Fic: Found My Salvation in Starbucks | Supernatural/CWRPS | Jensen/Coffee
Found My Salvation in Starbucks
A Rapture 'Verse Fic by Phaballa
Fandom: Supernatural/CWRPS
Pairings: Jensen/Coffee
Disclaimer: Lies.
Comments: Thanks to anasuede for the beta, and to notthequiettype for brainstorming the whole 'verse with me.
When the Rapture happens, the first thing Jensen thinks is, Huh, I guess I have to start believing in God now or something, and then he goes back to sleep. He doesn't consider accepting Jesus into his heart because really, the last thing he wants is to get Raptured with all the other believers. That would suck. Heaven seems like it'd be really boring, and also? Severely lacking in orgies. And booze. Jensen really likes his alcohol, so really, the Rapture just isn't for him.
When he wakes up, he calls Jared. "You have reached the voicemail of Jared Padalecki," a cool, female voice says. Jensen doesn't recognize it, but she sounds a little like Martha Stewart. "Jared isn't available right now, as he's been Chosen by Jesus to take his rightful place in the kingdom of Heaven. If you're listening to this, you're probably a sinner. Repent and accept Jesus into your heart! Jared awaits you in the glory of Heaven. Good luck and God bless, for He is the kingdom and the glory, forever and ever, amen." There's a pause, and Jensen thinks that must be it. "Oh, and don't bother leaving a message, because once you go Jesus, you never go back." She sounds incredibly smug. Jensen wonders when it started being okay for the Chosen Ones to, like, be all self-righteous and--oh. Right.
It's all pretty fucked up. The Rapture thing is weird enough, because honestly, Jensen always used to think those born again Christians who actually believed in this shit were out of their freaking minds, but Jared? Seriously? Jensen knows that Jared liked that song, that dododoo Jesus is just alright! one, but he's pretty sure that doesn't qualify someone for the Rapture.
He shrugs to himself and gets dressed. If anyone has been Left Behind, he thinks, it's the bitchy baristas at Starbucks, and he really needs a coffee.
*
The bitchy baristas are out in full force at the Starbucks around the corner from his apartment, thank god, and they're even bitchier than usual. Jensen orders his usual non-fat no whip caramel soy macchiato, and the guy behind the counter just stares at him with his usual sneer, says, "Do you want chocolate sprinkles on that?"
"Uh," says Jensen. He looks around, and mostly, people are acting pretty normal, drinking their coffees and messing around on their laptops, and in the line behind him, some woman who sounds like she's about to start crying is begging her child to "please, Timmy, stop screaming!"
"Sprink.Les," the barista says. His fingers twitch like he'd really rather be smoking. "Do you want them?"
"Yeah. Okay?"
"You people," the barista mutters, "it's not like this decision is going to decide the fate of the world. It's just coffee. Christ!"
Jensen pays. The barista is in a particularly foul mood today, and Jensen doesn't want to cross him. Pretty much ever. Plus, he's the only person who makes Jensen's coffee just right, and the last thing Jensen needs is to fuck up his caffeine supplier. They've already been through a Rapture and his co-star is, like, fucking gone. Who knows if he even has a show to go back to. But at least he has his coffee.
He loves Starbucks. Not even the Rapture can stop it.
*
He shows up on set at his usual call time, but it's just him and Eric and a couple lighting guys. "The Network is shutting down," Eric says. "Well actually, that's not entirely true. They're shutting down production and just showing Seventh Heaven and Felicity marathons." He looks like he's about to cry. Jensen really hopes he doesn't because crying is just really unattractive and Eric is already sort of an ugly guy. Not like, freak show ugly, but Jensen can tell he was totally a nerd in high school and maybe only recently lost his virginity if at all. It's not his fault he's ugly--Jensen gets that, he does, because really, not everyone can be pretty like him--but crying really won't help with that. His face will get all red and splotchy and besides which, it'll make him look like a total pussy.
"Well, that fucking sucks. But dude, we have contracts. They still have to pay us and shit, right?"
"Technically, I think the whole money thing is over," Eric says, "and everyone got Raptured. I mean, aside from us and the cast of One Tree Hill, so you know, not enough to run a network."
"Oh, that fucking figures. So Jared gets Raptured, but fucking Chad is still here?"
That's just great, Jensen thinks as he gets in his truck and drives back to his place. Even during the apocalypse, Chad Michael Murray is still around to torture him. Jensen really hates his life.
*
Chad calls him while he's back in line at Starbucks, which is apparently the only restaurant-type place still operating, although now they're demanding payment in the form of cigarettes, canned goods, and liquor. Jensen holds his spice rack in front of him hopefully. It will maybe buy him at least a mocha, and if he's really lucky, a flavor shot.
"Ackles, you fucker," is Chad's reply to Jensen's tentative "Hello?" It's pretty surprising that the cell service is still running, but then again, satellites don't shut themselves off, right? Plus, if anyone got Left Behind, it's those fuckers at Sprint. Rollover? Yeah, maybe roll over so they can rape you in the ass with their fucking ridiculous service charges.
Jensen grunts and juggles the spice rack in one hand and his cell in the other. "What do you want, Chad? I'm, like, busy right now."
"I'm almost to Vancouver. I'm crashing at your place and then we're gonna get Jared's dogs and make sure they're not dead or whatever."
"Um, no?" Jensen tries to say, but then he's at the front of the line and the barista is looking at him and sort of sneering at the spice rack, which really doesn't bode well, and Jensen drops his phone and accidentally hangs up on Chad. Oh well.
"It's a spice rack," Jensen explains. "It has, you know, everything. Cinnamon and cumin and, um, everything."
"Well, if it has cumin," the barista says, and Jensen suspects him of sarcasm but it's really hard to tell from his normal tone of voice.
"Please? I just want a mocha. Or, um, I'll take a latte, even, whatever."
"Caffeine junkie," the barista mutters, but he takes the spice rack and three minutes later, Jensen has a mocha. With sprinkles and whipped cream. Fuck it, Jensen thinks. He doesn't have a show and his diet can go fuck itself. After all, it is the apocalypse. He deserves some fucking whipped cream.
*
Chad actually shows up the next day, looking scruffy and disgusting and just as hateful as ever. Thankfully, he has not brought his teenaged fiancé with him.
"She got Raptured," he tells Jensen with a shrug, pushing his way past him into the apartment. Harley greets him with a loud bark and lots of licking, all of which Jensen finds slightly distasteful. He really doesn't like dogs.
"Sadie's gone," he tells Chad, edging away from Harley and grabbing a beer from the fridge. After a moment of consideration, he puts the beer back and pulls the vodka out of the freezer, takes a long, painful swig from the bottle, after which he almost throws up but just manages to hold it in. But really, if he has to be Left Behind with fucking Chad, he wants to be drunk. Really, really drunk.
"Dude. Dogs can get Raptured?"
"No, fucktard. She ran away, I think. Before I got there." Jensen doesn't know this for sure, but even in a world where the Rapture is a viable concept, the idea of a dog being Raptured is fucking stupid. Only Chad would believe that shit.
They get drunk together. Or, well, Jensen gets massively drunk, and Chad steals the vodka and settles on the couch beside him, so it's sort of like they're getting drunk together, even if it's really more like they're getting drunk next to each other. They try to watch TV, but the only stations still broadcasting anything besides Everyone Loves Raymond (which Jensen refuses to watch on principle because it's not funny and plus, his sister gave him a whole lecture about how it's part of the patriarchal industrial oppression machine) and Seventh Heaven are FOX (which has a constant news ticker about repenting and accepting Jesus, blah blah) and Skinimax. So they watch porn, but it's soft-core straight porn and it's really boring. After a while, Chad lays his head on Jensen's shoulder (which, ew, who knows where the boy has been if Paris Hilton is any indication of his tastes) and says, "I miss Jared."
"Yeah well. Fucker got himself saved. There's always Harley. I have some peanut butter in the kitchen, if you want to seduce him."
"Nah," says Chad. "Although a blowjob would be nice."
"Don't look at me, you freak. I'm not touching your skanky dick."
"I hate you," Chad says, and vomits on his own shoes.
*
The next morning, after trading the carton of cigarettes Jensen found in Chad's car to the bitchy barista for an espresso maker and looting the Wal*Mart for coffee, they get on the road heading south. Jensen wants to hit LA, see if any of his friends are still around. He's pretty sure most of them have been Left Behind (because seriously, what God in His right mind would let Christian Kane into heaven?) but the signals in the big cities must be jammed with people trying to call, because every time he tries, he can't get through.
They stop for gas in Oregon at an abandoned 7-11, and while Chad is inside fucking with the safety trying to get the pumps turned on, a dusty black Impala pulls up to the pump next to him and two guys get out. One of them is Jared, and one of them is him. It's pretty much the weirdest shit ever.
"Sammy," the not-Jensen says, "stay back. It's probably a shape shifter. I thought we killed that fucker, damnit."
"Whoa," Jensen says, holding his hands up high. "I'm not. Okay. This is fucked up." Jensen feels suddenly light-headed, and also like he might puke. Seeing himself talking to… himself… is really disorienting. And fucking weird. It's a very Harry Potter moment. Not that he reads children's books, but he's seen the movie. Hermione is kind of hot.
"You can say that again, you face-stealing fuck. I mean, I get it, I'm pretty. But that doesn't give you the right, dude."
"Uh, Dean?" Jared says. Sammy. Whatever. Jensen feels like he will maybe have a nervous breakdown right about now, and also, he'd like for Chad to fix the breakers in the store so he can set up the espresso machine and have some fucking coffee. Because he's obviously having some sort of horrible caffeine withdrawal hallucinations, and really, coffee will fix everything. Jensen should've kidnapped the bitchy barista to make his coffee for him, and then this wouldn't be happening. Yes. Jensen's pretty sure this is all the barista's fault.
"What, Sammy? Can't you see I'm trying to deal with this?"
"Yeah, I see that. But you're freaking the guy out, man. I don't think he's a shape shifter."
"Well what is he, then?"
"I'm an actor," Jensen blurts out. He hates today, and he hates Chad, and he really fucking hates the Rapture. Maybe he's already dead and this is like, his version of hell, where he meets all the characters he played. Christ, if the freaks from Devour are out there somewhere, Jensen really really doesn't want to meet them. Like, ever.
"Who did you play?"
"Um," says Jensen. It's probably not a good idea to say 'you.' "I was on Dawson's Creek? And um, Smallville?"
"So you're a shitty actor," Dean says.
Jensen makes a noise. He doesn't think it would be wise to comment.
Then the pumps light up and Jensen hears Chad whooping from inside. "Fucking finally!" Chad yells, running out of the store with his arms full of Twinkies and Doritos and other things Jensen isn't supposed to eat, or wasn't, or whatever. He stops suddenly, stares at Sam and Dean, and starts laughing his damn head off. Chad, of course, gets it right away, that fucking cunt. "Oh my god, that's the best thing ever! It's like worlds colliding! Do you think there's some clueless Star's Hollow Jared wandering around somewhere?"
"So you see them too?" Jensen asks miserably, before everything goes black.
*
"Dude, you fucking fainted. I always knew you were a goddamned pussy, Jensen."
"I hate you," Jensen whispers. He sits up, rubbing at the back of his head, which is throbbing in a really not good way. Jared--Sammy, whatever--is staring at him with concern and babbling on about dimensional shifts and time vortexes and how many fingers? Dean and Chad wear identical smirks on their faces.
"Seriously, dude. I can't believe a guy with my face is all prone to fainting. That's fucking weak, man," Dean says.
"Dean," Sam frowns. "That's not cool, man. The guy is obviously traumatized. He's an actor, he's not used to this stuff."
"Oh, whatever, Sammy. Don't go all emo on me now."
"Seriously, Sam," Chad says, grinning, "I know this guy. He's not traumatized, he's just a whiney little bitch. Believe me. I used to hear about it all the fucking time."
"Fuck you, Jared never said that."
"Don't pay attention to them," Sam says, and helps Jensen stand while Dean and Chad do the manly bonding ritual thing over cars and gas and pumping, which seems more like a mating ritual now that Jensen thinks about it, and-gross. No one with his body should ever be that nice or, ugh, flirty with Chad. It's disgusting. Chad has diseases, Jensen is sure of it.
"Yeah," Jensen says, eyes narrowed.
"Yeah. That Chad guy seems like a total dick, dude."
Jensen grins up at Sam. "Amen, brother."
A Rapture 'Verse Fic by Phaballa
Fandom: Supernatural/CWRPS
Pairings: Jensen/Coffee
Disclaimer: Lies.
Comments: Thanks to anasuede for the beta, and to notthequiettype for brainstorming the whole 'verse with me.
When the Rapture happens, the first thing Jensen thinks is, Huh, I guess I have to start believing in God now or something, and then he goes back to sleep. He doesn't consider accepting Jesus into his heart because really, the last thing he wants is to get Raptured with all the other believers. That would suck. Heaven seems like it'd be really boring, and also? Severely lacking in orgies. And booze. Jensen really likes his alcohol, so really, the Rapture just isn't for him.
When he wakes up, he calls Jared. "You have reached the voicemail of Jared Padalecki," a cool, female voice says. Jensen doesn't recognize it, but she sounds a little like Martha Stewart. "Jared isn't available right now, as he's been Chosen by Jesus to take his rightful place in the kingdom of Heaven. If you're listening to this, you're probably a sinner. Repent and accept Jesus into your heart! Jared awaits you in the glory of Heaven. Good luck and God bless, for He is the kingdom and the glory, forever and ever, amen." There's a pause, and Jensen thinks that must be it. "Oh, and don't bother leaving a message, because once you go Jesus, you never go back." She sounds incredibly smug. Jensen wonders when it started being okay for the Chosen Ones to, like, be all self-righteous and--oh. Right.
It's all pretty fucked up. The Rapture thing is weird enough, because honestly, Jensen always used to think those born again Christians who actually believed in this shit were out of their freaking minds, but Jared? Seriously? Jensen knows that Jared liked that song, that dododoo Jesus is just alright! one, but he's pretty sure that doesn't qualify someone for the Rapture.
He shrugs to himself and gets dressed. If anyone has been Left Behind, he thinks, it's the bitchy baristas at Starbucks, and he really needs a coffee.
*
The bitchy baristas are out in full force at the Starbucks around the corner from his apartment, thank god, and they're even bitchier than usual. Jensen orders his usual non-fat no whip caramel soy macchiato, and the guy behind the counter just stares at him with his usual sneer, says, "Do you want chocolate sprinkles on that?"
"Uh," says Jensen. He looks around, and mostly, people are acting pretty normal, drinking their coffees and messing around on their laptops, and in the line behind him, some woman who sounds like she's about to start crying is begging her child to "please, Timmy, stop screaming!"
"Sprink.Les," the barista says. His fingers twitch like he'd really rather be smoking. "Do you want them?"
"Yeah. Okay?"
"You people," the barista mutters, "it's not like this decision is going to decide the fate of the world. It's just coffee. Christ!"
Jensen pays. The barista is in a particularly foul mood today, and Jensen doesn't want to cross him. Pretty much ever. Plus, he's the only person who makes Jensen's coffee just right, and the last thing Jensen needs is to fuck up his caffeine supplier. They've already been through a Rapture and his co-star is, like, fucking gone. Who knows if he even has a show to go back to. But at least he has his coffee.
He loves Starbucks. Not even the Rapture can stop it.
*
He shows up on set at his usual call time, but it's just him and Eric and a couple lighting guys. "The Network is shutting down," Eric says. "Well actually, that's not entirely true. They're shutting down production and just showing Seventh Heaven and Felicity marathons." He looks like he's about to cry. Jensen really hopes he doesn't because crying is just really unattractive and Eric is already sort of an ugly guy. Not like, freak show ugly, but Jensen can tell he was totally a nerd in high school and maybe only recently lost his virginity if at all. It's not his fault he's ugly--Jensen gets that, he does, because really, not everyone can be pretty like him--but crying really won't help with that. His face will get all red and splotchy and besides which, it'll make him look like a total pussy.
"Well, that fucking sucks. But dude, we have contracts. They still have to pay us and shit, right?"
"Technically, I think the whole money thing is over," Eric says, "and everyone got Raptured. I mean, aside from us and the cast of One Tree Hill, so you know, not enough to run a network."
"Oh, that fucking figures. So Jared gets Raptured, but fucking Chad is still here?"
That's just great, Jensen thinks as he gets in his truck and drives back to his place. Even during the apocalypse, Chad Michael Murray is still around to torture him. Jensen really hates his life.
*
Chad calls him while he's back in line at Starbucks, which is apparently the only restaurant-type place still operating, although now they're demanding payment in the form of cigarettes, canned goods, and liquor. Jensen holds his spice rack in front of him hopefully. It will maybe buy him at least a mocha, and if he's really lucky, a flavor shot.
"Ackles, you fucker," is Chad's reply to Jensen's tentative "Hello?" It's pretty surprising that the cell service is still running, but then again, satellites don't shut themselves off, right? Plus, if anyone got Left Behind, it's those fuckers at Sprint. Rollover? Yeah, maybe roll over so they can rape you in the ass with their fucking ridiculous service charges.
Jensen grunts and juggles the spice rack in one hand and his cell in the other. "What do you want, Chad? I'm, like, busy right now."
"I'm almost to Vancouver. I'm crashing at your place and then we're gonna get Jared's dogs and make sure they're not dead or whatever."
"Um, no?" Jensen tries to say, but then he's at the front of the line and the barista is looking at him and sort of sneering at the spice rack, which really doesn't bode well, and Jensen drops his phone and accidentally hangs up on Chad. Oh well.
"It's a spice rack," Jensen explains. "It has, you know, everything. Cinnamon and cumin and, um, everything."
"Well, if it has cumin," the barista says, and Jensen suspects him of sarcasm but it's really hard to tell from his normal tone of voice.
"Please? I just want a mocha. Or, um, I'll take a latte, even, whatever."
"Caffeine junkie," the barista mutters, but he takes the spice rack and three minutes later, Jensen has a mocha. With sprinkles and whipped cream. Fuck it, Jensen thinks. He doesn't have a show and his diet can go fuck itself. After all, it is the apocalypse. He deserves some fucking whipped cream.
*
Chad actually shows up the next day, looking scruffy and disgusting and just as hateful as ever. Thankfully, he has not brought his teenaged fiancé with him.
"She got Raptured," he tells Jensen with a shrug, pushing his way past him into the apartment. Harley greets him with a loud bark and lots of licking, all of which Jensen finds slightly distasteful. He really doesn't like dogs.
"Sadie's gone," he tells Chad, edging away from Harley and grabbing a beer from the fridge. After a moment of consideration, he puts the beer back and pulls the vodka out of the freezer, takes a long, painful swig from the bottle, after which he almost throws up but just manages to hold it in. But really, if he has to be Left Behind with fucking Chad, he wants to be drunk. Really, really drunk.
"Dude. Dogs can get Raptured?"
"No, fucktard. She ran away, I think. Before I got there." Jensen doesn't know this for sure, but even in a world where the Rapture is a viable concept, the idea of a dog being Raptured is fucking stupid. Only Chad would believe that shit.
They get drunk together. Or, well, Jensen gets massively drunk, and Chad steals the vodka and settles on the couch beside him, so it's sort of like they're getting drunk together, even if it's really more like they're getting drunk next to each other. They try to watch TV, but the only stations still broadcasting anything besides Everyone Loves Raymond (which Jensen refuses to watch on principle because it's not funny and plus, his sister gave him a whole lecture about how it's part of the patriarchal industrial oppression machine) and Seventh Heaven are FOX (which has a constant news ticker about repenting and accepting Jesus, blah blah) and Skinimax. So they watch porn, but it's soft-core straight porn and it's really boring. After a while, Chad lays his head on Jensen's shoulder (which, ew, who knows where the boy has been if Paris Hilton is any indication of his tastes) and says, "I miss Jared."
"Yeah well. Fucker got himself saved. There's always Harley. I have some peanut butter in the kitchen, if you want to seduce him."
"Nah," says Chad. "Although a blowjob would be nice."
"Don't look at me, you freak. I'm not touching your skanky dick."
"I hate you," Chad says, and vomits on his own shoes.
*
The next morning, after trading the carton of cigarettes Jensen found in Chad's car to the bitchy barista for an espresso maker and looting the Wal*Mart for coffee, they get on the road heading south. Jensen wants to hit LA, see if any of his friends are still around. He's pretty sure most of them have been Left Behind (because seriously, what God in His right mind would let Christian Kane into heaven?) but the signals in the big cities must be jammed with people trying to call, because every time he tries, he can't get through.
They stop for gas in Oregon at an abandoned 7-11, and while Chad is inside fucking with the safety trying to get the pumps turned on, a dusty black Impala pulls up to the pump next to him and two guys get out. One of them is Jared, and one of them is him. It's pretty much the weirdest shit ever.
"Sammy," the not-Jensen says, "stay back. It's probably a shape shifter. I thought we killed that fucker, damnit."
"Whoa," Jensen says, holding his hands up high. "I'm not. Okay. This is fucked up." Jensen feels suddenly light-headed, and also like he might puke. Seeing himself talking to… himself… is really disorienting. And fucking weird. It's a very Harry Potter moment. Not that he reads children's books, but he's seen the movie. Hermione is kind of hot.
"You can say that again, you face-stealing fuck. I mean, I get it, I'm pretty. But that doesn't give you the right, dude."
"Uh, Dean?" Jared says. Sammy. Whatever. Jensen feels like he will maybe have a nervous breakdown right about now, and also, he'd like for Chad to fix the breakers in the store so he can set up the espresso machine and have some fucking coffee. Because he's obviously having some sort of horrible caffeine withdrawal hallucinations, and really, coffee will fix everything. Jensen should've kidnapped the bitchy barista to make his coffee for him, and then this wouldn't be happening. Yes. Jensen's pretty sure this is all the barista's fault.
"What, Sammy? Can't you see I'm trying to deal with this?"
"Yeah, I see that. But you're freaking the guy out, man. I don't think he's a shape shifter."
"Well what is he, then?"
"I'm an actor," Jensen blurts out. He hates today, and he hates Chad, and he really fucking hates the Rapture. Maybe he's already dead and this is like, his version of hell, where he meets all the characters he played. Christ, if the freaks from Devour are out there somewhere, Jensen really really doesn't want to meet them. Like, ever.
"Who did you play?"
"Um," says Jensen. It's probably not a good idea to say 'you.' "I was on Dawson's Creek? And um, Smallville?"
"So you're a shitty actor," Dean says.
Jensen makes a noise. He doesn't think it would be wise to comment.
Then the pumps light up and Jensen hears Chad whooping from inside. "Fucking finally!" Chad yells, running out of the store with his arms full of Twinkies and Doritos and other things Jensen isn't supposed to eat, or wasn't, or whatever. He stops suddenly, stares at Sam and Dean, and starts laughing his damn head off. Chad, of course, gets it right away, that fucking cunt. "Oh my god, that's the best thing ever! It's like worlds colliding! Do you think there's some clueless Star's Hollow Jared wandering around somewhere?"
"So you see them too?" Jensen asks miserably, before everything goes black.
*
"Dude, you fucking fainted. I always knew you were a goddamned pussy, Jensen."
"I hate you," Jensen whispers. He sits up, rubbing at the back of his head, which is throbbing in a really not good way. Jared--Sammy, whatever--is staring at him with concern and babbling on about dimensional shifts and time vortexes and how many fingers? Dean and Chad wear identical smirks on their faces.
"Seriously, dude. I can't believe a guy with my face is all prone to fainting. That's fucking weak, man," Dean says.
"Dean," Sam frowns. "That's not cool, man. The guy is obviously traumatized. He's an actor, he's not used to this stuff."
"Oh, whatever, Sammy. Don't go all emo on me now."
"Seriously, Sam," Chad says, grinning, "I know this guy. He's not traumatized, he's just a whiney little bitch. Believe me. I used to hear about it all the fucking time."
"Fuck you, Jared never said that."
"Don't pay attention to them," Sam says, and helps Jensen stand while Dean and Chad do the manly bonding ritual thing over cars and gas and pumping, which seems more like a mating ritual now that Jensen thinks about it, and-gross. No one with his body should ever be that nice or, ugh, flirty with Chad. It's disgusting. Chad has diseases, Jensen is sure of it.
"Yeah," Jensen says, eyes narrowed.
"Yeah. That Chad guy seems like a total dick, dude."
Jensen grins up at Sam. "Amen, brother."