Ficlet: In The Palm Of My Hand. RPS Jensen/Jared. G-rated
Second, for crazyjoyfulgirl, based on this icon by keepaofthecheez
Title: In The Palm Of My Hand
Author: felisblanco
Pairing: Jensen/Jared future possibility *g*
Rating: G (sorry!)
Word count: 900
Summary: It's The WB Upfronts 2005 and Jensen's feeling nervous.
Author's note: Unbeta'd.
Jensen’s fingers tap against his thigh, a rapid drumming that quickens the closer they get to their destination. The tie is strangling him, his pants itch, and he’s sweating profusely through his shirt under the jacket. He glances at Jared, sure the kid must be nervous as hell. He’s himself been doing this kind of shit ten years already and he’s still not used to being displayed like that. For someone still wet behind the ears like Jared, it must be terrifying.
Except Jared doesn’t look nervous at all. In fact he looks happy and relaxed, like they’re off to the beach and not about to be faced with thousands of fans and endless flashes of cameras and annoying questions from reporters and…
Fuck, why is it so hot in this damn car? He needs air. He needs some space. He needs to get the hell out of here!
“Hey. Hey! Jensen, you alright?”
He opens his mouth to hiss that he’s fricking peachy, thank you very much, but what comes out is a mantra of, “I hate these things. I hate these things. I hate…”
“Oh wow. Dude, relax. Jensen. Hey, Jen. C’mon.” Jared’s breath is warm on Jensen’s ear as one arm comes around his shoulders, pulling him in tight. “Breathe, man.”
“I’m trying!”
He tugs at his tie and somehow manages to tighten it instead of loosening, and before he realizes what he’s doing he’s clawing at his neck, gasping for air. Shitshitshit!!
“Here, let me.”
Slender fingers work his tie swiftly open, the fabric burning his neck as it runs across it, and then he’s free, top button undone and no longer choking him.
“Better?”
He manages a nod, eyes closed tight against the humiliation. Damn, he was supposed to be over this. He was supposed to… have taken his pill before leaving. Fuck.
“You don’t look too comfortable,” Jared says cautiously and Jensen can’t help it. He starts laughing, a half-hysterical mix of wheezing and barking that makes Jared first stare at him in alarm but then suddenly he breaks into a grin.
“Understatement of the year, I guess.”
“You have no idea,” Jensen rasps and for some reason they both find that hysterical so for the next five minutes they laugh until tears are streaming down their faces.
“So,” Jared says when they’ve finally calmed down. “Not too fond of crowds, huh?”
“No.” Jensen can feel himself blushing. Damn. “They kinda make me…”
“Freak out?”
“Something like that,” he mumbles.
Jared studies him for a moment, then reaches out and pushes the jacket off his shoulders. “Lose that.”
“What?”
“Dude, no one can feel comfortable dressed like a monkey.”
He leans over and knocks on the glass separating them from the front seat. When the panel slides down Jared asks the driver for the nearest mall and gives him a wink and a ten-dollar bill.
“Dude, what are you doing?” Jensen says in alarm. “We don’t have time for that!”
“Sure we do,” Jared answers, calm as anything. “We’ll be fashionably late.” He grins, elbowing Jensen. “Get it? Fashionably late.”
Jensen just stares at him. He’s not quite sure what is happening but whatever puts off parading in front of the crazed fans and paparazzi is good in his book.
Twenty minutes later he’s wearing a dark shirt, a light army jacket, a baseball cap and sunglasses. Beside him Jared is practically bouncing, flips-flops flip-flopping loudly on the marble floor.
“My manager’s gonna kill me,” Jensen says, even if he doesn’t give a shit what she’ll think.
“Your fans are gonna love you,” Jared answers with a reassuring smile and as they walk by a waste bin he throws the tie in with a triumphal whoop.
Back in the car, now thirty minutes late, Jensen feels definitely more relaxed but as they get closer he can feel his heartbeat speeding up once again. He must have given himself away somehow because suddenly Jared’s arm is back across his neck, one large hand resting heavy and secure on Jensen’s right shoulder.
“Ok, so this is how we’ll do it,” Jared says conspiringly, as if they’re talking football strategy and not ways to cope with rabid fans and annoying media. “You’re the older one, right? The big brother. So you gotta keep an eye on me because I’m young and stupid. Who knows what I’ll get up to in front of those cameras. Oh, we can even pretend I’m drunk! Dude, I love being drunk!”
“Jared, you don’t have to…” Jensen says weakly but Jared waves it off.
“It will be great, I promise. So I’m drunk and stupid and you’re taking care of me. I lean on you and you keep me steady.” He grabs Jensen’s hand and places it on his chest. “Like that.”
“I’m not sure…”
“Feel that? That’s my heart. Whenever you start feeling nervous just press your palm to my chest and count the beats. Ok?”
Jensen meets Jared’s gaze. He should feel humiliated, angry at Jared handling him as if he’s a fragile kid and not four years Jared’s senior. Instead he just feels incredibly grateful. He presses his palm to Jared’s chest, feeling the warmth of his skin and the boom-boom-boom of his heart through the thin lilac shirt.
“Yeah. Yeah, ok,” he says and gives Jared a thankful smile. “Thanks.”
Under his palm, Jared’s heartbeat jumps.
fin
Damn, 18 minutes into NaNo. Always takes me forever to find titles. And still they suck. *sighs*
Title: In The Palm Of My Hand
Author: felisblanco
Pairing: Jensen/Jared future possibility *g*
Rating: G (sorry!)
Word count: 900
Summary: It's The WB Upfronts 2005 and Jensen's feeling nervous.
Author's note: Unbeta'd.
Jensen’s fingers tap against his thigh, a rapid drumming that quickens the closer they get to their destination. The tie is strangling him, his pants itch, and he’s sweating profusely through his shirt under the jacket. He glances at Jared, sure the kid must be nervous as hell. He’s himself been doing this kind of shit ten years already and he’s still not used to being displayed like that. For someone still wet behind the ears like Jared, it must be terrifying.
Except Jared doesn’t look nervous at all. In fact he looks happy and relaxed, like they’re off to the beach and not about to be faced with thousands of fans and endless flashes of cameras and annoying questions from reporters and…
Fuck, why is it so hot in this damn car? He needs air. He needs some space. He needs to get the hell out of here!
“Hey. Hey! Jensen, you alright?”
He opens his mouth to hiss that he’s fricking peachy, thank you very much, but what comes out is a mantra of, “I hate these things. I hate these things. I hate…”
“Oh wow. Dude, relax. Jensen. Hey, Jen. C’mon.” Jared’s breath is warm on Jensen’s ear as one arm comes around his shoulders, pulling him in tight. “Breathe, man.”
“I’m trying!”
He tugs at his tie and somehow manages to tighten it instead of loosening, and before he realizes what he’s doing he’s clawing at his neck, gasping for air. Shitshitshit!!
“Here, let me.”
Slender fingers work his tie swiftly open, the fabric burning his neck as it runs across it, and then he’s free, top button undone and no longer choking him.
“Better?”
He manages a nod, eyes closed tight against the humiliation. Damn, he was supposed to be over this. He was supposed to… have taken his pill before leaving. Fuck.
“You don’t look too comfortable,” Jared says cautiously and Jensen can’t help it. He starts laughing, a half-hysterical mix of wheezing and barking that makes Jared first stare at him in alarm but then suddenly he breaks into a grin.
“Understatement of the year, I guess.”
“You have no idea,” Jensen rasps and for some reason they both find that hysterical so for the next five minutes they laugh until tears are streaming down their faces.
“So,” Jared says when they’ve finally calmed down. “Not too fond of crowds, huh?”
“No.” Jensen can feel himself blushing. Damn. “They kinda make me…”
“Freak out?”
“Something like that,” he mumbles.
Jared studies him for a moment, then reaches out and pushes the jacket off his shoulders. “Lose that.”
“What?”
“Dude, no one can feel comfortable dressed like a monkey.”
He leans over and knocks on the glass separating them from the front seat. When the panel slides down Jared asks the driver for the nearest mall and gives him a wink and a ten-dollar bill.
“Dude, what are you doing?” Jensen says in alarm. “We don’t have time for that!”
“Sure we do,” Jared answers, calm as anything. “We’ll be fashionably late.” He grins, elbowing Jensen. “Get it? Fashionably late.”
Jensen just stares at him. He’s not quite sure what is happening but whatever puts off parading in front of the crazed fans and paparazzi is good in his book.
Twenty minutes later he’s wearing a dark shirt, a light army jacket, a baseball cap and sunglasses. Beside him Jared is practically bouncing, flips-flops flip-flopping loudly on the marble floor.
“My manager’s gonna kill me,” Jensen says, even if he doesn’t give a shit what she’ll think.
“Your fans are gonna love you,” Jared answers with a reassuring smile and as they walk by a waste bin he throws the tie in with a triumphal whoop.
Back in the car, now thirty minutes late, Jensen feels definitely more relaxed but as they get closer he can feel his heartbeat speeding up once again. He must have given himself away somehow because suddenly Jared’s arm is back across his neck, one large hand resting heavy and secure on Jensen’s right shoulder.
“Ok, so this is how we’ll do it,” Jared says conspiringly, as if they’re talking football strategy and not ways to cope with rabid fans and annoying media. “You’re the older one, right? The big brother. So you gotta keep an eye on me because I’m young and stupid. Who knows what I’ll get up to in front of those cameras. Oh, we can even pretend I’m drunk! Dude, I love being drunk!”
“Jared, you don’t have to…” Jensen says weakly but Jared waves it off.
“It will be great, I promise. So I’m drunk and stupid and you’re taking care of me. I lean on you and you keep me steady.” He grabs Jensen’s hand and places it on his chest. “Like that.”
“I’m not sure…”
“Feel that? That’s my heart. Whenever you start feeling nervous just press your palm to my chest and count the beats. Ok?”
Jensen meets Jared’s gaze. He should feel humiliated, angry at Jared handling him as if he’s a fragile kid and not four years Jared’s senior. Instead he just feels incredibly grateful. He presses his palm to Jared’s chest, feeling the warmth of his skin and the boom-boom-boom of his heart through the thin lilac shirt.
“Yeah. Yeah, ok,” he says and gives Jared a thankful smile. “Thanks.”
Under his palm, Jared’s heartbeat jumps.
fin
Damn, 18 minutes into NaNo. Always takes me forever to find titles. And still they suck. *sighs*