Icon-Fic
For: aldehyde for this icon. Unedited, so forgive me. I have to run for the train!
“Twenty-nine times,” Jared declares.
Jensen looks up from his cup of coffee, eyebrow raised. “Not happenin’.”
“I bet you will blush … at least twenty-nine.”
“This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever suggested. And being you, that suggests a whole hell of a lot.”
Jared crosses his arms, his own coffee resting in his hand and against his other elbow. “What do I get if I do it?”
An eyebrow goes high, and Jensen’s mouth stalls around the lip of the cup. “You’ll get a big sack of nothin’.”
He shifts and resettles himself, legs a little wider as he leans back on the wall. “C’mon. Think of something good.”
Jensen stops for a few moments then looks straight to Jared. “Alright, I’ve got an idea.”
“Yeah?”
“We’re not gonna play this dumb game.” Jared gives an annoyed look and something that’s the cross between a smile and a frown. Jensen smiles broadly. “No complaints? Alright, case closed,” and he taps his palm at the back of his other hand for effect. “Court’s adjourned.”
Jared shuffles again, pretending Jensen never said all that. “If I don’t … I’ll,” and here Jared stalls. But then his eyes brighten up. “Alright. Let’s write it down, leave it for later. Then we’ll check in on the papers.”
“What?” Jensen laughs. “You’re insane. Let’s just go out there, okay?”
Ignoring Jensen, he rips two corners off a nearby convention schedule and hands one to Jensen. “Just play along. For me?” he asks with a light voice while he writes his own bet down. He folds his piece, raises it between them then tucks it into the tiny coin pocket in the front of his jeans.
Jensen shakes his head, but actually follows through on it. “Don’t matter dude. Ain’t gonna happen.”
*
Approximately 52 minutes into their joint Q&A session, they’re asked if they actually hang out in their trailers together, in between scenes. In all his glory, Jared looks at Jensen, coyly, over his shoulder and flutters his eyebrows. All the fans start wooing and screaming and Jared’s laughing through it all. But Jensen? He’s holding pretty steady and defying himself to even look at Jared, instead keeping his eyes to the crowd before him. He’s doing pretty good, if his opinion matters at all.
Jared’s voice comes over the speaking system. “Only when he drags me back to his. Demanding foot rubs.”
Jensen shakes his head with his typical ‘I’m so tortured to have to deal with you” look, but then he’s biting on his lip to stop a smile.
Then he stage whispers, “He has delicate feet. Like a baby. All soft and wrinkly.”
There, Jensen loses it, snorting and popping forward to cover his face because he can feel the heat rise in his cheeks.
Jared doesn’t have to look close at all. He jumps out of his seat, pumping an arm up in the air while beaming so brightly. All the fans are screaming and laughing and egging him on. And he just keeps going, pumping an arm at his side and shimmying back and forth.
“I hate you,” Jensen intones as he sits back, shaking his head. Beat red.
*
Jensen looks pretty red again, and he’s crossing his eyes, feet spread a little. He looks pissy.
But Jared’s beaming once again. “Forty-seven in all.”
He looks up quickly and twists his lips together. “Whatever. Let’s see your sheet.”
His mouth goes a little soft, still smiling but not so obnoxiously. He plucks his little ball of paper from the tiny pocket and hands it over.
Jensen rolls his eyes as he picks tiny bits of fuzz from the paper, but then he stalls as he sees the words. Kiss me. His eyes lift up to Jared’s and they’re watching each other, not saying anything. Still quiet, and nearly mechanically, Jensen pulls his paper out and hands it over.
Jared looks at him oddly, but then unfolds it and smirks. It says the same thing. “Yeah?”
And then Jensen’s smirking and he moves a little closer. “Yeah.”
“This is the best bet I’ve ever won.”
Jensen laughs, but doesn’t say anything else. Just pulls on Jared’s shirt and kisses him, tongue plunging in, arms holding him close, and mind finally satisfied.
“Twenty-nine times,” Jared declares.
Jensen looks up from his cup of coffee, eyebrow raised. “Not happenin’.”
“I bet you will blush … at least twenty-nine.”
“This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever suggested. And being you, that suggests a whole hell of a lot.”
Jared crosses his arms, his own coffee resting in his hand and against his other elbow. “What do I get if I do it?”
An eyebrow goes high, and Jensen’s mouth stalls around the lip of the cup. “You’ll get a big sack of nothin’.”
He shifts and resettles himself, legs a little wider as he leans back on the wall. “C’mon. Think of something good.”
Jensen stops for a few moments then looks straight to Jared. “Alright, I’ve got an idea.”
“Yeah?”
“We’re not gonna play this dumb game.” Jared gives an annoyed look and something that’s the cross between a smile and a frown. Jensen smiles broadly. “No complaints? Alright, case closed,” and he taps his palm at the back of his other hand for effect. “Court’s adjourned.”
Jared shuffles again, pretending Jensen never said all that. “If I don’t … I’ll,” and here Jared stalls. But then his eyes brighten up. “Alright. Let’s write it down, leave it for later. Then we’ll check in on the papers.”
“What?” Jensen laughs. “You’re insane. Let’s just go out there, okay?”
Ignoring Jensen, he rips two corners off a nearby convention schedule and hands one to Jensen. “Just play along. For me?” he asks with a light voice while he writes his own bet down. He folds his piece, raises it between them then tucks it into the tiny coin pocket in the front of his jeans.
Jensen shakes his head, but actually follows through on it. “Don’t matter dude. Ain’t gonna happen.”
*
Approximately 52 minutes into their joint Q&A session, they’re asked if they actually hang out in their trailers together, in between scenes. In all his glory, Jared looks at Jensen, coyly, over his shoulder and flutters his eyebrows. All the fans start wooing and screaming and Jared’s laughing through it all. But Jensen? He’s holding pretty steady and defying himself to even look at Jared, instead keeping his eyes to the crowd before him. He’s doing pretty good, if his opinion matters at all.
Jared’s voice comes over the speaking system. “Only when he drags me back to his. Demanding foot rubs.”
Jensen shakes his head with his typical ‘I’m so tortured to have to deal with you” look, but then he’s biting on his lip to stop a smile.
Then he stage whispers, “He has delicate feet. Like a baby. All soft and wrinkly.”
There, Jensen loses it, snorting and popping forward to cover his face because he can feel the heat rise in his cheeks.
Jared doesn’t have to look close at all. He jumps out of his seat, pumping an arm up in the air while beaming so brightly. All the fans are screaming and laughing and egging him on. And he just keeps going, pumping an arm at his side and shimmying back and forth.
“I hate you,” Jensen intones as he sits back, shaking his head. Beat red.
*
Jensen looks pretty red again, and he’s crossing his eyes, feet spread a little. He looks pissy.
But Jared’s beaming once again. “Forty-seven in all.”
He looks up quickly and twists his lips together. “Whatever. Let’s see your sheet.”
His mouth goes a little soft, still smiling but not so obnoxiously. He plucks his little ball of paper from the tiny pocket and hands it over.
Jensen rolls his eyes as he picks tiny bits of fuzz from the paper, but then he stalls as he sees the words. Kiss me. His eyes lift up to Jared’s and they’re watching each other, not saying anything. Still quiet, and nearly mechanically, Jensen pulls his paper out and hands it over.
Jared looks at him oddly, but then unfolds it and smirks. It says the same thing. “Yeah?”
And then Jensen’s smirking and he moves a little closer. “Yeah.”
“This is the best bet I’ve ever won.”
Jensen laughs, but doesn’t say anything else. Just pulls on Jared’s shirt and kisses him, tongue plunging in, arms holding him close, and mind finally satisfied.