jensen who went white as a sheet. Jared was definitely not taking this seriously enough.
"Hey, look." He held up his arm, an ice pack wrapped around his wrist and his hand twisted at an odd angle. "You can't even see any blood. Or bones." He paused. "Wouldn't it be cool if you could see the bones sticking out?"
Granted, Jared was also high as a kite from the painkillers he'd been given while they were waiting. It resulted in the occasional happy outburst between poking at the ice pack and being fascinated by the people passing by.
Jensen slowly pulled Jared's hand down into his lap and curled their fingers loosely together - as much for reassurance as to keep Jared from messing it up even further. Just the thought of bones and blood made him nauseous.
Suddenly, Jared slumped down in his seat, dropping his head on Jensen's shoulder, hair tickling Jensen's neck. "Thanks for being here, man," Jared said, barely audible.
Jensen said nothing, just glanced around before pressing a short kiss to Jared's head.
***
When Jensen finds them, Jared and Susan both have the waterworks going - although Jared's man enough to admit that it was him who started it - hugging each other tightly.
"Think of the positive side," Jensen says. "Maybe your next job will be with someone less prone to tripping over his own feet and you don't have to cover up so many bruises anymore."
Jared gives him a well-chosen finger behind Susan’s back.
***
"God, yes. Right there." Jared groaned, one deep, drawn-out sigh that shook his whole body. "Fuck yeah, do that again."
Jensen took his hands off Jared's slick back. "All right, what's with the porn noises?"
Jared looked back over his shoulder, his eyes twinkling. "I can't help myself, you're just that good. You have the magic touch, babe."
"Keep going and the only magic fingers you're getting are the ones on motel set number sixty-three," Jensen grumbled.
It was almost comical how quickly Jared dropped back down, pillowing his head on his crossed arms again. Despite his usual bravado, Jared's shoulders were knotted tight, the strain of the long workday showing in the stiffness of his muscles. Jensen ran both thumbs over Jared's shoulder blades, lightly at first, then digging in harder with each pass until he felt the tissue loosen under his touch.
Jared was quiet as a mouse now, so Jensen rewarded him by kissing his neck while he warmed some more oil between his hands and worked them down either side of Jared's spine, checking for more knots and massaging them away. When he reached the towel that was draped over Jared's ass, Jared surreptitiously spread his legs apart.
Jensen laughed. "Slut," he accused affectionately. He whipped the towel away anyway, unable to resist such a blatant invitation.
It was quick work to prep Jared, partly because Jared was already so relaxed that he easily took two fingers at once. Jensen slid them in and out a few times, careful not to rub over Jared's prostate just yet or the whole thing would be over in minutes.
"C'mon," Jared nearly whined when Jensen added a third finger. "'m ready."
"Shh," Jensen said. "Gonna take such good care of you."
The massage oil made the glide inside slick, the press of Jared's body warm and tight around Jensen's cock. Jensen bit his lip till he was all the way in and could being to move.
He pulled Jared up to his knees, and Jared caught his hand there, dragged him down to lock both their fingers around his dick. Precome was beading at the tip, Jensen rubbed it over the shaft as he fucked Jared, using long, unhurried strokes that slowly drove them both out of their minds.
Jared came first, spilled over their hands with a soft cry, and Jensen couldn't hold out much longer before his orgasm washed over him, leaving him a boneless heap over Jared's back.
Jared stretched languidly. "Man, that was awesome."
"Yeah," Jensen mumbled, still unwilling to move. "I'm reminding you next time I have to film three stunts in one day."
***
"So, fess up, guys," their interviewer says, "All these years of your obvious chemistry on screen; did anything ever happen between you two?" She's a nice young woman and she's made it obvious in her questions that she's seen more than just a couple of the most important episodes of the show - unlike so many others who have interviewed them lately. Jared can't blame her for wanting some juicy details.
He thinks about how they fucked in both their trailers last week. Or how they blew each other yesterday, each trying to make the other come first. (He does not think about how he lost. Again.) Or how they kissed good morning today and shared a bowl of cereal because they've already packed most of their dishes. He has the urge to tell her everything.
"With him?" he says instead. "Considering you have to pay me to spend time with him each day." He claps a hand on Jensen's knee, who rolls his eyes in a see-what-I-gotta-put-up-with gesture.
"Well, don't you come crying to me when you find you don't know what to do without me in two months."
***
When Jared injured his shoulder, Jensen should have known how it went by now: hospital, drugs, Jared having to keep a part of himself immobile, Jared being a whiny little child because he had to keep a part of himself immobile.
Jensen caught him on the phone with his mother, using his free right hand to pour a glass of juice. Jensen snatched the carton out of his hand and glared at him.
"Yes, mom," Jared said. "Jensen's taking care that I follow doctor's orders."
Jensen filled Jared's glass and another for himself. He glanced up as he took a sip.
"Well, then I'll make sure they do tell him," Jared said. He looked at Jensen firmly. "Jensen's family."
***
The set is semi-dark and quiet, just a few people still milling around. They have two days of shooting left, and everybody's more subdued, reminiscing about their time together.
Jared opens the passenger side door to one of the Impalas warily, unsure of the state Jensen's going to be in. They've both had their share of teary-eyed moments lately. But Jensen is just sitting in the driver's seat with his head resting against the window, fingers twisting something in his lap. Jared climbs in and closes the door.
"You ever thought we'd make it this long?" Jensen says.
"Well, the ratings were good, so -"
"No, I'm not talking about the show. I meant us. I mean - Fuck, this is coming out all wrong." He passes a hand over his face. The small thing in his other hand catches some of the light from outside the car, reflecting off the simple band. "Jared, I wanted to ask you -"
"Hold on." Jared pops open the glove compartment, taking out the small box in there.
Jensen's eyes widen. "No, Jared, I wanted -"
"Nuh-uh." Jared covers Jensen's hand with his own. "This is something you need to let me take care of."
Jensen swallows visibly. "How did you know I'd be in here?"
Jared grins. "I hid the same box in the other three Impalas, too." He wedges the box open with his thumb, his other hand still holding Jensen's tightly. "So what do you say?"
Jensen sliding across the bench seat to kiss him is answer enough.
The End.
Rating: R
Words: 1940
Summary: When the show ends, it's time to remember the past. Or: Jensen's always taken good care of Jared.
Notes: Written for spn_j2_xmas for just_chiara. I'm so sorry for the delay!
AO3 link.
Save the best for last
It happens when Jared reaches for the last couple of glasses on the highest shelf, the one that's too far up even for him. It's always been mounted a little precariously, and when Jared's hand knocks against the side, it all comes easily down.
Jensen's in the kitchen a minute later, likely alerted by the loud crash, taking in the scene: the shelf and glasses on the floor, Jared pressing a kitchen towel to his forehead.
"Can't leave you alone for a minute," Jensen mutters as he carefully sidesteps the broken shards to gently tug the towel away from Jared's face and assess the damage.
Later, when Jensen's taped a band-aid over the cut and given in to Jared's demand to kiss it better, Jared remarks, "You take such good care of me."
"Always," Jensen says.
***
They hadn't even been in this bar for ten minutes, Jensen thought, and already he watched Jared hold up his hands and talk intensely to the guy in front of him. The man was a full head smaller than Jared - not a particularly difficult feat - but didn't seem to care about that. Neither did the two angry-looking people behind him.
Jensen downed the last of his bourbon and set his glass on a nearby table to have his hands free as he made his way over. He caught "... girlfriend..." and "hey, man, no, I swear..." but the bar was still too loud to get the full picture of what was going on.
"Problem?" Jensen asked as he settled a hopefully reassuring hand on the small of Jared's back.
The question was directed at Jared, but it was the guy who answered, "The jerk hit on my girlfriend."
Jensen angled his body slightly so he stood between the two. "I'm sure it's just -" was as far as he got before the guy threw his first punch. Now Jensen hadn't been training for Dean's fight scenes for two months for nothing. He went in with both fists flying.
They both stumbled out of the taxi at Jared's place because Jared had the dogs to feed and Jensen didn't have the energy to direct the cabbie another fifteen minutes around town to his own apartment. The bar owner had sided with them but still asked them to leave, which Jensen hadn't really minded.
Jensen leaned against the wall beside the door while Jared tried to find the right key, an irritated frown on his face when he caught the wrong one the first two times. He was still holding his left arm stiffly, his lip was split and a scrape sat on his cheek. His hair looked like it was competing with a bird's nest - although Jensen feared he didn't look much better himself.
"Did you see the glances that driver kept shooting us?"
Jared paused in his quest for the key, his mouth twitching. "Like he was debating whether he should leave us at the side of the road." He pushed a hand through his hair. "God, I've never been in a bar fight before."
"In Canada, eh?" Jensen said.
Then they were laughing hysterically, loud enough for one of the dogs to give a bark from inside and scratch at the door, which only made them laugh even harder.
***
Every time Jensen tells the story, it gets more exaggerated. One day, Jared is sure, Jensen will make it sound as if they went up against half the Canadian hockey team.
Jared wanders in from the kitchen at the tail end of it, where Jensen drags a barely conscious Jared through his door, cleans him up and tucks him in bed. Jared takes a pull of his fresh beer and rolls his eyes. As if hey hadn't shared a shower - and later, a bed - for the first time that night.
Mark, Misha and Richard are roaring with laughter at Jensen's rendition of Jared as the damsel in distress, though, so Jared only cuffs Jensen over the head and lets it be.
***
When Jared broke his wrist, everybody said that it was Jensen who went white as a sheet. Jared was definitely not taking this seriously enough.
"Hey, look." He held up his arm, an ice pack wrapped around his wrist and his hand twisted at an odd angle. "You can't even see any blood. Or bones." He paused. "Wouldn't it be cool if you could see the bones sticking out?"
Granted, Jared was also high as a kite from the painkillers he'd been given while they were waiting. It resulted in the occasional happy outburst between poking at the ice pack and being fascinated by the people passing by.
Jensen slowly pulled Jared's hand down into his lap and curled their fingers loosely together - as much for reassurance as to keep Jared from messing it up even further. Just the thought of bones and blood made him nauseous.
Suddenly, Jared slumped down in his seat, dropping his head on Jensen's shoulder, hair tickling Jensen's neck. "Thanks for being here, man," Jared said, barely audible.
Jensen said nothing, just glanced around before pressing a short kiss to Jared's head.
***
When Jensen finds them, Jared and Susan both have the waterworks going - although Jared's man enough to admit that it was him who started it - hugging each other tightly.
"Think of the positive side," Jensen says. "Maybe your next job will be with someone less prone to tripping over his own feet and you don't have to cover up so many bruises anymore."
Jared gives him a well-chosen finger behind Susan’s back.
***
"God, yes. Right there." Jared groaned, one deep, drawn-out sigh that shook his whole body. "Fuck yeah, do that again."
Jensen took his hands off Jared's slick back. "All right, what's with the porn noises?"
Jared looked back over his shoulder, his eyes twinkling. "I can't help myself, you're just that good. You have the magic touch, babe."
"Keep going and the only magic fingers you're getting are the ones on motel set number sixty-three," Jensen grumbled.
It was almost comical how quickly Jared dropped back down, pillowing his head on his crossed arms again. Despite his usual bravado, Jared's shoulders were knotted tight, the strain of the long workday showing in the stiffness of his muscles. Jensen ran both thumbs over Jared's shoulder blades, lightly at first, then digging in harder with each pass until he felt the tissue loosen under his touch.
Jared was quiet as a mouse now, so Jensen rewarded him by kissing his neck while he warmed some more oil between his hands and worked them down either side of Jared's spine, checking for more knots and massaging them away. When he reached the towel that was draped over Jared's ass, Jared surreptitiously spread his legs apart.
Jensen laughed. "Slut," he accused affectionately. He whipped the towel away anyway, unable to resist such a blatant invitation.
It was quick work to prep Jared, partly because Jared was already so relaxed that he easily took two fingers at once. Jensen slid them in and out a few times, careful not to rub over Jared's prostate just yet or the whole thing would be over in minutes.
"C'mon," Jared nearly whined when Jensen added a third finger. "'m ready."
"Shh," Jensen said. "Gonna take such good care of you."
The massage oil made the glide inside slick, the press of Jared's body warm and tight around Jensen's cock. Jensen bit his lip till he was all the way in and could being to move.
He pulled Jared up to his knees, and Jared caught his hand there, dragged him down to lock both their fingers around his dick. Precome was beading at the tip, Jensen rubbed it over the shaft as he fucked Jared, using long, unhurried strokes that slowly drove them both out of their minds.
Jared came first, spilled over their hands with a soft cry, and Jensen couldn't hold out much longer before his orgasm washed over him, leaving him a boneless heap over Jared's back.
Jared stretched languidly. "Man, that was awesome."
"Yeah," Jensen mumbled, still unwilling to move. "I'm reminding you next time I have to film three stunts in one day."
***
"So, fess up, guys," their interviewer says, "All these years of your obvious chemistry on screen; did anything ever happen between you two?" She's a nice young woman and she's made it obvious in her questions that she's seen more than just a couple of the most important episodes of the show - unlike so many others who have interviewed them lately. Jared can't blame her for wanting some juicy details.
He thinks about how they fucked in both their trailers last week. Or how they blew each other yesterday, each trying to make the other come first. (He does not think about how he lost. Again.) Or how they kissed good morning today and shared a bowl of cereal because they've already packed most of their dishes. He has the urge to tell her everything.
"With him?" he says instead. "Considering you have to pay me to spend time with him each day." He claps a hand on Jensen's knee, who rolls his eyes in a see-what-I-gotta-put-up-with gesture.
"Well, don't you come crying to me when you find you don't know what to do without me in two months."
***
When Jared injured his shoulder, Jensen should have known how it went by now: hospital, drugs, Jared having to keep a part of himself immobile, Jared being a whiny little child because he had to keep a part of himself immobile.
Jensen caught him on the phone with his mother, using his free right hand to pour a glass of juice. Jensen snatched the carton out of his hand and glared at him.
"Yes, mom," Jared said. "Jensen's taking care that I follow doctor's orders."
Jensen filled Jared's glass and another for himself. He glanced up as he took a sip.
"Well, then I'll make sure they do tell him," Jared said. He looked at Jensen firmly. "Jensen's family."
***
The set is semi-dark and quiet, just a few people still milling around. They have two days of shooting left, and everybody's more subdued, reminiscing about their time together.
Jared opens the passenger side door to one of the Impalas warily, unsure of the state Jensen's going to be in. They've both had their share of teary-eyed moments lately. But Jensen is just sitting in the driver's seat with his head resting against the window, fingers twisting something in his lap. Jared climbs in and closes the door.
"You ever thought we'd make it this long?" Jensen says.
"Well, the ratings were good, so -"
"No, I'm not talking about the show. I meant us. I mean - Fuck, this is coming out all wrong." He passes a hand over his face. The small thing in his other hand catches some of the light from outside the car, reflecting off the simple band. "Jared, I wanted to ask you -"
"Hold on." Jared pops open the glove compartment, taking out the small box in there.
Jensen's eyes widen. "No, Jared, I wanted -"
"Nuh-uh." Jared covers Jensen's hand with his own. "This is something you need to let me take care of."
Jensen swallows visibly. "How did you know I'd be in here?"
Jared grins. "I hid the same box in the other three Impalas, too." He wedges the box open with his thumb, his other hand still holding Jensen's tightly. "So what do you say?"
Jensen sliding across the bench seat to kiss him is answer enough.
The End.