Fic: Just Another Night at Home [J2]
Title: Just Another Night at Home
Fandom/Pairing: CW RPF; JP, JA
Rating: R for language
Word count: ~700
Summary: The celebrity mags wouldn’t believe him if he told them, Jensen thought.
Disclaimer: Totally made up.
“Eat lead, dicksmack.”
“You wish, pussylicker.”
The celebrity mags wouldn’t believe him if he told them, Jensen thought. One of ‘America’s young heartthrobs’ was sitting on his couch, playing video games and trading insults with Brad, a tech guy who’d worked on Gilmore Girls back in the day. As they’d drunk more beer, the insults had gotten more crude and creative, until a couple of beers ago, when they started becoming less clever and more random. Still plenty crude, though, and plenty loud enough to keep him up while he read through scripts late on a Saturday night. He glanced at the kitchen clock. Make that early on a Sunday morning. He took off his glasses to rub his eyes.
Jared had asked him if he could bunk at Jensen’s place, since Jared didn’t have an apartment in LA any more. Jensen had said sure. Of course, that was before he’d known Jared was going to turn his living room into a video game free-for-all. If he had… Well, he still would have let Jared crash - after all, the guy let him take over a floor of his house in BC, Jensen owed him some reciprocal roommate-ing, even if his condo was seriously smaller than Jared’s house - but he might have found a sudden urgent obligation he had, in order to get himself out of the house for a few hours. It’s not that he disliked Brad, or anything; the dude seemed affable enough, thought they didn’t have much in common. But when Brad and Jared got together out of the public eye, they turned into teenage boys - the kind of teenage boys who spent all their waking hours in someone's basement smoking up and playing D&D.
Despite surface appearances, Jared was usually a savvy, self-aware guy, but when he and Brad were together, the self-restraint setting definitely got switched to off. Jensen understood the urge. He felt the same sometimes when he was hanging with his old friends from Texas, that kind of “oh god, I never act like this and am I sure that I can” half panic half relief.
“Hey, you OK?”
The voice behind him made him start. He looked around to see Jared grabbing some bottled water out of the fridge.
“Water?,” Jared offered.
Jensen leaned toward Jared’s outstretched arm and grabbed a bottle. “Yeah, thanks.” He cracked the lid off and took a swig. “Yeah. My agent said there was some good stuff here, but it just reads like the same old crap to me. Are we gonna be making fuckin’ low-budget horror when we’re 40?”
“Hells yeah,” Jared said. “I’m gunning to *be* Jason next time.”
Jensen laughed shortly.
“You’ll find something, Jen. You’ve already *found* things, man, they just didn’t fit with our schedules.”
“Yeah, that’s true.” Jensen stretched his arms above his head. “I swear, once we wrap Supernatural, I’m going to, like, fuckin’ Paris for a movie. I don’t care if I have to play Robert DeNiro’s butler or whatever.”
“Hey, the butler’s always the bad guy. That could work out perfectly. Evil butler Jensen,” Jared mused absently.
“OK, dude. Drink your water,” Jensen replied.
“Where’s my beer, bitch?,” Brad called from the sofa.
Jared detoured back to the fridge for one of the weird Belgian beers that Brad drank.
“Come play Rock Band with us. I’m sick of kicking Brad’s ass,” Jared said, raising his voice on the last three words, and heading back to the living room.
“You wish, saggy-butt,” Brad replied from the couch.
“Your mom’s butt is saggy, bitch,” Jared replied with a cackle.
Jensen stuck a piece of paper in the script to mark his place, and stacked the scripts on the corner of his kitchen table. It would keep until tomorrow. And he was starting to get good on the drums.
Fandom/Pairing: CW RPF; JP, JA
Rating: R for language
Word count: ~700
Summary: The celebrity mags wouldn’t believe him if he told them, Jensen thought.
Disclaimer: Totally made up.
“Eat lead, dicksmack.”
“You wish, pussylicker.”
The celebrity mags wouldn’t believe him if he told them, Jensen thought. One of ‘America’s young heartthrobs’ was sitting on his couch, playing video games and trading insults with Brad, a tech guy who’d worked on Gilmore Girls back in the day. As they’d drunk more beer, the insults had gotten more crude and creative, until a couple of beers ago, when they started becoming less clever and more random. Still plenty crude, though, and plenty loud enough to keep him up while he read through scripts late on a Saturday night. He glanced at the kitchen clock. Make that early on a Sunday morning. He took off his glasses to rub his eyes.
Jared had asked him if he could bunk at Jensen’s place, since Jared didn’t have an apartment in LA any more. Jensen had said sure. Of course, that was before he’d known Jared was going to turn his living room into a video game free-for-all. If he had… Well, he still would have let Jared crash - after all, the guy let him take over a floor of his house in BC, Jensen owed him some reciprocal roommate-ing, even if his condo was seriously smaller than Jared’s house - but he might have found a sudden urgent obligation he had, in order to get himself out of the house for a few hours. It’s not that he disliked Brad, or anything; the dude seemed affable enough, thought they didn’t have much in common. But when Brad and Jared got together out of the public eye, they turned into teenage boys - the kind of teenage boys who spent all their waking hours in someone's basement smoking up and playing D&D.
Despite surface appearances, Jared was usually a savvy, self-aware guy, but when he and Brad were together, the self-restraint setting definitely got switched to off. Jensen understood the urge. He felt the same sometimes when he was hanging with his old friends from Texas, that kind of “oh god, I never act like this and am I sure that I can” half panic half relief.
“Hey, you OK?”
The voice behind him made him start. He looked around to see Jared grabbing some bottled water out of the fridge.
“Water?,” Jared offered.
Jensen leaned toward Jared’s outstretched arm and grabbed a bottle. “Yeah, thanks.” He cracked the lid off and took a swig. “Yeah. My agent said there was some good stuff here, but it just reads like the same old crap to me. Are we gonna be making fuckin’ low-budget horror when we’re 40?”
“Hells yeah,” Jared said. “I’m gunning to *be* Jason next time.”
Jensen laughed shortly.
“You’ll find something, Jen. You’ve already *found* things, man, they just didn’t fit with our schedules.”
“Yeah, that’s true.” Jensen stretched his arms above his head. “I swear, once we wrap Supernatural, I’m going to, like, fuckin’ Paris for a movie. I don’t care if I have to play Robert DeNiro’s butler or whatever.”
“Hey, the butler’s always the bad guy. That could work out perfectly. Evil butler Jensen,” Jared mused absently.
“OK, dude. Drink your water,” Jensen replied.
“Where’s my beer, bitch?,” Brad called from the sofa.
Jared detoured back to the fridge for one of the weird Belgian beers that Brad drank.
“Come play Rock Band with us. I’m sick of kicking Brad’s ass,” Jared said, raising his voice on the last three words, and heading back to the living room.
“You wish, saggy-butt,” Brad replied from the couch.
“Your mom’s butt is saggy, bitch,” Jared replied with a cackle.
Jensen stuck a piece of paper in the script to mark his place, and stacked the scripts on the corner of his kitchen table. It would keep until tomorrow. And he was starting to get good on the drums.