HOUSE OF BROKEN SOULS Part 5a
Warnings: This Chapter:None. Overall: Slash, sexually explicit content, graphic violence
The fiction includes a mental illness storyline. I am not qualified in mental health, everything I know about it is googled. It's fantasy folks, please don't shoot me though helpful criticism is always welcomed.
*Not real. The folks aren't mine. No damage intended.
CROSSED WIRESTuesday afternoon
At 3pm Jensen decided to finish work for the day. He looked idly out of the window and stretched as his laptop logged off.
Across the street a cab pulled into the kerb, spilling its passenger. Jensen noted the ridiculously long legs as perfect man /hound-walker emerged. He appraised him again, staring from his hidden vantage point. Unconsciously Jensen’s tongue wet the bottom of his lip and top teeth chewed on his bottom lip. It looked like hound-walker lived locally. The ex-detective decided it was about time he explored the area more thoroughly.
The laptop screen went blank and Jensen clicked it down. Hound-walker reached back into the cab offering his hand to a second person. The woman who took his hand was hard to discern under layers of hooded coat & scarf. She scrabbled out to the sidewalk, stumbling slightly. Hound-walker caught her reflexively, pulling her back into his chest with his arm around her waist. She leaned into him and he bent his head to speak in her ear. It was an intimate gesture and Jensen felt like he had received a blow to his gut. Hound-walker was not only straight but taken.
God! Ackles. Get a grip.
He was behaving like a school kid with a crush. He had to get out more.
Jensen jumped as the door intercom buzzed. He reached for his stick with his left hand, pulled his desk drawer out and picked up the pistol that was nestling there with his right. Checking the clip, he slid it back together and held it slightly behind him. He approached his front door keeping to the side of the hallway, back to the wall.
The man at the door was tall and muscular. His dark hair and smartly trimmed beard were peppered with silver. His eyes were hazel and a slight smile accentuated his laughter lines. Jensen opened the door warily, keeping his body hidden behind it so the man had to bend his neck to see him. Jensen firmed his grip on the gun and forced a smile.
“Hi.”
The older man put forward his right hand offering a handshake
“Hi. I’m JD. I live at No 4, the apartment above you.”
He shifted and moved his hand slightly, offering it again.
Jensen felt like an idiot. Between needing his stick to balance and holding his gun he was stuck at the door unable to shake his neighbor’s hand. He slipped the pistol under his shirt and into the waistband of his trousers, making sure to rearrange the shirt loosely over it. Making a fuss of struggling with the door he gestured to his stick as an easy get-out and regained his composure.
“You should come in.” he said opening the door wider and stepping from behind it.
“I’m Jensen. Do you want coffee? I have these great cookies.”
“Can’t stop.” JD apologized in a gruff voice “Damn takeover bid at work has got me working all hours. I feel bad that I haven’t stopped in before now but it’s been chaos.” He scratched at his beard. “I’m having a little celebration this Saturday, It would be great if you could come. It’s informal, just a few of us locals and some beers.”
“So, what’s the big occasion?” Jensen tried to sound casual, draping himself on the corner of his desk, hiding the shape of the gun from view.
“Oh. Uh. That would be the finalisation of my divorce and of course, a getting to know you.” His laugh was deep and throaty.
“The finalization of my divorce is long awaited and incredibly celebration-worthy. You can get back to me or just turn up. We don’t stand on ceremony here.”
JD nodded toward Jensen’s leg
“It’s OK I’ll see myself out.”
Jensen’s face colored and his body tensed defensively.
“No. I’ll see you out.”
JD glanced back as the apartment door closed. He shook his head as he made for the stairs. He was an ex marine and his observation skills were excellent. He wondered who in hell answered their door holding a loaded pistol?
Jensen leaned back against the door and shut his eyes. He’d almost pulled a gun on his neighbor. A neighbor! He needed more than a coffee. He made for the cupboard housing his whiskey and poured himself a large shot.
The whiskey burnt a warm path down Jensen’s throat. It was familiar and comforting. The golden amber was enticing and it was tempting to refill the glass. Jensen knew if he started he wouldn’t stop. He needed to get out of here, find something else to think about. Now! He threw a coat about his shoulders and left his apartment, making for the elevator.
***
Part 5b continued here: anniespinkhouse.livejournal.com/2769.html