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mickeymTitle: Words Left Unspoken
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG13
Word Count: ~650
Spoilers: Vague references to AHBL2
Warnings: Incest
Disclaimer: Not mine, sadly. No money being made here.
Notes: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
without_me, because she's had a sucky day. Hope this helps, honey. *hugs*
There's a tear in the paper lining the shelves, and the ceiling has a crack that runs the entire length of the small room. The kitchen sink is rusty, ringed with stains that are of unknown origin, and probably older than Sam. The stains in the bathroom are just fucking scary, and best not contemplated. Ever.
"Dude, it's free," Dean says from where he's laying weapons out -- on the bed Sam couldn't even really look at before they made it up, because oh, god, he really doesn't want to know what that big reddish-brownish spot was -- for cleaning. Sam closes the door of the small refrigerator and makes a face.
"I didn't say anything."
Dean doesn't even look up at him, just keeps dismantling the guns. "But you're thinking it hard enough, I can hear it all the way over here."
"Fuck off," Sam mutters, wondering how much bleach it will take to get the fridge clean enough to actually store food in. He's not sure that much exists in the whole world, much less Moose Tracks, Minnesota. "And anyway, haven't you ever heard of the saying 'you get what you pay for'?"
"It's only for a little while. Until we get some cash-flow going again." Dean doesn't mention, nor does Sam need him to, the inadvisability of using credit cards of any sort right now, even with fake names. Arkansas and Henricksen aren't that far behind them, yet. Dean shoots Sam a grin. "Lucky Bobby knows someone who knows someone who had a cabin they're not using, huh?"
"Yeah, I know. And it is." Tour of the facilities complete, Sam throws himself a little too forcefully into the small recliner in the corner of the room -- really, 'cabin' is an overstatement, since it's all one not-so-big room, kitchen and bathroom more like closets. A cloud of dust rises up and it takes a minute of coughing and sputtering before he can breathe or see through teary, watery eyes.
When he can see again, Dean's kneeling in front of him, solemn expression on his face.
"It's really not--we're not gonna be here, forever."
"I know. Dean, I know. I get it." They could've stayed at Bobby's; Bobby wanted them to stay, actually. Argued against them leaving quite so soon. But the itch to move was too strong in both of them. Plus, Sam's already figured out how Bobby feels about the deal Dean made. All they would need on top of everything else is for him to figure out they're fucking. Sam shakes his head at the thought and reaches out to touch Dean's face. "Long as you're here, it could be a tent and I wouldn't care."
Not exactly, precisely true: Sam hates camping with a vengeance. But close enough. With Dean, it's enough to have him; the where doesn't matter.
Dean gives him a crooked smile, the one Sam doesn't get to see very often, that always, always makes his chest feel too small, too tight, and leans in until he has his arms around Sam's middle, holding him tight. If it were anyone but Dean, Sam would call it a hug and be done with it.
He doesn't call it anything, though; doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to. Instead, he scoots forward just a little and pulls Dean closer against him, holding on as tight as he can.
I'll find a way to save your ass, for a change. I'll save you. You're not leaving me.
I'd do it again in a minute, Sammy. I'd do anything for you.
Sam pulls back just enough to kiss Dean, a hard, hungry kiss that gentles slowly, until they're touching mouths and sharing breath, and Sam hears all the words they don't say but always feel.
~fin~
Title: T-shirts and Kisses
Pairing: Jared/Jensen (RPS)
Rating: PG13
Word Count: ~1000
Spoilers: Only if you count references to the season being over, and Jared's current filming project to be spoilers.
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: I can only wish they would do this for me.
Notes: Forwendy who has also had a bad day, and who told me yesterday about a J2 scenario she wanted to read, involving sleepy!Jensen and Jared's tshirt. Hopefully this works :)
Jared pulls into his driveway, eyeballing the unfamiliar car parked in the space beside his. Weird, 'cos he thought that unit was empty, and there sure hadn't been anyone there this morning. So, new neighbors? Squattors? A stalker?
Whatever. It's late, it's been a long fucking day, and all he wants is a beer, some dinner, another beer, some time with his dogs, and bed. Not necessarily in that order.
A phone call from Jen would be nice, too, but so far his cell remains dark and quiet.
Working with Rich Burgi is interesting, but Jared misses the familiarity of Jensen, and even Jeff, though he wasn't around much for the second season. He misses the familiarity of Kim, of Eric, of the camera and lighting crews and makeup people who were used to him, who know him.
Mostly, though, he misses Jen. A lot.
Sadie and Harley are already barking by the time he has the key in the door. Sometimes Jared wonders if they bark while he's gone, but figures he'd have heard about it by now if that were the case. The neighbors he does have are nice enough -- on those rare opportunities he sees any of them -- but he doubts that spazztastic, loud dogs would be tolerated for too long.
"Hey, guys--didja miss me? Long day, huh? We might have to forget a run tonight; I'm totally wiped." Jared kneels in the entryway, laughing at the way they both jockey for position, licking at him and drooling over him and each other.
Once he's petted them to their satisfaction, both dogs nudge him with their noses then leave him to race each other back into the living room, intent on claiming the best spot wherever, for more lounging.
Jared gathers the mail up off the floor and drops it and his keys onto the small table in the hallway just for that purpose. He kicks his shoes off, one at a time, grimacing at the scuff marks they leave when they thud into the walls. Ah, well. It's just dirt.
It's after nine; he has to be on-set in the morning at five, for make-up, so Jared revises his schedule for the night in his head. Shower, maybe dinner, then bed. The beer isn't going anywhere.
The thing he misses most about it being off-season, and Jen not being around, is the quiet in the house. Sure, the dogs make noise, but it's not the same as him and Jensen wrestling their way through the door, wrestling for the TV remote, arguing over what PS2 game to play and what to have for dinner, and who owes who a blowjob. Not that Jensen had come home with him every night, or vice versa. But knowing he isn't going to be around for months yet--that's what's making the difference.
"Fuck it," he mutters, glancing into the living room as he passes it. Yep, Sadie and Harley were already curled up on opposite ends of the couch. "Nice of you guys to leave me a spot," he says, wishing sarcasm wasn't totally lost on dogs. "Thinking I might skip TV tonight and just go to bed."
Sadie woofs at him, and all Jared can hear is when did you get to be so lame?. He wonders himself, sometimes.
Upstairs is dark, which makes the quiet seem that much heavier and stifling. Jared contemplates turning on a light and the stereo, versus just falling into bed.
Bed wins.
He's two steps into his room and tripping over something on the floor, in the doorway, then stubbs his toe into the wall trying to catch himself from falling. A low, muffled noise comes from the bed, and then the lamp clicks on and Jared's staring at Jen, not sure he really seeing what he's seeing.
"Jen?"
"Something wrong with your eyes, Padalecki?"
Jared snorts and vaults over the bag -- Jen's fucking luggage -- and onto the bed, starting a grunt and an "oof!" out of Jensen as he lands more-or-less mostly on top of him.
"Dude. When did you get here? Why didn't you call?"
Jen rubs his eyes with one hand and pushes at Jared with the other. "This is why your dogs aren't people-trained, y'know. They learn by example. And I got in a couple hours ago. Figured I'd surprise you." He says the last really quietly, like he's hoping Jared won't hear it.
There's a sunburst of warmth spreading through Jared's chest right now, and all he can think is JenJenJenJenJen, and god, he's so fucking lame. But Jen's here, right here, and Jared can cup his face and kiss him, taste the beer he drank -- fucker, that means there isn't any left -- and something spicy under it.
It's a long, searching kiss, and Jared tries to put everything he's feeling and thinking into it. When he pulls back, they're both breathing heavier, and Jen's mouth already looks wet and swollen. It's a good look on him.
Jared scoots back just enough to get his knees under him, to lever off Jensen and onto the bed beside him, then cups his cheek with one hand. "Man, it's boring around here without you."
Jen laughs. "No sex-on-demand, huh?"
"And no one's ass to kick at Tony Hawk." Jared smoothes his thumb over Jen's mouth, pushing on the full lower lip.
"You only wish you could kick my ass, dude." Jen kisses Jared's thumb, then sucks on the tip of it.
"Yeah, whatever, fuck off." Jared knows he's grinning like an idiot, but damn. Damn. Jen's here. Sleepy-eyed, warm, mouth all wet and kissable. He strokes his wet thumb down the length of Jen's throat, then pauses. "Dude. Is this my t-shirt? The one I tore my house up two weeks ago, looking for?"
It's his favorite t-shirt, dammit. Worn, soft, comfortable. Perfect for sleeping in. He was sure he'd lost it somewhere, though where, he had no clue.
Jared watches in fascination as a slow blush burns up Jen's cheeks, and it's a long, long moment before Jensen mutters, "Yeah."
"You took my t-shirt."
The blush deepens, and Jen looks away. "Yeah. I. Yeah."
"Jen. Dude. Why?" Jen mutters something, turning his head so his face is in the pillow. Jared settles closer, touches his forehead to Jen's. "Huh?"
"Because it smells like you. I wanted it--to sleep. So I could sleep."
Jared goes still for a minute, because--whoa. But. Also whoa, and it's really hard to kiss Jensen senseless when his face keeps breaking into the hugest grin he thinks he's ever grinned.
Ever.
"S'cool," he manages, after tangling himself around Jen and succeeding in the whole kissing-him-senseless thing. "You can have as many of my t-shirts as you want, man."
"Oh, shut the hell up," Jen says, and pulls Jared in for another long, sweet kiss.
~fin~
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG13
Word Count: ~650
Spoilers: Vague references to AHBL2
Warnings: Incest
Disclaimer: Not mine, sadly. No money being made here.
Notes: For
without_me, because she's had a sucky day. Hope this helps, honey. *hugs*There's a tear in the paper lining the shelves, and the ceiling has a crack that runs the entire length of the small room. The kitchen sink is rusty, ringed with stains that are of unknown origin, and probably older than Sam. The stains in the bathroom are just fucking scary, and best not contemplated. Ever.
"Dude, it's free," Dean says from where he's laying weapons out -- on the bed Sam couldn't even really look at before they made it up, because oh, god, he really doesn't want to know what that big reddish-brownish spot was -- for cleaning. Sam closes the door of the small refrigerator and makes a face.
"I didn't say anything."
Dean doesn't even look up at him, just keeps dismantling the guns. "But you're thinking it hard enough, I can hear it all the way over here."
"Fuck off," Sam mutters, wondering how much bleach it will take to get the fridge clean enough to actually store food in. He's not sure that much exists in the whole world, much less Moose Tracks, Minnesota. "And anyway, haven't you ever heard of the saying 'you get what you pay for'?"
"It's only for a little while. Until we get some cash-flow going again." Dean doesn't mention, nor does Sam need him to, the inadvisability of using credit cards of any sort right now, even with fake names. Arkansas and Henricksen aren't that far behind them, yet. Dean shoots Sam a grin. "Lucky Bobby knows someone who knows someone who had a cabin they're not using, huh?"
"Yeah, I know. And it is." Tour of the facilities complete, Sam throws himself a little too forcefully into the small recliner in the corner of the room -- really, 'cabin' is an overstatement, since it's all one not-so-big room, kitchen and bathroom more like closets. A cloud of dust rises up and it takes a minute of coughing and sputtering before he can breathe or see through teary, watery eyes.
When he can see again, Dean's kneeling in front of him, solemn expression on his face.
"It's really not--we're not gonna be here, forever."
"I know. Dean, I know. I get it." They could've stayed at Bobby's; Bobby wanted them to stay, actually. Argued against them leaving quite so soon. But the itch to move was too strong in both of them. Plus, Sam's already figured out how Bobby feels about the deal Dean made. All they would need on top of everything else is for him to figure out they're fucking. Sam shakes his head at the thought and reaches out to touch Dean's face. "Long as you're here, it could be a tent and I wouldn't care."
Not exactly, precisely true: Sam hates camping with a vengeance. But close enough. With Dean, it's enough to have him; the where doesn't matter.
Dean gives him a crooked smile, the one Sam doesn't get to see very often, that always, always makes his chest feel too small, too tight, and leans in until he has his arms around Sam's middle, holding him tight. If it were anyone but Dean, Sam would call it a hug and be done with it.
He doesn't call it anything, though; doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to. Instead, he scoots forward just a little and pulls Dean closer against him, holding on as tight as he can.
I'll find a way to save your ass, for a change. I'll save you. You're not leaving me.
I'd do it again in a minute, Sammy. I'd do anything for you.
Sam pulls back just enough to kiss Dean, a hard, hungry kiss that gentles slowly, until they're touching mouths and sharing breath, and Sam hears all the words they don't say but always feel.
~fin~
Title: T-shirts and Kisses
Pairing: Jared/Jensen (RPS)
Rating: PG13
Word Count: ~1000
Spoilers: Only if you count references to the season being over, and Jared's current filming project to be spoilers.
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: I can only wish they would do this for me.
Notes: For
wendy who has also had a bad day, and who told me yesterday about a J2 scenario she wanted to read, involving sleepy!Jensen and Jared's tshirt. Hopefully this works :)Jared pulls into his driveway, eyeballing the unfamiliar car parked in the space beside his. Weird, 'cos he thought that unit was empty, and there sure hadn't been anyone there this morning. So, new neighbors? Squattors? A stalker?
Whatever. It's late, it's been a long fucking day, and all he wants is a beer, some dinner, another beer, some time with his dogs, and bed. Not necessarily in that order.
A phone call from Jen would be nice, too, but so far his cell remains dark and quiet.
Working with Rich Burgi is interesting, but Jared misses the familiarity of Jensen, and even Jeff, though he wasn't around much for the second season. He misses the familiarity of Kim, of Eric, of the camera and lighting crews and makeup people who were used to him, who know him.
Mostly, though, he misses Jen. A lot.
Sadie and Harley are already barking by the time he has the key in the door. Sometimes Jared wonders if they bark while he's gone, but figures he'd have heard about it by now if that were the case. The neighbors he does have are nice enough -- on those rare opportunities he sees any of them -- but he doubts that spazztastic, loud dogs would be tolerated for too long.
"Hey, guys--didja miss me? Long day, huh? We might have to forget a run tonight; I'm totally wiped." Jared kneels in the entryway, laughing at the way they both jockey for position, licking at him and drooling over him and each other.
Once he's petted them to their satisfaction, both dogs nudge him with their noses then leave him to race each other back into the living room, intent on claiming the best spot wherever, for more lounging.
Jared gathers the mail up off the floor and drops it and his keys onto the small table in the hallway just for that purpose. He kicks his shoes off, one at a time, grimacing at the scuff marks they leave when they thud into the walls. Ah, well. It's just dirt.
It's after nine; he has to be on-set in the morning at five, for make-up, so Jared revises his schedule for the night in his head. Shower, maybe dinner, then bed. The beer isn't going anywhere.
The thing he misses most about it being off-season, and Jen not being around, is the quiet in the house. Sure, the dogs make noise, but it's not the same as him and Jensen wrestling their way through the door, wrestling for the TV remote, arguing over what PS2 game to play and what to have for dinner, and who owes who a blowjob. Not that Jensen had come home with him every night, or vice versa. But knowing he isn't going to be around for months yet--that's what's making the difference.
"Fuck it," he mutters, glancing into the living room as he passes it. Yep, Sadie and Harley were already curled up on opposite ends of the couch. "Nice of you guys to leave me a spot," he says, wishing sarcasm wasn't totally lost on dogs. "Thinking I might skip TV tonight and just go to bed."
Sadie woofs at him, and all Jared can hear is when did you get to be so lame?. He wonders himself, sometimes.
Upstairs is dark, which makes the quiet seem that much heavier and stifling. Jared contemplates turning on a light and the stereo, versus just falling into bed.
Bed wins.
He's two steps into his room and tripping over something on the floor, in the doorway, then stubbs his toe into the wall trying to catch himself from falling. A low, muffled noise comes from the bed, and then the lamp clicks on and Jared's staring at Jen, not sure he really seeing what he's seeing.
"Jen?"
"Something wrong with your eyes, Padalecki?"
Jared snorts and vaults over the bag -- Jen's fucking luggage -- and onto the bed, starting a grunt and an "oof!" out of Jensen as he lands more-or-less mostly on top of him.
"Dude. When did you get here? Why didn't you call?"
Jen rubs his eyes with one hand and pushes at Jared with the other. "This is why your dogs aren't people-trained, y'know. They learn by example. And I got in a couple hours ago. Figured I'd surprise you." He says the last really quietly, like he's hoping Jared won't hear it.
There's a sunburst of warmth spreading through Jared's chest right now, and all he can think is JenJenJenJenJen, and god, he's so fucking lame. But Jen's here, right here, and Jared can cup his face and kiss him, taste the beer he drank -- fucker, that means there isn't any left -- and something spicy under it.
It's a long, searching kiss, and Jared tries to put everything he's feeling and thinking into it. When he pulls back, they're both breathing heavier, and Jen's mouth already looks wet and swollen. It's a good look on him.
Jared scoots back just enough to get his knees under him, to lever off Jensen and onto the bed beside him, then cups his cheek with one hand. "Man, it's boring around here without you."
Jen laughs. "No sex-on-demand, huh?"
"And no one's ass to kick at Tony Hawk." Jared smoothes his thumb over Jen's mouth, pushing on the full lower lip.
"You only wish you could kick my ass, dude." Jen kisses Jared's thumb, then sucks on the tip of it.
"Yeah, whatever, fuck off." Jared knows he's grinning like an idiot, but damn. Damn. Jen's here. Sleepy-eyed, warm, mouth all wet and kissable. He strokes his wet thumb down the length of Jen's throat, then pauses. "Dude. Is this my t-shirt? The one I tore my house up two weeks ago, looking for?"
It's his favorite t-shirt, dammit. Worn, soft, comfortable. Perfect for sleeping in. He was sure he'd lost it somewhere, though where, he had no clue.
Jared watches in fascination as a slow blush burns up Jen's cheeks, and it's a long, long moment before Jensen mutters, "Yeah."
"You took my t-shirt."
The blush deepens, and Jen looks away. "Yeah. I. Yeah."
"Jen. Dude. Why?" Jen mutters something, turning his head so his face is in the pillow. Jared settles closer, touches his forehead to Jen's. "Huh?"
"Because it smells like you. I wanted it--to sleep. So I could sleep."
Jared goes still for a minute, because--whoa. But. Also whoa, and it's really hard to kiss Jensen senseless when his face keeps breaking into the hugest grin he thinks he's ever grinned.
Ever.
"S'cool," he manages, after tangling himself around Jen and succeeding in the whole kissing-him-senseless thing. "You can have as many of my t-shirts as you want, man."
"Oh, shut the hell up," Jen says, and pulls Jared in for another long, sweet kiss.
~fin~
