Modern Day Faerie Tale. Sort Of.
J2!!!!!one!!1!
Jared/Jensen, 1200 words, PG, 'Modern Day Faerie Tale. Sort Of.'
Enjoy!
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So, once upon a time--
No, scrap that. This sort of thing happens all the time, right, not like a faerie tale. Hell, even faerie tales happen all the time, not really just 'once,' and who the fuck uses words like 'upon' any more? Once upon a time? Who talks like that? Like saying 'Long ago, in a galaxy far, far away,' except the whole thing is some kind of political statement, isn't that what they're calling it now, so it's not really long ago, or far away, which means it's just a lie. It's never good to start off a story with a lie.
It should be more like, this one day, and, yeah, that sounds better. This one day, all casual and smooth, the kind of thing you'd say to a friend, talking on the phone. Hey, guess what? This one day, I-- and the story goes from there, develops itself, interrupted with random asides triggered by random words, like there'll be a mention of eggs, so your friend reminds you about that one Justin Timberlake sketch on SNL. And from there, it'll go into his new video, that one interview, MTV in general, and when the hell are they going to put us on MTV!News, and then your friend says, 'Yeah, so the story?' and you say, 'Oh, right. Where was I?'
This one time, like when you and your friend met for the first time, because first-time meetings can only happen once, even if both of you forget about it for years before you meet again. No second time, not when it comes to things like that, it's gotta be this one time, back in high school, when two football teams were duking it out for state championships, do you remember, or something like that. Something innocent, when things didn't really matter, not like they do now. Something like, hey, haven't I met you before, when the two of you are standing in the casting room, holding pages of a script for a TV show that may or may not get picked up for a season, much less two, and then your friend looks at you, eyes narrowed, trailing up and down your body, and says, yeah. Says, yeah, yeah I think so, just like that, smooth and gliding, and then you read for the parts.
So after that-- and that should be what comes next, something natural, not something like 'and then many centuries passed' because who the hell cares about centuries when no one makes it that far, except for some Japanese guy or whatever that lived to be one hundred and ten, and that was so a lie anyway. So after that, you get your part and your friend gets his part and the two of you go out and drink, because there's no other way to celebrate, none of this high-falutin' ballroom dancing crap or huge parties, fuck that, put a beer in your hand, a bowl of peanuts on the table, and a busty blond waitress smiling down at you and life is fucking wonderful. You celebrate and go through a bottle of tequila like water and then he's laughing and you're laughing and he says, hey, Houston, right? The state champs? Jeff's brother? Remember? and it hits like it might actually be a photon torpedo or Death Star laser or whatthefuckever because yeah, he's right.
What comes next, happily ever after? No, there's gotta be a wicked witch or a possessed monkey or something to ruin everything, and you wait for it. Wait for it like you've never waited for anything, except maybe the eighth take in hopes that your friend will finally hit his lines, but then the scene is good, lunch is called, and you meet the witch. And of course she's nice, wonderful, lovely, and doesn't that just make it all even worse.
So what comes next must be the broken heart, eating the wrong apple, losing your shoe or your goddman mind because life's not a fucking faerie tale, haven't you already said that? Yeah, life's not a fucking faerie tale, you've gone insane, and six episodes in you want to quit because this is not what you signed up for, is it? There are no phone calls about Justin Timberlake and telling stories and trying to remember what you and your friend were wearing when you met the first time, that one time, years and years ago, before the story really began because you figured it out weeks ago and what do you talk about now?
Except it only started about five months ago, and then hit the snag about three months ago, and if you could've lost a shoe instead of this, that would've been so much better because you need new boots anyway. You call up your friends, they take you out and get you drunk, and then maybe they're the evil ones because they leave you at your friend's house, on his front fucking porch, ring the doorbell and just leave, and you are going to kill them. And they all lived happily ever? Not those ones, nope, they're going to get it, and damn if you aren't going to give it to them good, right? Break a bottle over each of their stupid, idiotic heads, and then you can't think because he's right there, your friend with the evil witch girlfriend who's actually pretty nice so maybe your friends are the evil witches here.
That would explain a lot.
But anyway, this faerie tale that isn't a faerie tale. It didn't start out right, no 'once upon'ing going on here, and it didn't flow right, with your friends being the wicked ones and the wicked one being actually sort of sweet, and there's not really any over-dramatic death scene, is there? You check, no, you're still alive, and your friend looks like he's breathing, despite his puzzlement. Or maybe because of, you're drunk, remember? Nothing makes sense, so you do the only thing that does, and when you step back, take your lips off of his, biggest crime in the world, and step back, you think, yeah, that's the end, now you're going to die and this really is going to be Shakespeare or, or, or any of those other writer-guys, Grimm or whatever.
And yeah, it ends up being that way, because your friend, the puzzled, still breathing, just-been-kissed friend, pulls you inside and kisses you back, so you check again. Much to your surprise, you're still alive, still, even after that, still breathing except maybe a little too fast, still drunk, and no one will ever blame you for locking your lips right back on his when he starts to ask what's going on, because no one ever asks a stupid-ass question like that in the stories so you have to stop it.
So it might not have started out right, but it sure as hell ends right. It's just, you hope this doesn't mean you're the princess or damsel-in-distress or fucking Cinderella, because you are not a fucking girl.
Jared/Jensen, 1200 words, PG, 'Modern Day Faerie Tale. Sort Of.'
Enjoy!
------------
So, once upon a time--
No, scrap that. This sort of thing happens all the time, right, not like a faerie tale. Hell, even faerie tales happen all the time, not really just 'once,' and who the fuck uses words like 'upon' any more? Once upon a time? Who talks like that? Like saying 'Long ago, in a galaxy far, far away,' except the whole thing is some kind of political statement, isn't that what they're calling it now, so it's not really long ago, or far away, which means it's just a lie. It's never good to start off a story with a lie.
It should be more like, this one day, and, yeah, that sounds better. This one day, all casual and smooth, the kind of thing you'd say to a friend, talking on the phone. Hey, guess what? This one day, I-- and the story goes from there, develops itself, interrupted with random asides triggered by random words, like there'll be a mention of eggs, so your friend reminds you about that one Justin Timberlake sketch on SNL. And from there, it'll go into his new video, that one interview, MTV in general, and when the hell are they going to put us on MTV!News, and then your friend says, 'Yeah, so the story?' and you say, 'Oh, right. Where was I?'
This one time, like when you and your friend met for the first time, because first-time meetings can only happen once, even if both of you forget about it for years before you meet again. No second time, not when it comes to things like that, it's gotta be this one time, back in high school, when two football teams were duking it out for state championships, do you remember, or something like that. Something innocent, when things didn't really matter, not like they do now. Something like, hey, haven't I met you before, when the two of you are standing in the casting room, holding pages of a script for a TV show that may or may not get picked up for a season, much less two, and then your friend looks at you, eyes narrowed, trailing up and down your body, and says, yeah. Says, yeah, yeah I think so, just like that, smooth and gliding, and then you read for the parts.
So after that-- and that should be what comes next, something natural, not something like 'and then many centuries passed' because who the hell cares about centuries when no one makes it that far, except for some Japanese guy or whatever that lived to be one hundred and ten, and that was so a lie anyway. So after that, you get your part and your friend gets his part and the two of you go out and drink, because there's no other way to celebrate, none of this high-falutin' ballroom dancing crap or huge parties, fuck that, put a beer in your hand, a bowl of peanuts on the table, and a busty blond waitress smiling down at you and life is fucking wonderful. You celebrate and go through a bottle of tequila like water and then he's laughing and you're laughing and he says, hey, Houston, right? The state champs? Jeff's brother? Remember? and it hits like it might actually be a photon torpedo or Death Star laser or whatthefuckever because yeah, he's right.
What comes next, happily ever after? No, there's gotta be a wicked witch or a possessed monkey or something to ruin everything, and you wait for it. Wait for it like you've never waited for anything, except maybe the eighth take in hopes that your friend will finally hit his lines, but then the scene is good, lunch is called, and you meet the witch. And of course she's nice, wonderful, lovely, and doesn't that just make it all even worse.
So what comes next must be the broken heart, eating the wrong apple, losing your shoe or your goddman mind because life's not a fucking faerie tale, haven't you already said that? Yeah, life's not a fucking faerie tale, you've gone insane, and six episodes in you want to quit because this is not what you signed up for, is it? There are no phone calls about Justin Timberlake and telling stories and trying to remember what you and your friend were wearing when you met the first time, that one time, years and years ago, before the story really began because you figured it out weeks ago and what do you talk about now?
Except it only started about five months ago, and then hit the snag about three months ago, and if you could've lost a shoe instead of this, that would've been so much better because you need new boots anyway. You call up your friends, they take you out and get you drunk, and then maybe they're the evil ones because they leave you at your friend's house, on his front fucking porch, ring the doorbell and just leave, and you are going to kill them. And they all lived happily ever? Not those ones, nope, they're going to get it, and damn if you aren't going to give it to them good, right? Break a bottle over each of their stupid, idiotic heads, and then you can't think because he's right there, your friend with the evil witch girlfriend who's actually pretty nice so maybe your friends are the evil witches here.
That would explain a lot.
But anyway, this faerie tale that isn't a faerie tale. It didn't start out right, no 'once upon'ing going on here, and it didn't flow right, with your friends being the wicked ones and the wicked one being actually sort of sweet, and there's not really any over-dramatic death scene, is there? You check, no, you're still alive, and your friend looks like he's breathing, despite his puzzlement. Or maybe because of, you're drunk, remember? Nothing makes sense, so you do the only thing that does, and when you step back, take your lips off of his, biggest crime in the world, and step back, you think, yeah, that's the end, now you're going to die and this really is going to be Shakespeare or, or, or any of those other writer-guys, Grimm or whatever.
And yeah, it ends up being that way, because your friend, the puzzled, still breathing, just-been-kissed friend, pulls you inside and kisses you back, so you check again. Much to your surprise, you're still alive, still, even after that, still breathing except maybe a little too fast, still drunk, and no one will ever blame you for locking your lips right back on his when he starts to ask what's going on, because no one ever asks a stupid-ass question like that in the stories so you have to stop it.
So it might not have started out right, but it sure as hell ends right. It's just, you hope this doesn't mean you're the princess or damsel-in-distress or fucking Cinderella, because you are not a fucking girl.