J² Fic: Quarantine (1/?)
Title: Quarantine (1/?)
Characters: Jared/Jensen
Word Count: 2000/?
Warning: G. Unfortunately unbeta-ed.
A/N: Written for the lovely
mad_server and her awesome Again but with Colds comment-fic meme. I'm really sorry, mads! Happy belated birthday!
A/N2: It took me up to 17 weeks to finally finish these first two parts. This better be super awesome!!! I'm already writing part 3, so it shouldn't be too long (I remember saying the same thing 17 weeks ago... damn writer's block)
***One month after H1N1 arrived on its shores, China puts up stringent quarantine measures to prevent a pandemic of the disease ... As so many other Americans Jensen and Jared get caught in one of the dragnets.
***
The flight from Vancouver to Singapore takes exactly 16 hours, give or take.
Jensen knows from experience. It’s precisely the right amount of time to learn next episode’s script, watch a movie, go through some summer project proposals from his agent, and have an extended nap to counteract the jetlag.
Apparently, it’s also enough time to develop a full case of the plague straight from hell.
Two days earlier
Jared covers the few steps between his and Jensen’s trailer with ease. Knocking mostly out of habit, he doesn’t wait for the response, just pushes in, when he finds the door unlocked.
“Hey dude, I was looking for you. One of the PA’s said you might be …,” he trails off as he takes in the scenery.
"Jensen? You alright?" Jared normally hates to ask questions with obvious answers, but he has to admit, he’s a little put off by the slumped figure on the far away couch.
Jensen is curled up, facing the cushions, his hair matted into a cockatiel crest. Not moving an inch, he just shoots a thumps-up in the general direction of the door. He’s not ready to pick up his head just yet.
“Whuh time’s it?,” he asks, rubbing a hand over his face.
“Seven-thirty. They need us in 10." Jared steps closer to the couch, crouching in front of the other man to get a better look in the dusking light. "What’s going on here? Are you sick?”
“Nothing, I’m fine.” But Jensen realizes, it’s rather contra-productive to his former statement to stay curled up on the couch. And quite frankly, with Jared in his trailer and shooting continuing soon, it’s going to be impossible not to move now. So he rolls onto his back and slowly sits up.
“Yeah, you sure look it.” Before Jensen can even deflect, Jared gets right down to pressing the back of his hand against Jensen’s forehead to check for a fever. Jensen groans in response and tries to turn away from the touch, so Jared just slides his hand further down his neck, feeling for swollen lymph nodes.
“Chill, dude. Your virtue’s save with me!” He squeezes Jensen’s shoulder in a friendly manner, when he can’t find any symptoms. “You sure, you’re okay?”
“Just peachy...,” the older man replies with a fake smile.
There’s a moment of silence, which is accompanied by a quirked-up eyebrow on Jared’s side.
“I’m just tired, Jay. I had a long night, close to no sleep, and I’m rotating with all the things we have to do before the Oz trip. Nothing out of the ordinary, I just hit a little low for a moment here.”
"Sure, that’s all?" Jared presses on.
“Absolutely.”
"Have you eaten anything today?"
"Had some cereal this morning."
Jared sighs. He’s not getting anywhere with this, so he puts the topic aside for now.
“Wanna grab a quick bite then?”
“Sounds like a plan.” This time he’s rewarded with a real smile.
***
A few hours into the flight
Jensen’s not even aware he fell asleep until he wakes up with his head resting on Jared’s shoulder. He blinks awake, trying to focus and sits up, berating himself for falling asleep.
“Hey, sorry, didn’t mean to flake out on you,” he clears his throat, his voice scratchy and still full of sleep.
As he fully comes to, he becomes more and more aware of the state he’s in now. He feels the throbbing before the heat, all comes crashing down on him with so much force, it’s hard not to groan out loud.
He loses the fight eventually, when a soft uggh escapes his lips. He sags back into his seat and sighs heavenly, when his head touches the cool plastic of the small window.
“Headache?” The word penetrates his fuzzy brain from somewhere far to the right.
He just nods, not even going through the trouble to form a proper sentence.
Jared traces a light finger down Jensen’s arm, relaxing him enough to finally stop pinching the bridge of his nose.
Jensen’s vision is blurry and his eyes sting from wearing contacts for over 18 hours now. He needs to get them out somehow, no matter what it takes.
“We better get you some Aspirin, hey?” the fuzzy shape next to him suggests.
Jensen just nods again, nursing his throat.
Jared looks down at his friend in sympathy. He realizes then that he’s still touching Jensen’s arm, drawing small circles of comfort over his skin. He shifts uneasily, not sure what to do with his hands now, before he jumps up. “I’ll get you some water,” he states almost triumphantly.
Jensen takes the opportunity and leaves for the bathroom to take a leak and get out his bloody contacts. The universe has mercy on him, for he succeeds at his first attempt. He puts his glasses on and for the first time doesn’t just feel the state he’s in, but can actually see it looking back at him in the mirror.
So maybe he is coming down with something, but whatever this is, it needs to go away ASAP. He has no time to lie in a hotel room and pity himself.
He gets back to a bottle of water and a steaming cup of tea. A thankful smile on his lips, he sits back down, already feeling exhausted from his little trip down the aisle.
He pushes himself to drink the whole cup of tea and is rewarded with what feels like silk soothing his burning throat. He finishes up and swallows two aspirin with some water, before he relaxes back into the seat.
There’s a long pause and Jared thinks Jensen must have been fallen asleep again, but when he looks over, Jensen's irises are still visible, standing out against his pale skin.
“How about you get some more rest? I’ll wake you up for some food.” he suggests, putting one of the tiny pillows onto his shoulder, inviting his friend to get more comfortable.
Jensen hesitates. He’s not really feeling up for food anyway, so he takes off his glasses, grabs the blanket out of its package and adjusts his position to lean against Jared. He closes his eyes and listens to the sounds of Jared humming off-key to the music on his iPod. Maybe he falls asleep, maybe he doesn’t; either way he wakes up shivering under his thin blanket.
Jared’s just been reading a script to a potential new movie when Jensen starts stirring next to him.
“Hey, how’s your head?,” he asks low-key, giving Jensen some time to wake up properly.
"Damn … I think I have a fever," Jensen says after a moment, palming his own face before he reaches for his glasses.
"I'm sure you have a fever," Jared snorts somehow matter-of-factly.
They watch each other silently for a moment, and Jared can’t help but notice how adorable and boyish Jensen makes illness look. He places his hand to Jensen's forehead. "You are pretty warm."
“I'll be fine,” the blond shrugs it off, then mumbles half-heartedly, "Hot-blooded, check it and see. I got a fever of 103."
A statement, which will proof itself to be way too accurate for Jared’s taste.
***
Just a few hours later:
Jensen is on edge. He just wants to find their damn gate, board their final plane, and wake up in Sydney - preferably pain- and fever-free.
The cue that’s starting to build up in front of them the closer they get to custom’s, isn’t particularly lightning up his mood.
“Seriously, how hard can it be to show your passport, give them your declaration form, and fucking move on?” Jensen barks to no one in particular.
“Jensen, relax.” Jared hisses from the side. “It’s nobody’s fault you’re feeling like crap.”
They walk around another corner and through a hallway, suddenly reaching the final end and therefore reason for the cue.
Overlooking the few people that are still in front of them, Jensen can make out a camera and people in masks sitting behind a computer screen. He gets a weird feeling in his stomach region. This means trouble.
Before he can comprehend the whole meaning of the situation, they already reach the choking point. One person after another oversteps the white line in front of them. Their bodies light up on the IR screen, showing their heat signatures.
He readjusts his glasses and exchanges a brief glance with Jared as if to say, This is not good, before it’s his turn already. He holds his breath in anticipation and watches the little screen expectantly.
His picture looks pretty much all red and judging by the exchange of words and frantic movements by the staff in white, this must mean he’s failed the test.
Two people in hazmat suits step in his way and order him to step aside, please. Jared's behind him immediately, putting a protective hand on his friend’s shoulder.
Jensen is completely overwhelmed by the situation, so he’s glad Jared’s there with him. He steps back into the younger man’s protective frame, feeling slightly claustrophobic now that a cluster of arguing people is surrounding them.
Jared is the first trying to break their hectic conversation, as Jensen has still trouble to communicate.
“Excuse me? Sir, what seems to be the problem?”
A young man with a clipboard turns around eventually.
“You need to come with us, Sir. We need to conduct some further tests.” He’s speaking to Jensen now, who’s shaking visibly under Jared’s eyes.
“Listen, we need to get to our connecting flight,” Jensen starts, when he finally regains his voice, “I can’t … I’m not going…,” Jared steps in, well aware of the gravity of the situation.
“Where do you need us to go?” He’s already starting to move Jensen to the sideline, leaving no room for anybody trying to stop him from staying right there at Jensen’s side.
They are led to a more isolated part of the terminal and seated in a small room, which must’ve been a former storage room from the looks of it. There are about 20 gurneys cramped on both sides of it, each equipped with an IV stand, a blanket and a clipboard. In the corner is some sort of serving trolley stocked up with plastic cups and juice cartons.
“Please wait here. Somebody will be with you shortly,” says the clipboard guy, who seems to be in charge. Jared nods appreciatively.
His hand is still resting on the small of Jensen’s back, guiding him to the back of the room. He didn’t let go off him once.
Jensen is taking a seat on one of the stretchers, legs dangling down the side, while Jared takes a look around, absorbing the depressing room.
Jensen stays quiet, palming his face. He has taken off his glasses and is pinching the bridge of his nose again, trying to blink the world back into focus. This can’t be happening. It’s a dream. A freaking nightmare.
“We need to catch the stupid plane. How much time’s left?” His vision is too blurry to check his own wristwatch.
Jared steps behind the gurney, leaning in close, one hand resting on Jensen’s shoulder.
“We’ve got plenty of time. The plane won't leave for another hour.” Jensen just nods, slumping visibly as the adrenalin leaves his body bit by bit.
“Why don’t you lay down for a bit?” Jared suggests to his friend, practically seeing how this is weighing him down.
Jensen tries to relax, he inhales deeply, but he ends up taking just another shaky breath. Jared lifts one corner of his mouth; it’s a weak attempt at reassurance, but it’s the best he’s got at this moment. He squeezes the shoulder under his hand and gently pushes Jensen down onto his back.
The older man complies, which is actually more unsettling than comforting. Jared pulls the blanket from the foot of the stretcher and drapes it over Jensen’s trembling body.
“Get some rest. I’ll sort this out.”
“M’sorry,” is all Jensen can manage. He takes another shaky inhale and blinks, already feeling the urge to give in to the much needed sleep.
“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” Jared soothes. His hand continues to linger over Jensen’s heart until exhaustion pulls the older man into a deep sleep.
***
Part Two
***
Thank you for reading. I would be delighted, if you find the time to drop me a line.
Spread the sick!jensen love!
Characters: Jared/Jensen
Word Count: 2000/?
Warning: G. Unfortunately unbeta-ed.
A/N: Written for the lovely
mad_server and her awesome Again but with Colds comment-fic meme. I'm really sorry, mads! Happy belated birthday!
A/N2: It took me up to 17 weeks to finally finish these first two parts. This better be super awesome!!! I'm already writing part 3, so it shouldn't be too long (I remember saying the same thing 17 weeks ago... damn writer's block)
***One month after H1N1 arrived on its shores, China puts up stringent quarantine measures to prevent a pandemic of the disease ... As so many other Americans Jensen and Jared get caught in one of the dragnets.
***
The flight from Vancouver to Singapore takes exactly 16 hours, give or take.
Jensen knows from experience. It’s precisely the right amount of time to learn next episode’s script, watch a movie, go through some summer project proposals from his agent, and have an extended nap to counteract the jetlag.
Apparently, it’s also enough time to develop a full case of the plague straight from hell.
Two days earlier
Jared covers the few steps between his and Jensen’s trailer with ease. Knocking mostly out of habit, he doesn’t wait for the response, just pushes in, when he finds the door unlocked.
“Hey dude, I was looking for you. One of the PA’s said you might be …,” he trails off as he takes in the scenery.
"Jensen? You alright?" Jared normally hates to ask questions with obvious answers, but he has to admit, he’s a little put off by the slumped figure on the far away couch.
Jensen is curled up, facing the cushions, his hair matted into a cockatiel crest. Not moving an inch, he just shoots a thumps-up in the general direction of the door. He’s not ready to pick up his head just yet.
“Whuh time’s it?,” he asks, rubbing a hand over his face.
“Seven-thirty. They need us in 10." Jared steps closer to the couch, crouching in front of the other man to get a better look in the dusking light. "What’s going on here? Are you sick?”
“Nothing, I’m fine.” But Jensen realizes, it’s rather contra-productive to his former statement to stay curled up on the couch. And quite frankly, with Jared in his trailer and shooting continuing soon, it’s going to be impossible not to move now. So he rolls onto his back and slowly sits up.
“Yeah, you sure look it.” Before Jensen can even deflect, Jared gets right down to pressing the back of his hand against Jensen’s forehead to check for a fever. Jensen groans in response and tries to turn away from the touch, so Jared just slides his hand further down his neck, feeling for swollen lymph nodes.
“Chill, dude. Your virtue’s save with me!” He squeezes Jensen’s shoulder in a friendly manner, when he can’t find any symptoms. “You sure, you’re okay?”
“Just peachy...,” the older man replies with a fake smile.
There’s a moment of silence, which is accompanied by a quirked-up eyebrow on Jared’s side.
“I’m just tired, Jay. I had a long night, close to no sleep, and I’m rotating with all the things we have to do before the Oz trip. Nothing out of the ordinary, I just hit a little low for a moment here.”
"Sure, that’s all?" Jared presses on.
“Absolutely.”
"Have you eaten anything today?"
"Had some cereal this morning."
Jared sighs. He’s not getting anywhere with this, so he puts the topic aside for now.
“Wanna grab a quick bite then?”
“Sounds like a plan.” This time he’s rewarded with a real smile.
***
A few hours into the flight
Jensen’s not even aware he fell asleep until he wakes up with his head resting on Jared’s shoulder. He blinks awake, trying to focus and sits up, berating himself for falling asleep.
“Hey, sorry, didn’t mean to flake out on you,” he clears his throat, his voice scratchy and still full of sleep.
As he fully comes to, he becomes more and more aware of the state he’s in now. He feels the throbbing before the heat, all comes crashing down on him with so much force, it’s hard not to groan out loud.
He loses the fight eventually, when a soft uggh escapes his lips. He sags back into his seat and sighs heavenly, when his head touches the cool plastic of the small window.
“Headache?” The word penetrates his fuzzy brain from somewhere far to the right.
He just nods, not even going through the trouble to form a proper sentence.
Jared traces a light finger down Jensen’s arm, relaxing him enough to finally stop pinching the bridge of his nose.
Jensen’s vision is blurry and his eyes sting from wearing contacts for over 18 hours now. He needs to get them out somehow, no matter what it takes.
“We better get you some Aspirin, hey?” the fuzzy shape next to him suggests.
Jensen just nods again, nursing his throat.
Jared looks down at his friend in sympathy. He realizes then that he’s still touching Jensen’s arm, drawing small circles of comfort over his skin. He shifts uneasily, not sure what to do with his hands now, before he jumps up. “I’ll get you some water,” he states almost triumphantly.
Jensen takes the opportunity and leaves for the bathroom to take a leak and get out his bloody contacts. The universe has mercy on him, for he succeeds at his first attempt. He puts his glasses on and for the first time doesn’t just feel the state he’s in, but can actually see it looking back at him in the mirror.
So maybe he is coming down with something, but whatever this is, it needs to go away ASAP. He has no time to lie in a hotel room and pity himself.
He gets back to a bottle of water and a steaming cup of tea. A thankful smile on his lips, he sits back down, already feeling exhausted from his little trip down the aisle.
He pushes himself to drink the whole cup of tea and is rewarded with what feels like silk soothing his burning throat. He finishes up and swallows two aspirin with some water, before he relaxes back into the seat.
There’s a long pause and Jared thinks Jensen must have been fallen asleep again, but when he looks over, Jensen's irises are still visible, standing out against his pale skin.
“How about you get some more rest? I’ll wake you up for some food.” he suggests, putting one of the tiny pillows onto his shoulder, inviting his friend to get more comfortable.
Jensen hesitates. He’s not really feeling up for food anyway, so he takes off his glasses, grabs the blanket out of its package and adjusts his position to lean against Jared. He closes his eyes and listens to the sounds of Jared humming off-key to the music on his iPod. Maybe he falls asleep, maybe he doesn’t; either way he wakes up shivering under his thin blanket.
Jared’s just been reading a script to a potential new movie when Jensen starts stirring next to him.
“Hey, how’s your head?,” he asks low-key, giving Jensen some time to wake up properly.
"Damn … I think I have a fever," Jensen says after a moment, palming his own face before he reaches for his glasses.
"I'm sure you have a fever," Jared snorts somehow matter-of-factly.
They watch each other silently for a moment, and Jared can’t help but notice how adorable and boyish Jensen makes illness look. He places his hand to Jensen's forehead. "You are pretty warm."
“I'll be fine,” the blond shrugs it off, then mumbles half-heartedly, "Hot-blooded, check it and see. I got a fever of 103."
A statement, which will proof itself to be way too accurate for Jared’s taste.
***
Just a few hours later:
Jensen is on edge. He just wants to find their damn gate, board their final plane, and wake up in Sydney - preferably pain- and fever-free.
The cue that’s starting to build up in front of them the closer they get to custom’s, isn’t particularly lightning up his mood.
“Seriously, how hard can it be to show your passport, give them your declaration form, and fucking move on?” Jensen barks to no one in particular.
“Jensen, relax.” Jared hisses from the side. “It’s nobody’s fault you’re feeling like crap.”
They walk around another corner and through a hallway, suddenly reaching the final end and therefore reason for the cue.
Overlooking the few people that are still in front of them, Jensen can make out a camera and people in masks sitting behind a computer screen. He gets a weird feeling in his stomach region. This means trouble.
Before he can comprehend the whole meaning of the situation, they already reach the choking point. One person after another oversteps the white line in front of them. Their bodies light up on the IR screen, showing their heat signatures.
He readjusts his glasses and exchanges a brief glance with Jared as if to say, This is not good, before it’s his turn already. He holds his breath in anticipation and watches the little screen expectantly.
His picture looks pretty much all red and judging by the exchange of words and frantic movements by the staff in white, this must mean he’s failed the test.
Two people in hazmat suits step in his way and order him to step aside, please. Jared's behind him immediately, putting a protective hand on his friend’s shoulder.
Jensen is completely overwhelmed by the situation, so he’s glad Jared’s there with him. He steps back into the younger man’s protective frame, feeling slightly claustrophobic now that a cluster of arguing people is surrounding them.
Jared is the first trying to break their hectic conversation, as Jensen has still trouble to communicate.
“Excuse me? Sir, what seems to be the problem?”
A young man with a clipboard turns around eventually.
“You need to come with us, Sir. We need to conduct some further tests.” He’s speaking to Jensen now, who’s shaking visibly under Jared’s eyes.
“Listen, we need to get to our connecting flight,” Jensen starts, when he finally regains his voice, “I can’t … I’m not going…,” Jared steps in, well aware of the gravity of the situation.
“Where do you need us to go?” He’s already starting to move Jensen to the sideline, leaving no room for anybody trying to stop him from staying right there at Jensen’s side.
They are led to a more isolated part of the terminal and seated in a small room, which must’ve been a former storage room from the looks of it. There are about 20 gurneys cramped on both sides of it, each equipped with an IV stand, a blanket and a clipboard. In the corner is some sort of serving trolley stocked up with plastic cups and juice cartons.
“Please wait here. Somebody will be with you shortly,” says the clipboard guy, who seems to be in charge. Jared nods appreciatively.
His hand is still resting on the small of Jensen’s back, guiding him to the back of the room. He didn’t let go off him once.
Jensen is taking a seat on one of the stretchers, legs dangling down the side, while Jared takes a look around, absorbing the depressing room.
Jensen stays quiet, palming his face. He has taken off his glasses and is pinching the bridge of his nose again, trying to blink the world back into focus. This can’t be happening. It’s a dream. A freaking nightmare.
“We need to catch the stupid plane. How much time’s left?” His vision is too blurry to check his own wristwatch.
Jared steps behind the gurney, leaning in close, one hand resting on Jensen’s shoulder.
“We’ve got plenty of time. The plane won't leave for another hour.” Jensen just nods, slumping visibly as the adrenalin leaves his body bit by bit.
“Why don’t you lay down for a bit?” Jared suggests to his friend, practically seeing how this is weighing him down.
Jensen tries to relax, he inhales deeply, but he ends up taking just another shaky breath. Jared lifts one corner of his mouth; it’s a weak attempt at reassurance, but it’s the best he’s got at this moment. He squeezes the shoulder under his hand and gently pushes Jensen down onto his back.
The older man complies, which is actually more unsettling than comforting. Jared pulls the blanket from the foot of the stretcher and drapes it over Jensen’s trembling body.
“Get some rest. I’ll sort this out.”
“M’sorry,” is all Jensen can manage. He takes another shaky inhale and blinks, already feeling the urge to give in to the much needed sleep.
“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” Jared soothes. His hand continues to linger over Jensen’s heart until exhaustion pulls the older man into a deep sleep.
***
Part Two
***
Thank you for reading. I would be delighted, if you find the time to drop me a line.
Spread the sick!jensen love!