Fic: Method in Madness
Method in Madness
Author: insane_songbird
Written for: j2fightscrime
Beta: the lovely zuben_eschamali & angieobsessed. You're like lightning, ladies!
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC17
Words: 9,300
Warnings: Blood, gore, privinism (addiction to nasal spray), crack, questionable morals, slash, minor character death, slug genocide (let me refer you to the crack here),
Prompt: Jared's a lounge-singing drug-addicted paranormal investigator on the wrong side of the law. Jensen's a wealthy sarcastic research scientist prone to fits of savage, blood-crazed rage.
Summary: Jensen Ackles is a man with a dark secret and a lot to loose. Jared's darkness isn't so secret but that doesn't mean they will be off to a great start when thrown together. Still, there's a method in madness.
“Bloody hell,” Jensen sighed, looking around his lab with weary eyes rubbing his temple with nimble fingers. He only stopped when he heard the squishy sound that accompanied the slightly slippery wet feeling where there should be just skin on skin. He drew his hand away holding it in front of his face and eyed the finger in question carefully to find a bloody clump of flesh and white fur stuck to his nail. “Fucking perfect!”
He shook his hand hoping to dislodge the icky piece of dead lab mouse fruitlessly. It wouldn’t have been much good anyway since there were bits and pieces of dead animal on both of his hands, his arms, his clothes and most likely his face judging by the coppery taste in his mouth, and he didn’t even find the energy to retch at the thought of what that might imply. He dropped his arm heavily back to his side observing the damage to his property and research. “Today’s special: white mouse tartar with a side of property destruction.”
Well, at least the setback in his research wasn’t too immense, especially since all this only happened because the goddamn mice were completely worthless to his current project, and all attempts at getting ahead in the field were more than just futile. They were frustrating as hell and frustration made Jensen angry… and angry Jensen was not a good thing. Angry, bitchy Jensen was a real buzz killer. Not that he couldn’t kill a buzz with his charms alone, but sometimes he felt a lot more motivated to exceed even his own standards of bastard-dom.
“Wow… I didn’t know we were renting out as a location for the new Resident Evil movie.”
Jensen turned and saw Christian Kane standing in the doorway, a little green around the edges and obviously in no need to actually enter the former lab. Jensen shrugged nonchalantly. He rummaged through a cupboard to find a big plastic bag and started disposing of the little white and red glomps of dead flesh that were strewn all over the room. “I felt like the walls needed some color. The white was so depressing.”
“So you chose blood red with the stray faeces in-between. Very modern.”
“Red is the new black.” Jensen turned around grinning at his colleague and employee with a wide toothy smile that lacked all humor and must have looked seriously psychopathic on his blood smeared face.
Christian swallowed visibly and only nodded. “Something tells me that the last batch of testings was a dud, too.”
“You’re a real Sherlock Holmes. What gave it away?”
“Besides you rivaling Hannibal Lector?”
Green eyes snapped up and the squishy sound as Jensen fisted his hand around one of the already dead mice made Christian choke on his own bile a little. “You’re aware that Hannibal prefers humans over rodents. Maybe you should hang around for a while longer…”
“And maybe I should just take this and get rid of it.” He grabbed the bag Jensen had filled with the bigger chunks of leftover mice. Everything smaller was probably best cleaned away with an industrial high pressure cleaner.
“Well Chris, I always knew you had a thing for roadkill jambalaya.”
This time Christian really did puke and Jensen almost felt bad for him as he buried his face in the opening of the plastic bag filled with dissembled mouse corpse, which presumably didn’t really help to settle his stomach.
###
Jared added the lamb’s blood and stirred slowly before dipping the head of the voodoo doll inside and watching the sludge drench the straw it was made from. It smelled as disgusting as it looked and Jared was glad when he could switch off the hot plate and dispose of the whole concoction. He would have to scrub his curse-pot later.
“Here you go. He should be puking his guts out for the next week.” He handed the abused doll to a burly looking man in his forties wearing a suit and tie and eying Jared and the doll wearily.
“You’re a crazy fucker, Padalecki.”
Jared shrugged with a grin and cleaned sludge off his hands with a tea towel. “Oh, Tony. I’m just doing what I’m being paid for. If your boss is crazy enough to spend his money on voodoo curses against his opponents, that’s his problem. I just deliver a service. This way there are no bodies to dispose off. The only thing that needs to be cleaned away is Pirelli’s vomit. And you guys get whatever shady deal is going down tomorrow all to yourself.”
Tony just grunted and handed Jared a bundle of bills. He pocketed it without counting because pissing off a mobster wasn’t high on Jared’s list of priorities.
###
Jared closed the door and locked it behind the goon who payed most of his bills. Tony was a regular. It was interesting how many more people wanted to buy curses rather than happy little protective charms and Jared’s regulars were mainly the shady criminal type looking for a way of getting rid of competition without having an investigation at their heels. Jared didn’t kill people. He just made them miserable enough to not be any danger. If you’re busy with puking, business is not on top of your list, if you get the drift.
He sighed, flopping onto his usual spot on the couch wondering who he had hexed today but not really feeling the need to find out. His fingers nimbly picked up a pawn and moved him ahead one step on the chess board.
“Let’s see how you like this one, Hector.” He grinned cockily setting his hand absentmindedly against the carved piece of wood that rested on the spirit board showing the form of an arrow. He spent the next five minutes contemplating his newly revised strategy. When the arrow twitched and moved across the carefully arranged letters and numbers beneath it, Jared didn’t even care to look until the movement jerked to a stop. It happened four times giving him the combination of a letter, a number and then again a latter and a number. It was a chess move and Jared pulled the white knight to its new spot, scowling at the position it left him in.
“Seriously? Aw, man, you know how to ruin my mood.” He stared at the board for another five minutes weighing his options. If there was one thing they had, it was time.
###
Jared's next job sucked... or rather slimed (was that even a real expression? probably not). He sighed, nose wrinkled into a distasteful scowl, as he considered trying to walk away from the mess in front of him, paycheck be damned. But he couldn’t make himself move. If he took one more step he would either slip like a big-eyed cartoon character walking onto a banana peel or - if the gods of funny were out for coffee - ruin his boots while producing the most disgusting squishy sounds.
Slugs. Why did it have to be slugs? The odd toad rain every other year was something he could deal with really well ever since his summer trip to France. Frogs tasted better but that’s what the garlic was for after all… But slugs? Seriously. Toads were biblical while slugs were simply embarrassing.
Something big and slimy hit his cheek and wibbled around on it for a moment before sliding off to his shoulder, creeping along in a path of transparent glibber. That was enough. He took one deep breath through the mouth - slimy things tend to smell like anything but dandelions - and dug into his always well filled backpack. The salt was originally meant for evil spirits or protective circles but if Jared learned one thing from the long Saturday afternoons his mother had forced him to help out in the gardens at home, it was that slugs didn’t like to be salted… at all.
His head turned very slowly and he narrowed his eyes at the fat slimy thing sitting on his shoulder like the greenish caricature of a witch’s cat and grinned menacingly as he raised the box of salt over it dashing the disgusting creature with the white crystals as if spicing up a pot roast before flipping it off him with a well aimed finger. Had this been a cartoon there would have been a little high pitched scream as the slug flew away in a well tailored arch, landing with a wet plop that was way too satisfying.
For the next few minutes Jared imagines little cartoon voices begging for mercy as he generously sprinkled salt all around him making the fallen slugs twist in seeming agony before shriveling up into dry slug-chips as all their well preserved sliminess was sucked out of them, leaving a completely glibber free zone. It was genocide and Jared felt way too good about it.
He really, really would have preferred toads. At least he can make them explode, and although they leave a bloody mess behind, it’s way more fun than death by salt. The cooks in his old High School canteen probably were mass murderers in retrospect.
###
Research was Jensen’s life. He started with an ant farm and a microscope when he was six and ended up with a multi-billion dollar company and a never-ending army of lab rats before he was thirty. It was every boy’s dream. The only problem with success was that once you have it, where will you go after that? On his thirtieth birthday, Jensen threw a party that cost more than his house and sneaked away after half an hour to go to a bar and hook up with a guy who hadn’t seen his face on the front of the New York Times the week before.
He sat at a desk that was pristine clean and perfectly ordered and glared at the whole arrangement with disdain while wondering where his assistant had hidden the latest reports of the pharmaceutics department. Jensen despised the whole organization thing. He had his CEO's to deal with THAT. Still, it was expected of the owner and president to keep track of the numbers… okay, so actually it wasn’t expected because he was supposed to be a hotshot playboy throwing money around and leaving the work to other people. Jensen didn’t playboy around. It just wasn’t his style. He preferred the white walls of a laboratory, and he still had his own where he could do whatever eccentric research piqued his interest. But Jensen expected of himself to know how his company and its departments were doing. So here he was, reading pages over pages of number-crunching reports and being bored out of his mind.
“Fuck, I know why Bruce Wayne decided to dress up in rubber. This is depressing,” he mumbled to himself.
“You tell me! I was hoping to work for someone tall, dark and handsome and see what I got.”
“Shut up, Alona.” He looked up at the petite young woman who had ventured in with the newest expensive and time intensive coffee concoction she wanted him to try that probably had a ridiculous name like Buena Vista Sunshine Blend or was frizzy and terribly sweet. “I should fire you and replace you with something tall, dark and handsome for myself.”
She snorted and rolled her eyes at him before putting down a manila folder on his desk next to the coffee-something-something. “Sure thing, boss.”
“What’s that?”
The company mail came in white folders with the company logo on it, they both knew that.
“You wanted me to find the guy responsible for our latest troubles. I think I found just him. He’s a professional, so he might be able to switch sides. He’s not too cheap, but I didn’t think it matters.” It didn’t.
###
Jensen ambled into the lounge that looked like it was still stuck in the 60’s and probably hadn’t seen any work done since about that time, too. It was a claustrophobic little den filled with stuffy air and questionable people milling about scratched tables with long since permanent condensation rings. The clientele looked to be half alcoholics and half gangsters, although any decent mobster would find himself a place that would actually be worth skimming from.
A tiny stage was squashed against the back wall between the far end of the bar and the thin wooden room partition that hid the restroom doors. It was squeezed full with a small house band swinging along with the practice of age. The bass guitarist was so old he had to sit on a chair obviously stolen from one of the tables, eyes closed mouth hanging half open in concentration or apoplexy. The music was mediocre but fitting, obviously just as far backward as the pub itself making it all feel halfway voluntary. That was if it weren’t so obvious just how little work had been done here in decades emphasizing the line between run down and retro.
The lighting was poor at best, and the dark wood and red and black interior didn’t do much with the scarce illumination. It was the perfect place for sin and secrecy. One could either fuck the waitress in one of the booths or stab someone in the back, both with a pretty good chance of not being seen at all, and even then recognition would be a problem.
Jensen shouldered his way through the crowd with cautious reservation, making his way to the bar. There was a scruffy looking man serving out drinks in not entirely clean glasses showing way too many finger prints for being freshly washed, and Jensen decided that his shots probably didn’t cover all potential infections he might catch and opted for a bottle of beer instead.
He handed the barkeeper a few dollar bills, adding a hefty tip that gained him a raised eyebrow and an attentive ear. Money, the universal match maker. “I’m looking for Jay.”
Mr. Scruffy only rolled his eyes with a non-committal grunt and pointed towards the tiny stage where a young man, tall and slightly deranged looking - normal people don’t have hair quite that floppy in Jensen’s experience - was swinging left and right, snapping his fingers to the beat and singing what seemed to be freestyle skat that really didn’t help lessen the deranged expression.
The scientist heaved a deep sigh, downing his beer in one long gulp and putting a few more bills down on the bar. He needed more than one drink if this was the man he was supposed to meet. It was not unexpected since the matter at hand was pretty Special - yes, capital S - and required an investigator who could deal with the crazy. It was only fair that said person would be… different… as well.
Jensen waited patiently as the lounge singing paranormal investigator - and wasn’t that something to put into a CV? - finished up his song with a not too awful run accompanied by a few dance moves that seemed more like the death struggle of a mantis. The beer didn’t do much in the way of creating a buzz, but it drowned the stale taste of 50 years of smoke infested walls with the only slightly less stale taste of blessedly cold lager.
###
The crowd was loud and only half paying attention to the show, but Jared hadn’t expected anything else since that was how it always had been. The crowd in the Black Velvet wasn’t the artistic type. They preferred strong drinks and a private atmosphere more than good old jazz. Still, Jared played an encore and did his best moves to go with it because if there was something Jared liked as much as singing, it was dancing. He spun around on the last note and sent his best smile towards the one guy who hadn’t taken his eyes off him in the last twenty minutes. Jared could definitely appreciate the attention, but what he really wanted to appreciate were green eyes, strong shoulders in a tight black button up shirt, and crowned by light brown hair that looked like someone had run their fingers through it repeatedly.
The guy raised an eyebrow at him in a question that was only half suggestive and Jared was more than thankful to get off the stage. Maybe he could strike up a conversation with the owner of those very attentive eyes.
“What did I tell you about doing business in my bar, Jay?” Jeff was right next to the stage with a scowl that was only half-serious.
“To not do it?”
“Exactly. Last time you set up a meeting here I needed to replace half of my glasses.”
“How could I have known that she was a siren? I only found out when the crystal started bursting under her shriek.”
“My point exactly… so WHY is there someone asking for you?” Jeff was scowling now, and only those who knew him would recognize it against his usual expression.
Jared cringed giving Jeff his best apologetic smile while inwardly mourning the loss of his shot on Mister Green-Eyes. “Sorry, Jeff. I’ll take him upstairs, okay? Just tell me where he is and we’re out of here.”
“I’m not that easy, just so you know.” The voice behind Jared made him whirl around in a pirouette that his large body just wasn’t made for, and he nearly stumbled into the man who had interrupted his conversation with Jeff. To Jared’s astonishment (and delight) it was the green-eyed man who had watched him from the bar.
Jeff made a rude gesture that was Jared’s last warning to not do any more damage to the man’s property before slipping back behind his bar, leaving Jared confused and just a little unloved.
“Mister Padalecki, my name is Jensen Ackles. I think we have a meeting scheduled.”
Jared’s full attention snapped back to the handsome man in front of him. “You’re Mister Ackles, the bio technology guru?”
A small smile spread over a freckled face but it didn’t reach the man’s eyes. “I prefer the term entrepreneur. Guru suggests a spirituality that I can not provide. Gods of all colors and shapes do not like me.”
Jared considered the man for a long second wondering what kind of job he was letting himself in on. He didn’t want to think about whether the attention he had read as attraction earlier was actually nothing but his new client wondering if he was worth the money.
“Can we go into my office, Mr. Ackles? It’s just upstairs.”
“You work over a jazz club?”
Jared just shrugged and lead the way. “I used to work in a basement next to the cemetery. This is an improvement.”
###
Jared Padalecki’s office was an eclectic mix of cheap occultism and a black-and-white detective movie. There was a huge crystal ball sitting atop a stack of manila folders not unlike the one Alona had handed Jensen that morning. It seemed to serve more as a weight to keep the files from flying off the desk than a tool to contact the Netherworld. A couple of rusty swords hung on the wall behind a sturdy desk while the rest of the spotty grey tapestry was hidden behind bookshelves that flowed over with anything from heavy tomes with gold print on their spines to worn out Terry Pratchett paperback novels.
A spirit board sat on a small coffee table next to a chessboard with a still unfinished game that had black win in seven moves - Jensen was a genius, don’t ever forget that. The couch that faced it had a deep dent of a place where one person seemed to have made themselves comfortable a lot in the last decade or three.
Padalecki seemed to like the contrast of things, having a deck of Waid Ryder tarot cards lying on a shelf next to a well-used stack of poker cards. Jensen nearly laughed at a buddist singing bowl that was unceremoniously filled with trinkets of different religions including a rosary, a small voodoo doll, a bracelet with blue beads painted with white and black to form many little eyes - a charm found in Turkey and Greece to protect from the evil eye - and a few colorful pieces of cloth that were probably prayer flags in the five colors of buddhism.
Obviously the office’s owner had no qualms with religion, other than Jensen who had always been terribly afraid of churches. If ‘demonic possession’ is something you were regularly accused off by people, then the house of the holy seems like a pretty scary place all of a sudden.
“So what can I help you with, Mister Ackles?” The investigator gestured to a leather chair in front of the desk that looked like it would squeak the moment someone sat on it but was probably more comfortable than any new piece of furniture could ever be. Jensen sat down with a sigh, pulling his checkbook from the folds of his heavy coat. He scribbled the numbers down carelessly and signed the check before ripping it out and handing it to the man who was still leaning against the desk in front of him. Some people would find it uncomfortable to have a man of such physique looming over them, but Jensen just kicked back in his comfy chair and watched. He wasn’t afraid, couldn’t remember the last time he had been afraid of anything but himself.
The tall man let out a low whistle as he read the number on the check. “That’s a very gracious offer, but I want to know what I am getting into before making any commitments.”
Jensen nodded, a small smirk playing around his mouth. That had been a good answer. If Padalecki were greedy enough to just take the money and not ask for details first, Jensen would probably have left right then and there. He didn’t have the patience to hire idiots.
“This is not your fee for your services, Mister Padalecki. It’s simply the fee that will make sure that nothing I’m about to tell you will leave this room, whether you are willing to take the job or not.”
“You’re buying my silence?”
“Confidentiality.”
They stared at each other for a long moment, a game of chicken that neither was willing to lose until an agreement would be found. After half a minute of mute combat, Padalecki nodded slowly, eyes still glued to Jensen’s.
“Fine.” Padalecki quickly pocketed the check that would probably pay his rent for a month and then some. “What’s the big secret?”
A smile that was more fit for a shark than a human being slipped onto Jensen’s face. “Yours or mine?”
The tall man seemed to sense the change in Jensen’s demeanor and he looked like he wanted to take a step back but stood his ground with a clenched jaw. “Is this going to be a quiz?”
“I know you are working for the mob, and I know that you don’t ask twice what people they have you get rid of. But in the last months you have brought me a lot of headaches and I don’t like that. At. All.” He stared Padalecki down and it seemed to take a moment until the man noticed that Jensen didn’t blink, didn’t need to blink. It was a scary thing that Jensen always did in intense situations ever since he was a child.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It was the half-hearted denial of a man who had already lost the battle.
“Oh, but you do. You are cursing my employees and it is a pain in my ass to replace them or coddle them back into their jobs. This will stop and I am willing to pay for it.”
A stubborn line formed on Jared Padalecki’s forehead as his insecurity seemed to be eaten away by anger and defiance. “If you know what I can do, you should also know that I am not afraid of just some guy…”
Jensen grinned fiercely letting all his frustration with the hassle this man had caused him over the last months flow freely and saw his own irises glowing eerily in their reflections in his opponent’s wide eyes.
“I am not just a guy, Mister Padalecki. You would do well to not anger me any more.”
This time Padalecki really did take a step back. “Fuck. What are you?”
“Not entirely human…” He didn’t further elaborate. Imagination can be a strong force of fear. “I am willing to compensate you for losing your employment with my opponents by hiring you myself. You will find that I am willing to pay quite handsomely for a job well done.”
Padalecki’s expression was dark and he sighed, seemingly running out of steam. “It’s not the money that worries me.”
“That means you’re not an idiot.” Jensen turned around showing himself to the door. “Just remember that it’s not Tony and his friends that should worry you either.”
###
Jared sniffed hard as he sprayed a healthy dose into both nostrils tipping his head back to keep the fluids from running back out immediately. The swollen mucosa of his nose started to deflate almost immediately, making breathing a lot more comfortable.
He was still a little freaked out at Jensen Ackles’ brute approach to threatening Jared into submission. It made him angry and very stubborn, but something was fundamentally wrong with that man. Ackles was right, he wasn’t entirely human and while Jared knew a handy spell or three he was not a powerful practitioner, just a good study of the right books. Faced with a creature of brute force, all of his tricks would not save his hide for a second. He didn’t even know what Ackles was, so a preemptive strike was out of the question, and all Jared could do was pacify the man until he either found a way to get him off his case or do as he said.
He scowled at the small blue and white container of nasal spray that was his steady companion, imagining it to be Ackles’ face. It didn’t help his mood at all so he decided to get some opinions on what to do next. He grabbed the deck of Waid Ryder tarot cards and started flipping them open with well trained routine.
###
Jensen’s head hurt, and he made a mental note to send Padalecki a box filled with bats infected with rabies if he started to lose his hair in the next forty-eight hours. It was one of the things Jensen was mentally prepared for. If Jared Padalecki was a professional curse-thrower, it was only logical if he would try to show Jensen exactly what he thought of the little power play that went down the night before… not that some power play was always a bad thing but the innuendo was sadly lacking in the last conversation they’d had.
Chris ambled into the room with a tired expression.
“Am I getting bald?” Jensen asked without saying hello.
“Errm, what?” Chris looked at him with that half-pitying, half-scared look that was usually meant for crazy people and toddlers with soiled diapers.
“Never mind…” Jensen rubbed his temple - secretly checking if there was any hair stuck between his fingers when he pulled them away.
“Alona told me to tell you that the practitioner cashed your check…” Chris’ gaze was piercing through him like an arrow. “Whatever that is about it sounds very fishy. Please tell me that’s not a code for hooker, Jen.”
“I don’t pay for sex, Chris. I just made someone tall, dark and handsome an offer he couldn’t refuse.” Jensen’s smile was predatory and he admitted the glee he felt when Chris seemed anything but happy with that answer.
“You’re sick.”
“The company offers full health care packages, including dental coverage.”
“Fuck you.” Chris spun around leaving Jensen alone as quickly as he could with his dignity still intact while Jensen ticked off another point in his arguing match with Chris that he had kept track of in his mind over the last five years.
###
Jared hummed understandingly while doodling in the sketch of a pentagram he didn’t need anymore. Telephone consultations were rare and tedious. “So you went to the address I gave you?” Of course she did. “He was there, wasn’t he?” Of course he had been.
“You wanted to know if he was cheating on you… yes. So you want him back?” Jared rolled his eyes, covering the receiver with his hand so she wouldn’t hear his exasperated sigh. “There’s no such thing as a love potion. Didn’t you read Harry Potter? Love can not be created. Lust, obsession, need and want, those can be created. Love is like strawberry flavor: the artificial thing doesn’t taste at all like the original, but with enough make believe, you can sell it off as the real deal.”
Jared listened for another minute, crumpling up his doodle sheet and burning it on the black candle that was still burning on his desk. “Okay, so you want him to want you again and only you?” How about a fitness studio? “Well, I can do that, but it’s not cheap… Well, try to find a decent helping of mare’s sweat at a dumping price and I’ll negotiate my fee.” The grin was unstoppable. “I knew you would agree with me there.”
He hung up whistling under his breath. Scorned women made one hell of a customer base.
“Am I interrupting something?”
Jared’s good mood dimmed immediately when he saw the man standing in his door framed by sunlight that made his face unfathomable, but his stance and voice left no doubt who the intruder was.
“Mr. Ackles, to what do I owe the honor? And so soon already.”
“I was told you cashed my check. I took it as a sign that you weren’t as much of a stubborn mule as I thought you might be.” Ackles walked into the office with leisurely strides, both hands buried in the pockets of his leather jacket. It was a relaxed stance, not at all threatening and Jared frowned at him. Maybe the man was bipolar and maybe he just didn’t know that it took two to do the good cop - bad cop routine. Then again, he was charming as ever.
Jared just scowled at him, digging the plastic container with spray from his pocket and helping his nose to two healthy doses of its contents. Only looking at Ackles made Jared’s blood pressure rise and that made his chronically occluded nose only clott up more.
“I thought you said that was for my confidentiality.”
“It was.” Jensen smiled flopping down in the chair Jared had offered him a few short days earlier. “I simply wanted to see how the decision process was coming along. I noticed that none of my employees turned green since our last conversation. That’s a start.”
Jared couldn’t help the smirk that pulled on is lips. “You must admit that one was a classic.”
“Poor Melanie will probably never get rid of being called “Elphaba”. I don’t think she was amused.”
Jared chuckled at the trivia. He didn’t know the people he was hitting with his spells. All he knew was that they were in some mobster’s way and he was being payed handsomely while the targets got to keep their lives, even if their dignity would never recover. “Well, I don’t know what you did to piss off the wrong people, but my services were pretty popular lately. Maybe you should retreat from the battlefield, Mister Ackles.”
“That’s not my style.”
“You should reconsider that before Tony shoots you in the head before throwing you into the river with a pair of concrete boots.” It was not unlikely and Jared didn’t like death. Someone who plays chess with spirits knows what a frustrated ghost is made of.
Ackles chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “He would only be inclined to do so if you told him that I was onto your arrangement.”
“And what makes you think I haven’t told him already?”
“You know what would happen, Jared. You’re not a killer because a killer doesn’t turn people green or makes them puke frogs. Also you don’t know what I am just yet and if an attempt on my life by one of those gangster thugs wouldn’t just piss me off even more. You’re not an idiot after all… at least not all the time.”
Jared stared at Ackles for a long moment. Hazel eyes met green and they assessed each other in a game of chicken that went on for a long moment. Ackles once again didn’t blink and he held himself still as a statue, making Jared’s senses pipe up with a warning. He hadn’t been wrong with putting Ackles down as a potential threat, but those green eyes weren’t as scarily hard and warning as they used to be. They were just terribly calm and very insightful. Ackles wasn’t bluffing as he read Jared like an open book.
Blinking twice, irritated at how all his anger strangely drained away at that calm look, Jared sighed shaking his head. “Just so you know, I…”
He didn’t get to finish his sentence when a loud bang made him jump high enough that he could have landed cat-like on his desk if not for the complete lack of grace and purpose of the motion. He whirled around, Ackles completely forgotten, to find Tony and two of his “colleagues” standing in the door. Well, fuck.
“Looks like I was wrong.” Ackles’ voice was a deep growl, terribly quiet and contained, and Jared took a step towards the wall, eyes skimming back and forth between the man he had been talking to and the intruders who just busted down his office door.
“If I HAD told them, I would have arranged for this to go down somewhere I will not have to pay for the damage.”
Tony gave them a malicious grin and raised his gun pointing at Jensen for a long moment before swinging the barrel over to Jared. “He’s right, which is why we’ll kill you both. We don’t like traitors.”
“I’m not a traitor.” Jared’s head was reeling as he crept along the wall at a snail’s pace trying to find something to use as a weapon or cover.
To his surprise, Ackles stepped forwards, half blocking the way between Jared and the gun. “He hasn’t taken me up on my offer. What do you have that I don’t? A dental plan? An employee of the month contest?”
“Didn’t you think we’re monitoring your accounts, Padalecki? You cashed his check this morning.”
“Those peanuts?” Ackles cocked his head provocatively. “Do you really think I’d hire cheap help? That was just compensation for Mr. Padalecki’s time, as I was wasting it quite abundantly.”
“Shut up!” Tony’s head had turned a livid shade of purple as Jared could practically watch his blood pressure rise to commercial flight level. “Nobody steals from the family. Obviously you haven’t learned your lesson yet, Ackles.”
Jensen Ackles laughed and Jared added “fucking crazy” to the long list he had compiled about that man (including hot, handsome, scary, sexy, rude and reckless…). “Oh please! My research is ground breaking. It’s not stealing when the “new technology” your little scam is selling to desperate people will be replaced by a therapy that actually works. You can’t stop evolution. Find yourselves a new con to run on people instead of trying to stop my projects by bewitching my research team!”
“Are you calling me a witch?” Jared said without even thinking first and all eyes snapped to him in a second, making Jared gape like a fish at his utter stupidity.
“What would you prefer, Harry?” Jensen’s drawl was mean, poison dripping from every syllable.
“Harry?” Tony asked stupidly making Jensen roll his eyes exasperatedly.
“Dude! You got no idea of pop culture! Harry Potter, Harry Dresden, Harry Houdini…” He ticked off names on his fingers but as he raised number three Tony's never very hypertrophic patience snapped and he stepped up to the man who was obviously thinking he was a complete idiot swinging the gun he held in his hand like a bat slamming it against Ackles’ temple with a vengeance that sent the man sideways into the wall. Jared cringed, knowing that this was the moment things started to escalate deciding to be the one to throw the first stone - or rather the first crystal ball.
The big glass ball that had weighed down onto the files on his desk was about the size of a teapot and rather solid. It hit one of the grumpy looking goons, who up to that moment had stayed quiet and - did that require some special training? - in the zone. Jared reveled in the satisfying crunch that resulted when bone snapped as the solid object hit his face and the man yowled in pain as blood shot from his nose dripping onto the floor.
Jared wasn’t sure what had Jensen pouncing like a cougar. Maybe it was the anger, the pain of the hit or just the overwhelming smell of blood that flooded the room but there he was knocking the second goon to the ground like his six foot three, two-hundred pounds frame was a rag doll and tearing on flesh with his bare hands. The attacked man gurgled a scream, flailing his arms knocking into Jensen with hard fists, nearly dislodging him as knees hit him in the small of his back but Jensen didn’t even seem to notice.
Tony stumbled backwards and knocked into Jared’s bookshelf with the full weight of his body shaking it hard enough to have books and candles toppling to the floor. He was shaking and it took two hands to steady his revolver enough so he could level the barrel at Jensen, who was covered in blood by now and pulled the trigger.
The bang shook Jared out of his funk and he watched with fascinated horror as Jensen’s head snapped up. His shoulder hadn’t even really twitched when the bullet cleanly passed through it, leaving a small explosion of blood where it exited his body within the fracture of a second. It didn’t seem to hurt and Jared wasn’t really sure whether Jensen had even felt the pain or if his attention hadn’t been grabbed by the noise first and foremost.
Tony’s eyes were comically wide and his mouth opened and closed with words that ended in scared choking noises that were too shrill for a man his size. Jared thought he might smell urine. He turned his head away as Jensen’s body tackled the man to the floor with a crash that sounded like a tree being cut. As he averted his eyes, his view was caught by the tarot cards that had been strewn across the floor haphazardly during the madness that was going on. Staring back from the top of the pile was the Death card.
Something in Jared was shaken back to awareness and he practically disappeared in his desk as he rifled through the assortment of strange items in it for the new container of salt he had bought. His fingers felt numb as they closed around it and it took him three tries to rip open one end of the hard paper box before he started to draw a circle of salt around himself.
As luck had it Jensen Ackles - whatever he was - was not stopped by something as fickle as a spirit banishing circle.
Jared found himself on his back, head banging against the floor with a dull thud that resonated in his head like a church bell. Only a foot away from his face was Jensen, bloodshot eyes glowing with murder, red coating his face hands and clothes and perfect white teeth bared in a bestial growl.
The investigator closed his eyes tightly, not seeing a need in watching as Jensen ripped him apart like an origami swan. He held his breath and waited for the first explosion of pain but it didn’t come. Maybe time had slowed down just like in the movies and if he opened his eyes there would be a terrible slow motion version of the savage man who had him pinned to the ground about to stick his hand into Jared’s stomach and rip out his intestines or something equally physically impossible.
It was a long moment before Jared decided that something was off. His lungs burned and he had to let go of the held breath as his body yearned for oxygen. His eyes flew open at that realization and there was Jensen, still bathed in fresh blood but no longer looking homicidal but rather strained. His eyes were screwed closed tightly and the frown on his face was that of painful concentration both hands pressed to his temples as if to keep his brain from escaping through his ears.
He was still straddling Jared, knees on either side of Jared’s hips and effectively keeping him pinned down. “Jensen?” Jared wasn’t sure when he had replaced Mr. Ackles with Jensen in his mind but it was probably somewhere around the time his former allies had kicked down his door and made the decision of whom to side with for him.
For a second nothing happened, then Jensen started blinking as if he had something in his eyes (which with the amount of blood on him would not be far fetched). The hands slipped off his temples and he looked a little lost and quite nauseated when the sticky, rapidly cooling blood seemed to register with him. The last thing actually catching his attention was Jared still lying between his legs with a by now slightly embarrassed look watching Jensen with a timid frown.
“Are you back from the land of crazy murder?”
The man sitting on top swallowed, slowly nodding before quietly sliding off Jared in one smooth motion. “Sorry about that.”
“It was pretty scary.” Okay, so it was really fucking scary - Jared actually understood why poor no-more-Tony had literally pissed himself when faced with it. “But you… You kinda saved our lives.” A moment of wonder makes Jared shake his head as he sits up, happy that all his limbs are still attached. “Why didn’t you kill me?”
“For a second I thought I would. It’s pretty hard to stop the madness when it’s on a roll, but I pulled you into this mess, so…”
“Yes you did. At least this immediate part of the mess at our hands.”
“OUR hands?”
A hesitant smile slipped over Jared’s lips. “You pulled me into it, you need to protect me, oh big and scary one.”
“Does that mean you are taking me up on my offer?” A disbelieving look was plastered onto Jensen’s face as he screwed up his nose trying to rub away the worst grime and failing spectacularly, mostly due to the fact that his hands were only more soiled if possible.
“I need hazard pay.”
Jensen laughed and it looked freakish as hell. “You got it.”
###
Jensen walked into Jared’s living room, his hair wet and tousled and looking pretty ridiculous in Jared’s too long slacks and too wide shirt. There was no way the man could have gone out on the street looking like Jack the Ripper. Thankfully Jared’s office was right next to his apartment (which was very handy when working freaky hours or having to wash off blood without any big transit times). Jensen looked quite dismayed with the baggy clothes. It was adorable and Jared bit his lip trying to hide his laughter and failing spectacularly.
“Har har. Next time I’ll let them shoot you and keep my shirt spotless instead.”
“Sorry… but you kinda grabbed the baggiest shirt in the closet. You could wear that as a dress.”
“And I bet it would look great with the red lace panties and ten inch heels I love so much.” It was said with such sarcasm that Jared couldn’t help laughing heartily. Rich and snotty as Jensen Ackles was, his bitchy ways really grew on Jared.
He started packing the backpack with everything he might need to clean up the mess in his office because there was no way to explain THAT to the police.
“What are you doing?” Jensen raised his eyebrow at the seemingly random assembly of artifacts and ingredients.
“How well are you at alchemy?”
“I got a doctor in bio technology and a Masters in chemistry.”
“So you suck at alchemy.”
Jensen picked up something brown and shriveled that had him screw up his nose without even knowing what it was (Jared decided to better not tell him either). “I’d say so. I read up on it and it defies all logic and natural order.”
“As does all magic… Or rather it creates it’s own order.”
Jensen only hummed dropping the shriveled something back into the bag and rubbing his fingers together to get any imaginary remains off his skin. He flinched as he tried to pick up the bag looking startled more than in pain and looking down at his shoulder as if surprised. “My shoulder hurts.”
Jared stared at him for a long moment wondering if Jensen really couldn’t remember getting shot. How far out of this world had he been? “Well, yeah, Tony shot you.”
“Really?” Genuine surprise and a misplaced curiosity crossed Jensen’s features and he pulled up the over-sized t-shirt trying to feel for the wound. It was absurd and a little worrying.
“You didn’t see it while showering? Take that off. We need to dress the wound.”
“There was blood all over me, I didn’t notice. The pain always comes back last.”
Jared went to the kitchen cabinet grabbing the small first aid kit that had once belonged I into his first car grabbing bandages and gauze. He had to check first but he was pretty sure that it had been a clean through-and-through shot and there couldn’t be any severe bleeding or Jensen would have noticed even without any pain.
“How can you NOT feel pain?”
“I don’t know. That’s just the way it’s always been.” Jensen had the shirt off and Jared let his eyes skim over the freckled skin and broad back before forcing himself to concentrate on the task at hand. His initial observation had been correct and he only needed to dress the wound with gauze and a bandage. There might be stitches needed but Jared had no training and certainly no sewing material, so he made do with his own fickle supplies.
“You should be glad you’re still alive”, Jared said while taping down the end of the bandage.
“It’s not me who nearly got eaten by the big bad wolf.”
Hazel eyes came up connecting with green ones and he shook his head. “You’re not so big and bad.”
“You don’t know me.”
“You didn’t kill me.”
They stared at each other for a long minute, Jared’s hands still on Jensen’s shoulder, eyes connected and much closer than appropriate in normal conversation. The stare was as intense as it had been back when they were arguing but the message was different, more heated.
When their lips met, Jared’s heart skipped a beat. This was completely crazy and probably a terrible idea but the frustration and fear of the day had melted down into a need that found it’s outlet right then and there. The very first time Jared had set his eyes on the other man, there had been a spark and it wasn’t allowed to kindle a flame under the crazy circumstances of their meeting. But now it had hit dry hay and the flames were eating everything in their way.
Jared’s hands moved over shoulders until he slung both arms around Jensen’s back pulling him closer until they were flush against each other. A tongue slipped inside his mouth battling and teasing with his own and Jensen’s hands slipped underneath his shirt, nails scratching the soft skin of his back.
They weren’t timid or careful and Jared was pretty sure that he pulled on Jensen’s injured shoulder more than he should have but it seemed like whatever blocked all feeling of pain for the man before was still working at least partly. Kisses turned into bites every now and again as nails dug into skin and bodies ground together. When they finally pulled apart enough to breathe, Jensen was already pushing Jared’s shirt off.
“What are we doing, Jensen?” Jared couldn’t remember ever using the man’s first name before but it rolled off his tongue deliciously. He was already shrugging out of his shirt, body contradicting the question in his words.
“Do I need to tell you about the birds and the bees?” One sneaky hand quickly slipped between Jared’s skin and his jeans reaching down and applying the sweetest pressure making Jared melt against the shorter man.
“That… oh… So who’s the bee?”
“Oh shut up!” Jensen muffled all protest with another deep kiss spiked with teeth and tongue adding a little movement of his hand that made Jared moan quite obscenely.
He couldn’t remember when or HOW he had decided to pull Jensen into the bedroom but suddenly he fell backwards and felt the soft mattress underneath him. Jensen’s teeth dragged down his pecs while talented hands undid his pants quite expertly until Jensen slipped off the bed to unceremoniously tug off the rest of Jared’s clothes and add his own to the pile.
When skin met skin all conscious thought was lost and they started grappling with each other for dominance, flipping the other over and pressing down on him but in the end they were already too far gone to care and Jared reached down grabbing both of them in his big hand and adding to the friction as they moved against each other in a frantic rhythm accentuated with groans and grunts pulled forward at every move, bite, lick.
If someone asked Jared who came first, he would be at a loss. All he knew was that there was the sweetest pleasure and madness and exhaustion and then he lay there tangled around the limp body of a beautiful man sticky and sated and all he could do was pull the sheets over them and envelop the other man in his huge frame, stickiness be damned.
###
The sounds were grizzly and made Jared’s stomach churn unpleasantly as he was leaning against the banged up door to his office. He had taped it shut with a full roll of duct tape after shutting the windows tightly, adding salt-lines to all sills and the gap under the door. The wet smack and low growls were only interrupted by the occasional crack and a lot of noisy chewing.
“Do I want to know?” Jensen sidled up to him - yes, he had spent the night if only because they were too tired to even think about it being the right thing to do - leaning next to him with a look that seemed either very evil or very happy, probably a little of both.
“I don’t think so. Let’s just say that there will be nothing left by the time the sun is really up.” It was early, the sun only just peaking over the horizon and dawn still young. By the time the sun was really visible the ‘cleaning crew’ Jared had called up from the netherworld - a spell that took up most of his rare and expensive ingredients - would be vanquished by the light of day. His office would need complete renovation but at least there were two mangled bodies less in there to take care of. The third guy, who got his nose broken by Jared’s crystal ball, had run just in time and they agreed that it was probably best that way so he could tell his bosses not to try something similar again.
A wet pop sounded noisily from behind the door and Jensen turned a little green around the nose. “I guess that wasn’t a melon, was it?”
“Probably not. Do you want to go grab breakfast.”
“Fuck you.”
“If you want to…” Jared dished out his cheesiest grin and as they were laughing together, all disgusting noises behind the door were forgotten.
###
“So you… have anger management issues?” Jensen had taken the time to explain his situation to Jared who now tried to find the right words and wondered if he had failed when Jensen just rolled those green eyes at him.
“If that includes making minced meat out of all living things around me, then yes. I do.” The scientist’s face was carefully blank, guarded against the things Jared might unleash in the revelation of the man’s true nature.
“And you want me to find out why this is happening?” Jared was already starting to compose a list in his head of possible reasons for that bloodthirsty rage that had been described. There were several curses, some kinds of lycanthropy and a few spirit beings that might cause similar symptoms…
“No. I know why.”
Jared’s reeling mind stopped dead and his eyes snapped back to Jensen - whether he was his new boss, his lover or something else, he really couldn’t tell. Probably a bit of all. “You do?”
“Yes. It’s inherited. My dad was like this and so was his dad. As far as I could tell it all tracks back to the battle of Hafrsfjord in the ninth century.” For a minute Jared wanted to laugh but the other man’s face was sober as could be.
“You tracked your family tree back into the ninth century?”
“You’d be amazed what one can do with enough money and modern information technology… you can even find hair dressers online. It’s scary.” The smirk on Jensen’s face made Jared huff a sigh as he theatrically swept back his long bangs reassuring himself that he didn’t need a haircut.
“So what does that family tree have to do with your little problem?”
Jensen looked at him for a moment that made Jared feel like he was an utter idiot. “and you call yourself a paranormal investigator? You should be ashamed of yourself.” It was mild bickering - at least for Jensen’s standards - and he smirked at Jared as he made a dramatic pause before the big revelation. “We’re Berserkers.”
Jared blinked. He had met quite a few creatures during his work as a paranormal investigator, but this was the first time he heard someone refer to a seemingly human being as a Berserker in more than just a metaphorical kind of way. “Berserkers… huh.”
“Wow. You are so eloquent I wonder how you aren’t President yet.”
“And you really know how to be a jerk, don’t you?”
By then, Jared really wasn’t surprised to see Jensen Ackles laugh. The man could take insults as well as he dished them out.
“It’s a gift.” The scientist got up pulling a card out of his pocket and laying it on the desk. “You know, the offer still stands. I think late-Tony’s boss will be a pain in the ass in the future. We’d be better off working together. If you are interested in the job, give me a call. My offer stands.”
Jensen was already halfway by the door when Jared answered. “So what exactly would that job be?”
Jensen left with a double-edged smirk and a soft click of the door and Jared was left confused and more than a bit intrigued. Whatever is was, this job at least sounded better than a rain of slugs. He would definitely give Jensen a call and maybe it would be only vaguely work related.
THE END
>> sequel ficlet: Feral Side: There are a few things that can tick off a berserker: blood, rage, violence… and jealousy. It’s a lesson Jared will still have to learn.
*
A/N: A HUGE THANK YOU to this weeks cheerleaders. You're all greedy little readers such great support! Thanks for kicking my ass to finish this story in time.
*hugs* Birdie
Trivia: Most laughed at moment - Zuben's comment to a sentence I have in here-> "I'm confused... Is this related to the exploding mice?" I nearly died laughing thinking "Oh wow, I think this story is kinda sick."
Author: insane_songbird
Written for: j2fightscrime
Beta: the lovely zuben_eschamali & angieobsessed. You're like lightning, ladies!
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC17
Words: 9,300
Warnings: Blood, gore, privinism (addiction to nasal spray), crack, questionable morals, slash, minor character death, slug genocide (let me refer you to the crack here),
Prompt: Jared's a lounge-singing drug-addicted paranormal investigator on the wrong side of the law. Jensen's a wealthy sarcastic research scientist prone to fits of savage, blood-crazed rage.
Summary: Jensen Ackles is a man with a dark secret and a lot to loose. Jared's darkness isn't so secret but that doesn't mean they will be off to a great start when thrown together. Still, there's a method in madness.
“Bloody hell,” Jensen sighed, looking around his lab with weary eyes rubbing his temple with nimble fingers. He only stopped when he heard the squishy sound that accompanied the slightly slippery wet feeling where there should be just skin on skin. He drew his hand away holding it in front of his face and eyed the finger in question carefully to find a bloody clump of flesh and white fur stuck to his nail. “Fucking perfect!”
He shook his hand hoping to dislodge the icky piece of dead lab mouse fruitlessly. It wouldn’t have been much good anyway since there were bits and pieces of dead animal on both of his hands, his arms, his clothes and most likely his face judging by the coppery taste in his mouth, and he didn’t even find the energy to retch at the thought of what that might imply. He dropped his arm heavily back to his side observing the damage to his property and research. “Today’s special: white mouse tartar with a side of property destruction.”
Well, at least the setback in his research wasn’t too immense, especially since all this only happened because the goddamn mice were completely worthless to his current project, and all attempts at getting ahead in the field were more than just futile. They were frustrating as hell and frustration made Jensen angry… and angry Jensen was not a good thing. Angry, bitchy Jensen was a real buzz killer. Not that he couldn’t kill a buzz with his charms alone, but sometimes he felt a lot more motivated to exceed even his own standards of bastard-dom.
“Wow… I didn’t know we were renting out as a location for the new Resident Evil movie.”
Jensen turned and saw Christian Kane standing in the doorway, a little green around the edges and obviously in no need to actually enter the former lab. Jensen shrugged nonchalantly. He rummaged through a cupboard to find a big plastic bag and started disposing of the little white and red glomps of dead flesh that were strewn all over the room. “I felt like the walls needed some color. The white was so depressing.”
“So you chose blood red with the stray faeces in-between. Very modern.”
“Red is the new black.” Jensen turned around grinning at his colleague and employee with a wide toothy smile that lacked all humor and must have looked seriously psychopathic on his blood smeared face.
Christian swallowed visibly and only nodded. “Something tells me that the last batch of testings was a dud, too.”
“You’re a real Sherlock Holmes. What gave it away?”
“Besides you rivaling Hannibal Lector?”
Green eyes snapped up and the squishy sound as Jensen fisted his hand around one of the already dead mice made Christian choke on his own bile a little. “You’re aware that Hannibal prefers humans over rodents. Maybe you should hang around for a while longer…”
“And maybe I should just take this and get rid of it.” He grabbed the bag Jensen had filled with the bigger chunks of leftover mice. Everything smaller was probably best cleaned away with an industrial high pressure cleaner.
“Well Chris, I always knew you had a thing for roadkill jambalaya.”
This time Christian really did puke and Jensen almost felt bad for him as he buried his face in the opening of the plastic bag filled with dissembled mouse corpse, which presumably didn’t really help to settle his stomach.
###
Jared added the lamb’s blood and stirred slowly before dipping the head of the voodoo doll inside and watching the sludge drench the straw it was made from. It smelled as disgusting as it looked and Jared was glad when he could switch off the hot plate and dispose of the whole concoction. He would have to scrub his curse-pot later.
“Here you go. He should be puking his guts out for the next week.” He handed the abused doll to a burly looking man in his forties wearing a suit and tie and eying Jared and the doll wearily.
“You’re a crazy fucker, Padalecki.”
Jared shrugged with a grin and cleaned sludge off his hands with a tea towel. “Oh, Tony. I’m just doing what I’m being paid for. If your boss is crazy enough to spend his money on voodoo curses against his opponents, that’s his problem. I just deliver a service. This way there are no bodies to dispose off. The only thing that needs to be cleaned away is Pirelli’s vomit. And you guys get whatever shady deal is going down tomorrow all to yourself.”
Tony just grunted and handed Jared a bundle of bills. He pocketed it without counting because pissing off a mobster wasn’t high on Jared’s list of priorities.
###
Jared closed the door and locked it behind the goon who payed most of his bills. Tony was a regular. It was interesting how many more people wanted to buy curses rather than happy little protective charms and Jared’s regulars were mainly the shady criminal type looking for a way of getting rid of competition without having an investigation at their heels. Jared didn’t kill people. He just made them miserable enough to not be any danger. If you’re busy with puking, business is not on top of your list, if you get the drift.
He sighed, flopping onto his usual spot on the couch wondering who he had hexed today but not really feeling the need to find out. His fingers nimbly picked up a pawn and moved him ahead one step on the chess board.
“Let’s see how you like this one, Hector.” He grinned cockily setting his hand absentmindedly against the carved piece of wood that rested on the spirit board showing the form of an arrow. He spent the next five minutes contemplating his newly revised strategy. When the arrow twitched and moved across the carefully arranged letters and numbers beneath it, Jared didn’t even care to look until the movement jerked to a stop. It happened four times giving him the combination of a letter, a number and then again a latter and a number. It was a chess move and Jared pulled the white knight to its new spot, scowling at the position it left him in.
“Seriously? Aw, man, you know how to ruin my mood.” He stared at the board for another five minutes weighing his options. If there was one thing they had, it was time.
###
Jared's next job sucked... or rather slimed (was that even a real expression? probably not). He sighed, nose wrinkled into a distasteful scowl, as he considered trying to walk away from the mess in front of him, paycheck be damned. But he couldn’t make himself move. If he took one more step he would either slip like a big-eyed cartoon character walking onto a banana peel or - if the gods of funny were out for coffee - ruin his boots while producing the most disgusting squishy sounds.
Slugs. Why did it have to be slugs? The odd toad rain every other year was something he could deal with really well ever since his summer trip to France. Frogs tasted better but that’s what the garlic was for after all… But slugs? Seriously. Toads were biblical while slugs were simply embarrassing.
Something big and slimy hit his cheek and wibbled around on it for a moment before sliding off to his shoulder, creeping along in a path of transparent glibber. That was enough. He took one deep breath through the mouth - slimy things tend to smell like anything but dandelions - and dug into his always well filled backpack. The salt was originally meant for evil spirits or protective circles but if Jared learned one thing from the long Saturday afternoons his mother had forced him to help out in the gardens at home, it was that slugs didn’t like to be salted… at all.
His head turned very slowly and he narrowed his eyes at the fat slimy thing sitting on his shoulder like the greenish caricature of a witch’s cat and grinned menacingly as he raised the box of salt over it dashing the disgusting creature with the white crystals as if spicing up a pot roast before flipping it off him with a well aimed finger. Had this been a cartoon there would have been a little high pitched scream as the slug flew away in a well tailored arch, landing with a wet plop that was way too satisfying.
For the next few minutes Jared imagines little cartoon voices begging for mercy as he generously sprinkled salt all around him making the fallen slugs twist in seeming agony before shriveling up into dry slug-chips as all their well preserved sliminess was sucked out of them, leaving a completely glibber free zone. It was genocide and Jared felt way too good about it.
He really, really would have preferred toads. At least he can make them explode, and although they leave a bloody mess behind, it’s way more fun than death by salt. The cooks in his old High School canteen probably were mass murderers in retrospect.
###
Research was Jensen’s life. He started with an ant farm and a microscope when he was six and ended up with a multi-billion dollar company and a never-ending army of lab rats before he was thirty. It was every boy’s dream. The only problem with success was that once you have it, where will you go after that? On his thirtieth birthday, Jensen threw a party that cost more than his house and sneaked away after half an hour to go to a bar and hook up with a guy who hadn’t seen his face on the front of the New York Times the week before.
He sat at a desk that was pristine clean and perfectly ordered and glared at the whole arrangement with disdain while wondering where his assistant had hidden the latest reports of the pharmaceutics department. Jensen despised the whole organization thing. He had his CEO's to deal with THAT. Still, it was expected of the owner and president to keep track of the numbers… okay, so actually it wasn’t expected because he was supposed to be a hotshot playboy throwing money around and leaving the work to other people. Jensen didn’t playboy around. It just wasn’t his style. He preferred the white walls of a laboratory, and he still had his own where he could do whatever eccentric research piqued his interest. But Jensen expected of himself to know how his company and its departments were doing. So here he was, reading pages over pages of number-crunching reports and being bored out of his mind.
“Fuck, I know why Bruce Wayne decided to dress up in rubber. This is depressing,” he mumbled to himself.
“You tell me! I was hoping to work for someone tall, dark and handsome and see what I got.”
“Shut up, Alona.” He looked up at the petite young woman who had ventured in with the newest expensive and time intensive coffee concoction she wanted him to try that probably had a ridiculous name like Buena Vista Sunshine Blend or was frizzy and terribly sweet. “I should fire you and replace you with something tall, dark and handsome for myself.”
She snorted and rolled her eyes at him before putting down a manila folder on his desk next to the coffee-something-something. “Sure thing, boss.”
“What’s that?”
The company mail came in white folders with the company logo on it, they both knew that.
“You wanted me to find the guy responsible for our latest troubles. I think I found just him. He’s a professional, so he might be able to switch sides. He’s not too cheap, but I didn’t think it matters.” It didn’t.
###
Jensen ambled into the lounge that looked like it was still stuck in the 60’s and probably hadn’t seen any work done since about that time, too. It was a claustrophobic little den filled with stuffy air and questionable people milling about scratched tables with long since permanent condensation rings. The clientele looked to be half alcoholics and half gangsters, although any decent mobster would find himself a place that would actually be worth skimming from.
A tiny stage was squashed against the back wall between the far end of the bar and the thin wooden room partition that hid the restroom doors. It was squeezed full with a small house band swinging along with the practice of age. The bass guitarist was so old he had to sit on a chair obviously stolen from one of the tables, eyes closed mouth hanging half open in concentration or apoplexy. The music was mediocre but fitting, obviously just as far backward as the pub itself making it all feel halfway voluntary. That was if it weren’t so obvious just how little work had been done here in decades emphasizing the line between run down and retro.
The lighting was poor at best, and the dark wood and red and black interior didn’t do much with the scarce illumination. It was the perfect place for sin and secrecy. One could either fuck the waitress in one of the booths or stab someone in the back, both with a pretty good chance of not being seen at all, and even then recognition would be a problem.
Jensen shouldered his way through the crowd with cautious reservation, making his way to the bar. There was a scruffy looking man serving out drinks in not entirely clean glasses showing way too many finger prints for being freshly washed, and Jensen decided that his shots probably didn’t cover all potential infections he might catch and opted for a bottle of beer instead.
He handed the barkeeper a few dollar bills, adding a hefty tip that gained him a raised eyebrow and an attentive ear. Money, the universal match maker. “I’m looking for Jay.”
Mr. Scruffy only rolled his eyes with a non-committal grunt and pointed towards the tiny stage where a young man, tall and slightly deranged looking - normal people don’t have hair quite that floppy in Jensen’s experience - was swinging left and right, snapping his fingers to the beat and singing what seemed to be freestyle skat that really didn’t help lessen the deranged expression.
The scientist heaved a deep sigh, downing his beer in one long gulp and putting a few more bills down on the bar. He needed more than one drink if this was the man he was supposed to meet. It was not unexpected since the matter at hand was pretty Special - yes, capital S - and required an investigator who could deal with the crazy. It was only fair that said person would be… different… as well.
Jensen waited patiently as the lounge singing paranormal investigator - and wasn’t that something to put into a CV? - finished up his song with a not too awful run accompanied by a few dance moves that seemed more like the death struggle of a mantis. The beer didn’t do much in the way of creating a buzz, but it drowned the stale taste of 50 years of smoke infested walls with the only slightly less stale taste of blessedly cold lager.
###
The crowd was loud and only half paying attention to the show, but Jared hadn’t expected anything else since that was how it always had been. The crowd in the Black Velvet wasn’t the artistic type. They preferred strong drinks and a private atmosphere more than good old jazz. Still, Jared played an encore and did his best moves to go with it because if there was something Jared liked as much as singing, it was dancing. He spun around on the last note and sent his best smile towards the one guy who hadn’t taken his eyes off him in the last twenty minutes. Jared could definitely appreciate the attention, but what he really wanted to appreciate were green eyes, strong shoulders in a tight black button up shirt, and crowned by light brown hair that looked like someone had run their fingers through it repeatedly.
The guy raised an eyebrow at him in a question that was only half suggestive and Jared was more than thankful to get off the stage. Maybe he could strike up a conversation with the owner of those very attentive eyes.
“What did I tell you about doing business in my bar, Jay?” Jeff was right next to the stage with a scowl that was only half-serious.
“To not do it?”
“Exactly. Last time you set up a meeting here I needed to replace half of my glasses.”
“How could I have known that she was a siren? I only found out when the crystal started bursting under her shriek.”
“My point exactly… so WHY is there someone asking for you?” Jeff was scowling now, and only those who knew him would recognize it against his usual expression.
Jared cringed giving Jeff his best apologetic smile while inwardly mourning the loss of his shot on Mister Green-Eyes. “Sorry, Jeff. I’ll take him upstairs, okay? Just tell me where he is and we’re out of here.”
“I’m not that easy, just so you know.” The voice behind Jared made him whirl around in a pirouette that his large body just wasn’t made for, and he nearly stumbled into the man who had interrupted his conversation with Jeff. To Jared’s astonishment (and delight) it was the green-eyed man who had watched him from the bar.
Jeff made a rude gesture that was Jared’s last warning to not do any more damage to the man’s property before slipping back behind his bar, leaving Jared confused and just a little unloved.
“Mister Padalecki, my name is Jensen Ackles. I think we have a meeting scheduled.”
Jared’s full attention snapped back to the handsome man in front of him. “You’re Mister Ackles, the bio technology guru?”
A small smile spread over a freckled face but it didn’t reach the man’s eyes. “I prefer the term entrepreneur. Guru suggests a spirituality that I can not provide. Gods of all colors and shapes do not like me.”
Jared considered the man for a long second wondering what kind of job he was letting himself in on. He didn’t want to think about whether the attention he had read as attraction earlier was actually nothing but his new client wondering if he was worth the money.
“Can we go into my office, Mr. Ackles? It’s just upstairs.”
“You work over a jazz club?”
Jared just shrugged and lead the way. “I used to work in a basement next to the cemetery. This is an improvement.”
###
Jared Padalecki’s office was an eclectic mix of cheap occultism and a black-and-white detective movie. There was a huge crystal ball sitting atop a stack of manila folders not unlike the one Alona had handed Jensen that morning. It seemed to serve more as a weight to keep the files from flying off the desk than a tool to contact the Netherworld. A couple of rusty swords hung on the wall behind a sturdy desk while the rest of the spotty grey tapestry was hidden behind bookshelves that flowed over with anything from heavy tomes with gold print on their spines to worn out Terry Pratchett paperback novels.
A spirit board sat on a small coffee table next to a chessboard with a still unfinished game that had black win in seven moves - Jensen was a genius, don’t ever forget that. The couch that faced it had a deep dent of a place where one person seemed to have made themselves comfortable a lot in the last decade or three.
Padalecki seemed to like the contrast of things, having a deck of Waid Ryder tarot cards lying on a shelf next to a well-used stack of poker cards. Jensen nearly laughed at a buddist singing bowl that was unceremoniously filled with trinkets of different religions including a rosary, a small voodoo doll, a bracelet with blue beads painted with white and black to form many little eyes - a charm found in Turkey and Greece to protect from the evil eye - and a few colorful pieces of cloth that were probably prayer flags in the five colors of buddhism.
Obviously the office’s owner had no qualms with religion, other than Jensen who had always been terribly afraid of churches. If ‘demonic possession’ is something you were regularly accused off by people, then the house of the holy seems like a pretty scary place all of a sudden.
“So what can I help you with, Mister Ackles?” The investigator gestured to a leather chair in front of the desk that looked like it would squeak the moment someone sat on it but was probably more comfortable than any new piece of furniture could ever be. Jensen sat down with a sigh, pulling his checkbook from the folds of his heavy coat. He scribbled the numbers down carelessly and signed the check before ripping it out and handing it to the man who was still leaning against the desk in front of him. Some people would find it uncomfortable to have a man of such physique looming over them, but Jensen just kicked back in his comfy chair and watched. He wasn’t afraid, couldn’t remember the last time he had been afraid of anything but himself.
The tall man let out a low whistle as he read the number on the check. “That’s a very gracious offer, but I want to know what I am getting into before making any commitments.”
Jensen nodded, a small smirk playing around his mouth. That had been a good answer. If Padalecki were greedy enough to just take the money and not ask for details first, Jensen would probably have left right then and there. He didn’t have the patience to hire idiots.
“This is not your fee for your services, Mister Padalecki. It’s simply the fee that will make sure that nothing I’m about to tell you will leave this room, whether you are willing to take the job or not.”
“You’re buying my silence?”
“Confidentiality.”
They stared at each other for a long moment, a game of chicken that neither was willing to lose until an agreement would be found. After half a minute of mute combat, Padalecki nodded slowly, eyes still glued to Jensen’s.
“Fine.” Padalecki quickly pocketed the check that would probably pay his rent for a month and then some. “What’s the big secret?”
A smile that was more fit for a shark than a human being slipped onto Jensen’s face. “Yours or mine?”
The tall man seemed to sense the change in Jensen’s demeanor and he looked like he wanted to take a step back but stood his ground with a clenched jaw. “Is this going to be a quiz?”
“I know you are working for the mob, and I know that you don’t ask twice what people they have you get rid of. But in the last months you have brought me a lot of headaches and I don’t like that. At. All.” He stared Padalecki down and it seemed to take a moment until the man noticed that Jensen didn’t blink, didn’t need to blink. It was a scary thing that Jensen always did in intense situations ever since he was a child.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It was the half-hearted denial of a man who had already lost the battle.
“Oh, but you do. You are cursing my employees and it is a pain in my ass to replace them or coddle them back into their jobs. This will stop and I am willing to pay for it.”
A stubborn line formed on Jared Padalecki’s forehead as his insecurity seemed to be eaten away by anger and defiance. “If you know what I can do, you should also know that I am not afraid of just some guy…”
Jensen grinned fiercely letting all his frustration with the hassle this man had caused him over the last months flow freely and saw his own irises glowing eerily in their reflections in his opponent’s wide eyes.
“I am not just a guy, Mister Padalecki. You would do well to not anger me any more.”
This time Padalecki really did take a step back. “Fuck. What are you?”
“Not entirely human…” He didn’t further elaborate. Imagination can be a strong force of fear. “I am willing to compensate you for losing your employment with my opponents by hiring you myself. You will find that I am willing to pay quite handsomely for a job well done.”
Padalecki’s expression was dark and he sighed, seemingly running out of steam. “It’s not the money that worries me.”
“That means you’re not an idiot.” Jensen turned around showing himself to the door. “Just remember that it’s not Tony and his friends that should worry you either.”
###
Jared sniffed hard as he sprayed a healthy dose into both nostrils tipping his head back to keep the fluids from running back out immediately. The swollen mucosa of his nose started to deflate almost immediately, making breathing a lot more comfortable.
He was still a little freaked out at Jensen Ackles’ brute approach to threatening Jared into submission. It made him angry and very stubborn, but something was fundamentally wrong with that man. Ackles was right, he wasn’t entirely human and while Jared knew a handy spell or three he was not a powerful practitioner, just a good study of the right books. Faced with a creature of brute force, all of his tricks would not save his hide for a second. He didn’t even know what Ackles was, so a preemptive strike was out of the question, and all Jared could do was pacify the man until he either found a way to get him off his case or do as he said.
He scowled at the small blue and white container of nasal spray that was his steady companion, imagining it to be Ackles’ face. It didn’t help his mood at all so he decided to get some opinions on what to do next. He grabbed the deck of Waid Ryder tarot cards and started flipping them open with well trained routine.
###
Jensen’s head hurt, and he made a mental note to send Padalecki a box filled with bats infected with rabies if he started to lose his hair in the next forty-eight hours. It was one of the things Jensen was mentally prepared for. If Jared Padalecki was a professional curse-thrower, it was only logical if he would try to show Jensen exactly what he thought of the little power play that went down the night before… not that some power play was always a bad thing but the innuendo was sadly lacking in the last conversation they’d had.
Chris ambled into the room with a tired expression.
“Am I getting bald?” Jensen asked without saying hello.
“Errm, what?” Chris looked at him with that half-pitying, half-scared look that was usually meant for crazy people and toddlers with soiled diapers.
“Never mind…” Jensen rubbed his temple - secretly checking if there was any hair stuck between his fingers when he pulled them away.
“Alona told me to tell you that the practitioner cashed your check…” Chris’ gaze was piercing through him like an arrow. “Whatever that is about it sounds very fishy. Please tell me that’s not a code for hooker, Jen.”
“I don’t pay for sex, Chris. I just made someone tall, dark and handsome an offer he couldn’t refuse.” Jensen’s smile was predatory and he admitted the glee he felt when Chris seemed anything but happy with that answer.
“You’re sick.”
“The company offers full health care packages, including dental coverage.”
“Fuck you.” Chris spun around leaving Jensen alone as quickly as he could with his dignity still intact while Jensen ticked off another point in his arguing match with Chris that he had kept track of in his mind over the last five years.
###
Jared hummed understandingly while doodling in the sketch of a pentagram he didn’t need anymore. Telephone consultations were rare and tedious. “So you went to the address I gave you?” Of course she did. “He was there, wasn’t he?” Of course he had been.
“You wanted to know if he was cheating on you… yes. So you want him back?” Jared rolled his eyes, covering the receiver with his hand so she wouldn’t hear his exasperated sigh. “There’s no such thing as a love potion. Didn’t you read Harry Potter? Love can not be created. Lust, obsession, need and want, those can be created. Love is like strawberry flavor: the artificial thing doesn’t taste at all like the original, but with enough make believe, you can sell it off as the real deal.”
Jared listened for another minute, crumpling up his doodle sheet and burning it on the black candle that was still burning on his desk. “Okay, so you want him to want you again and only you?” How about a fitness studio? “Well, I can do that, but it’s not cheap… Well, try to find a decent helping of mare’s sweat at a dumping price and I’ll negotiate my fee.” The grin was unstoppable. “I knew you would agree with me there.”
He hung up whistling under his breath. Scorned women made one hell of a customer base.
“Am I interrupting something?”
Jared’s good mood dimmed immediately when he saw the man standing in his door framed by sunlight that made his face unfathomable, but his stance and voice left no doubt who the intruder was.
“Mr. Ackles, to what do I owe the honor? And so soon already.”
“I was told you cashed my check. I took it as a sign that you weren’t as much of a stubborn mule as I thought you might be.” Ackles walked into the office with leisurely strides, both hands buried in the pockets of his leather jacket. It was a relaxed stance, not at all threatening and Jared frowned at him. Maybe the man was bipolar and maybe he just didn’t know that it took two to do the good cop - bad cop routine. Then again, he was charming as ever.
Jared just scowled at him, digging the plastic container with spray from his pocket and helping his nose to two healthy doses of its contents. Only looking at Ackles made Jared’s blood pressure rise and that made his chronically occluded nose only clott up more.
“I thought you said that was for my confidentiality.”
“It was.” Jensen smiled flopping down in the chair Jared had offered him a few short days earlier. “I simply wanted to see how the decision process was coming along. I noticed that none of my employees turned green since our last conversation. That’s a start.”
Jared couldn’t help the smirk that pulled on is lips. “You must admit that one was a classic.”
“Poor Melanie will probably never get rid of being called “Elphaba”. I don’t think she was amused.”
Jared chuckled at the trivia. He didn’t know the people he was hitting with his spells. All he knew was that they were in some mobster’s way and he was being payed handsomely while the targets got to keep their lives, even if their dignity would never recover. “Well, I don’t know what you did to piss off the wrong people, but my services were pretty popular lately. Maybe you should retreat from the battlefield, Mister Ackles.”
“That’s not my style.”
“You should reconsider that before Tony shoots you in the head before throwing you into the river with a pair of concrete boots.” It was not unlikely and Jared didn’t like death. Someone who plays chess with spirits knows what a frustrated ghost is made of.
Ackles chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “He would only be inclined to do so if you told him that I was onto your arrangement.”
“And what makes you think I haven’t told him already?”
“You know what would happen, Jared. You’re not a killer because a killer doesn’t turn people green or makes them puke frogs. Also you don’t know what I am just yet and if an attempt on my life by one of those gangster thugs wouldn’t just piss me off even more. You’re not an idiot after all… at least not all the time.”
Jared stared at Ackles for a long moment. Hazel eyes met green and they assessed each other in a game of chicken that went on for a long moment. Ackles once again didn’t blink and he held himself still as a statue, making Jared’s senses pipe up with a warning. He hadn’t been wrong with putting Ackles down as a potential threat, but those green eyes weren’t as scarily hard and warning as they used to be. They were just terribly calm and very insightful. Ackles wasn’t bluffing as he read Jared like an open book.
Blinking twice, irritated at how all his anger strangely drained away at that calm look, Jared sighed shaking his head. “Just so you know, I…”
He didn’t get to finish his sentence when a loud bang made him jump high enough that he could have landed cat-like on his desk if not for the complete lack of grace and purpose of the motion. He whirled around, Ackles completely forgotten, to find Tony and two of his “colleagues” standing in the door. Well, fuck.
“Looks like I was wrong.” Ackles’ voice was a deep growl, terribly quiet and contained, and Jared took a step towards the wall, eyes skimming back and forth between the man he had been talking to and the intruders who just busted down his office door.
“If I HAD told them, I would have arranged for this to go down somewhere I will not have to pay for the damage.”
Tony gave them a malicious grin and raised his gun pointing at Jensen for a long moment before swinging the barrel over to Jared. “He’s right, which is why we’ll kill you both. We don’t like traitors.”
“I’m not a traitor.” Jared’s head was reeling as he crept along the wall at a snail’s pace trying to find something to use as a weapon or cover.
To his surprise, Ackles stepped forwards, half blocking the way between Jared and the gun. “He hasn’t taken me up on my offer. What do you have that I don’t? A dental plan? An employee of the month contest?”
“Didn’t you think we’re monitoring your accounts, Padalecki? You cashed his check this morning.”
“Those peanuts?” Ackles cocked his head provocatively. “Do you really think I’d hire cheap help? That was just compensation for Mr. Padalecki’s time, as I was wasting it quite abundantly.”
“Shut up!” Tony’s head had turned a livid shade of purple as Jared could practically watch his blood pressure rise to commercial flight level. “Nobody steals from the family. Obviously you haven’t learned your lesson yet, Ackles.”
Jensen Ackles laughed and Jared added “fucking crazy” to the long list he had compiled about that man (including hot, handsome, scary, sexy, rude and reckless…). “Oh please! My research is ground breaking. It’s not stealing when the “new technology” your little scam is selling to desperate people will be replaced by a therapy that actually works. You can’t stop evolution. Find yourselves a new con to run on people instead of trying to stop my projects by bewitching my research team!”
“Are you calling me a witch?” Jared said without even thinking first and all eyes snapped to him in a second, making Jared gape like a fish at his utter stupidity.
“What would you prefer, Harry?” Jensen’s drawl was mean, poison dripping from every syllable.
“Harry?” Tony asked stupidly making Jensen roll his eyes exasperatedly.
“Dude! You got no idea of pop culture! Harry Potter, Harry Dresden, Harry Houdini…” He ticked off names on his fingers but as he raised number three Tony's never very hypertrophic patience snapped and he stepped up to the man who was obviously thinking he was a complete idiot swinging the gun he held in his hand like a bat slamming it against Ackles’ temple with a vengeance that sent the man sideways into the wall. Jared cringed, knowing that this was the moment things started to escalate deciding to be the one to throw the first stone - or rather the first crystal ball.
The big glass ball that had weighed down onto the files on his desk was about the size of a teapot and rather solid. It hit one of the grumpy looking goons, who up to that moment had stayed quiet and - did that require some special training? - in the zone. Jared reveled in the satisfying crunch that resulted when bone snapped as the solid object hit his face and the man yowled in pain as blood shot from his nose dripping onto the floor.
Jared wasn’t sure what had Jensen pouncing like a cougar. Maybe it was the anger, the pain of the hit or just the overwhelming smell of blood that flooded the room but there he was knocking the second goon to the ground like his six foot three, two-hundred pounds frame was a rag doll and tearing on flesh with his bare hands. The attacked man gurgled a scream, flailing his arms knocking into Jensen with hard fists, nearly dislodging him as knees hit him in the small of his back but Jensen didn’t even seem to notice.
Tony stumbled backwards and knocked into Jared’s bookshelf with the full weight of his body shaking it hard enough to have books and candles toppling to the floor. He was shaking and it took two hands to steady his revolver enough so he could level the barrel at Jensen, who was covered in blood by now and pulled the trigger.
The bang shook Jared out of his funk and he watched with fascinated horror as Jensen’s head snapped up. His shoulder hadn’t even really twitched when the bullet cleanly passed through it, leaving a small explosion of blood where it exited his body within the fracture of a second. It didn’t seem to hurt and Jared wasn’t really sure whether Jensen had even felt the pain or if his attention hadn’t been grabbed by the noise first and foremost.
Tony’s eyes were comically wide and his mouth opened and closed with words that ended in scared choking noises that were too shrill for a man his size. Jared thought he might smell urine. He turned his head away as Jensen’s body tackled the man to the floor with a crash that sounded like a tree being cut. As he averted his eyes, his view was caught by the tarot cards that had been strewn across the floor haphazardly during the madness that was going on. Staring back from the top of the pile was the Death card.
Something in Jared was shaken back to awareness and he practically disappeared in his desk as he rifled through the assortment of strange items in it for the new container of salt he had bought. His fingers felt numb as they closed around it and it took him three tries to rip open one end of the hard paper box before he started to draw a circle of salt around himself.
As luck had it Jensen Ackles - whatever he was - was not stopped by something as fickle as a spirit banishing circle.
Jared found himself on his back, head banging against the floor with a dull thud that resonated in his head like a church bell. Only a foot away from his face was Jensen, bloodshot eyes glowing with murder, red coating his face hands and clothes and perfect white teeth bared in a bestial growl.
The investigator closed his eyes tightly, not seeing a need in watching as Jensen ripped him apart like an origami swan. He held his breath and waited for the first explosion of pain but it didn’t come. Maybe time had slowed down just like in the movies and if he opened his eyes there would be a terrible slow motion version of the savage man who had him pinned to the ground about to stick his hand into Jared’s stomach and rip out his intestines or something equally physically impossible.
It was a long moment before Jared decided that something was off. His lungs burned and he had to let go of the held breath as his body yearned for oxygen. His eyes flew open at that realization and there was Jensen, still bathed in fresh blood but no longer looking homicidal but rather strained. His eyes were screwed closed tightly and the frown on his face was that of painful concentration both hands pressed to his temples as if to keep his brain from escaping through his ears.
He was still straddling Jared, knees on either side of Jared’s hips and effectively keeping him pinned down. “Jensen?” Jared wasn’t sure when he had replaced Mr. Ackles with Jensen in his mind but it was probably somewhere around the time his former allies had kicked down his door and made the decision of whom to side with for him.
For a second nothing happened, then Jensen started blinking as if he had something in his eyes (which with the amount of blood on him would not be far fetched). The hands slipped off his temples and he looked a little lost and quite nauseated when the sticky, rapidly cooling blood seemed to register with him. The last thing actually catching his attention was Jared still lying between his legs with a by now slightly embarrassed look watching Jensen with a timid frown.
“Are you back from the land of crazy murder?”
The man sitting on top swallowed, slowly nodding before quietly sliding off Jared in one smooth motion. “Sorry about that.”
“It was pretty scary.” Okay, so it was really fucking scary - Jared actually understood why poor no-more-Tony had literally pissed himself when faced with it. “But you… You kinda saved our lives.” A moment of wonder makes Jared shake his head as he sits up, happy that all his limbs are still attached. “Why didn’t you kill me?”
“For a second I thought I would. It’s pretty hard to stop the madness when it’s on a roll, but I pulled you into this mess, so…”
“Yes you did. At least this immediate part of the mess at our hands.”
“OUR hands?”
A hesitant smile slipped over Jared’s lips. “You pulled me into it, you need to protect me, oh big and scary one.”
“Does that mean you are taking me up on my offer?” A disbelieving look was plastered onto Jensen’s face as he screwed up his nose trying to rub away the worst grime and failing spectacularly, mostly due to the fact that his hands were only more soiled if possible.
“I need hazard pay.”
Jensen laughed and it looked freakish as hell. “You got it.”
###
Jensen walked into Jared’s living room, his hair wet and tousled and looking pretty ridiculous in Jared’s too long slacks and too wide shirt. There was no way the man could have gone out on the street looking like Jack the Ripper. Thankfully Jared’s office was right next to his apartment (which was very handy when working freaky hours or having to wash off blood without any big transit times). Jensen looked quite dismayed with the baggy clothes. It was adorable and Jared bit his lip trying to hide his laughter and failing spectacularly.
“Har har. Next time I’ll let them shoot you and keep my shirt spotless instead.”
“Sorry… but you kinda grabbed the baggiest shirt in the closet. You could wear that as a dress.”
“And I bet it would look great with the red lace panties and ten inch heels I love so much.” It was said with such sarcasm that Jared couldn’t help laughing heartily. Rich and snotty as Jensen Ackles was, his bitchy ways really grew on Jared.
He started packing the backpack with everything he might need to clean up the mess in his office because there was no way to explain THAT to the police.
“What are you doing?” Jensen raised his eyebrow at the seemingly random assembly of artifacts and ingredients.
“How well are you at alchemy?”
“I got a doctor in bio technology and a Masters in chemistry.”
“So you suck at alchemy.”
Jensen picked up something brown and shriveled that had him screw up his nose without even knowing what it was (Jared decided to better not tell him either). “I’d say so. I read up on it and it defies all logic and natural order.”
“As does all magic… Or rather it creates it’s own order.”
Jensen only hummed dropping the shriveled something back into the bag and rubbing his fingers together to get any imaginary remains off his skin. He flinched as he tried to pick up the bag looking startled more than in pain and looking down at his shoulder as if surprised. “My shoulder hurts.”
Jared stared at him for a long moment wondering if Jensen really couldn’t remember getting shot. How far out of this world had he been? “Well, yeah, Tony shot you.”
“Really?” Genuine surprise and a misplaced curiosity crossed Jensen’s features and he pulled up the over-sized t-shirt trying to feel for the wound. It was absurd and a little worrying.
“You didn’t see it while showering? Take that off. We need to dress the wound.”
“There was blood all over me, I didn’t notice. The pain always comes back last.”
Jared went to the kitchen cabinet grabbing the small first aid kit that had once belonged I into his first car grabbing bandages and gauze. He had to check first but he was pretty sure that it had been a clean through-and-through shot and there couldn’t be any severe bleeding or Jensen would have noticed even without any pain.
“How can you NOT feel pain?”
“I don’t know. That’s just the way it’s always been.” Jensen had the shirt off and Jared let his eyes skim over the freckled skin and broad back before forcing himself to concentrate on the task at hand. His initial observation had been correct and he only needed to dress the wound with gauze and a bandage. There might be stitches needed but Jared had no training and certainly no sewing material, so he made do with his own fickle supplies.
“You should be glad you’re still alive”, Jared said while taping down the end of the bandage.
“It’s not me who nearly got eaten by the big bad wolf.”
Hazel eyes came up connecting with green ones and he shook his head. “You’re not so big and bad.”
“You don’t know me.”
“You didn’t kill me.”
They stared at each other for a long minute, Jared’s hands still on Jensen’s shoulder, eyes connected and much closer than appropriate in normal conversation. The stare was as intense as it had been back when they were arguing but the message was different, more heated.
When their lips met, Jared’s heart skipped a beat. This was completely crazy and probably a terrible idea but the frustration and fear of the day had melted down into a need that found it’s outlet right then and there. The very first time Jared had set his eyes on the other man, there had been a spark and it wasn’t allowed to kindle a flame under the crazy circumstances of their meeting. But now it had hit dry hay and the flames were eating everything in their way.
Jared’s hands moved over shoulders until he slung both arms around Jensen’s back pulling him closer until they were flush against each other. A tongue slipped inside his mouth battling and teasing with his own and Jensen’s hands slipped underneath his shirt, nails scratching the soft skin of his back.
They weren’t timid or careful and Jared was pretty sure that he pulled on Jensen’s injured shoulder more than he should have but it seemed like whatever blocked all feeling of pain for the man before was still working at least partly. Kisses turned into bites every now and again as nails dug into skin and bodies ground together. When they finally pulled apart enough to breathe, Jensen was already pushing Jared’s shirt off.
“What are we doing, Jensen?” Jared couldn’t remember ever using the man’s first name before but it rolled off his tongue deliciously. He was already shrugging out of his shirt, body contradicting the question in his words.
“Do I need to tell you about the birds and the bees?” One sneaky hand quickly slipped between Jared’s skin and his jeans reaching down and applying the sweetest pressure making Jared melt against the shorter man.
“That… oh… So who’s the bee?”
“Oh shut up!” Jensen muffled all protest with another deep kiss spiked with teeth and tongue adding a little movement of his hand that made Jared moan quite obscenely.
He couldn’t remember when or HOW he had decided to pull Jensen into the bedroom but suddenly he fell backwards and felt the soft mattress underneath him. Jensen’s teeth dragged down his pecs while talented hands undid his pants quite expertly until Jensen slipped off the bed to unceremoniously tug off the rest of Jared’s clothes and add his own to the pile.
When skin met skin all conscious thought was lost and they started grappling with each other for dominance, flipping the other over and pressing down on him but in the end they were already too far gone to care and Jared reached down grabbing both of them in his big hand and adding to the friction as they moved against each other in a frantic rhythm accentuated with groans and grunts pulled forward at every move, bite, lick.
If someone asked Jared who came first, he would be at a loss. All he knew was that there was the sweetest pleasure and madness and exhaustion and then he lay there tangled around the limp body of a beautiful man sticky and sated and all he could do was pull the sheets over them and envelop the other man in his huge frame, stickiness be damned.
###
The sounds were grizzly and made Jared’s stomach churn unpleasantly as he was leaning against the banged up door to his office. He had taped it shut with a full roll of duct tape after shutting the windows tightly, adding salt-lines to all sills and the gap under the door. The wet smack and low growls were only interrupted by the occasional crack and a lot of noisy chewing.
“Do I want to know?” Jensen sidled up to him - yes, he had spent the night if only because they were too tired to even think about it being the right thing to do - leaning next to him with a look that seemed either very evil or very happy, probably a little of both.
“I don’t think so. Let’s just say that there will be nothing left by the time the sun is really up.” It was early, the sun only just peaking over the horizon and dawn still young. By the time the sun was really visible the ‘cleaning crew’ Jared had called up from the netherworld - a spell that took up most of his rare and expensive ingredients - would be vanquished by the light of day. His office would need complete renovation but at least there were two mangled bodies less in there to take care of. The third guy, who got his nose broken by Jared’s crystal ball, had run just in time and they agreed that it was probably best that way so he could tell his bosses not to try something similar again.
A wet pop sounded noisily from behind the door and Jensen turned a little green around the nose. “I guess that wasn’t a melon, was it?”
“Probably not. Do you want to go grab breakfast.”
“Fuck you.”
“If you want to…” Jared dished out his cheesiest grin and as they were laughing together, all disgusting noises behind the door were forgotten.
###
“So you… have anger management issues?” Jensen had taken the time to explain his situation to Jared who now tried to find the right words and wondered if he had failed when Jensen just rolled those green eyes at him.
“If that includes making minced meat out of all living things around me, then yes. I do.” The scientist’s face was carefully blank, guarded against the things Jared might unleash in the revelation of the man’s true nature.
“And you want me to find out why this is happening?” Jared was already starting to compose a list in his head of possible reasons for that bloodthirsty rage that had been described. There were several curses, some kinds of lycanthropy and a few spirit beings that might cause similar symptoms…
“No. I know why.”
Jared’s reeling mind stopped dead and his eyes snapped back to Jensen - whether he was his new boss, his lover or something else, he really couldn’t tell. Probably a bit of all. “You do?”
“Yes. It’s inherited. My dad was like this and so was his dad. As far as I could tell it all tracks back to the battle of Hafrsfjord in the ninth century.” For a minute Jared wanted to laugh but the other man’s face was sober as could be.
“You tracked your family tree back into the ninth century?”
“You’d be amazed what one can do with enough money and modern information technology… you can even find hair dressers online. It’s scary.” The smirk on Jensen’s face made Jared huff a sigh as he theatrically swept back his long bangs reassuring himself that he didn’t need a haircut.
“So what does that family tree have to do with your little problem?”
Jensen looked at him for a moment that made Jared feel like he was an utter idiot. “and you call yourself a paranormal investigator? You should be ashamed of yourself.” It was mild bickering - at least for Jensen’s standards - and he smirked at Jared as he made a dramatic pause before the big revelation. “We’re Berserkers.”
Jared blinked. He had met quite a few creatures during his work as a paranormal investigator, but this was the first time he heard someone refer to a seemingly human being as a Berserker in more than just a metaphorical kind of way. “Berserkers… huh.”
“Wow. You are so eloquent I wonder how you aren’t President yet.”
“And you really know how to be a jerk, don’t you?”
By then, Jared really wasn’t surprised to see Jensen Ackles laugh. The man could take insults as well as he dished them out.
“It’s a gift.” The scientist got up pulling a card out of his pocket and laying it on the desk. “You know, the offer still stands. I think late-Tony’s boss will be a pain in the ass in the future. We’d be better off working together. If you are interested in the job, give me a call. My offer stands.”
Jensen was already halfway by the door when Jared answered. “So what exactly would that job be?”
Jensen left with a double-edged smirk and a soft click of the door and Jared was left confused and more than a bit intrigued. Whatever is was, this job at least sounded better than a rain of slugs. He would definitely give Jensen a call and maybe it would be only vaguely work related.
THE END
>> sequel ficlet: Feral Side: There are a few things that can tick off a berserker: blood, rage, violence… and jealousy. It’s a lesson Jared will still have to learn.
*
A/N: A HUGE THANK YOU to this weeks cheerleaders. You're all greedy little readers such great support! Thanks for kicking my ass to finish this story in time.
*hugs* Birdie
Trivia: Most laughed at moment - Zuben's comment to a sentence I have in here-> "I'm confused... Is this related to the exploding mice?" I nearly died laughing thinking "Oh wow, I think this story is kinda sick."