First Impressions Aren't For Me
First Impressions Aren't For Me 1/3
Pairing: Jared/Jensen (very oh-so brief Jensen/Mike)
Rating: PG13 for now
Warnings: Language
Disclaimer: I do not own them. I barely own myself.
Summary: Jensen has a nice life. Calm, quiet, and carefully structured. His annoying, loud downstairs neighbor doesn't really care. Jared has just graduated from college and is truly on his own for the first time. He loves the freedom, but the rude, uptight dude that lives above him keeps messing with his fun. Bet ya can't guess where this is going...
Jensen squeezed his eyes shut, his shoulders tensing against his will. He was supposed to be sleeping, dammit, and the new guy on the floor below him was driving him batshit insane. Rolling over, Jensen shoved a pillow over his face, counting down from a hundred. He didn't make it halfway before he gave up.
Grumbling, he shoved the twisted sheets away, pushing himself out of his beloved bed. Moving silently on bare feet, Jensen found the jeans he'd discarded so many sleepless hours ago and slid on a pair of worn slippers. It was easy to maneuver across his apartment in the darkness. Jensen loved it, relished the dark and the quiet. It was something he had always enjoyed. His mind, his constant companion, was going, going, going all the time, and in the dark and the quiet his mind calmed down...it kept life smooth.
Jensen didn't pretend to be normal. He didn't pretend anyone was. He made his way down the (rather creepy) staircase and pushed open the door to the 14th floor. He walked along, trying to think of calm ways to handle his new neighbor, and stopped at the door directly below his.
Laughter drifted into the hallway, the thumpety thump of music mocking Jensen through the dull wood of apartment 1422. Pinching his nose briefly, Jensen pounded a fist against the door. No one answered. Frowning, Jensen used the edge of his palm to make a thundering sound, rattling the door in it's frame.
Yeah, he was calm. He felt color rising in his cheeks as he waited for any indication that someone was coming. Five minutes later, Jensen and his aching hand stomped back into his apartment. Flicking on his desk lamp, he pushed around stacks of paper until he found a pen. Who the fuck wrote shit down anymore? He made a mental note to stop being so dependant on electronics.
Ten minutes and another trip down and back upstairs, Jensen yanked off his jeans and settled back into bed. He was staring absently at the ceiling, contemplating the shadows that darted and loitered, when someone began pounding on his door. Sighing, Jensen got slowly out of bed, padding into the front room. He glanced out of the peek-hole, starting slightly at the image of a scowling, dark haired giant on the other side of his door.
He pulled the door open, bracing himself for whatever was to come. "Yeah," he said, his voice tired in his own ears. The guy loomed over him, all legs and floppy hair. He was also staring. Jensen glanced down at his boxer briefs and ancient Violent Femmes concert tee. Oops. Pants would have made him a lot more imposing.
"You, uh, left this?" The guy held up a piece of paper, his eyebrows raised. He was clad in baggy cargo shorts, a plain t-shirt, and flip-flops. It was fucking 50 degrees out and the dude looked like he was ready to go beach combing. Jensen hated him a little more just for that. He didn't really know why; he just did.
"Yeah, I did," Jensen admitted readily, "You're being way too loud. It's three in the morning. I need to sleep."
"Come on, it isn't that loud. No one else complains."
"Yeah, well I'm complaining. It's been like this for over three weeks. Three really looooong weeks. Do you even do anything besides party?"
"So what? Baby can't sleep so you threaten to go the Building Board? That's bullshit. You should have come talk to me."
"I tried! I knocked for five fucking minutes! You didn't answer! Somehow, though, you find the note I put under your door in less time than that. You couldn't have been too far from the front door." Jensen shook his head, this wasn't helping. "Listen, I don't even know you. I don't want a fight. I just want some sleep. The building has a policy. Quiet after 10pm. Just...abide by it, please. Thank you."
He couldn't help smirking at the look on the guy's face as he slammed the door shut. Maturity would come in a couple hours and until then he was going to let himself enjoy the childish satisfaction nestled in his chest.
****
Jensen had slept peacefully for a week straight. He had neither heard nor seen his downstairs neighbor. His latest story was on it's merry way to the editors. Life was back to good, yes indeed. He pulled into the apartment parking lot, carefully sliding his impala towards her usual spot.
A giant, dirty, raggedy looking jeep sat in the spot that Jensen had claimed four years earlier when he'd moved into the building. It was perfect. It was far enough away to give his baby a better chance of not being scratched by car doors and it let him stretch his legs as he headed inside to enjoy the sedentary lifestyle he's carefully created.
Sighing, Jensen drove a few feet further and pulled the impala into a spot under an oak tree, silently apologizing for the inevitable bird shit that would grace her shiny paint job. Grrr. Jensen sighed. Forcing himself to get perspective, Jensen locked her doors, got a bag of grocceries out of the trunk, and walked toward the building's entrance.
As he passed the jeep, a slightly familiar figure strode out the front doors, long legs eating the distance between them. Jensen nodded a greeting, but his dark haired downstairs neighbor just scowled as he headed...toward that nasty, ugly, muddy jeep! Jensen snorted softly. Somehow, that just figured. He watched as the jeep backed up and headed out of the parking lot. Smiling slightly, Jensen set his paper bag on the sidewalk and ran back to the impala. He pulled quickly into the recently abandoned parking spot and headed into his apartment building, whistling.
****
Jensen was lost in Halo's mesmerizing visuals when someone began pounding on his door. It somehow sounded like an angry knock, and Jensen could feel his shoulder's tighten with tension. The front door swung open to reveal his neighbor, brows drawn together in a scowl. "Yeah," Jensen said, his voice carefully tinged with boredom.
"You moved your fucking car! Are you really that childish? I've been respecting "quiet time", and you can't let it go?" Jensen stared at the long fingers that had made air quotes in front of his face while the other man fumed.
"Um, what? No. You left, and I didn't think it would matter. I always park there." Realizing how that sounded, Jensen shook his head. "I've been restoring my car for the last five years. Piece by piece, and now she's perfect. I just don't want birds shitting on her. It. Her."
"Ok, that's cool and all, but I don't have top on my jeep, dude! Bird shit on my seats trumps bird shit on your roof."
"Whatever," Jensen sighed. "You never parked there before."
"I just drove it up from Texas. Didn't have it before. Been driving it since high school." Jensen blinked as dimples appeared in the man's cheeks. "I had to get settled in before I flew down--what the hell am I telling you this for? Just please move your fucking car?"
Jensen shook away the images of dimples and long fingers and Texas from his mind. "No!"
This time he wasn't smirking when he slammed the door.
****
The next two weeks became a race. Jensen didn't really know what his late night loving neighbor did for a living, but he certainly didn't work banker's hours. More often than not, Jensen ended up parking under the long branches of the oak tree. Jensen had crazy ideas involving slashed tires, sugar filled gas tanks, and a really cool idea involving ninja's and a pogo stick, but he just let them slide in and out of his thoughts.
He could be mature. Yeppers. Mature and Jensen Ackles walked hand in hand.
Besides, Jensen had a date. He hadn't dated very much since he'd gotten out of a long term relationship two years ago, and he was ok with that, but it felt good to get back out there. He'd taken time to heal, work out his issues, and figure out what he really wanted in a partner.
He dressed carefully in a soft green button down, worn jeans, and his cowboy boots. Jensen figured anyone with bowed legs was obliged to wear cowboy boots every once in awhile. Made him think of home, too, and he missed home something fierce sometimes. He shrugged off his melancholy and headed out.
He was supposed to meet his date, Mike, at a local steakhouse. He sat nervously while he waited for the other man to show. He'd never gone out with a bald guy before and he was mildly curious how it would feel to run his fingers over Mike's shiny curved dome. He was deep in thought when a voice cut into his consciousness.
"Can I get you a drink, sir, while you..."
Jensen's head jerked up, and he blinked in surprise as he meet hard partying, jack ass neighbor's annoyed gaze. "You work here?"
"Yeah, I do. Listen, I'll get you another waiter."
"Why? Are you going to spit in my food?"
"No!"
"Run your tongue over the rim of my wine glass?"
"Eww. No. Who does that?"
"I did once, when I waited tables. Dude was a complete jerk. I was justified."
"I can believe that." Jared, if his name tag was to be believed, grinned down at Jensen.
"Can I get a glass of your finest, cheapest red wine?" Jensen asked, grinning back. He was in a good mood, and he didn't feel like fighting with his nemesis at the moment.
"Ok, I'm here! Sorry, Jensen. Bad way to start a first date, right? Traffic accident on 4th street," Mike sat down, all rushed words and smiles.
"Hey, Mike," Jensen smiled, "Perfect timing. Want a glass of wine?" At Mike's nod, Jensen turned back to where Jared was hovering uncertainly. "Two glasses, please?"
Jared started. "Umm, of course...Jensen." He looked flustered, glancing between the two men before he moved away.
Jensen frowned slightly. Dude was from Texas, maybe he thought gay was evil or contagious. He turned his attention back to his date, pushing thoughts of dimples and floppy hair out of his mind.
He didn't even like the tall bastard. He didn't.
Part Two...
Comments are like water in the desert, brownies in my hand...
Pairing: Jared/Jensen (very oh-so brief Jensen/Mike)
Rating: PG13 for now
Warnings: Language
Disclaimer: I do not own them. I barely own myself.
Summary: Jensen has a nice life. Calm, quiet, and carefully structured. His annoying, loud downstairs neighbor doesn't really care. Jared has just graduated from college and is truly on his own for the first time. He loves the freedom, but the rude, uptight dude that lives above him keeps messing with his fun. Bet ya can't guess where this is going...
Jensen squeezed his eyes shut, his shoulders tensing against his will. He was supposed to be sleeping, dammit, and the new guy on the floor below him was driving him batshit insane. Rolling over, Jensen shoved a pillow over his face, counting down from a hundred. He didn't make it halfway before he gave up.
Grumbling, he shoved the twisted sheets away, pushing himself out of his beloved bed. Moving silently on bare feet, Jensen found the jeans he'd discarded so many sleepless hours ago and slid on a pair of worn slippers. It was easy to maneuver across his apartment in the darkness. Jensen loved it, relished the dark and the quiet. It was something he had always enjoyed. His mind, his constant companion, was going, going, going all the time, and in the dark and the quiet his mind calmed down...it kept life smooth.
Jensen didn't pretend to be normal. He didn't pretend anyone was. He made his way down the (rather creepy) staircase and pushed open the door to the 14th floor. He walked along, trying to think of calm ways to handle his new neighbor, and stopped at the door directly below his.
Laughter drifted into the hallway, the thumpety thump of music mocking Jensen through the dull wood of apartment 1422. Pinching his nose briefly, Jensen pounded a fist against the door. No one answered. Frowning, Jensen used the edge of his palm to make a thundering sound, rattling the door in it's frame.
Yeah, he was calm. He felt color rising in his cheeks as he waited for any indication that someone was coming. Five minutes later, Jensen and his aching hand stomped back into his apartment. Flicking on his desk lamp, he pushed around stacks of paper until he found a pen. Who the fuck wrote shit down anymore? He made a mental note to stop being so dependant on electronics.
Ten minutes and another trip down and back upstairs, Jensen yanked off his jeans and settled back into bed. He was staring absently at the ceiling, contemplating the shadows that darted and loitered, when someone began pounding on his door. Sighing, Jensen got slowly out of bed, padding into the front room. He glanced out of the peek-hole, starting slightly at the image of a scowling, dark haired giant on the other side of his door.
He pulled the door open, bracing himself for whatever was to come. "Yeah," he said, his voice tired in his own ears. The guy loomed over him, all legs and floppy hair. He was also staring. Jensen glanced down at his boxer briefs and ancient Violent Femmes concert tee. Oops. Pants would have made him a lot more imposing.
"You, uh, left this?" The guy held up a piece of paper, his eyebrows raised. He was clad in baggy cargo shorts, a plain t-shirt, and flip-flops. It was fucking 50 degrees out and the dude looked like he was ready to go beach combing. Jensen hated him a little more just for that. He didn't really know why; he just did.
"Yeah, I did," Jensen admitted readily, "You're being way too loud. It's three in the morning. I need to sleep."
"Come on, it isn't that loud. No one else complains."
"Yeah, well I'm complaining. It's been like this for over three weeks. Three really looooong weeks. Do you even do anything besides party?"
"So what? Baby can't sleep so you threaten to go the Building Board? That's bullshit. You should have come talk to me."
"I tried! I knocked for five fucking minutes! You didn't answer! Somehow, though, you find the note I put under your door in less time than that. You couldn't have been too far from the front door." Jensen shook his head, this wasn't helping. "Listen, I don't even know you. I don't want a fight. I just want some sleep. The building has a policy. Quiet after 10pm. Just...abide by it, please. Thank you."
He couldn't help smirking at the look on the guy's face as he slammed the door shut. Maturity would come in a couple hours and until then he was going to let himself enjoy the childish satisfaction nestled in his chest.
****
Jensen had slept peacefully for a week straight. He had neither heard nor seen his downstairs neighbor. His latest story was on it's merry way to the editors. Life was back to good, yes indeed. He pulled into the apartment parking lot, carefully sliding his impala towards her usual spot.
A giant, dirty, raggedy looking jeep sat in the spot that Jensen had claimed four years earlier when he'd moved into the building. It was perfect. It was far enough away to give his baby a better chance of not being scratched by car doors and it let him stretch his legs as he headed inside to enjoy the sedentary lifestyle he's carefully created.
Sighing, Jensen drove a few feet further and pulled the impala into a spot under an oak tree, silently apologizing for the inevitable bird shit that would grace her shiny paint job. Grrr. Jensen sighed. Forcing himself to get perspective, Jensen locked her doors, got a bag of grocceries out of the trunk, and walked toward the building's entrance.
As he passed the jeep, a slightly familiar figure strode out the front doors, long legs eating the distance between them. Jensen nodded a greeting, but his dark haired downstairs neighbor just scowled as he headed...toward that nasty, ugly, muddy jeep! Jensen snorted softly. Somehow, that just figured. He watched as the jeep backed up and headed out of the parking lot. Smiling slightly, Jensen set his paper bag on the sidewalk and ran back to the impala. He pulled quickly into the recently abandoned parking spot and headed into his apartment building, whistling.
****
Jensen was lost in Halo's mesmerizing visuals when someone began pounding on his door. It somehow sounded like an angry knock, and Jensen could feel his shoulder's tighten with tension. The front door swung open to reveal his neighbor, brows drawn together in a scowl. "Yeah," Jensen said, his voice carefully tinged with boredom.
"You moved your fucking car! Are you really that childish? I've been respecting "quiet time", and you can't let it go?" Jensen stared at the long fingers that had made air quotes in front of his face while the other man fumed.
"Um, what? No. You left, and I didn't think it would matter. I always park there." Realizing how that sounded, Jensen shook his head. "I've been restoring my car for the last five years. Piece by piece, and now she's perfect. I just don't want birds shitting on her. It. Her."
"Ok, that's cool and all, but I don't have top on my jeep, dude! Bird shit on my seats trumps bird shit on your roof."
"Whatever," Jensen sighed. "You never parked there before."
"I just drove it up from Texas. Didn't have it before. Been driving it since high school." Jensen blinked as dimples appeared in the man's cheeks. "I had to get settled in before I flew down--what the hell am I telling you this for? Just please move your fucking car?"
Jensen shook away the images of dimples and long fingers and Texas from his mind. "No!"
This time he wasn't smirking when he slammed the door.
****
The next two weeks became a race. Jensen didn't really know what his late night loving neighbor did for a living, but he certainly didn't work banker's hours. More often than not, Jensen ended up parking under the long branches of the oak tree. Jensen had crazy ideas involving slashed tires, sugar filled gas tanks, and a really cool idea involving ninja's and a pogo stick, but he just let them slide in and out of his thoughts.
He could be mature. Yeppers. Mature and Jensen Ackles walked hand in hand.
Besides, Jensen had a date. He hadn't dated very much since he'd gotten out of a long term relationship two years ago, and he was ok with that, but it felt good to get back out there. He'd taken time to heal, work out his issues, and figure out what he really wanted in a partner.
He dressed carefully in a soft green button down, worn jeans, and his cowboy boots. Jensen figured anyone with bowed legs was obliged to wear cowboy boots every once in awhile. Made him think of home, too, and he missed home something fierce sometimes. He shrugged off his melancholy and headed out.
He was supposed to meet his date, Mike, at a local steakhouse. He sat nervously while he waited for the other man to show. He'd never gone out with a bald guy before and he was mildly curious how it would feel to run his fingers over Mike's shiny curved dome. He was deep in thought when a voice cut into his consciousness.
"Can I get you a drink, sir, while you..."
Jensen's head jerked up, and he blinked in surprise as he meet hard partying, jack ass neighbor's annoyed gaze. "You work here?"
"Yeah, I do. Listen, I'll get you another waiter."
"Why? Are you going to spit in my food?"
"No!"
"Run your tongue over the rim of my wine glass?"
"Eww. No. Who does that?"
"I did once, when I waited tables. Dude was a complete jerk. I was justified."
"I can believe that." Jared, if his name tag was to be believed, grinned down at Jensen.
"Can I get a glass of your finest, cheapest red wine?" Jensen asked, grinning back. He was in a good mood, and he didn't feel like fighting with his nemesis at the moment.
"Ok, I'm here! Sorry, Jensen. Bad way to start a first date, right? Traffic accident on 4th street," Mike sat down, all rushed words and smiles.
"Hey, Mike," Jensen smiled, "Perfect timing. Want a glass of wine?" At Mike's nod, Jensen turned back to where Jared was hovering uncertainly. "Two glasses, please?"
Jared started. "Umm, of course...Jensen." He looked flustered, glancing between the two men before he moved away.
Jensen frowned slightly. Dude was from Texas, maybe he thought gay was evil or contagious. He turned his attention back to his date, pushing thoughts of dimples and floppy hair out of his mind.
He didn't even like the tall bastard. He didn't.
Part Two...
Comments are like water in the desert, brownies in my hand...