(no subject)
This r pointless J2 schmoop.
Sing Me a Lullaby, Sing Me the Alphabet
1500 words, PG, AU
The first day he hears the cellist, he's playing "Bohemian Rhapsody;" Jensen can't help grinning, throws him a quarter.
*
He always plays rock music, stuff that Jensen doesn't expect on cello. Queen, the Stones, a pretty awesome version of "Like a Rolling Stone." Jensen starts noticing more things--he's young, probably no more than eighteen, tall and lanky, quick smile for anyone who gives him change, and then he's serious again, in a zone, his whole mind on playing.
He's there Tuesdays and Thursdays, in Jensen's station, just in the mornings. Jensen never gets home at the same time at night--he's late doing paperwork most nights, his boss never wanting to stick around himself. The job is shit, but Jensen just graduated, he doesn't have any experience. This is him paying his dues so someday he'll be the asshole leaving his assistant to do the work all on his lonesome.
Jensen wishes the cello kid was there at night. He could use the smile.
*
Five weeks in, Jensen happens to get to the station a little early--he had nothing for breakfast, so he figured he'd grab something on his way to the office. When he gets to the station, the cello kid is just finishing up "Mr. Brightside," which Jensen didn't know could be adapted for cello. He throws him a dollar.
The kid grins, flashing dimples. "Thanks," he says. It's the first time Jensen's heard his voice, smooth and bright. He sounds pretty happy, for a panhandler.
"You're good," says Jensen. "I mean. Don't hear a lot of rock cello."
The kid laughs. "Figured violin shouldn't get all the badass points, you know?" He looks down, smiles a little uncertainly. "Glad you like it."
The train rumbles in.
"I gotta go," says Jensen uncertainly. He could stay. He's early. But he'll regret it if he doesn't eat, and--what's he gonna do? Talk to the cellist all day?
"Have a good day," says the kid, with another grin, picking up his bow again.
"You too," says Jensen, but he's not sure the kid hears him over the opening of "Stairway to Heaven."
Jensen grins the whole way to work.
*
Mid-November, Jensen gets off work five hours late on Friday, after a week of working at least three hours late every other day. He's practically a zombie when he staggers off the train an hour after that. He's too tired to even go out and get drunk with his friends. He just wants to sleep until he dies, no joke.
"You should quit," someone says.
I am going to get shivved, Jensen thinks. He's not upset by the idea, just kind of mildly interested. He's too tired for extreme emotions.
Then he realizes he knows the voice, looks up and sees the cellist.
"You don't have a cello," he says dumbly.
"I do have a life," says the kid, sounding amused.
"I thought you were homeless."
"I'm a student," he says. "Freshman. I don't have classes on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, and I like to play." The kid shrugs, smiles a little. "Not the most conventional part-time job."
"Mmm," says Jensen, not really capable of a sentence, and the kid laughs.
"Jeez, can you get home?"
"Worked, like--fifty-five hour week. Sixty? I don't know. A lot."
"Where do you live?"
"Huh?"
"I was supposed to go meet my friend Chad, at some party," says the kid. "But I'm not really that excited about it. He keeps trying to set me up with these girls, and I'm really not into girls, and he thinks that I should be." The kid ducks under Jensen's arm and wraps his own arm around Jensen's waist. Jensen stares at him muzzily. "Not in a homophobic way," the kid clarifies, "just, like, he can't comprehend why anyone wouldn't like boobs."
"Why are you--"
"Too jiggly," says the kid. "I just never got the appeal."
"Doing this?" Jensen finishes. "Helping."
"Oh," says the kid. "That. I don't wanna go out, and, seriously, you look like you're about to pass out on the street. So, you know. Don't want you to get hit by a car or something."
"Shivved," Jensen corrects. Then, "I don't even know your name."
"Jared," says the kid.
"Jensen," Jensen says.
"Nice to meet you, Jensen," says Jared. "Left or right?"
*
Jensen leaves half an hour early on Tuesday and brings a home-made egg sandwich.
"Not that I ever say no to food," says Jared, digging in gratefully, "but you do remember I'm not homeless, right?"
"Just wanted to say thanks," he says. "And now that I know you're not homeless, you're not getting any more of my spare change."
"Damn, where am I gonna get my booze now?" asks Jared, laughing.
"You're in college, you probably get more free alcohol than I do."
Jared polishes off the egg sandwich with a grin. "You're early."
Jensen shifts slightly. "Wanted to say thanks," he says again, feeling awkward. Jared is cute, and apparently gay, and Jensen's going through kind of a dry spell, but the kid's all of eighteen, a freshman in college, and Jensen shouldn't be doing--whatever it is he's doing right now.
Jared smiles again. "You're welcome," he says, a little smile playing around his lips.
*
Jensen doesn't have Jared's number, or Jared's address, or even the kid's last name. He doesn't know where he goes to school, or anything he does, except play the cello two days a week.
So getting a crush would be stupid.
*
When Jensen comes down, exhausted and hungover, on a Wednesday morning, Jared plays something quiet and soothing Jensen doesn't know--just stops in the middle of "Satisfaction" and switches over with a sympathetic smile.
The Thursday before Christmas, the day Jensen said was his last before he went home, Jared plays "Celebrate."
Jensen starts thinking about what you get the freshman cellist you're absolutely not crushing on for Christmas.
*
Jensen's flight gets canceled, and it's either fly into San Antonio and take the bus or wait until tomorrow for a flight to Dallas. He's pissed and tired, he just wants to get out of here, so he says fuckit and goes to San Antonio.
He's contemplating how early in the flight he can get something seriously alcoholic when someone says, "Shit, what are the odds?"
Jensen looks up and there's Jared. He's momentarily speechless.
"I'm in the window," says Jared. "Crazy, right?"
"Do you fit?" asks Jensen, moving out of the way to let Jared through.
"Not that well," Jared says with a grin. "I get by." He looks over at Jensen through his lashes. "You're from San Antonio? Or--"
"Richardson. My flight got canceled and I just wanted to get the hell out of Dodge."
"Huh," says Jared. "Knew there was a reason I liked you."
Jensen flushes.
Jared likes him.
*
They talk most of the way back, finding out the stuff they don't actually know about each other. Jared's planning on majoring in engineering, started playing cello in ninth grade, actually had to get a permit from the city to be allowed to play.
"I signed up for a shift, no lie," he says, grinning.
Jensen explains about his job, how much his boss sucks, how no one is hiring even entry-level, unless you have three years' experience, and Jensen doesn't know how else to get it.
"Sucks, man," says Jared.
Jensen swallows and says, not sure if he'll regret it, "I used to wish you were there at night," he says. "Cheer me up."
There's a pause, and Jared finally replies, "Maybe if you ever got off the same time. Workaholic."
Jensen finds himself smiling, and then laughing.
"Next time you need it," says Jared, "just call."
"I don't have your number."
"Cuz that's so hard to fix," says Jared, rolling his eyes.
When they get off in San Antonio, Jensen has Jared's number, and even an offer to stay the night before he figures out how to get to Richardson. When he leaves in the morning, Jared gives him a hug and says, "Merry Christmas, man," and Jensen thinks, yeah, definitely.
*
He's halfway to Richardson when his phone beeps with a text.
am i too young for u?
no, Jensen texts back, even though he's not sure it's true.
then im gonna ask u out when we get back. u gonna say yes?
yeah
awesome
*
Jensen texts Jared to let him know his ETA. It's late, and he's tired, and he just wants to see his boyfriend.
Just thinking boyfriend makes him grin. Two weeks, and he really, really doesn't care that Jared is eighteen. Because Jared is seriously awesome.
When he gets to the station, Jared's playing "My Guy."
"Sap," says Jensen fondly.
"I could've gone with 'My Girl,'" he points out. "So consider yourself lucky." He leans over and gives Jensen a kiss. "Want to walk me home? I need to drop off my cello."
"That's classier than inviting me up for coffee."
"Way classier," Jared agrees. "You coming?"
"Yeah. Definitely."
Sing Me a Lullaby, Sing Me the Alphabet
1500 words, PG, AU
The first day he hears the cellist, he's playing "Bohemian Rhapsody;" Jensen can't help grinning, throws him a quarter.
*
He always plays rock music, stuff that Jensen doesn't expect on cello. Queen, the Stones, a pretty awesome version of "Like a Rolling Stone." Jensen starts noticing more things--he's young, probably no more than eighteen, tall and lanky, quick smile for anyone who gives him change, and then he's serious again, in a zone, his whole mind on playing.
He's there Tuesdays and Thursdays, in Jensen's station, just in the mornings. Jensen never gets home at the same time at night--he's late doing paperwork most nights, his boss never wanting to stick around himself. The job is shit, but Jensen just graduated, he doesn't have any experience. This is him paying his dues so someday he'll be the asshole leaving his assistant to do the work all on his lonesome.
Jensen wishes the cello kid was there at night. He could use the smile.
*
Five weeks in, Jensen happens to get to the station a little early--he had nothing for breakfast, so he figured he'd grab something on his way to the office. When he gets to the station, the cello kid is just finishing up "Mr. Brightside," which Jensen didn't know could be adapted for cello. He throws him a dollar.
The kid grins, flashing dimples. "Thanks," he says. It's the first time Jensen's heard his voice, smooth and bright. He sounds pretty happy, for a panhandler.
"You're good," says Jensen. "I mean. Don't hear a lot of rock cello."
The kid laughs. "Figured violin shouldn't get all the badass points, you know?" He looks down, smiles a little uncertainly. "Glad you like it."
The train rumbles in.
"I gotta go," says Jensen uncertainly. He could stay. He's early. But he'll regret it if he doesn't eat, and--what's he gonna do? Talk to the cellist all day?
"Have a good day," says the kid, with another grin, picking up his bow again.
"You too," says Jensen, but he's not sure the kid hears him over the opening of "Stairway to Heaven."
Jensen grins the whole way to work.
*
Mid-November, Jensen gets off work five hours late on Friday, after a week of working at least three hours late every other day. He's practically a zombie when he staggers off the train an hour after that. He's too tired to even go out and get drunk with his friends. He just wants to sleep until he dies, no joke.
"You should quit," someone says.
I am going to get shivved, Jensen thinks. He's not upset by the idea, just kind of mildly interested. He's too tired for extreme emotions.
Then he realizes he knows the voice, looks up and sees the cellist.
"You don't have a cello," he says dumbly.
"I do have a life," says the kid, sounding amused.
"I thought you were homeless."
"I'm a student," he says. "Freshman. I don't have classes on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, and I like to play." The kid shrugs, smiles a little. "Not the most conventional part-time job."
"Mmm," says Jensen, not really capable of a sentence, and the kid laughs.
"Jeez, can you get home?"
"Worked, like--fifty-five hour week. Sixty? I don't know. A lot."
"Where do you live?"
"Huh?"
"I was supposed to go meet my friend Chad, at some party," says the kid. "But I'm not really that excited about it. He keeps trying to set me up with these girls, and I'm really not into girls, and he thinks that I should be." The kid ducks under Jensen's arm and wraps his own arm around Jensen's waist. Jensen stares at him muzzily. "Not in a homophobic way," the kid clarifies, "just, like, he can't comprehend why anyone wouldn't like boobs."
"Why are you--"
"Too jiggly," says the kid. "I just never got the appeal."
"Doing this?" Jensen finishes. "Helping."
"Oh," says the kid. "That. I don't wanna go out, and, seriously, you look like you're about to pass out on the street. So, you know. Don't want you to get hit by a car or something."
"Shivved," Jensen corrects. Then, "I don't even know your name."
"Jared," says the kid.
"Jensen," Jensen says.
"Nice to meet you, Jensen," says Jared. "Left or right?"
*
Jensen leaves half an hour early on Tuesday and brings a home-made egg sandwich.
"Not that I ever say no to food," says Jared, digging in gratefully, "but you do remember I'm not homeless, right?"
"Just wanted to say thanks," he says. "And now that I know you're not homeless, you're not getting any more of my spare change."
"Damn, where am I gonna get my booze now?" asks Jared, laughing.
"You're in college, you probably get more free alcohol than I do."
Jared polishes off the egg sandwich with a grin. "You're early."
Jensen shifts slightly. "Wanted to say thanks," he says again, feeling awkward. Jared is cute, and apparently gay, and Jensen's going through kind of a dry spell, but the kid's all of eighteen, a freshman in college, and Jensen shouldn't be doing--whatever it is he's doing right now.
Jared smiles again. "You're welcome," he says, a little smile playing around his lips.
*
Jensen doesn't have Jared's number, or Jared's address, or even the kid's last name. He doesn't know where he goes to school, or anything he does, except play the cello two days a week.
So getting a crush would be stupid.
*
When Jensen comes down, exhausted and hungover, on a Wednesday morning, Jared plays something quiet and soothing Jensen doesn't know--just stops in the middle of "Satisfaction" and switches over with a sympathetic smile.
The Thursday before Christmas, the day Jensen said was his last before he went home, Jared plays "Celebrate."
Jensen starts thinking about what you get the freshman cellist you're absolutely not crushing on for Christmas.
*
Jensen's flight gets canceled, and it's either fly into San Antonio and take the bus or wait until tomorrow for a flight to Dallas. He's pissed and tired, he just wants to get out of here, so he says fuckit and goes to San Antonio.
He's contemplating how early in the flight he can get something seriously alcoholic when someone says, "Shit, what are the odds?"
Jensen looks up and there's Jared. He's momentarily speechless.
"I'm in the window," says Jared. "Crazy, right?"
"Do you fit?" asks Jensen, moving out of the way to let Jared through.
"Not that well," Jared says with a grin. "I get by." He looks over at Jensen through his lashes. "You're from San Antonio? Or--"
"Richardson. My flight got canceled and I just wanted to get the hell out of Dodge."
"Huh," says Jared. "Knew there was a reason I liked you."
Jensen flushes.
Jared likes him.
*
They talk most of the way back, finding out the stuff they don't actually know about each other. Jared's planning on majoring in engineering, started playing cello in ninth grade, actually had to get a permit from the city to be allowed to play.
"I signed up for a shift, no lie," he says, grinning.
Jensen explains about his job, how much his boss sucks, how no one is hiring even entry-level, unless you have three years' experience, and Jensen doesn't know how else to get it.
"Sucks, man," says Jared.
Jensen swallows and says, not sure if he'll regret it, "I used to wish you were there at night," he says. "Cheer me up."
There's a pause, and Jared finally replies, "Maybe if you ever got off the same time. Workaholic."
Jensen finds himself smiling, and then laughing.
"Next time you need it," says Jared, "just call."
"I don't have your number."
"Cuz that's so hard to fix," says Jared, rolling his eyes.
When they get off in San Antonio, Jensen has Jared's number, and even an offer to stay the night before he figures out how to get to Richardson. When he leaves in the morning, Jared gives him a hug and says, "Merry Christmas, man," and Jensen thinks, yeah, definitely.
*
He's halfway to Richardson when his phone beeps with a text.
am i too young for u?
no, Jensen texts back, even though he's not sure it's true.
then im gonna ask u out when we get back. u gonna say yes?
yeah
awesome
*
Jensen texts Jared to let him know his ETA. It's late, and he's tired, and he just wants to see his boyfriend.
Just thinking boyfriend makes him grin. Two weeks, and he really, really doesn't care that Jared is eighteen. Because Jared is seriously awesome.
When he gets to the station, Jared's playing "My Guy."
"Sap," says Jensen fondly.
"I could've gone with 'My Girl,'" he points out. "So consider yourself lucky." He leans over and gives Jensen a kiss. "Want to walk me home? I need to drop off my cello."
"That's classier than inviting me up for coffee."
"Way classier," Jared agrees. "You coming?"
"Yeah. Definitely."