Five Things

[raeschae]

Yesterday, kiwiana posted this:

Leave a comment saying, "COMMENT" and I will give you five words I associate with you. Then post about what they mean to you, along with this, at your journal.

So, I commented, because I'm kind of curious as to what people think. And she responded with:

Tattoos: My absolute favorite form of self-expression. I love mine, and I love seeing whatever other people have (and especially hearing the stories behind them). They're beautiful, and unique, and yeah . . . I guess my kink for them isn't really a shock, right?

Talent: It's a weird thing, because if you have it and admit it, you sound arrogant. If you have it and you don't admit it, you sound either fake or insecure. *shrugs* I have it, but you probably won't ever hear me talk about it outside of this post.

Passion: In order -
1.) Music - Listening to it, making it, living and breathing it.
2.) People - Family, friends, anybody else that fits into the human category.
3.) Writing - Telling stories that have either never been told before, or just telling them in a way that hasn't been done to death.

Slash: Liberating. I used to kick against it, because it was expected from the bi girl. I gave in, though, and found a whole level of freedom I didn't even know existed in my writing.

Insanity: What I write, what I love, what I'm inexplicably drawn to, and what I will probably be committed for someday. What can I say? I'm a crazy bitch. ;)

So there it is.

And here's the challenge. I'm working on a new fic called Just Talk (Sometimes a Little Dirty) to Me, but it's coming a little slower than some of my other stories do.

In the meantime, I kind of want to challenge myself in a new way. So comment with a one-word prompt, and I will give you a ficlet of 1000 words or less.

Comments

Drips

[raeschae.livejournal.com]

Jensen is thirty-two years old, and understands with complete clarity that it is not particularly strange to get water in his face while standing in the shower. While standing outside of the shower, though? That's a little weird.

The first drip lands on the side of his nose while he's willing his eyes to open at about four thirty in the morning. Give him an entire season of night shoots, and he's happy. Morning are not his friend, no matter how many times his mother tells him that the early bird catches the worm. He's not a bird. He doesn't eat worms. His mother can fuck off.

He thinks maybe it's karma that brings the next drip, smacking his ear while he's thinking evil thoughts about his mother's sage advice, so he wipes it away, says a quick apology to the sky and whomever may be listening there, and then turns to start the shower. As he does, two more droplets fall against his bare shoulder.

“JARED!” he calls, and fuck all if it doesn't tear his throat up. Which only serves to piss him off further.

He hears the heavy footsteps before Jared appears in the doorway. “You bellowed?”

The amused smile on his boyfriend's face only pisses Jensen off more. “It's raining,” he scowls.

“Yeah. Started about twenty minutes ago.”

“No,” Jensen looks up and takes another drop right to the eye. Swatting at his face, he adds, “Inside. It's raining inside.”

Jared holds his hand out and then draws back when the water smacks his palm. “Huh. Must be a leak in the roof.”

“Ya think?”

With a roll of his eyes, he pats Jensen's ass and nods toward the shower. “You might as well go ahead and get ready. I can't call anyone until a little later.”

Jensen stumbles into the shower, grumbles under the stream of steaming water, and tries to convince himself that there will not be a gaping hole in the ceiling when he steps out. He's not going to get just as soaked out there as he is in the shower.

Jared is jumping off of the bathroom counter when Jensen throws the glass door open. “No worries,” he shrugs easily, grabbing a roll of duct tape and twirling it on his finger. “Come on. You're gonna be late.”

Maybe it's the early hour, or just the overwhelming surreality of the morning in general, but Jensen just watches Jared breeze out of the room and then tilts his head to look at the place the water was coming from a few minutes ago. There, over the leaking panel, Jared has taped a long bath towel. It's ridiculous, but effective, and even though Jensen can see the water darkening the terrycloth, it's not falling on his head anymore.

He's not exactly quick-witted first thing in the morning, so it takes Jensen a little while to process everything. When he does, he kind of feels equal parts guilty and stupid for throwing a tantrum and blowing things out of proportion.

Mostly, though, he feels pretty good knowing he has a boyfriend who is willing to take his idiosyncrasies and his random immaturity in stride. Life gets busy, and sometimes it's easy to let the minutia of every day take priority over that.

But then he does something as ridiculous as duct taping a towel to the ceiling so Jensen doesn't get a few sprinkling droplets of water on his head from the leaking roof, and he remembers all over again just way he fell for Jared in the first place.

Even with the debacle in the bathroom, Jensen's still ready and waiting by the front door with the dogs when Jared comes racing down the stairs at five fourteen. His hair is wet and hanging in his eyes, but Jeannie will take care of that when they get to set. Shannon will take care of the puffy eyes and red nose from being caught in the cold morning rain.

But nobody can cover the twinkle in his eyes and the smile that splits his face when Jensen offers him thermos, filled to the brim with the protein shake he made because he knew Jared wouldn't have time.

“Thanks, man,” he nods, and Jensen can tell that he's surprised.

Because he's the kind of guy who doesn't even realize just how awesome he is.