Happy Birthday Fic: Truth (Jensen/Chris) PG-13
Happy Birthday,
benitle!!!
Title: Truth
Author:
aynslee
Pairing: Jensen/Chris
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Wordcount: 1,070
Disclaimer: All fiction; none of this is true.
Beta:
petiii
Summary: Jensen wasn't expecting to meet anyone like Chris. (This is a college AU-it takes place in the rural southern U.S.)
Notes: Written for
benitle. I braved the world of Jensen/Chris for the first time--I hope you like it, and I hope you have a very happy birthday!
Truth
August 1996
Jensen parks his truck outside his dorm and stares across the expanse of yellow grass and dried up soybean fields. Some people might not think it’s exciting to go to school an hour away from home, right in the middle of a bunch of crops, but it’s still college to Jensen. And after spending the last eight summers driving a tractor through his dad’s six-thousand acres of rice, cotton and beans, Jensen’s more than ready for an early break from harvest season.
He’s just stepping out of his truck when a battered red pickup screeches to a stop behind him. A guy with tan skin and dark hair under a baseball cap hops out, leaving the truck running and the door hanging open.
The guy walks right up to him, and he’s shorter than Jensen, but built, muscles rippling under his ratty army green t-shirt. “That’s my spot, boy,” he says, his voice low and pleasant even though his words carry a challenge.
“Yeah? I didn’t know.” Jensen tilts his head and gives the guy a smile, making sure it’s not a smirk. The guy might be shorter, but he’s no lightweight. He also looks like the kind of guy of who’d have plenty of backup, and Jensen’s not looking for an ass kicking. “Sorry,” Jensen says, stepping back, intending to move his truck to a different spot. He stops though, when he sees the guy looking him up and down, appraising, and Jensen’s relieved that he didn’t wear his new jeans like his mom wanted him to.
The guy's eyes rest on Jensen’s boots, scuffed and marked with mud from a summer in the fields. Apparently Jensen meets his approval, because the guy gives Jensen a cocky grin. “Nah. You can leave it. For today.”
Jensen wasn’t expecting that, and his smile turns genuine. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” The guy tips his cap back, squints into the sun. “Name’s Chris.” He sticks his arm out, shakes Jensen’s hand with a firm grip. “You a Freshman? You look a bit green.”
“Jensen,” he says, blushing because he hates that it’s so obvious that he’s new, a baby on campus. Shit. “And yeah, I just got here.”
Chris nods. “You behave yourself, Jen. See ya around.”
Jensen mumbles a startled goodbye.
He watches Chris walk away, yank his truck into gear and peel across the small lot. And when Chris hauls a guitar out of the cab, swinging the strap over his shoulder and heading toward the dorm with a swagger, Jensen pretends not to stare at Chris’s ass through the denim of his worn jeans.
***
A week later, Jensen’s leaving the science building, the heat from outside washing over him as he lets the door bang closed behind him. He feels someone step in beside him, looks over and sees Chris, who Jensen hasn’t seen since the day he moved in. He reminds himself to stay calm, that it’s no big deal that Chris is right there, falling into step with Jensen, right in his space.
And that wouldn’t be a problem if Jensen hadn’t dreamed about Chris they night they met. If he hadn’t woken up hard, picturing the curl of Chris’s lips when he smiled. Jensen feels his cheeks start to flush-he really hadn’t expected to see Chris again, not this close. Then Chris is talking, and Jensen’s trying to focus on Chris’s words instead of the absolute panic that Jensen's feeling.
“You’re taking Chemistry?” Chris asks, nudging Jensen’s shoulder and nodding toward the textbook in his hand.
“Yeah.” Jensen swallows, licks his lips, and prays that he sounds normal and not like a goddamn idiot with a schoolgirl crush. “I took it in high school, so it’s not so bad.”
Chris adjusts his backpack, shifts it higher. “Agri major?”
Jensen tries not to notice the way Chris’s bicep flexes under the thin cotton t-shirt. “Yeah. Agricultural Business with an emphasis on Farm Management,” Jensen rattles off. “Maybe throw in an Agri Finance too,” Jensen adds.
Chris practically sneers. “Figures.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jensen frowns. He can’t imagine how Chris is feeling so haughty about their university, when he’s a student there too. “Isn’t that the main reason people even come to this school?”
“Exactly. Let me guess, your brother and your dad and your grandpa and every other Tom, Dick and Harry in your family is a big-ass rice farmer and you’re going to fuckin’ take over one day.”
Jensen stops walking, stunned. He feels his forehead wrinkle up, but suddenly he’s more comfortable with Chris. Jensen can handle attitude. “Is that a problem?” he asks, but tone is more curious than heated.
“No, Jen.” Chris tugs on his elbow, drags him forward. “I’m pickin’ at ya.
Jensen bites his lip, aware of Chris’s fingers, warm against his skin. “So you’re not Agri then?” asks, and Chris still hasn’t let go of his arm.
“Nope. Music.”
“How’d that go over?”
“Not well.” Chris’s voice is dry, and he rolls his eyes.
“Okay, let me guess. When you described my family, you were really describing yours.”
Chris turns to Jensen, eyebrows raised, a teasing smile on his face. “You got me, kid.”
“Are you always this insufferable?”
“Ah, look at the farm boy using big words-you’d have been slapped upside the head for that in my family.” Chris laughs, quick and loud. “Nah. I’m usually worse,” he drawls.
Jensen grins, but for some reason he can’t think of a comeback. That’s unusual, because he’s generally the smartass in any group, but Jensen has a feeling he’s met his match in Chris. “Well, um, I have to get to my- “ Jensen manages to stutter out, his mouth dry, but he’s cut off.
“I’ve got a gig tonight,” Chris says, and he’s got his hand on Jensen’s arm again, pulling him behind the English building. “Me an’ some buddies, playing at a bar. You can get in if you’re eighteen.”
Jensen looks around, uncertain. He has no idea what’s about to happen, but they’re alone, surrounded only by tall grass and the weeds that meet the soybean field. “A bar? But this is a dry county.”
“Across county line,” Chris says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and he leans in just close enough to press his mouth against Jensen’s ear. “I’ll be outside your door at nine o’clock,” Chris whispers. “Be ready.”
Jensen nearly closes his eyes when Chris leans in, but he takes a deep breath to steady himself. His heart speeds up when he gets a whiff of Chris’s aftershave. “My room’s in-“ Jensen starts to blurt out, wanting to make sure Chris knows where to find him tonight.
“I know where it is, Jen,” Chris says, his lips grazing across Jensen’s cheek before he pulls back with a smirk. “See you tonight.”
Jensen’s legs are shaking, but he can’t stop grinning as he leans back against the dingy yellow brick wall and watches Chris walk away with that same swagger.
Part 2
benitle!!!
Title: Truth
Author:
aynslee
Pairing: Jensen/Chris
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Wordcount: 1,070
Disclaimer: All fiction; none of this is true.
Beta:
petiii
Summary: Jensen wasn't expecting to meet anyone like Chris. (This is a college AU-it takes place in the rural southern U.S.)
Notes: Written for
benitle. I braved the world of Jensen/Chris for the first time--I hope you like it, and I hope you have a very happy birthday!
Truth
August 1996
Jensen parks his truck outside his dorm and stares across the expanse of yellow grass and dried up soybean fields. Some people might not think it’s exciting to go to school an hour away from home, right in the middle of a bunch of crops, but it’s still college to Jensen. And after spending the last eight summers driving a tractor through his dad’s six-thousand acres of rice, cotton and beans, Jensen’s more than ready for an early break from harvest season.
He’s just stepping out of his truck when a battered red pickup screeches to a stop behind him. A guy with tan skin and dark hair under a baseball cap hops out, leaving the truck running and the door hanging open.
The guy walks right up to him, and he’s shorter than Jensen, but built, muscles rippling under his ratty army green t-shirt. “That’s my spot, boy,” he says, his voice low and pleasant even though his words carry a challenge.
“Yeah? I didn’t know.” Jensen tilts his head and gives the guy a smile, making sure it’s not a smirk. The guy might be shorter, but he’s no lightweight. He also looks like the kind of guy of who’d have plenty of backup, and Jensen’s not looking for an ass kicking. “Sorry,” Jensen says, stepping back, intending to move his truck to a different spot. He stops though, when he sees the guy looking him up and down, appraising, and Jensen’s relieved that he didn’t wear his new jeans like his mom wanted him to.
The guy's eyes rest on Jensen’s boots, scuffed and marked with mud from a summer in the fields. Apparently Jensen meets his approval, because the guy gives Jensen a cocky grin. “Nah. You can leave it. For today.”
Jensen wasn’t expecting that, and his smile turns genuine. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” The guy tips his cap back, squints into the sun. “Name’s Chris.” He sticks his arm out, shakes Jensen’s hand with a firm grip. “You a Freshman? You look a bit green.”
“Jensen,” he says, blushing because he hates that it’s so obvious that he’s new, a baby on campus. Shit. “And yeah, I just got here.”
Chris nods. “You behave yourself, Jen. See ya around.”
Jensen mumbles a startled goodbye.
He watches Chris walk away, yank his truck into gear and peel across the small lot. And when Chris hauls a guitar out of the cab, swinging the strap over his shoulder and heading toward the dorm with a swagger, Jensen pretends not to stare at Chris’s ass through the denim of his worn jeans.
***
A week later, Jensen’s leaving the science building, the heat from outside washing over him as he lets the door bang closed behind him. He feels someone step in beside him, looks over and sees Chris, who Jensen hasn’t seen since the day he moved in. He reminds himself to stay calm, that it’s no big deal that Chris is right there, falling into step with Jensen, right in his space.
And that wouldn’t be a problem if Jensen hadn’t dreamed about Chris they night they met. If he hadn’t woken up hard, picturing the curl of Chris’s lips when he smiled. Jensen feels his cheeks start to flush-he really hadn’t expected to see Chris again, not this close. Then Chris is talking, and Jensen’s trying to focus on Chris’s words instead of the absolute panic that Jensen's feeling.
“You’re taking Chemistry?” Chris asks, nudging Jensen’s shoulder and nodding toward the textbook in his hand.
“Yeah.” Jensen swallows, licks his lips, and prays that he sounds normal and not like a goddamn idiot with a schoolgirl crush. “I took it in high school, so it’s not so bad.”
Chris adjusts his backpack, shifts it higher. “Agri major?”
Jensen tries not to notice the way Chris’s bicep flexes under the thin cotton t-shirt. “Yeah. Agricultural Business with an emphasis on Farm Management,” Jensen rattles off. “Maybe throw in an Agri Finance too,” Jensen adds.
Chris practically sneers. “Figures.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jensen frowns. He can’t imagine how Chris is feeling so haughty about their university, when he’s a student there too. “Isn’t that the main reason people even come to this school?”
“Exactly. Let me guess, your brother and your dad and your grandpa and every other Tom, Dick and Harry in your family is a big-ass rice farmer and you’re going to fuckin’ take over one day.”
Jensen stops walking, stunned. He feels his forehead wrinkle up, but suddenly he’s more comfortable with Chris. Jensen can handle attitude. “Is that a problem?” he asks, but tone is more curious than heated.
“No, Jen.” Chris tugs on his elbow, drags him forward. “I’m pickin’ at ya.
Jensen bites his lip, aware of Chris’s fingers, warm against his skin. “So you’re not Agri then?” asks, and Chris still hasn’t let go of his arm.
“Nope. Music.”
“How’d that go over?”
“Not well.” Chris’s voice is dry, and he rolls his eyes.
“Okay, let me guess. When you described my family, you were really describing yours.”
Chris turns to Jensen, eyebrows raised, a teasing smile on his face. “You got me, kid.”
“Are you always this insufferable?”
“Ah, look at the farm boy using big words-you’d have been slapped upside the head for that in my family.” Chris laughs, quick and loud. “Nah. I’m usually worse,” he drawls.
Jensen grins, but for some reason he can’t think of a comeback. That’s unusual, because he’s generally the smartass in any group, but Jensen has a feeling he’s met his match in Chris. “Well, um, I have to get to my- “ Jensen manages to stutter out, his mouth dry, but he’s cut off.
“I’ve got a gig tonight,” Chris says, and he’s got his hand on Jensen’s arm again, pulling him behind the English building. “Me an’ some buddies, playing at a bar. You can get in if you’re eighteen.”
Jensen looks around, uncertain. He has no idea what’s about to happen, but they’re alone, surrounded only by tall grass and the weeds that meet the soybean field. “A bar? But this is a dry county.”
“Across county line,” Chris says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and he leans in just close enough to press his mouth against Jensen’s ear. “I’ll be outside your door at nine o’clock,” Chris whispers. “Be ready.”
Jensen nearly closes his eyes when Chris leans in, but he takes a deep breath to steady himself. His heart speeds up when he gets a whiff of Chris’s aftershave. “My room’s in-“ Jensen starts to blurt out, wanting to make sure Chris knows where to find him tonight.
“I know where it is, Jen,” Chris says, his lips grazing across Jensen’s cheek before he pulls back with a smirk. “See you tonight.”
Jensen’s legs are shaking, but he can’t stop grinning as he leans back against the dingy yellow brick wall and watches Chris walk away with that same swagger.
Part 2