It Could Be Worse (a J2 fic)
Sep. 29th, 2010 11:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
raeschaeTitle: It Could Be Worse
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
raeschae
Wordcount: 1235
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): Jared/Jensen
Summary: All Jared wants to do at the end of a bad day is vent to Jensen. Unfortunately for him, Jensen's day wasn't much better.
Notes: This is for everyone on my flist who had a really bad day for whatever reason. I hope things look better for y'all tomorrow! And thanks tobatman_mcghee for looking this over super-quick for me.
If laying on the couch, eating from a gallon-sized tub of ice cream while watching Ellen makes him a giant girl, Jared doesn't so much care right now. The old adage 'everything that can go wrong, will go wrong' is a huge understatement as far as he's concerned. Drowning it all in sugar and someone else's humor until Jensen gets home seems like the only solution.
As soon as Jensen shoulders his way through the door, though, Jared knows he's not going to have his cares stripped away with his pants.
His face is pale, his shoulders slumped and dragging his head down toward his chest. He waves but says nothing as he heads up the stairs. His footsteps are so heavy that Jared is wondering if he's going to make it all the way to the top. He breathes a little easier when he hears the bedroom door open and close.
After a few minutes, Jared's phone vibrates on the couch at his side. He barely turns his head to read, 'Come up here,' and respond with, 'Bad day. You come here.' Shoveling another spoonful of salted caramel ice cream into his mouth, he waits for the response. 'Headache. Come rub my head.'
With a groan, Jared pushes off of the couch and drops his ice cream off in the kitchen before trudging up the stairs. He had every intention of spilling all of the details of his terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day the second Jensen walked in the door, so of course Jensen has a headache.
The thick curtains are drawn tight over the windows, the tiniest hint of afternoon sunlight creeping in along the edges. Otherwise, the only light in the room is the soft glow from the master bathroom door standing slightly ajar. Jensen is perched on the edge of the bed, hunched over with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands as he massages his temples in slow circles.
Jared crawls across the bed on his knees, resting both hands on Jensen's shoulders as he whispers, “C'mere,” against his neck and lets his lips linger as a greeting. A part of him still wants to rant and maybe yell about how sucky his day was, but Jensen is backing up into him and Jared doesn't think any of it is that important anymore.
Sinking back to stretch his legs along Jensen's sides, he holds his shoulder with one hand and presses his thumb to the base of his neck, rubbing in slow circles, with the other. He knows he's on to something when Jensen's body goes lax, as though Jared's hands are the only things keeping him upright.
For a long time they sit in silence, Jared's fingers pressing into Jensen's scalp and then pulling back to card through his hair – heavy pressure, easy release – the way Jensen likes it when he gets like this.
“Stress?” is all Jared finally says, voice low in the darkness.
Jensen nods a little, hands playing idly with the hole in Jared's jeans. “Too many decisions to make. You?”
He shakes his head and repositions himself until he's leaning against the headboard. “Sucked ass,” he admits with a whisper of a chuckle, tugging on Jensen's hand. “Face me?”
Falling more than crawling, Jensen ends up with his chest half against Jared's, his face buried in the bend of Jared's neck. He grunts but doesn't speak as he directs a hand back to his head. “Talk to me.”
“Alright, well, I got up late this morning,” he starts, resting his chin against the top of Jensen's head for added pressure as he works his hands over the sides of his head. “Which was totally your fault because I woke up when my alarm went off, saw your naked ass pullin' your jeans on, and had to spend the next fifteen minutes jerking off before I could get out of bed.”
Jensen huffs a soft laugh against his shoulder and Jared has to admit that it sounds pretty ridiculous when he says it out loud. “So I was on the way to my meeting, right? And my tire flew off. Whole thing, man. Tire. Barrel. Everything. Scared the shit outta me.”
“What?” Jensen pulls up so quickly that Jared's afraid he might have ripped some of his hair out. “You got in an accident? Why the fuck didn't you call me?”
“I did call you!” Jared argues back, voice raising a little higher than he meant for it to. “You didn't answer your phone or any of your texts.” If they were downstairs, Jared would totally be shouting at Jensen about this, probably until Jensen shoved him down on the floor and fucked him calm again. Maybe it's a good thing Jensen has a headache.
“Well are you okay?”
“I'm fine,” Jared huffs, pushing Jensen's hands away from his chest and face. “Stop it, I'm fine,” he repeats. “Had the car towed and came home. Harley puked all over the rug in the guest room and then spent the rest of the day givin' me those guilty looks like I wasn't gonna love him anymore. Oh, and I ordered pizza for lunch and that got all fucked up somewhere between there and here, because what I got was not at all what I ordered.”
Jensen is still watching him with a wary eye but, in the faint light, Jared can almost see him starting to smile. “Do you want me to go on? Because I can tell you about the skeevy yard guy who came by, trollin' for business. I could also go into specifics about the way he undressed me with his eyes and made reference to his hose and my lawn.”
At that, Jensen squawks a loud, surprised laugh that sends him falling forward as though the intensity caught him off guard. “Now you're makin' shit up,” he accuses, struggling a little when Jared wraps his arm around his back to hold him to his chest.
“What can I say, man? I've got an awesome lawn.”
“What the hell does that even mean?” Jensen asks, gravelly and low against Jared's ear.
Tilting his head to rub his cheek along the top of Jensen's head, Jared laughs as he says, “Fuck if I know, man. It was creepy. I felt violated.”
An hour ago, Jared was convinced he had the worst day in the history of bad days. Right now, it seems more funny than tragic. Well, except for the part where he almost died. That part could have sucked a little less. The point is that Jensen is here, pressed against him and touching him like he's trying to be sure that Jared is here, too. He doesn't really need more than that to make a bad day better.
“How's your head?” he asks, hand trailing up and down Jensen's back, catching a brush of warm skin beneath the hem on each up sweep.
Jensen sighs a little. “Think it'll be okay after a nap.” He leans back enough to catch Jared's eye. “You game?”
If his options are sliding down onto the bed or actually getting up and going back downstairs alone? “Yeah. Best idea I've heard all day.”
Author:
raeschaeWordcount: 1235
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): Jared/Jensen
Summary: All Jared wants to do at the end of a bad day is vent to Jensen. Unfortunately for him, Jensen's day wasn't much better.
Notes: This is for everyone on my flist who had a really bad day for whatever reason. I hope things look better for y'all tomorrow! And thanks to
batman_mcghee for looking this over super-quick for me.If laying on the couch, eating from a gallon-sized tub of ice cream while watching Ellen makes him a giant girl, Jared doesn't so much care right now. The old adage 'everything that can go wrong, will go wrong' is a huge understatement as far as he's concerned. Drowning it all in sugar and someone else's humor until Jensen gets home seems like the only solution.
As soon as Jensen shoulders his way through the door, though, Jared knows he's not going to have his cares stripped away with his pants.
His face is pale, his shoulders slumped and dragging his head down toward his chest. He waves but says nothing as he heads up the stairs. His footsteps are so heavy that Jared is wondering if he's going to make it all the way to the top. He breathes a little easier when he hears the bedroom door open and close.
After a few minutes, Jared's phone vibrates on the couch at his side. He barely turns his head to read, 'Come up here,' and respond with, 'Bad day. You come here.' Shoveling another spoonful of salted caramel ice cream into his mouth, he waits for the response. 'Headache. Come rub my head.'
With a groan, Jared pushes off of the couch and drops his ice cream off in the kitchen before trudging up the stairs. He had every intention of spilling all of the details of his terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day the second Jensen walked in the door, so of course Jensen has a headache.
The thick curtains are drawn tight over the windows, the tiniest hint of afternoon sunlight creeping in along the edges. Otherwise, the only light in the room is the soft glow from the master bathroom door standing slightly ajar. Jensen is perched on the edge of the bed, hunched over with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands as he massages his temples in slow circles.
Jared crawls across the bed on his knees, resting both hands on Jensen's shoulders as he whispers, “C'mere,” against his neck and lets his lips linger as a greeting. A part of him still wants to rant and maybe yell about how sucky his day was, but Jensen is backing up into him and Jared doesn't think any of it is that important anymore.
Sinking back to stretch his legs along Jensen's sides, he holds his shoulder with one hand and presses his thumb to the base of his neck, rubbing in slow circles, with the other. He knows he's on to something when Jensen's body goes lax, as though Jared's hands are the only things keeping him upright.
For a long time they sit in silence, Jared's fingers pressing into Jensen's scalp and then pulling back to card through his hair – heavy pressure, easy release – the way Jensen likes it when he gets like this.
“Stress?” is all Jared finally says, voice low in the darkness.
Jensen nods a little, hands playing idly with the hole in Jared's jeans. “Too many decisions to make. You?”
He shakes his head and repositions himself until he's leaning against the headboard. “Sucked ass,” he admits with a whisper of a chuckle, tugging on Jensen's hand. “Face me?”
Falling more than crawling, Jensen ends up with his chest half against Jared's, his face buried in the bend of Jared's neck. He grunts but doesn't speak as he directs a hand back to his head. “Talk to me.”
“Alright, well, I got up late this morning,” he starts, resting his chin against the top of Jensen's head for added pressure as he works his hands over the sides of his head. “Which was totally your fault because I woke up when my alarm went off, saw your naked ass pullin' your jeans on, and had to spend the next fifteen minutes jerking off before I could get out of bed.”
Jensen huffs a soft laugh against his shoulder and Jared has to admit that it sounds pretty ridiculous when he says it out loud. “So I was on the way to my meeting, right? And my tire flew off. Whole thing, man. Tire. Barrel. Everything. Scared the shit outta me.”
“What?” Jensen pulls up so quickly that Jared's afraid he might have ripped some of his hair out. “You got in an accident? Why the fuck didn't you call me?”
“I did call you!” Jared argues back, voice raising a little higher than he meant for it to. “You didn't answer your phone or any of your texts.” If they were downstairs, Jared would totally be shouting at Jensen about this, probably until Jensen shoved him down on the floor and fucked him calm again. Maybe it's a good thing Jensen has a headache.
“Well are you okay?”
“I'm fine,” Jared huffs, pushing Jensen's hands away from his chest and face. “Stop it, I'm fine,” he repeats. “Had the car towed and came home. Harley puked all over the rug in the guest room and then spent the rest of the day givin' me those guilty looks like I wasn't gonna love him anymore. Oh, and I ordered pizza for lunch and that got all fucked up somewhere between there and here, because what I got was not at all what I ordered.”
Jensen is still watching him with a wary eye but, in the faint light, Jared can almost see him starting to smile. “Do you want me to go on? Because I can tell you about the skeevy yard guy who came by, trollin' for business. I could also go into specifics about the way he undressed me with his eyes and made reference to his hose and my lawn.”
At that, Jensen squawks a loud, surprised laugh that sends him falling forward as though the intensity caught him off guard. “Now you're makin' shit up,” he accuses, struggling a little when Jared wraps his arm around his back to hold him to his chest.
“What can I say, man? I've got an awesome lawn.”
“What the hell does that even mean?” Jensen asks, gravelly and low against Jared's ear.
Tilting his head to rub his cheek along the top of Jensen's head, Jared laughs as he says, “Fuck if I know, man. It was creepy. I felt violated.”
An hour ago, Jared was convinced he had the worst day in the history of bad days. Right now, it seems more funny than tragic. Well, except for the part where he almost died. That part could have sucked a little less. The point is that Jensen is here, pressed against him and touching him like he's trying to be sure that Jared is here, too. He doesn't really need more than that to make a bad day better.
“How's your head?” he asks, hand trailing up and down Jensen's back, catching a brush of warm skin beneath the hem on each up sweep.
Jensen sighs a little. “Think it'll be okay after a nap.” He leans back enough to catch Jared's eye. “You game?”
If his options are sliding down onto the bed or actually getting up and going back downstairs alone? “Yeah. Best idea I've heard all day.”
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Date: 2010-09-30 08:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-01 01:12 pm (UTC)(Also, I need new Jared icons - where do you get yours?)
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Date: 2010-10-05 03:59 am (UTC)I get a lot of my Jared icons from