Disclaimer: Sh*t Happens (4/5)
Oct. 25th, 2009 12:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
raeschaeTitle: Disclaimer: Sh*t Happens (4/5)
Author:raeschae
Beta:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
neutraldeviance, without whom this chapter would absolutely SUCK OUT LOUD.
Graphics:raeschae
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Jared/Jensen, OMC (Brayden), Genevieve
Warnings: Swearing. Non-graphic references to past child abuse. Groping in a closet.
Word Count: 4717
Disclaimer: I pretty much own nothing, outside of a pretty cool television, some second-hand furniture, and a Jeep Cherokee that has seen better days. Note that my list does not include any of the people that will be mentioned in this chapter, and take that to mean that I'm not recounting historical events. Fiction. It's fic-tion.
Summary: “Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans.” -John Lennon, Beautiful Boy
(Sequel to Disclaimer: We Will Not Be Held Responsible . . . I won't say you absolutely have to read that one first, but I will say you might be a little lost if you don't.)
A/N: I mentioned him above, but I have to take a second to thankneutraldeviance for completely saving this chapter, and therefore the rest of the story. The direction I was headed was so damn angsty and depressing, it didn't belong anywhere near this 'verse. He helped me find a way to convey the exact same emotions without my characters coming across as completely different people. For that, and for a lot of other things I won't mention here, I am eternally grateful!
Graphics still under the cut, 'cause my tat kink is outta control. :)
“Still think it looks like snot, if you ask me,” Jensen is saying when Jared gently shoulders his way into Brayden's room. His boyfriend's elbows are resting on the side of the kid's bed, and he's staring in contempt at that green jello that Brayden's always loved so much.
The only response from the kid in the bed is a narrowing of his eyes and a weak raise of his hand, middle finger extended. Jensen laughs, and Jared takes a second to collect himself before stepping fully into the room.
The drive from the restaurant to the hospital reeked havoc on his emotions and it was all he could do to force himself out of the car when he got here. Seeing Brayden unconscious was hard, but he's somehow sure that seeing him awake, and a shell of the kid he used to be, is going to be even harder.
“Hey, look who's here,” Jensen smiles brightly, nodding in Jared's direction as he finally lowers himself into the small, plastic chair on the other side of Brayden's bed.
His head doesn't move much, but Brayden's lips curl into a bright smile and his eyes light up just a little bit. “Hey, Jay,” he manages to croak out, and then Jensen is offering him ice chips and hovering like a fucking mother hen.
He doesn't know what to say. Everything sounds stupid and clunky in his head. The kid's eyes are open, but he's barely moving and he can't even speak. It's not like Jared can just greet him like he usually does. 'What's up, Kid?' and 'How's it goin'?' hardly seem appropriate.
Wracking his brain for the words, Jared barely notices when Jensen holds out a package of fine-tipped sharpies. Their eyes meet and Jared wordlessly asks, 'What's this?' Jensen nods his head toward the kid in response.
“Ink me,” Brayden's tiny voice rasps, eyes dancing and hopeful.
And just like that, he's the kid Jared's always known. Yeah, he's battered and broken, but he's still the same kid. Jared thinks maybe he was worried about brain damage or something, but this kid? He's one hundred percent Brayden, through and through.
Taking the pens from Jensen, he shakes his head and catches Brayden's wide, blue stare. “Ya know, if ya really wanted a tat this bad, kid, all you had to do was ask,” he teases. “Didn't have to go break your arm for it.” He aims the middle finger at Jared this time, but he's smiling wider than before as Jared pulls his chair closer and considers an angle that will allow him access to the cast without hurting Brayden any further. “What are we doin'?” he asks.
Brayden motions with a nod toward Jared's own arm. “Sleeve,” he instructs.
“The whole thing?” Jared narrows his eyes. “Where you gonna have all the girls sign it then?” Brayden smiles and nods toward his leg, still elevated and braced. “They gonna cast that one, too?” he asks, eyes flitting to Jensen for a response.
He receives only a nod from his boyfriend, who's leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. There's a soft smile on Jensen's lips and he has to admit that it looks damn good. Jensen looks good. Sometimes Jared forgets how fucking good.
For the next forty-five minutes, he pours over the design. He draws a half-pipe and a figure that looks strangely like Brayden's favorite X-Man, Gambit, with his long duster flowing in the wind generated by the boardslide he's executing along the lip of the pipe. But this Gambit has blue hair, and wears Dickies under his coat, with big-ass DC skate shoes, like the ones Jensen loves so much. On the ground, beside the pipe, a cobra like the one on Chad's chest, crawls through the bleeding eye sockets of a skull like the ones on Jared's arms. Standing on the opposite side of the pipe, cheering his punk Gambit on, is a buxom Wonder Woman like the one on Sophia's left shoulder.
By the time he finishes, Brayden's asleep, the only sound in the room the beeping of the machines and monitors still attached to his weak body. Jared caps the last pen and sets the package on the table beside him before looking over to his boyfriend. “So, he looks better,” he says, and then inwardly kicks himself for how stupid he sounds. This is Jensen, for fuck's sake. If there's anyone on the planet he can talk to about any damn thing in his head, it's Jensen.
“Yeah,” Jensen nods, eyes drifting back to the sleeping boy. Without the tube in his throat, this whole situation feels a whole lot better. Watching the kid's eyes flutter open had been one of the happiest moments of Jensen's life, and he's not too proud to admit it. “Lung damage wasn't as bad as they thought. Nothin' collapsed or punctured, so the doctor says he should be fine. Make a full recovery.”
Jared just nods and tries to piece together what Jensen's telling him. But something doesn't make sense. “Where's Rick?” Jensen's eyes move from Brayden to the floor and Jared's back stiffens instinctively. “Jensen,” he says, voice firm and low.
The thing is, Jensen never really been scared of Jared. Even when he crosses those tree trunk arms over his massive chest and sets those storm-filled eyes in an argument? He's not scary. Well, to a lot of people he is, but not to Jensen. He knows what it looks like when Jared postures.
The thing that bothers Jensen is that he also knows what it looks like when Jared's not posturing. And ever since Chris called to tell them about the accident, he hasn't been faking a goddamn thing. He's a ball of raging fury, and Jensen doesn't know what to do with that. He doesn't know how to handle this guy. The one who looks like his boyfriend, but acts like a caged animal, ready to lunge at the first unsuspecting prey that happens along his path.
“Hall,” he says, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his Dickies. Jared's frightening right now, and Jensen will be damned if he's going to let that wake Brayden up. There was a time when everything Jared did scared the kid unnecessarily. He shudders to think what would happen if Brayden saw him angry for real.
After he closes the door behind them, Jensen shakes his head and runs his fingers through his hair. “Jay, you gotta calm the fuck down, man,” he starts.
“Just tell me what the fuck is going on, Jensen.” And, to his credit, he feels bad for snapping. None of this is Jensen's fault. But the anger is growing and cracking his skin and it's all he can do to keep it contained. Doctors aren't supposed to tell random guys who are not Brayden's immediate family anything about his condition. The only way Jensen would maybe be able to convince them to is if . . . “Where the hell is Rick?”
“I don't know,” he answers honestly, quietly. “He took off right after I did this morning, and he hasn't been back since. They tried to call him, the nurses, but he's not answering his phone. Far as I know, he doesn't even know the Bray's awake.” The storm in Jared's eyes upgrades to hurricane status in a flash and Jensen reaches out to him, hand never connecting with skin. “Dude, just,” he stops and tilts his head, but Jared's not really looking at him anymore. “Come back inside with me. Hang out for awhile. Or, I don't know, go to the gym and knock the bag around or something? Anything that doesn't involve doing something stupid.”
Jared turns his head away, unable to look at that expression in Jensen's eyes. “I'll be back,” he says as calmly as he can with his heart pounding in his throat.
“Jared,” the tone is warning, but they both know it's not going to do a damn bit of good. “Jared!” Doesn't stop Jensen from trying, though. “Can you please let this be about Brayden for once and stop making it about whatever fucked up issues you have?”
Jared spins on his heels so fast, Jensen thinks he might fall over. “You don't know shit about my issues,” he accuses, and then stops short.
In fact, it's like everything stops. The nurses and the other patients in the hallway. The sounds and smells around him. Time itself.
It's not that Jared doesn't know he has issues. It's not like he's never realized that he's kind of fucked up in a lot of ways. It's just that he doesn't think about it very often. Or, ya know, ever at all. Because what's the point? Dwelling on the past doesn't change anything. He has a good life, with a great boyfriend and cool friends, and there's really nothing to complain about. Nothing so bad that he didn't get past it ten years ago. Maybe more than that.
Except that he's been on edge for reasons even he can't explain since yesterday. Since they got the call and came racing to the hospital. His body has been thrumming with violent energy that needs a release, and Jared hasn't even bothered to stop and wonder why. Anger is easier. It's always been easier.
He doesn't even see Jensen cross the distance between them until he feels a warm hand on his wrist. “Come on, Stretch,” is all he says and Jared follows, legs feeling heavy and numb.
A part of him really wants to tell Jensen to fuck off. To head over to Rick's and beat his door down until the fucker shows his face, pays for his sins. But another part of him is tired of fighting. Tired of holding back and shutting down and falling on instinct. The part of him that loves Jensen, and Brayden, and the life that he knows he's giving up if he walks away is too strong to kick against anymore.
It's not until they're seated, side-by-side, shoulders pressing firmly against once another, on the floor at Brayden's bedside that Jared opens his mouth. Even then, he's not sure what's going to come out. It's not like he planned this shit or anything.
“When I was seven,” his tongue feels thick and Jared swallows around it. He's never told anyone about this. Hasn't thought about it in years. “When I was seven, the family that I was staying with was . . . they were jacked,” he shakes his head and he can't look at Jensen, so he just stares at the leg of Brayden's bed, fixated. “They had, like, five of their own kids, ya know? Made sure I knew the only reason they were keepin' me was because they needed the check.”
Jensen doesn't want to hear this. He doesn't want to know that anyone ever hurt Jared. It makes him angry, and it makes his chest ache. But the fact that Jared is telling him means something, and he's not about to ask him to stop, or think about moving. Not a chance.
“It's weird, man,” Jared huffs a little and shakes his head again. “I mean, I remember gettin' the shit kicked outta me. I remember that it hurt at the time, but I don't really remember what it felt like now, ya know? Just remember they used to make me sleep on a blanket on the laundry room floor if I cried, and that I used to pray every night that somebody would just come save me. That somebody would figure out what was going on and come . . . I don't know . . . rescue me or somethin', I guess.” He shakes his head. “Wasn't just me, either. I could hear them do it to their own kids, too. The one girl, I think she was, like, nine or ten, would scream for someone to come help her. So fuckin' loud.
“We had this teacher who called CPS this one time, but when they showed up at the house, everybody was on their best behavior or whatever. I had these bruises, but I was too fucking scared to tell the lady where they came from. Thought they were gonna kill me or somethin'.” He looks up from the floor, but his hazel eyes don't really focus on anything. “That's when I figured out I wasn't ever gonna be able to count on anybody, ya know? Like the rest of the world saw me as this completely disposable kid, and if I was gonna survive, I had to do it on my own.
“So, I don't know. I just . . . I shut down. Stopped believing anybody who told me that everything was gonna be alright or whatever. Didn't really get close to anybody, either. I mean, there were kids I partied with or whatever, but nobody I really . . . let in. Nobody I really trusted.” He blinks a couple of times and turns his face, finally looking at the man beside him. “And then you came bustin' up in my life like a fuckin' freight train,” his hand falls heavily on Jensen's thigh. “And it wasn't like I couldn't shut you out or anything. I just,” he smiles a little and leans forward, his forehead connecting softly to Jensen's. “I didn't want to.”
“I'm pretty irresistible,” Jensen nods, corner of his lip quirking up into a sad smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.
Jared nods his agreement and sits back, head resting against the wall as he looks at the bed before them. “Fuck, Jen, he's so much better than I was back then,” he breathes. “I look at him, ya know, and it's like . . . I can't let it happen to him. I think about who I was at his age, how angry I was and how closed off from everything. And Bray's not like that, ya know? He's good, and he's happy, and he's. . . open. Even with the shit that's already happened to him, he's just so goddamn innocent.” He feels Jensen's fingers against his and turns to look the older man in the eye again. “I don't want him to lose that yet.”
“I get that,” Jensen says, palm pressing against the back of Jared's hand where it lays on his thigh. “But, Jay, we can't . . . he's not ours,” Jensen reminds him. “And as long as Rick's clean, there's nothin' we can do about that. It blows, man, but we,” Jensen stops and clears his throat around an unexpected round of emotion. “We have to accept the fact that all we can do is all we can do, ya know? We're not helping him like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like pretending that avoiding each other is going to let us forget how empty the house is without him.”
They both know it's true, the second it's out of Jensen's mouth. That's what they've been doing for the last eight months. Maybe the last two years. The longer they pretend that they're not missing him, the harder it gets to be around the house. And then it just gets easier to not be there, which means that they spend less time together. And then they splinter, crack, and fight about stupid bull shit that doesn't even exist.
Maybe it's the rare moment happening between them, but Jared can't seem to help himself from asking, “If I'm right about this, Jen? If he's not still clean, would you wanna. . . “ he doesn't finish the statement. Mostly because he knows he doesn't have to.
“In a heartbeat,” Jensen answers without hesitation. They don't have to lay out the pros and cons and have an hour long discussion about why it is, or isn't, a good idea. They know each other. At the core, that much hasn't changed at all. “But we gotta let it happen naturally, Jay. We can't go trumpin' up charges that aren't there. You know how much that kid loves his dad, man.”
Two years ago, Brayden found out that his dad was cleaning up his act, and coming back for him after two months of radio silence. And the kid was ecstatic. He couldn't wait to go home and be the family that they used to be. And while it had broken both Jared and Jensen's heart more than they would ever admit, they couldn't deny that the kid was happy. And that was the important thing. The only thing that mattered.
Brayden doesn't see Rick like other people see him, and he probably never will. There's some inherent trust, a belief, in your parents that most kids don't lose until much later in life. Jared lost his too soon. He knows that Jensen's still hasn't faded completely. And Brayden will see the good in his father when there's only a fraction of it left to be found.
“It's not like I'm gonna ask him to choose,” Jared fires back, but there's no anger there anymore. It's almost as though he's purged himself of the rage that's been flowing through him like constant, kinetic energy for the last twenty-four hours or so. “I just know kids like him need to know that somebody's gonna hear them, and believe them, when they ask for help. Or when they don't.”
Conversation drifts from Brayden to Jared's new season of his show to Grind as the guys do what they haven't done in months. They talk. Nothing earth-shattering or tear-inducing. Just a dialogue about what's going on in their lives, and what they're interested in at the moment. Pop culture and mutual friends, and insignificant bull shit that wouldn't matter to anyone else in the world. Shit that only matters to them for that reason.
A small voice interrupts them almost an hour later. “Guys?”
Both men look up to the bed, where Brayden's head is turned, blue eyes fixed on them. “We're right here, buddy,” Jared tells him.
“Whatcha need, Kiddo?” Jensen asks at the same time.
He smiles for a second at their tandem response, and then licks his lips, features clouding over. “Um, well, I don't want you to be mad at me,” he starts, and licks again
Jensen stands and offers him a few more ice chips and Jared makes his way to his feet and just leans against the wall. “You can tell us anything, Bray. You know that,” Jensen tells him, one hand on the kid's forehead in a move that's awfully maternal, but Jared resigns himself not to say anything about that. For now.
“I lied,” is Brayden's confession, and both men wait to hear the rest. “My dad,” he stops, closes his eyes and clears his throat. “He's not clean.” It's obvious that the words are hurting him, both physically and emotionally. “Hasn't been for awhile.”
Jared's shoulders tense, but Jensen sends him a look that relaxes him just a little bit. He's right. They have to be here for Brayden. This isn't about his issues anymore. Whatever they are, they've been around for a long damn time, and they can wait a little longer.
“Bray, buddy,” he says, pushing off the wall and moving around to the other side of the bed. “We're not mad, okay?” Brayden looks skeptical, but Jared smiles. Kid's got the best 'bull shit' meter he's ever seen. “Not at you,” he amends and Brayden doesn't really smile, but he melts into the bed in relief.
Jensen grips the headboard of the bed with one hand, the other no longer resting on Brayden's forehead, but laying close on his pillow. “We get it, man. He's your dad, and you don't want him to get in trouble, right?” A small, barely-noticeable nod is his only response as Brayden's eyes drift closed, a small tear stuck in the corner of the right one. “But you told us now.” His words are measured, like he's trying to work everything out in his head as he speaks. “Why?”
“Because you know he needs help, right?” Jared fills in the blanks. When Brayden nods, it all makes perfect sense. Maybe he overheard their conversation, or maybe he's just been carrying the weight for so long by himself, and now he realizes, with his arm in a cast and his leg in a sling, that his dad's problem goes beyond just a little recreational fun now and then. Whatever the reason, he's trusting them to make it better.
A silence falls over them, none of them really knowing how to deal with anything like this. Jared knows how he'd like to handle it, but leaving Jensen and Brayden to go beat the shit out of Rick still isn't an option. For now.
“He's not just using,” Brayden says, and Jensen looks shocked out of whatever thought he was having a second ago. “Few weeks ago, he asked me to take some stuff to school, to see if my friends wanted it. Maybe the high school kids,” he explains, voice thin, but holding out. “I didn't,” he adds quickly when Jared's eyes practically bulge. “He didn't ask again. I just,” he stops and his wide eyes sweep over the monitors he's hooked to. “I want it to be over.”
Oh, it'll be over, Jared thinks, and then nips the thought in the bud. He could do it. He could end Rick, just like he promised last night. But then looked at Jensen, who's only looking at Brayden, and he swallows the thought back. “Look, you're still here for a little while, right? Stuck up in this bed for a little while longer,” he smiles when Brayden flips him off again. “When you get out, we'll figure somethin' out, okay?”
Jensen's not entirely sure he's ever wanted Jared as much as he wants him right now. Sure, they're in the friggin' hospital, and they're talking about how Brayden's dad's a fucking junkie. Still, the Jared who walked into this room an hour ago would be leaving to rip Rick a new asshole, consequences be damned. This Jared is the one he knows. This is the guy he can't help being stupid for.
Eventually, Brayden reaches for the control at the side of the bed and elevates himself into a seated position. Well, as close to seated as he can get. The guys settle into chairs beside each other, Jared leaning his back on two legs while Jensen doodles something on a napkin and they all talk about maybe taking Brayden to the house in Tijuana over the summer.
Jared's cell phone rings just as one of Brayden's nurses is leaving the room, and he categorically ignores the look she shoots him in favor of checking the screen. Rolling his eyes, he rests the phone on his thigh and lets it ring.
“You gonna get that?” Jensen asks, eyebrow raised.
But Jared just shakes his head. “Nope.”
The ringing stops and then starts again. “Could be important, man,” Jensen points out.
“Dude, you notice how every time we answer the phone lately, shit gets blown all to hell?”
Jared's not a superstitious guy, so the explanation makes Jensen laugh as the phone starts to go off for the third time. He grabs the cell and flips it open. “Jared's phone, this is Jensen, his personal assistant,” he winks and licks his lips lewdly in Jared's direction.
“Roleplay, Jen?” Genevieve's voice laughs on the other end of the line. “Kinky. I like it.”
Rolling his eyes, Jensen can't help chuckling as he rests his elbow on the arm of Jared's chair. “Whatcha need, Gen?” he asks.
“Lemme talk to Jay.”
Accepting the phone while bringing all four legs of the chair to rest on the floor, Jared grins at the amused smile on Brayden's face before answering. “What do you want, woman?” he asks, the anvil that was pressing on his chest before gone, replaced by a liberated stillness that he hasn't felt in awhile.
“Hey, I know your busy, what with your slutty secretary there and all,” Genevieve teases, and Jared turns his head to see Jensen drag his tongue over his bottom lip again. Shit. “But Aldis called, and he was wondering if you could work him in some time tomorrow.”
Aldis is one of Jared's favorite clients. He works undercover for the LAPD Vice Squad, and they have a long-standing tradition. He closes a case, Jared inks him in honor of it. Then they go grab a beer and talk about the bike Aldis is rebuilding, much to his girlfriend's chagrin, or the MMA circuit that they're both crazy-addicted to these days. During football season, there's usually a heated Giants vs. Cowboys debate, and Jared often threatens to tattoo the Dallas star somewhere the New York native will never find it.
“Yeah, I can do that,” he nods. “But other than him, I'm not takin' any more appointments the rest of the week, alright?” From the corner of his eye, he can see Jensen's head turn. “Yeah, I'm gonna . . . hang around here.”
When Jared flips his phone closed and clips it back to his belt, the look that passes between him and his boyfriend is unmistakable. Though, Jensen's not really all that smooth when he stands and wipes his hands over the thighs of his pants and then announces, “Shit, I need coffee. Come on, Jay. Let's go find some coffee.”
Jared just laughs when Brayden says, “I'm not a kid anymore, ya know? You can just say you're gonna . . . do what you're gonna do,” he waves toward the door, pink flooding his cheeks. When the pair look at him skeptically, he rolls his eyes. “Jesus, fuckin' go. I'll be here when you get back. Not like I can go anywhere else.”
They step into the hallway and Jensen looks left and right. “I think there's a supply closet this way.”
“Oh, Jensen. You're so fucking romantic,” Jared teases, stumbling over Jensen's foot when his boyfriend pulls him into the darkness of said closet.
Jensen's answer is, “Shut up and lose the pants, asshat.” What he gets instead is the feeling of Jared's hand on his hip, flicking the button of his Dickies, and plunging inside his pants. “Or, you could do that,” Jensen breathes, leaning forward to rest his head on his boyfriend's shoulder as his fingers fumble with Jared's jeans.
There was a time when they couldn't stop doing this, when sneaking away to rub up against each other in a closet somewhere was more the rule than the exception. Now it feels like a taboo, something they shouldn't be doing – they've matured and everything, after all – and it's a thousand times hotter than it ever was before. Maybe a little faster, too.
Disheveled, they stumble out of the closet a few minutes later, and Jared winks at the nurse who passes with a gaping, fish-out-of-water look. Jensen can't help laughing, feeling lighter than he has in months.
Outside of Brayden's door, Jensen rests a hand on Jared's arm and when his boyfriend's hazel eyes meet his, Jensen says, “I was thinkin' that maybe, tomorrow, you could talk to Aldis about . . . “
Jared drops a quick kiss on Jensen's perfect lips and then pulls back with a smile. Pushing the door open with his shoulder, he says, “Already thinkin' it, man.” He watches as Jensen pushes past him and can't help thinking that it feels damn good to be on the same page again.
Chapter 5
Author:
raeschae Beta:
neutraldeviance, without whom this chapter would absolutely SUCK OUT LOUD.Graphics:
raeschaeRating: R
Characters/Pairings: Jared/Jensen, OMC (Brayden), Genevieve
Warnings: Swearing. Non-graphic references to past child abuse. Groping in a closet.
Word Count: 4717
Disclaimer: I pretty much own nothing, outside of a pretty cool television, some second-hand furniture, and a Jeep Cherokee that has seen better days. Note that my list does not include any of the people that will be mentioned in this chapter, and take that to mean that I'm not recounting historical events. Fiction. It's fic-tion.
Summary: “Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans.” -John Lennon, Beautiful Boy
(Sequel to Disclaimer: We Will Not Be Held Responsible . . . I won't say you absolutely have to read that one first, but I will say you might be a little lost if you don't.)
A/N: I mentioned him above, but I have to take a second to thank
neutraldeviance for completely saving this chapter, and therefore the rest of the story. The direction I was headed was so damn angsty and depressing, it didn't belong anywhere near this 'verse. He helped me find a way to convey the exact same emotions without my characters coming across as completely different people. For that, and for a lot of other things I won't mention here, I am eternally grateful!Graphics still under the cut, 'cause my tat kink is outta control. :)
“Still think it looks like snot, if you ask me,” Jensen is saying when Jared gently shoulders his way into Brayden's room. His boyfriend's elbows are resting on the side of the kid's bed, and he's staring in contempt at that green jello that Brayden's always loved so much.
The only response from the kid in the bed is a narrowing of his eyes and a weak raise of his hand, middle finger extended. Jensen laughs, and Jared takes a second to collect himself before stepping fully into the room.
The drive from the restaurant to the hospital reeked havoc on his emotions and it was all he could do to force himself out of the car when he got here. Seeing Brayden unconscious was hard, but he's somehow sure that seeing him awake, and a shell of the kid he used to be, is going to be even harder.
“Hey, look who's here,” Jensen smiles brightly, nodding in Jared's direction as he finally lowers himself into the small, plastic chair on the other side of Brayden's bed.
His head doesn't move much, but Brayden's lips curl into a bright smile and his eyes light up just a little bit. “Hey, Jay,” he manages to croak out, and then Jensen is offering him ice chips and hovering like a fucking mother hen.
He doesn't know what to say. Everything sounds stupid and clunky in his head. The kid's eyes are open, but he's barely moving and he can't even speak. It's not like Jared can just greet him like he usually does. 'What's up, Kid?' and 'How's it goin'?' hardly seem appropriate.
Wracking his brain for the words, Jared barely notices when Jensen holds out a package of fine-tipped sharpies. Their eyes meet and Jared wordlessly asks, 'What's this?' Jensen nods his head toward the kid in response.
“Ink me,” Brayden's tiny voice rasps, eyes dancing and hopeful.
And just like that, he's the kid Jared's always known. Yeah, he's battered and broken, but he's still the same kid. Jared thinks maybe he was worried about brain damage or something, but this kid? He's one hundred percent Brayden, through and through.
Taking the pens from Jensen, he shakes his head and catches Brayden's wide, blue stare. “Ya know, if ya really wanted a tat this bad, kid, all you had to do was ask,” he teases. “Didn't have to go break your arm for it.” He aims the middle finger at Jared this time, but he's smiling wider than before as Jared pulls his chair closer and considers an angle that will allow him access to the cast without hurting Brayden any further. “What are we doin'?” he asks.
Brayden motions with a nod toward Jared's own arm. “Sleeve,” he instructs.
“The whole thing?” Jared narrows his eyes. “Where you gonna have all the girls sign it then?” Brayden smiles and nods toward his leg, still elevated and braced. “They gonna cast that one, too?” he asks, eyes flitting to Jensen for a response.
He receives only a nod from his boyfriend, who's leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. There's a soft smile on Jensen's lips and he has to admit that it looks damn good. Jensen looks good. Sometimes Jared forgets how fucking good.
For the next forty-five minutes, he pours over the design. He draws a half-pipe and a figure that looks strangely like Brayden's favorite X-Man, Gambit, with his long duster flowing in the wind generated by the boardslide he's executing along the lip of the pipe. But this Gambit has blue hair, and wears Dickies under his coat, with big-ass DC skate shoes, like the ones Jensen loves so much. On the ground, beside the pipe, a cobra like the one on Chad's chest, crawls through the bleeding eye sockets of a skull like the ones on Jared's arms. Standing on the opposite side of the pipe, cheering his punk Gambit on, is a buxom Wonder Woman like the one on Sophia's left shoulder.
By the time he finishes, Brayden's asleep, the only sound in the room the beeping of the machines and monitors still attached to his weak body. Jared caps the last pen and sets the package on the table beside him before looking over to his boyfriend. “So, he looks better,” he says, and then inwardly kicks himself for how stupid he sounds. This is Jensen, for fuck's sake. If there's anyone on the planet he can talk to about any damn thing in his head, it's Jensen.
“Yeah,” Jensen nods, eyes drifting back to the sleeping boy. Without the tube in his throat, this whole situation feels a whole lot better. Watching the kid's eyes flutter open had been one of the happiest moments of Jensen's life, and he's not too proud to admit it. “Lung damage wasn't as bad as they thought. Nothin' collapsed or punctured, so the doctor says he should be fine. Make a full recovery.”
Jared just nods and tries to piece together what Jensen's telling him. But something doesn't make sense. “Where's Rick?” Jensen's eyes move from Brayden to the floor and Jared's back stiffens instinctively. “Jensen,” he says, voice firm and low.
The thing is, Jensen never really been scared of Jared. Even when he crosses those tree trunk arms over his massive chest and sets those storm-filled eyes in an argument? He's not scary. Well, to a lot of people he is, but not to Jensen. He knows what it looks like when Jared postures.
The thing that bothers Jensen is that he also knows what it looks like when Jared's not posturing. And ever since Chris called to tell them about the accident, he hasn't been faking a goddamn thing. He's a ball of raging fury, and Jensen doesn't know what to do with that. He doesn't know how to handle this guy. The one who looks like his boyfriend, but acts like a caged animal, ready to lunge at the first unsuspecting prey that happens along his path.
“Hall,” he says, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his Dickies. Jared's frightening right now, and Jensen will be damned if he's going to let that wake Brayden up. There was a time when everything Jared did scared the kid unnecessarily. He shudders to think what would happen if Brayden saw him angry for real.
After he closes the door behind them, Jensen shakes his head and runs his fingers through his hair. “Jay, you gotta calm the fuck down, man,” he starts.
“Just tell me what the fuck is going on, Jensen.” And, to his credit, he feels bad for snapping. None of this is Jensen's fault. But the anger is growing and cracking his skin and it's all he can do to keep it contained. Doctors aren't supposed to tell random guys who are not Brayden's immediate family anything about his condition. The only way Jensen would maybe be able to convince them to is if . . . “Where the hell is Rick?”
“I don't know,” he answers honestly, quietly. “He took off right after I did this morning, and he hasn't been back since. They tried to call him, the nurses, but he's not answering his phone. Far as I know, he doesn't even know the Bray's awake.” The storm in Jared's eyes upgrades to hurricane status in a flash and Jensen reaches out to him, hand never connecting with skin. “Dude, just,” he stops and tilts his head, but Jared's not really looking at him anymore. “Come back inside with me. Hang out for awhile. Or, I don't know, go to the gym and knock the bag around or something? Anything that doesn't involve doing something stupid.”
Jared turns his head away, unable to look at that expression in Jensen's eyes. “I'll be back,” he says as calmly as he can with his heart pounding in his throat.
“Jared,” the tone is warning, but they both know it's not going to do a damn bit of good. “Jared!” Doesn't stop Jensen from trying, though. “Can you please let this be about Brayden for once and stop making it about whatever fucked up issues you have?”
Jared spins on his heels so fast, Jensen thinks he might fall over. “You don't know shit about my issues,” he accuses, and then stops short.
In fact, it's like everything stops. The nurses and the other patients in the hallway. The sounds and smells around him. Time itself.
It's not that Jared doesn't know he has issues. It's not like he's never realized that he's kind of fucked up in a lot of ways. It's just that he doesn't think about it very often. Or, ya know, ever at all. Because what's the point? Dwelling on the past doesn't change anything. He has a good life, with a great boyfriend and cool friends, and there's really nothing to complain about. Nothing so bad that he didn't get past it ten years ago. Maybe more than that.
Except that he's been on edge for reasons even he can't explain since yesterday. Since they got the call and came racing to the hospital. His body has been thrumming with violent energy that needs a release, and Jared hasn't even bothered to stop and wonder why. Anger is easier. It's always been easier.
He doesn't even see Jensen cross the distance between them until he feels a warm hand on his wrist. “Come on, Stretch,” is all he says and Jared follows, legs feeling heavy and numb.
A part of him really wants to tell Jensen to fuck off. To head over to Rick's and beat his door down until the fucker shows his face, pays for his sins. But another part of him is tired of fighting. Tired of holding back and shutting down and falling on instinct. The part of him that loves Jensen, and Brayden, and the life that he knows he's giving up if he walks away is too strong to kick against anymore.
It's not until they're seated, side-by-side, shoulders pressing firmly against once another, on the floor at Brayden's bedside that Jared opens his mouth. Even then, he's not sure what's going to come out. It's not like he planned this shit or anything.
“When I was seven,” his tongue feels thick and Jared swallows around it. He's never told anyone about this. Hasn't thought about it in years. “When I was seven, the family that I was staying with was . . . they were jacked,” he shakes his head and he can't look at Jensen, so he just stares at the leg of Brayden's bed, fixated. “They had, like, five of their own kids, ya know? Made sure I knew the only reason they were keepin' me was because they needed the check.”
Jensen doesn't want to hear this. He doesn't want to know that anyone ever hurt Jared. It makes him angry, and it makes his chest ache. But the fact that Jared is telling him means something, and he's not about to ask him to stop, or think about moving. Not a chance.
“It's weird, man,” Jared huffs a little and shakes his head again. “I mean, I remember gettin' the shit kicked outta me. I remember that it hurt at the time, but I don't really remember what it felt like now, ya know? Just remember they used to make me sleep on a blanket on the laundry room floor if I cried, and that I used to pray every night that somebody would just come save me. That somebody would figure out what was going on and come . . . I don't know . . . rescue me or somethin', I guess.” He shakes his head. “Wasn't just me, either. I could hear them do it to their own kids, too. The one girl, I think she was, like, nine or ten, would scream for someone to come help her. So fuckin' loud.
“We had this teacher who called CPS this one time, but when they showed up at the house, everybody was on their best behavior or whatever. I had these bruises, but I was too fucking scared to tell the lady where they came from. Thought they were gonna kill me or somethin'.” He looks up from the floor, but his hazel eyes don't really focus on anything. “That's when I figured out I wasn't ever gonna be able to count on anybody, ya know? Like the rest of the world saw me as this completely disposable kid, and if I was gonna survive, I had to do it on my own.
“So, I don't know. I just . . . I shut down. Stopped believing anybody who told me that everything was gonna be alright or whatever. Didn't really get close to anybody, either. I mean, there were kids I partied with or whatever, but nobody I really . . . let in. Nobody I really trusted.” He blinks a couple of times and turns his face, finally looking at the man beside him. “And then you came bustin' up in my life like a fuckin' freight train,” his hand falls heavily on Jensen's thigh. “And it wasn't like I couldn't shut you out or anything. I just,” he smiles a little and leans forward, his forehead connecting softly to Jensen's. “I didn't want to.”
“I'm pretty irresistible,” Jensen nods, corner of his lip quirking up into a sad smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.
Jared nods his agreement and sits back, head resting against the wall as he looks at the bed before them. “Fuck, Jen, he's so much better than I was back then,” he breathes. “I look at him, ya know, and it's like . . . I can't let it happen to him. I think about who I was at his age, how angry I was and how closed off from everything. And Bray's not like that, ya know? He's good, and he's happy, and he's. . . open. Even with the shit that's already happened to him, he's just so goddamn innocent.” He feels Jensen's fingers against his and turns to look the older man in the eye again. “I don't want him to lose that yet.”
“I get that,” Jensen says, palm pressing against the back of Jared's hand where it lays on his thigh. “But, Jay, we can't . . . he's not ours,” Jensen reminds him. “And as long as Rick's clean, there's nothin' we can do about that. It blows, man, but we,” Jensen stops and clears his throat around an unexpected round of emotion. “We have to accept the fact that all we can do is all we can do, ya know? We're not helping him like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like pretending that avoiding each other is going to let us forget how empty the house is without him.”
They both know it's true, the second it's out of Jensen's mouth. That's what they've been doing for the last eight months. Maybe the last two years. The longer they pretend that they're not missing him, the harder it gets to be around the house. And then it just gets easier to not be there, which means that they spend less time together. And then they splinter, crack, and fight about stupid bull shit that doesn't even exist.
Maybe it's the rare moment happening between them, but Jared can't seem to help himself from asking, “If I'm right about this, Jen? If he's not still clean, would you wanna. . . “ he doesn't finish the statement. Mostly because he knows he doesn't have to.
“In a heartbeat,” Jensen answers without hesitation. They don't have to lay out the pros and cons and have an hour long discussion about why it is, or isn't, a good idea. They know each other. At the core, that much hasn't changed at all. “But we gotta let it happen naturally, Jay. We can't go trumpin' up charges that aren't there. You know how much that kid loves his dad, man.”
Two years ago, Brayden found out that his dad was cleaning up his act, and coming back for him after two months of radio silence. And the kid was ecstatic. He couldn't wait to go home and be the family that they used to be. And while it had broken both Jared and Jensen's heart more than they would ever admit, they couldn't deny that the kid was happy. And that was the important thing. The only thing that mattered.
Brayden doesn't see Rick like other people see him, and he probably never will. There's some inherent trust, a belief, in your parents that most kids don't lose until much later in life. Jared lost his too soon. He knows that Jensen's still hasn't faded completely. And Brayden will see the good in his father when there's only a fraction of it left to be found.
“It's not like I'm gonna ask him to choose,” Jared fires back, but there's no anger there anymore. It's almost as though he's purged himself of the rage that's been flowing through him like constant, kinetic energy for the last twenty-four hours or so. “I just know kids like him need to know that somebody's gonna hear them, and believe them, when they ask for help. Or when they don't.”
Conversation drifts from Brayden to Jared's new season of his show to Grind as the guys do what they haven't done in months. They talk. Nothing earth-shattering or tear-inducing. Just a dialogue about what's going on in their lives, and what they're interested in at the moment. Pop culture and mutual friends, and insignificant bull shit that wouldn't matter to anyone else in the world. Shit that only matters to them for that reason.
A small voice interrupts them almost an hour later. “Guys?”
Both men look up to the bed, where Brayden's head is turned, blue eyes fixed on them. “We're right here, buddy,” Jared tells him.
“Whatcha need, Kiddo?” Jensen asks at the same time.
He smiles for a second at their tandem response, and then licks his lips, features clouding over. “Um, well, I don't want you to be mad at me,” he starts, and licks again
Jensen stands and offers him a few more ice chips and Jared makes his way to his feet and just leans against the wall. “You can tell us anything, Bray. You know that,” Jensen tells him, one hand on the kid's forehead in a move that's awfully maternal, but Jared resigns himself not to say anything about that. For now.
“I lied,” is Brayden's confession, and both men wait to hear the rest. “My dad,” he stops, closes his eyes and clears his throat. “He's not clean.” It's obvious that the words are hurting him, both physically and emotionally. “Hasn't been for awhile.”
Jared's shoulders tense, but Jensen sends him a look that relaxes him just a little bit. He's right. They have to be here for Brayden. This isn't about his issues anymore. Whatever they are, they've been around for a long damn time, and they can wait a little longer.
“Bray, buddy,” he says, pushing off the wall and moving around to the other side of the bed. “We're not mad, okay?” Brayden looks skeptical, but Jared smiles. Kid's got the best 'bull shit' meter he's ever seen. “Not at you,” he amends and Brayden doesn't really smile, but he melts into the bed in relief.
Jensen grips the headboard of the bed with one hand, the other no longer resting on Brayden's forehead, but laying close on his pillow. “We get it, man. He's your dad, and you don't want him to get in trouble, right?” A small, barely-noticeable nod is his only response as Brayden's eyes drift closed, a small tear stuck in the corner of the right one. “But you told us now.” His words are measured, like he's trying to work everything out in his head as he speaks. “Why?”
“Because you know he needs help, right?” Jared fills in the blanks. When Brayden nods, it all makes perfect sense. Maybe he overheard their conversation, or maybe he's just been carrying the weight for so long by himself, and now he realizes, with his arm in a cast and his leg in a sling, that his dad's problem goes beyond just a little recreational fun now and then. Whatever the reason, he's trusting them to make it better.
A silence falls over them, none of them really knowing how to deal with anything like this. Jared knows how he'd like to handle it, but leaving Jensen and Brayden to go beat the shit out of Rick still isn't an option. For now.
“He's not just using,” Brayden says, and Jensen looks shocked out of whatever thought he was having a second ago. “Few weeks ago, he asked me to take some stuff to school, to see if my friends wanted it. Maybe the high school kids,” he explains, voice thin, but holding out. “I didn't,” he adds quickly when Jared's eyes practically bulge. “He didn't ask again. I just,” he stops and his wide eyes sweep over the monitors he's hooked to. “I want it to be over.”
Oh, it'll be over, Jared thinks, and then nips the thought in the bud. He could do it. He could end Rick, just like he promised last night. But then looked at Jensen, who's only looking at Brayden, and he swallows the thought back. “Look, you're still here for a little while, right? Stuck up in this bed for a little while longer,” he smiles when Brayden flips him off again. “When you get out, we'll figure somethin' out, okay?”
Jensen's not entirely sure he's ever wanted Jared as much as he wants him right now. Sure, they're in the friggin' hospital, and they're talking about how Brayden's dad's a fucking junkie. Still, the Jared who walked into this room an hour ago would be leaving to rip Rick a new asshole, consequences be damned. This Jared is the one he knows. This is the guy he can't help being stupid for.
Eventually, Brayden reaches for the control at the side of the bed and elevates himself into a seated position. Well, as close to seated as he can get. The guys settle into chairs beside each other, Jared leaning his back on two legs while Jensen doodles something on a napkin and they all talk about maybe taking Brayden to the house in Tijuana over the summer.
Jared's cell phone rings just as one of Brayden's nurses is leaving the room, and he categorically ignores the look she shoots him in favor of checking the screen. Rolling his eyes, he rests the phone on his thigh and lets it ring.
“You gonna get that?” Jensen asks, eyebrow raised.
But Jared just shakes his head. “Nope.”
The ringing stops and then starts again. “Could be important, man,” Jensen points out.
“Dude, you notice how every time we answer the phone lately, shit gets blown all to hell?”
Jared's not a superstitious guy, so the explanation makes Jensen laugh as the phone starts to go off for the third time. He grabs the cell and flips it open. “Jared's phone, this is Jensen, his personal assistant,” he winks and licks his lips lewdly in Jared's direction.
“Roleplay, Jen?” Genevieve's voice laughs on the other end of the line. “Kinky. I like it.”
Rolling his eyes, Jensen can't help chuckling as he rests his elbow on the arm of Jared's chair. “Whatcha need, Gen?” he asks.
“Lemme talk to Jay.”
Accepting the phone while bringing all four legs of the chair to rest on the floor, Jared grins at the amused smile on Brayden's face before answering. “What do you want, woman?” he asks, the anvil that was pressing on his chest before gone, replaced by a liberated stillness that he hasn't felt in awhile.
“Hey, I know your busy, what with your slutty secretary there and all,” Genevieve teases, and Jared turns his head to see Jensen drag his tongue over his bottom lip again. Shit. “But Aldis called, and he was wondering if you could work him in some time tomorrow.”
Aldis is one of Jared's favorite clients. He works undercover for the LAPD Vice Squad, and they have a long-standing tradition. He closes a case, Jared inks him in honor of it. Then they go grab a beer and talk about the bike Aldis is rebuilding, much to his girlfriend's chagrin, or the MMA circuit that they're both crazy-addicted to these days. During football season, there's usually a heated Giants vs. Cowboys debate, and Jared often threatens to tattoo the Dallas star somewhere the New York native will never find it.
“Yeah, I can do that,” he nods. “But other than him, I'm not takin' any more appointments the rest of the week, alright?” From the corner of his eye, he can see Jensen's head turn. “Yeah, I'm gonna . . . hang around here.”
When Jared flips his phone closed and clips it back to his belt, the look that passes between him and his boyfriend is unmistakable. Though, Jensen's not really all that smooth when he stands and wipes his hands over the thighs of his pants and then announces, “Shit, I need coffee. Come on, Jay. Let's go find some coffee.”
Jared just laughs when Brayden says, “I'm not a kid anymore, ya know? You can just say you're gonna . . . do what you're gonna do,” he waves toward the door, pink flooding his cheeks. When the pair look at him skeptically, he rolls his eyes. “Jesus, fuckin' go. I'll be here when you get back. Not like I can go anywhere else.”
They step into the hallway and Jensen looks left and right. “I think there's a supply closet this way.”
“Oh, Jensen. You're so fucking romantic,” Jared teases, stumbling over Jensen's foot when his boyfriend pulls him into the darkness of said closet.
Jensen's answer is, “Shut up and lose the pants, asshat.” What he gets instead is the feeling of Jared's hand on his hip, flicking the button of his Dickies, and plunging inside his pants. “Or, you could do that,” Jensen breathes, leaning forward to rest his head on his boyfriend's shoulder as his fingers fumble with Jared's jeans.
There was a time when they couldn't stop doing this, when sneaking away to rub up against each other in a closet somewhere was more the rule than the exception. Now it feels like a taboo, something they shouldn't be doing – they've matured and everything, after all – and it's a thousand times hotter than it ever was before. Maybe a little faster, too.
Disheveled, they stumble out of the closet a few minutes later, and Jared winks at the nurse who passes with a gaping, fish-out-of-water look. Jensen can't help laughing, feeling lighter than he has in months.
Outside of Brayden's door, Jensen rests a hand on Jared's arm and when his boyfriend's hazel eyes meet his, Jensen says, “I was thinkin' that maybe, tomorrow, you could talk to Aldis about . . . “
Jared drops a quick kiss on Jensen's perfect lips and then pulls back with a smile. Pushing the door open with his shoulder, he says, “Already thinkin' it, man.” He watches as Jensen pushes past him and can't help thinking that it feels damn good to be on the same page again.
Chapter 5
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no subject
Date: 2009-10-25 05:46 pm (UTC)Being as I'm relatively new to the fandom (started reading back in the spring, and writing this summer), I'm still finding a lot of older stuff. I go to communities with recs and find some pretty awesome stuff. It's all still new to me. But I'm sure, as with any fandom I've ever gotten into, the well will run dry eventually. I guess it's kind of like anything else - there are dry spells everywhere, I think.
I'm glad I could give you a little break, though. And I'm glad you don't consider this one of the 'not much good'! That makes me giddy, actually. :)
no subject
Date: 2009-10-25 05:51 pm (UTC)good stries with plots those are nice, Excellent characerization, those are motherfucking rare and that's what you've got. it's what i try to do, so i recognize how difficult it can be, (at least for me)
i'd love to read taht chapter four.
and yeah, i read and read and read when i first joined the fandom,and now all the "classics" and a lot of the recs and stuff, i've been through.
but also, once i start writing in a fandon i have to be careful what i read. like i couldn't read any "Sam saves Dean from hell fic" whilc i was writing mine.
so now i'm writhing a fic tha tstill had no title, (i do that right before i write the credit's roll) and we'll see, for all iknow, it' sucks.
no subject
Date: 2009-10-25 06:00 pm (UTC)Characters are actually a lot easier for me to write than the plot of a story. Which sounds stupid, I'm sure, but I think pretty much any story can be categorized as either character-drive or plot-driven. Mine are WAY more about the characters, who they are and the journey they're taking - than about what's going on around them. I have a vague idea when I start writing, about where I want the story to go. Usually a loose outline or overview, but it's not until I really figure out who my characters are that I can start to fill it in.
Which, I think, is why I have a much harder time writing SPN fics than I do RPS. Because it's just easier for me to focus on the people - writing all that plotty, action-y, Winchester stuff is outside my wheelhouse. I love to read it - I suck at writing it. It's yet another facet of my ability that I'm okay with. Used to make me so jealous that I couldn't do plot-driven stories. But now I realize that it's just not something I do.
In the director's commentary for the movie Dogma, Kevin Smith is talking about how he gets reamed for not being a visual director. But Ben Affleck points out that he beats himself up over the look of a movie, when what he's good at - what he's interested in - is telling a story. Creating characters that talk to each other, and make you want to listen to what they're saying. It's not wrong. It's just different.
At least, that's what I tell myself. :)
no subject
Date: 2009-10-25 06:06 pm (UTC)i've always said i'm not a writer, i'm a storyteller, and that story is always ALWAYS character driven.
I start with who they are, what their lives are like, what kind of relationship they have with parents, friends, each other, and then i move on to why it would be intresting to read about them, (i usually come up with a character flaw they need to address) adn that's all i've got.
other people write wonderful plotty stories, and i am not as self actualized as you, i'm still jealous of them, but i cant' do it.
my fics that required plots, fell flat like a bad souffle, so now, i just stick to what i do well, make Jared and Jensen people you're invested in and believe, even if they're completely AU from the actual Jared and jensen.
the thing is, EVERYTHING is completely AU from the actual Jared and Jensen because, duh, we son't know them, like at all.
okay, i'm just babbling. SUN
no subject
Date: 2009-10-26 12:26 am (UTC)The thing I've learned is that I get way better response when I just do things my way and don't try to write something that I'm not good at writing. I feel better about it, and I think people enjoy it more. I guess, as a brilliant writer once said: All we can do is all we can do. :)
no subject
Date: 2009-10-26 12:28 am (UTC)like, certifiable.
:D
no subject
Date: 2009-10-26 01:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-26 01:33 am (UTC)XD