R | J2 | Give Life
Title: Give Life
Words: 1,700
Rating: R -bad words
Warnings: Language?
Summary: Jensen didn’t sign up to give blood, and he certainly didn’t sign up to meet Jared.
Notes: So, karabou texts me today that she would write any prompt I give her, and I offered the same. She said, “You know the episode of The Office where Michael meets a girl giving blood? I want that! But J2. Does not need passing out, etc.” Well, it’s your lucky day! Also, grand apologies to Jensen in general for always making you the crankiest emeffer in the world. It’s just too easy!
Jensen hates his coworkers for so many reasons. He could name them all, but it would take too long and he likes them so little that even considering how much time it would take gives him a headache. But the latest reason for hate is in the form of the Red Cross trailer in the building’s parking lot and the too many needles inside.
Margaret from Human Resources had insisted everyone get involved in donating blood. Jensen insisted she get lost.
It took everyone around him, from Alona and Sophia, Tom and Mike, Chad to Chris (the worst combination of human beings if you ask Jensen) to batter him so far down about being a cold-blooded human being who didn’t care about saving lives for him to finally, reluctantly agree to do it.
*
Jensen had hoped, really hoped, that his high blood pressure - something the doctor’s attributed to workplace stress but he attributes to nosey fuckers for coworkers - would keep him out of the running, but no such luck. The perky little nurse (Sandy says the tag that rests on the way too big breasts for her tiny, tiny frame) is all smiles and assurances. “You’re just under the limit, so you’re a lucky dog!”
Her smile is happy and genuine. His is angry and fake. “Wow, can’t wait.”
He settles on the makeshift stretcher and dares himself to watch all the prep for his arm being jabbed by what looks like the longest and thickest fucking needle he’s ever seen. But then the wimp in him babies out and he has to turn away with closed eyes while clenching both hands into tight fists. His fingernails dig hard into each palm while Sandy hums and taps gloved fingers at the inside of his elbow. “Hmm,” she sounds out sweetly. “Okay, pump your fists now.”
He does, and she slips the needle just under his skin, ignoring his hissing. But then she pulls it back a little and taps more at his arm, not finding a good vein.
She eventually undoes the rubber binding on his upper arm, only to retie it even tighter than before and he’s pretty sure his entire arm is numb. She taps more. “Okay,” she smiles brightly. “Pump your fist again.”
“I’m gonna pump it into your face,” he grumbles but he still does it.
There’s a chuckle beside him and Jensen looks over, still bitter and angry over this whole thing. And while yeah, like, the cutest guy he’s seen in real life is staring back at him with a bright but crooked smile and two craters for dimples, Jensen winces and shoots Sandy the most pissed off look he can manage because she just jabbed his arm again with that fat needle and it stings so badly.
“There you go,” Sandy eases with another wide smile. She even rubs her fingers over his forearm with care after removing the band from his bicep.
“Never give blood before?”
Jensen looks over to the guy and gives a cranky sort of smile. “Not exactly a fan of needles.”
He goes on like Jensen isn’t upset by anything in the trailer. “I do it every time. You know how many bags of blood they sent during the hurricanes? Or to any major crisis? Like a bazillion. Save lives and all that, ya know?”
“Aren’t you noble,” Jensen grumbles back.
“Plus you get cookies.”
He looks back over, a little set off by how playful the guy was with that last statement and Jensen starts to smile. Just a little. The guy’s smile isn’t so perky anymore and is just settled, happy, and if Jensen thought more on it and looked harder, he’d say gorgeous. “So, you’re really just here for the snacks?”
“They’re not the best, but they’re free.”
“Dude, they’re so not free.”
“I didn’t pay a penny for this,” he says while waving his sugar cookie.
“You gave them a pound of blood.”
He smiles at Jensen. “I’m pretty sure they measure in pints. Blood is in pints and flesh is in pounds. Like in that movie with Brad Pitt and Morgan Freeman. Killerguy took a pound of flesh from the lawyerman.”
Jensen tries to think that one through, recalling the crime scene in Se7en. Between the draining blood and the images of that movie, he’s feeling waves of light flash before his eyes and over his head, and he has to lean back on the pillow before he passes out. “This conversation is getting a little too much for me right now.” There’s silence between them, which Jensen’s kind of thankful for, but really, he wishes this wasn’t the place where he runs into this guy. He really wishes it had been under circumstances that didn’t involve being drained of one of his basic life sources and being incredibly faint.
“So, what’s your name?”
He turns towards the guy and tries to smile, but he’s lacking most of his energy right here. “Jensen,” he mumbles.
“Jared.” The guy smiles and leans over to shake his hand.
When Jensen reaches out, he feels a stabbing pain in his arm and realizes with stupidity that he’s trying to use the one with a needle stuck in it. “Oh, fuck me,” he winces, and lies back, staring at the ceiling.
“Wow, and before the first date.”
He looks over and Jared’s smiling and it’s pretty awesome because this is, like, the easiest pick-up he’s ever experienced. Well, when he doesn’t consider the whole being jabbed by a needle and giving blood part. “Yeah? You, uh?”
“Yeah, I like dick.”
Jensen immediately coughs and if he wasn’t pale and almost-willingly losing blood, he’d likely blush. “Good to know.”
Jared sits up and reaches beyond their stretchers, returning with a juice box, straw already properly placed. “They say to wait ‘til you’re done, but you look like you need it.”
He feels his eyelids go heavy and he wants to smile, but it’s really taking way too much energy at the moment. He thinks about the fact that he didn’t even eat breakfast that morning because there was no way he planned on his co-workers actually winning this fight and guilting him into donating blood. But whatever, he’s here now, hooked up to the blood-sucking machine, and he’s got Jared next to him who just admitted to liking guys, so he’ll take it. And the juice.
“So, I got you a drink and we’re having titillating conversation. This could technically be considered a first date.”
“Technically,” Jensen replies a little flat yet curious.
“Technically,” Jared nods back with a smile.
“So, are you asking if a second is possible?”
He sucks at the straw of his own juice box and talks from the corner of his mouth. “Perhaps.”
“I guess it couldn’t get any worse, right?”
Jared smirks. “Are you not enjoying yourself?”
He shifts on the stretcher to sit up a little more and appear a bit more interested than half-asleep. “Well, I’m about ten seconds from passing out and you’ve used the words dick and titillating in a two-minute span. It’s a little alarming.”
With a shrug, Jared motions a hand towards his chest. “I’m also pretty hot. And people like me always get second chances.”
*
It’s nearly thirty minutes later when Jensen wakes up to Sandy leaning over him with that same fucking angelic smile and peppy voice. “Hi, sweetie,” she rings out, hand going to his forehead and soothing out the worry lines. “You okay? Been out a little longer than we thought you would be.”
“I passed out?” he grumbles.
“Yeah. But don’t worry, honey. It happens.” Though her sad smile says she’s kind of embarrassed for him. Like he isn’t already.
When he sees the other stretcher empty, he sighs. “That guy was here when I passed out, wasn’t he?”
“Jared? Oh yeah. He was worried about you. Even gave you this snuggly li’l blanket.”
It’s then that he sees her messing with a white raggedy piece of cloth around his waist. He’s struggling between the anger and embarrassment of this situation and the little flip of his stomach at the thought that Jared had actually tucked him in. Like a little freaking baby. “Fuck my life,” he groans, covering his eyes with a hard slap of his palm.
Despite Sandy’s protests, he’s rising and stumbling out of the trailer, wanting to get as far from this situation as possible. He’s halfway down the stairs when he sees Jared smiling at him. It’s really freaking big and bright, and Jensen slips down the last two, his deathgrip on the railing the only thing keeping him somewhat upright. He pops right back up to his feet with an embarrassed smile.
“Nice reflexes,” Jared smirks.
He rights his shoulders like he didn’t just fall down two small steps. “Like a cat.”
Jared laughs and tosses a juice box at him. “Second date?”
He accepts it with a small smile and walks in step with Jared as they start a course through the parking lot. “Just so you know, I don’t put out until the third.”
“Well, I do, so you can blow me by the dumpsters.”
“Wow.”
“What?” Jared asks with a smirk.
“Do you realize how romantic you are?”
“I’ve got plenty up my sleeve.” And Jared slips his hand from his pocket, showing off a sugar cookie.
Jensen laughs. “You stole cookies from the Red Cross?”
“Dude, you’re like, on life support here. Steal from the rich, give to the poor and all that shit.”
“Be still my heart.”
*
Jensen will never admit it, but giving blood was, like, the best fucking thing he's ever done in his entire life.
Words: 1,700
Rating: R -bad words
Warnings: Language?
Summary: Jensen didn’t sign up to give blood, and he certainly didn’t sign up to meet Jared.
Notes: So, karabou texts me today that she would write any prompt I give her, and I offered the same. She said, “You know the episode of The Office where Michael meets a girl giving blood? I want that! But J2. Does not need passing out, etc.” Well, it’s your lucky day! Also, grand apologies to Jensen in general for always making you the crankiest emeffer in the world. It’s just too easy!
Jensen hates his coworkers for so many reasons. He could name them all, but it would take too long and he likes them so little that even considering how much time it would take gives him a headache. But the latest reason for hate is in the form of the Red Cross trailer in the building’s parking lot and the too many needles inside.
Margaret from Human Resources had insisted everyone get involved in donating blood. Jensen insisted she get lost.
It took everyone around him, from Alona and Sophia, Tom and Mike, Chad to Chris (the worst combination of human beings if you ask Jensen) to batter him so far down about being a cold-blooded human being who didn’t care about saving lives for him to finally, reluctantly agree to do it.
*
Jensen had hoped, really hoped, that his high blood pressure - something the doctor’s attributed to workplace stress but he attributes to nosey fuckers for coworkers - would keep him out of the running, but no such luck. The perky little nurse (Sandy says the tag that rests on the way too big breasts for her tiny, tiny frame) is all smiles and assurances. “You’re just under the limit, so you’re a lucky dog!”
Her smile is happy and genuine. His is angry and fake. “Wow, can’t wait.”
He settles on the makeshift stretcher and dares himself to watch all the prep for his arm being jabbed by what looks like the longest and thickest fucking needle he’s ever seen. But then the wimp in him babies out and he has to turn away with closed eyes while clenching both hands into tight fists. His fingernails dig hard into each palm while Sandy hums and taps gloved fingers at the inside of his elbow. “Hmm,” she sounds out sweetly. “Okay, pump your fists now.”
He does, and she slips the needle just under his skin, ignoring his hissing. But then she pulls it back a little and taps more at his arm, not finding a good vein.
She eventually undoes the rubber binding on his upper arm, only to retie it even tighter than before and he’s pretty sure his entire arm is numb. She taps more. “Okay,” she smiles brightly. “Pump your fist again.”
“I’m gonna pump it into your face,” he grumbles but he still does it.
There’s a chuckle beside him and Jensen looks over, still bitter and angry over this whole thing. And while yeah, like, the cutest guy he’s seen in real life is staring back at him with a bright but crooked smile and two craters for dimples, Jensen winces and shoots Sandy the most pissed off look he can manage because she just jabbed his arm again with that fat needle and it stings so badly.
“There you go,” Sandy eases with another wide smile. She even rubs her fingers over his forearm with care after removing the band from his bicep.
“Never give blood before?”
Jensen looks over to the guy and gives a cranky sort of smile. “Not exactly a fan of needles.”
He goes on like Jensen isn’t upset by anything in the trailer. “I do it every time. You know how many bags of blood they sent during the hurricanes? Or to any major crisis? Like a bazillion. Save lives and all that, ya know?”
“Aren’t you noble,” Jensen grumbles back.
“Plus you get cookies.”
He looks back over, a little set off by how playful the guy was with that last statement and Jensen starts to smile. Just a little. The guy’s smile isn’t so perky anymore and is just settled, happy, and if Jensen thought more on it and looked harder, he’d say gorgeous. “So, you’re really just here for the snacks?”
“They’re not the best, but they’re free.”
“Dude, they’re so not free.”
“I didn’t pay a penny for this,” he says while waving his sugar cookie.
“You gave them a pound of blood.”
He smiles at Jensen. “I’m pretty sure they measure in pints. Blood is in pints and flesh is in pounds. Like in that movie with Brad Pitt and Morgan Freeman. Killerguy took a pound of flesh from the lawyerman.”
Jensen tries to think that one through, recalling the crime scene in Se7en. Between the draining blood and the images of that movie, he’s feeling waves of light flash before his eyes and over his head, and he has to lean back on the pillow before he passes out. “This conversation is getting a little too much for me right now.” There’s silence between them, which Jensen’s kind of thankful for, but really, he wishes this wasn’t the place where he runs into this guy. He really wishes it had been under circumstances that didn’t involve being drained of one of his basic life sources and being incredibly faint.
“So, what’s your name?”
He turns towards the guy and tries to smile, but he’s lacking most of his energy right here. “Jensen,” he mumbles.
“Jared.” The guy smiles and leans over to shake his hand.
When Jensen reaches out, he feels a stabbing pain in his arm and realizes with stupidity that he’s trying to use the one with a needle stuck in it. “Oh, fuck me,” he winces, and lies back, staring at the ceiling.
“Wow, and before the first date.”
He looks over and Jared’s smiling and it’s pretty awesome because this is, like, the easiest pick-up he’s ever experienced. Well, when he doesn’t consider the whole being jabbed by a needle and giving blood part. “Yeah? You, uh?”
“Yeah, I like dick.”
Jensen immediately coughs and if he wasn’t pale and almost-willingly losing blood, he’d likely blush. “Good to know.”
Jared sits up and reaches beyond their stretchers, returning with a juice box, straw already properly placed. “They say to wait ‘til you’re done, but you look like you need it.”
He feels his eyelids go heavy and he wants to smile, but it’s really taking way too much energy at the moment. He thinks about the fact that he didn’t even eat breakfast that morning because there was no way he planned on his co-workers actually winning this fight and guilting him into donating blood. But whatever, he’s here now, hooked up to the blood-sucking machine, and he’s got Jared next to him who just admitted to liking guys, so he’ll take it. And the juice.
“So, I got you a drink and we’re having titillating conversation. This could technically be considered a first date.”
“Technically,” Jensen replies a little flat yet curious.
“Technically,” Jared nods back with a smile.
“So, are you asking if a second is possible?”
He sucks at the straw of his own juice box and talks from the corner of his mouth. “Perhaps.”
“I guess it couldn’t get any worse, right?”
Jared smirks. “Are you not enjoying yourself?”
He shifts on the stretcher to sit up a little more and appear a bit more interested than half-asleep. “Well, I’m about ten seconds from passing out and you’ve used the words dick and titillating in a two-minute span. It’s a little alarming.”
With a shrug, Jared motions a hand towards his chest. “I’m also pretty hot. And people like me always get second chances.”
*
It’s nearly thirty minutes later when Jensen wakes up to Sandy leaning over him with that same fucking angelic smile and peppy voice. “Hi, sweetie,” she rings out, hand going to his forehead and soothing out the worry lines. “You okay? Been out a little longer than we thought you would be.”
“I passed out?” he grumbles.
“Yeah. But don’t worry, honey. It happens.” Though her sad smile says she’s kind of embarrassed for him. Like he isn’t already.
When he sees the other stretcher empty, he sighs. “That guy was here when I passed out, wasn’t he?”
“Jared? Oh yeah. He was worried about you. Even gave you this snuggly li’l blanket.”
It’s then that he sees her messing with a white raggedy piece of cloth around his waist. He’s struggling between the anger and embarrassment of this situation and the little flip of his stomach at the thought that Jared had actually tucked him in. Like a little freaking baby. “Fuck my life,” he groans, covering his eyes with a hard slap of his palm.
Despite Sandy’s protests, he’s rising and stumbling out of the trailer, wanting to get as far from this situation as possible. He’s halfway down the stairs when he sees Jared smiling at him. It’s really freaking big and bright, and Jensen slips down the last two, his deathgrip on the railing the only thing keeping him somewhat upright. He pops right back up to his feet with an embarrassed smile.
“Nice reflexes,” Jared smirks.
He rights his shoulders like he didn’t just fall down two small steps. “Like a cat.”
Jared laughs and tosses a juice box at him. “Second date?”
He accepts it with a small smile and walks in step with Jared as they start a course through the parking lot. “Just so you know, I don’t put out until the third.”
“Well, I do, so you can blow me by the dumpsters.”
“Wow.”
“What?” Jared asks with a smirk.
“Do you realize how romantic you are?”
“I’ve got plenty up my sleeve.” And Jared slips his hand from his pocket, showing off a sugar cookie.
Jensen laughs. “You stole cookies from the Red Cross?”
“Dude, you’re like, on life support here. Steal from the rich, give to the poor and all that shit.”
“Be still my heart.”
*
Jensen will never admit it, but giving blood was, like, the best fucking thing he's ever done in his entire life.