Fic: This Hell We've Made (Jensen/Jared) 3a/?
Fandom: J2
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: NC-17-- Wordcount: 9,400 (whole chapter)
Warnings: Mutant!AU, UST, angst, damaged!snarky!Jensen, empath!Jared
Notes: So, yeah, this took a little longer than I figured, and got long again, but here it is. I guess this is when things start to get... interesting. I'm kinda nervous about this part, hope you like!
Summary - Except for the fact that they were both born with remarkable superhuman abilities, and a seething mutual dislike, Jared and Jensen have nothing in common. Turns out, though, that they may also be the only ones who can save each other from themselves.
Back to Part 2b
Jensen wakes up to the sound of his door opening for the second time this morning. He’d seriously go mete out some vengeance and shit over the needlessly early hour, but that would involve moving. Instead he settles for grumbling forlornly into his pillowcase, “You are Satan. Or some kind of robot.” Because, honestly, who the hell gets up at five in the morning if they don’t have to? The sun doesn’t even do that, and it’s the frickin’ sun!
“Yeah, but I brought you coffee,” Jared says entirely too pleasantly for a guy who just spent a night on the couch and then woke up at five in the morning! “Two cups of it.”
True to his word, two mugs of the steaming, roasted elixir appear on the bedside table in Jensen’s field of vision, the smell wafting in to give him the exact amount of energy it takes to move his arm over there and grab one of them.
The first too-hot gulp is like heaven, and Jensen doesn’t have the faculties to hold back his moan even if he did have the inclination.
“Dude, I will totally blow you,” he purrs by way of thanks, able to lift himself a little further off of the bed to polish off the first mug faster. Jared splutters from where he must still be standing next to the bed - Jensen hasn’t put forth the effort to actually look up the three miles it’ll take to reach Jared’s face yet - and Jensen has to grin around the lip of his second cup. The kid makes it so damn easy.
Jensen rolls over then, taking care not to spill a precious drop from his still half full mug, to face the day, and more importantly, the really hot guy staring at him shell-shocked. You’d think nobody’d ever offered to give Jared head before. He stretches, tilting and tensing his muscles to get his shoulder to pop and if he happens, in the meantime, to roll his hips just right to expose the way his dick is also greeting the morning and embraces the low thrum of pleasure at being full and ready, but not yet needy, well… ah, who’s he kidding, he just did it to watch Jared’s eyes desperately dart to anything else in the room, just like they had last night, cheeks flushing scarlet. Yeah, this is fun.
“So, you got something against sleep or what?” he asks, because Jared looks in danger of backing out of the room like Jensen’s pointing a loaded machine gun at him, and that would ruin the good time Jensen’s having. Also, he’d never admit it, but last night had been the best night of sleep he’s had in a long fucking time, and he’d really like to know if getting a repeat performance is going to mean waking up at the ass-crack of dawn every time - because if so, he might just have to find a way to make sure Jared’s good and worn out instead.
Jared coughs a little nervously - probably from that slow burn of want working up Jensen’s spine as he thinks about all the fun he could have wearing Jared out - and visibly slips into fearless leader mode, evidently deciding that he’s man enough to shake off the fact that Jensen’s naked and throwing random dumps of desire at him, even though they both know it’s a lie from the way he’s shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.
“Meeting in half an hour,” he says efficiently, brooking no nonsense. Jensen decides this is a perfect time to reach down and give himself a little ‘good morning’ stroke, letting the lust wash over him as he imagines Jared leaning down right now and sucking on his cock like a lollipop. He’s pretty sure Jared just bit his tongue - Jensen could definitely kiss it better. “Um, it, uh… Debriefing, on the Carre case. She was transferred to the Australian facility this morning, so we’re closing the file.”
Jensen groans, nothing to do with the fingers still wrapped loosely around his dick - if debriefings suck as much as briefings, Jensen’s going to need a hell of a lot more coffee. Like, maybe a vat.
“I thought you were supposed to be on R&R with the head thing. Shouldn’t we be, like, being fed peeled grapes by bare-breasted slave-girls or something?”
Jared doesn’t even flinch at the bare-breasted thing. Score, totally gay; Jensen will have to tell Misha.
“I’m injured, not an invalid,” Jared deadpans, “Nor a Roman emperor, for that matter. And even if I was seriously hurt, you don’t get time off for being my partner. I’m just supposed to avoid strenuous activity for a while and meetings do not qualify, so get your ass up, put on some freaking clothes and quit thinking about whatever it is you’re thinking about.”
Jared’s already stepping away with a huff, but there’s something that’s not quite a smile teasing at the corner of his mouth. It’s actually kind of nice not to be the subject of Jared’s abject, mindless distaste. Still, hate to waste an opportunity…
“Strenuous activity, huh? I guess that means no morning sex?”
The leather of Jared’s fingerless gloves squeaks with the pressure he balls his fist into as he turns back around to face Jensen, death glare solidly in place. Jensen tries to think of apple pie and baby bunnies and other innocent shit like that to project at Jared - this whole empathy thing is going to take some practice to manipulate.
“Look, I know it entertains you to screw with me,” Jared cringes immediately at his own phrasing so much that Jensen doesn’t even need to jump all over it, “Just… Can we please try to keep this professional, you incorrigible nymphomaniac?”
“C’mon, Jay, you can’t give me a new toy and not expect me to play with it,” Jensen coos sweetly, mentally running through that fantasy he had in the shower the other day about Jared and Tom and the handcuffs - quality stuff, man. Jared’s blood pressure must be skyrocketing right along with his own, given the particular shade of burgundy he’s turning.
“Hmm, I wonder why I never wanted anyone to find out about my power? It’s working out so well so far,” Jared snarks. Jensen’s not sure he’s ever heard Jared be sassy before; he approves.
Benevolently, Jensen tries to cool himself down, although at this point he’s definitely going to have to jack off once Jared’s cleared the area; his dick’s already clamoring for it.
Jared slicks his hair back from his face and breathes out heavily in relief. It’s not until he turns sideways, making for the door that Jensen notices it, too wrapped up before to really pay attention; the front of Jared’s loose jeans are flat, not even a hint of interested bulge.
He’d be insulted, but right about the time he notices it, Jared turns back to him and says, “By the way, Jensen?” Jensen is suddenly, hopelessly swamped in misery so thick he can barely breathe through it, tears prickling at his eyes, “You’ll wanna be careful with your toys.” He gets a hazel-eyed wink and just that fast the desolation is gone, nothing but a dull-edged memory.
Jared’s long out of the room by the time Jensen finally gets himself to accept the implications of that - the fact that Jared can apparently make him feel anything he wants to, and the fact that somewhere in that little banter they’d had rolling for a minute there, he’d forgotten that he doesn’t really like Jared.
***
Jared doesn’t know much about sex; pretty much gave up on the whole concept at age twelve when he gave that guard a heart attack just by getting off in his own room 100 yards away. He hadn’t known much about it back then either, and everything he’s learned since has mostly been picked up from the biology course he had to take for equivalency exams and a handful of R-rated movies. It’s tough to imagine what any of that would feel like; all of the skin and the touching and the thrusting - it’s so far outside of his wheelhouse he can barely even get a handle on it.
Kissing, though, well he can get closer with that one. He knows CPR, has had to perform it more than once, so he at least has a feel for what another person’s mouth would feel like up against his own; though he admits it’s probably a lot different when said person isn’t unconscious and on the verge of death. Still, it’s something, so naturally, that’s what his subconscious has latched onto for all of these years.
The nights he’s not overcome by other people’s dreams - regardless of what he’d told Jensen, that’s actually pretty rare for him since he intentionally has a room far away from anyone else he might pick up on - or his own special brand of nightmares, he tends to get a lot of kissing dreams. He guesses they’d probably be wet dreams, if the whole ‘wet’ thing was a possibility for him, but as it stands, they’re just dreams about kissing. The softness of someone else’s lips, the slickness of what a tongue must feel like, breath, hot and close, brushing over his face.
Sometimes it goes further than that; sometimes he dreams about another body on top of his, or under his, heat not muted by clothes, and heavy hands on him in places that haven’t felt the touch of another human being since he was old enough to dress himself - which is pretty much everywhere. He can imagine what gentle fingers would feel like running over his legs, up his arms, smoothing over his chest because at least those things he could do to himself. He doesn’t though, do them to himself, because he really doesn’t need that kind of temptation; even with the suppressants, he’s not completely immune - he’s still a teenage guy, after all.
He can’t pretend that this is the first time the body he’s dreamt of hovering over his own, the lips pressing tight to his mouth, belong to Jensen. He can’t even pretend that it started after he saw Jensen’s memories and whatever connection it is between them was born. Jensen does something to him, that under his skin thing, and Jared really hasn’t figured out what to do about it yet.
He turns over, sheets rustling with the movement, to eliminate the siren-song call of rutting against the mattress. His dick is too thick between his thighs - not hard; even at their most intense, the dreams have never been enough to completely circumvent the suppressants - the length of it laying heavy and uncomfortable; aching with that pent up need that echoes through him and builds on itself like lightning in a bottle.
Its three twenty-six in the morning, too early to get up, but there’s no way to go back to sleep around the way his body is throbbing - God knows he’s tried before. He could take another pill, but he’s not really supposed to mess with his levels, and with Jensen now perma-linked to his emotion center, he probably needs to save up his doses for some time he really needs them. Up it is then.
Jared divests himself of his pajama’s, ignoring the way even the slide of elastic over his cock makes it pulse with want, forcing himself to linger in the cold air - he keeps the air conditioner at least five degrees cooler than he likes it, just for occasions like this - before he slips into some workout gear. A nice, taxing run in the brisk, dry air; just what he needs. Maybe he’ll shoot for ten miles this time.
***
Jared’s open hand smacks him on the side of the head, more like a tap than a real hit, but it leaves his ear ringing anyway.
“Whatever happened to no strenuous activity?” he snarls, and yes, he’s a little out of breath. Already. Fuck, he’s supposed to be the one with all the stamina.
“First of all,” Jared says, sidestepping Jensen’s right hook like they choreographed it that way, “I’m not exactly injured anymore, am I?” He only gives a slight shake of his head in indication of the wound that’s secretly been gone for almost half a week. Jensen doesn’t know how Jared’s been ducking his checkups, but maybe being team leader gives you some pull. “And secondly,” he taps Jensen’s belly with the back of his hand, not even bothering to really hit when he know that the fact that he slipped by Jensen’s defenses again pisses him off enough all on its own. “knocking you on your ass doesn’t exactly count as strenuous.”
This is such complete fucking bullshit. Jensen knows how to fight, damnit, and he learned it like a man - none of the practice and training crap; he earned his bones in real knock-down-drag-outs. He may not know any of this fancy, martial-arts flippy shit, but he knows how to take a guy out and damnit he’d give his left fucking nut to land one punch to that taunting little mouth of Jared’s.
“If I tell you you’re telegraphing again, are you going to listen this time?” Jared asks blithely, kicking out a foot that Jensen’s seriously this close to dodging, except for how he doesn’t. Fucker. Instead he ends up stumbling into one of the walls, his bare shoulder clinging briefly through the fine misting of sweat on his skin to the mirrored surface. Jared had sworn up and down that the mirrors would help him work on his technique, see the wrong moves he was making to correct them in the future. Mostly he keeps getting distracted by the idea that he could bang Jared on his hands and knees in here and still be able to see his face. He seriously doubts it’s helping with the training.
Jensen’s been doing his damnedest for the last ten minutes to project psychotic, blinding rage at Jared and the kid hasn’t even broken a sweat, though getting to that place has successfully thrown Jensen into a near-frenzy, so job badly done all around. Maybe it’s time to give up on this projecting thing - except for the fact that horniness seems to freak Jared out, he hasn’t found anything that helps him more than it hurts him to fire off at the kid. Well, Jensen’s nothing if not versatile; time to adapt.
“So how does it work, your feeling thingy?” he prods, successfully ducking another one of Jared’s love-taps. Jared actually falters for a fraction of a second, surprised into looking around self-consciously at the blank walls, even though Jared had personally assured him that this room wasn’t being monitored; Jensen decides to count that as a win.
“I don’t know,” the kid huffs a laugh - hey look, he huffed; that’s almost like breathing hard! - “How does your wonder-spit thing work?”
Jensen smirks, because really, that’s far too pretty an opening to pass up.
“Not just my spit,” he takes the risk of actually winking at Jared when he says it, and it pays gorgeous dividends. Jared leaves his left side totally unguarded for a second and bam! Jensen’s fist his there. Jay recovers fast, breath labored as he steps back out of Jensen’s range, but fuck it - he landed a shot!
“You mean you- How do you even discover something like that?” Jared asks incredulously, shaking his head immediately and adding, “No, nevermind. I don’t want to know.”
“What, you don’t wanna hear about my magical, healing cock?” Jensen pouts his lower comically far, nearly paying for the distraction when Jared’s fist rushes by thisclose to his face, “Works like a charm.”
“And to that, an ardent, eww.” Jared counters, doing some bend-glide maneuver that Jensen’s pretty sure is part of the Electric Slide. He can’t even bring himself to be too hacked off when Jared’s palm slams into the middle of his chest and knocks him back a couple of steps against the mirrors again - it’s unaccountably fun to wear Jared down until he forgets that ‘sir, yes sir’ shell and gets all snarky. It makes Jensen feel like he’s rubbing off on Jared a little bit.
Mmm, rubbing off on Jared…
“Damnit, Jensen, could you focus please!” Jared glares at him. He gets so bitchy about the sex thing - Misha’s right, he absolutely needs to get laid.
“Dude, what? I didn’t even do nothin’.” Jensen relaxes slightly as Jared falls out of his fighting stance with a put-upon sigh, turning his back on Jensen to slink over and grab a chug from the water bottle he’d left by the door.
“Anything,” Jared corrects, absently, sweat-sheened throat working in an incredibly distracting undulation around the water he’s gulping. Jensen’s mouth feels even dryer than before.
Jared finishes his pull and tosses the still-open bottle to Jensen without spilling a drop. Jensen very carefully does not consider the moisture on the mouth of the bottle as he rests the plastic against his lips. The cool liquid seems to paint a trail down his insides, splashing dense and welcome into his gut and he licks a stray droplet from the lip of the bottle before handing it back.
”And by the way,” Jared says, taking back the water and knocking back the remainder, apparently without a second thought, “that was a good hit before. I’m proud of you.”
Jensen ‘psh’es; like he gives a damn if Jared’s ‘proud of him’ or not. He doesn’t have to impress anybody, least of all Jared. And that warm, glowy feeling in his chest is probably just from the exertion anyway.
On to Part 3b
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: NC-17-- Wordcount: 9,400 (whole chapter)
Warnings: Mutant!AU, UST, angst, damaged!snarky!Jensen, empath!Jared
Notes: So, yeah, this took a little longer than I figured, and got long again, but here it is. I guess this is when things start to get... interesting. I'm kinda nervous about this part, hope you like!
Summary - Except for the fact that they were both born with remarkable superhuman abilities, and a seething mutual dislike, Jared and Jensen have nothing in common. Turns out, though, that they may also be the only ones who can save each other from themselves.
Back to Part 2b
Jensen wakes up to the sound of his door opening for the second time this morning. He’d seriously go mete out some vengeance and shit over the needlessly early hour, but that would involve moving. Instead he settles for grumbling forlornly into his pillowcase, “You are Satan. Or some kind of robot.” Because, honestly, who the hell gets up at five in the morning if they don’t have to? The sun doesn’t even do that, and it’s the frickin’ sun!
“Yeah, but I brought you coffee,” Jared says entirely too pleasantly for a guy who just spent a night on the couch and then woke up at five in the morning! “Two cups of it.”
True to his word, two mugs of the steaming, roasted elixir appear on the bedside table in Jensen’s field of vision, the smell wafting in to give him the exact amount of energy it takes to move his arm over there and grab one of them.
The first too-hot gulp is like heaven, and Jensen doesn’t have the faculties to hold back his moan even if he did have the inclination.
“Dude, I will totally blow you,” he purrs by way of thanks, able to lift himself a little further off of the bed to polish off the first mug faster. Jared splutters from where he must still be standing next to the bed - Jensen hasn’t put forth the effort to actually look up the three miles it’ll take to reach Jared’s face yet - and Jensen has to grin around the lip of his second cup. The kid makes it so damn easy.
Jensen rolls over then, taking care not to spill a precious drop from his still half full mug, to face the day, and more importantly, the really hot guy staring at him shell-shocked. You’d think nobody’d ever offered to give Jared head before. He stretches, tilting and tensing his muscles to get his shoulder to pop and if he happens, in the meantime, to roll his hips just right to expose the way his dick is also greeting the morning and embraces the low thrum of pleasure at being full and ready, but not yet needy, well… ah, who’s he kidding, he just did it to watch Jared’s eyes desperately dart to anything else in the room, just like they had last night, cheeks flushing scarlet. Yeah, this is fun.
“So, you got something against sleep or what?” he asks, because Jared looks in danger of backing out of the room like Jensen’s pointing a loaded machine gun at him, and that would ruin the good time Jensen’s having. Also, he’d never admit it, but last night had been the best night of sleep he’s had in a long fucking time, and he’d really like to know if getting a repeat performance is going to mean waking up at the ass-crack of dawn every time - because if so, he might just have to find a way to make sure Jared’s good and worn out instead.
Jared coughs a little nervously - probably from that slow burn of want working up Jensen’s spine as he thinks about all the fun he could have wearing Jared out - and visibly slips into fearless leader mode, evidently deciding that he’s man enough to shake off the fact that Jensen’s naked and throwing random dumps of desire at him, even though they both know it’s a lie from the way he’s shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.
“Meeting in half an hour,” he says efficiently, brooking no nonsense. Jensen decides this is a perfect time to reach down and give himself a little ‘good morning’ stroke, letting the lust wash over him as he imagines Jared leaning down right now and sucking on his cock like a lollipop. He’s pretty sure Jared just bit his tongue - Jensen could definitely kiss it better. “Um, it, uh… Debriefing, on the Carre case. She was transferred to the Australian facility this morning, so we’re closing the file.”
Jensen groans, nothing to do with the fingers still wrapped loosely around his dick - if debriefings suck as much as briefings, Jensen’s going to need a hell of a lot more coffee. Like, maybe a vat.
“I thought you were supposed to be on R&R with the head thing. Shouldn’t we be, like, being fed peeled grapes by bare-breasted slave-girls or something?”
Jared doesn’t even flinch at the bare-breasted thing. Score, totally gay; Jensen will have to tell Misha.
“I’m injured, not an invalid,” Jared deadpans, “Nor a Roman emperor, for that matter. And even if I was seriously hurt, you don’t get time off for being my partner. I’m just supposed to avoid strenuous activity for a while and meetings do not qualify, so get your ass up, put on some freaking clothes and quit thinking about whatever it is you’re thinking about.”
Jared’s already stepping away with a huff, but there’s something that’s not quite a smile teasing at the corner of his mouth. It’s actually kind of nice not to be the subject of Jared’s abject, mindless distaste. Still, hate to waste an opportunity…
“Strenuous activity, huh? I guess that means no morning sex?”
The leather of Jared’s fingerless gloves squeaks with the pressure he balls his fist into as he turns back around to face Jensen, death glare solidly in place. Jensen tries to think of apple pie and baby bunnies and other innocent shit like that to project at Jared - this whole empathy thing is going to take some practice to manipulate.
“Look, I know it entertains you to screw with me,” Jared cringes immediately at his own phrasing so much that Jensen doesn’t even need to jump all over it, “Just… Can we please try to keep this professional, you incorrigible nymphomaniac?”
“C’mon, Jay, you can’t give me a new toy and not expect me to play with it,” Jensen coos sweetly, mentally running through that fantasy he had in the shower the other day about Jared and Tom and the handcuffs - quality stuff, man. Jared’s blood pressure must be skyrocketing right along with his own, given the particular shade of burgundy he’s turning.
“Hmm, I wonder why I never wanted anyone to find out about my power? It’s working out so well so far,” Jared snarks. Jensen’s not sure he’s ever heard Jared be sassy before; he approves.
Benevolently, Jensen tries to cool himself down, although at this point he’s definitely going to have to jack off once Jared’s cleared the area; his dick’s already clamoring for it.
Jared slicks his hair back from his face and breathes out heavily in relief. It’s not until he turns sideways, making for the door that Jensen notices it, too wrapped up before to really pay attention; the front of Jared’s loose jeans are flat, not even a hint of interested bulge.
He’d be insulted, but right about the time he notices it, Jared turns back to him and says, “By the way, Jensen?” Jensen is suddenly, hopelessly swamped in misery so thick he can barely breathe through it, tears prickling at his eyes, “You’ll wanna be careful with your toys.” He gets a hazel-eyed wink and just that fast the desolation is gone, nothing but a dull-edged memory.
Jared’s long out of the room by the time Jensen finally gets himself to accept the implications of that - the fact that Jared can apparently make him feel anything he wants to, and the fact that somewhere in that little banter they’d had rolling for a minute there, he’d forgotten that he doesn’t really like Jared.
***
Jared doesn’t know much about sex; pretty much gave up on the whole concept at age twelve when he gave that guard a heart attack just by getting off in his own room 100 yards away. He hadn’t known much about it back then either, and everything he’s learned since has mostly been picked up from the biology course he had to take for equivalency exams and a handful of R-rated movies. It’s tough to imagine what any of that would feel like; all of the skin and the touching and the thrusting - it’s so far outside of his wheelhouse he can barely even get a handle on it.
Kissing, though, well he can get closer with that one. He knows CPR, has had to perform it more than once, so he at least has a feel for what another person’s mouth would feel like up against his own; though he admits it’s probably a lot different when said person isn’t unconscious and on the verge of death. Still, it’s something, so naturally, that’s what his subconscious has latched onto for all of these years.
The nights he’s not overcome by other people’s dreams - regardless of what he’d told Jensen, that’s actually pretty rare for him since he intentionally has a room far away from anyone else he might pick up on - or his own special brand of nightmares, he tends to get a lot of kissing dreams. He guesses they’d probably be wet dreams, if the whole ‘wet’ thing was a possibility for him, but as it stands, they’re just dreams about kissing. The softness of someone else’s lips, the slickness of what a tongue must feel like, breath, hot and close, brushing over his face.
Sometimes it goes further than that; sometimes he dreams about another body on top of his, or under his, heat not muted by clothes, and heavy hands on him in places that haven’t felt the touch of another human being since he was old enough to dress himself - which is pretty much everywhere. He can imagine what gentle fingers would feel like running over his legs, up his arms, smoothing over his chest because at least those things he could do to himself. He doesn’t though, do them to himself, because he really doesn’t need that kind of temptation; even with the suppressants, he’s not completely immune - he’s still a teenage guy, after all.
He can’t pretend that this is the first time the body he’s dreamt of hovering over his own, the lips pressing tight to his mouth, belong to Jensen. He can’t even pretend that it started after he saw Jensen’s memories and whatever connection it is between them was born. Jensen does something to him, that under his skin thing, and Jared really hasn’t figured out what to do about it yet.
He turns over, sheets rustling with the movement, to eliminate the siren-song call of rutting against the mattress. His dick is too thick between his thighs - not hard; even at their most intense, the dreams have never been enough to completely circumvent the suppressants - the length of it laying heavy and uncomfortable; aching with that pent up need that echoes through him and builds on itself like lightning in a bottle.
Its three twenty-six in the morning, too early to get up, but there’s no way to go back to sleep around the way his body is throbbing - God knows he’s tried before. He could take another pill, but he’s not really supposed to mess with his levels, and with Jensen now perma-linked to his emotion center, he probably needs to save up his doses for some time he really needs them. Up it is then.
Jared divests himself of his pajama’s, ignoring the way even the slide of elastic over his cock makes it pulse with want, forcing himself to linger in the cold air - he keeps the air conditioner at least five degrees cooler than he likes it, just for occasions like this - before he slips into some workout gear. A nice, taxing run in the brisk, dry air; just what he needs. Maybe he’ll shoot for ten miles this time.
***
Jared’s open hand smacks him on the side of the head, more like a tap than a real hit, but it leaves his ear ringing anyway.
“Whatever happened to no strenuous activity?” he snarls, and yes, he’s a little out of breath. Already. Fuck, he’s supposed to be the one with all the stamina.
“First of all,” Jared says, sidestepping Jensen’s right hook like they choreographed it that way, “I’m not exactly injured anymore, am I?” He only gives a slight shake of his head in indication of the wound that’s secretly been gone for almost half a week. Jensen doesn’t know how Jared’s been ducking his checkups, but maybe being team leader gives you some pull. “And secondly,” he taps Jensen’s belly with the back of his hand, not even bothering to really hit when he know that the fact that he slipped by Jensen’s defenses again pisses him off enough all on its own. “knocking you on your ass doesn’t exactly count as strenuous.”
This is such complete fucking bullshit. Jensen knows how to fight, damnit, and he learned it like a man - none of the practice and training crap; he earned his bones in real knock-down-drag-outs. He may not know any of this fancy, martial-arts flippy shit, but he knows how to take a guy out and damnit he’d give his left fucking nut to land one punch to that taunting little mouth of Jared’s.
“If I tell you you’re telegraphing again, are you going to listen this time?” Jared asks blithely, kicking out a foot that Jensen’s seriously this close to dodging, except for how he doesn’t. Fucker. Instead he ends up stumbling into one of the walls, his bare shoulder clinging briefly through the fine misting of sweat on his skin to the mirrored surface. Jared had sworn up and down that the mirrors would help him work on his technique, see the wrong moves he was making to correct them in the future. Mostly he keeps getting distracted by the idea that he could bang Jared on his hands and knees in here and still be able to see his face. He seriously doubts it’s helping with the training.
Jensen’s been doing his damnedest for the last ten minutes to project psychotic, blinding rage at Jared and the kid hasn’t even broken a sweat, though getting to that place has successfully thrown Jensen into a near-frenzy, so job badly done all around. Maybe it’s time to give up on this projecting thing - except for the fact that horniness seems to freak Jared out, he hasn’t found anything that helps him more than it hurts him to fire off at the kid. Well, Jensen’s nothing if not versatile; time to adapt.
“So how does it work, your feeling thingy?” he prods, successfully ducking another one of Jared’s love-taps. Jared actually falters for a fraction of a second, surprised into looking around self-consciously at the blank walls, even though Jared had personally assured him that this room wasn’t being monitored; Jensen decides to count that as a win.
“I don’t know,” the kid huffs a laugh - hey look, he huffed; that’s almost like breathing hard! - “How does your wonder-spit thing work?”
Jensen smirks, because really, that’s far too pretty an opening to pass up.
“Not just my spit,” he takes the risk of actually winking at Jared when he says it, and it pays gorgeous dividends. Jared leaves his left side totally unguarded for a second and bam! Jensen’s fist his there. Jay recovers fast, breath labored as he steps back out of Jensen’s range, but fuck it - he landed a shot!
“You mean you- How do you even discover something like that?” Jared asks incredulously, shaking his head immediately and adding, “No, nevermind. I don’t want to know.”
“What, you don’t wanna hear about my magical, healing cock?” Jensen pouts his lower comically far, nearly paying for the distraction when Jared’s fist rushes by thisclose to his face, “Works like a charm.”
“And to that, an ardent, eww.” Jared counters, doing some bend-glide maneuver that Jensen’s pretty sure is part of the Electric Slide. He can’t even bring himself to be too hacked off when Jared’s palm slams into the middle of his chest and knocks him back a couple of steps against the mirrors again - it’s unaccountably fun to wear Jared down until he forgets that ‘sir, yes sir’ shell and gets all snarky. It makes Jensen feel like he’s rubbing off on Jared a little bit.
Mmm, rubbing off on Jared…
“Damnit, Jensen, could you focus please!” Jared glares at him. He gets so bitchy about the sex thing - Misha’s right, he absolutely needs to get laid.
“Dude, what? I didn’t even do nothin’.” Jensen relaxes slightly as Jared falls out of his fighting stance with a put-upon sigh, turning his back on Jensen to slink over and grab a chug from the water bottle he’d left by the door.
“Anything,” Jared corrects, absently, sweat-sheened throat working in an incredibly distracting undulation around the water he’s gulping. Jensen’s mouth feels even dryer than before.
Jared finishes his pull and tosses the still-open bottle to Jensen without spilling a drop. Jensen very carefully does not consider the moisture on the mouth of the bottle as he rests the plastic against his lips. The cool liquid seems to paint a trail down his insides, splashing dense and welcome into his gut and he licks a stray droplet from the lip of the bottle before handing it back.
”And by the way,” Jared says, taking back the water and knocking back the remainder, apparently without a second thought, “that was a good hit before. I’m proud of you.”
Jensen ‘psh’es; like he gives a damn if Jared’s ‘proud of him’ or not. He doesn’t have to impress anybody, least of all Jared. And that warm, glowy feeling in his chest is probably just from the exertion anyway.
On to Part 3b