[Fic] Her Privates We - Jeff/Jensen RPS AU, fluff, bathtubs
I’m a little nervous about posting this--first fic of 2016, first time writing RPF. I’m still not actually sure I understand what RPF is (and what is AU? what is fluff? what is characterization? what is slash? for that matter!), but sillie82’s artwork that inspired this piece is gorgeous, so if nothing else I hope that this post functions as an excuse to get people to click on her art and shower her with the love she justly deserves! The fic itself is a little stiff--maybe like an improv skit?--but I think I can accept that.
Anyway, the premise ended up being something like, Jeff and Jensen met online and have been dating for a while. Jeff works with his ex-wife doing something that involves very public exhibitionism--maybe porn, or a strip club, or some variant on that, though their marriage had ended nearly two decades ago, presumably because they'd gotten a little too carried away with performing their marriage for "the scene" than actually being married. XD Anyway, Jeff is smitten with Jensen and his dedication to privacy.
Title: Her Privates We
Pairing: Jeff/Jensen
Genre: slash, fluff, RPS AU
Rating: R
Word Count: ~950
Notes: For sillie82’s gorgeous, sultry artwork, which she drew for beelikej.
She thinks his name is Anonymous. Her lips are tighter than usual, and she's stressed about the new bookkeeping software, and she thinks he's gone off the goddamn deep end. And maybe he has, but his head's still resting against the tub spigot, Jensen's hair brushing the bottom of his chin, their feet struggling for dominance at the other side of the too-small tub. The water had gotten too cold too quick, but Jeff maintains their selfie had been hot. Jensen said he hated that word, and don't you dare post that on your insta-whatevers.
You know, my ex and I fit in here better, Jeff insinuated. (--maybe too risky, he'd thought, just a half-second too late to redact.)
But Jensen didn't skip a beat. We're not buying a goddamn Whirlpool, dude.
Then he sank deeper into the water and
"Jeff, I'm serious," says Audre. "You gotta be careful with that stuff. I don't want you to get hurt. You're always way too…full-frontal…and like. I don't know."
Jeff wants to point out that that's exactly what she'd said before she divorced him, but it's only reflex. They are years beyond that. Tina'd been in diapers then, and she's filling out a FAFSA now. (He remembers Tina small, bathing in the full tub on her own for the first time. She'd been playing near the spigot, imagining it a waterfall for her plastic animals, when she stood up suddenly. Tore a chunk out of her back on the beak of the falcon-like spigot.)
"Audre, I'm serious," says Jeff. "Besides, I'm the one with the badass tattoo. Catfishers don't mess with guys with badass tattoos."
Audre laughs out loud, but it's a genuine sound. And her spreadsheet isn't giving her any more error pings.
"Do you want to know his name?" Jeff asks. He thinks maybe she doesn't; that even if they're over--over enough to go back to working with each other, thank god; because looking for reliability was hell in this business--maybe that's a shade too far.
But Audre says yes, affable and light, like the high school sweetheart he'd married. Jeff likes her better as a friend, he decides, the way he decides every day; and fuck whatever psycho-babble Buzzfeed has to say about that. It's true. (He likes her better with Jared, if he's going to get technical. She and Jared are better together than they ever were--)
--Jensen's lips at his jawline, just where it crested over, became chin. He imagined Jensen's lips flushed red, kindled by his stubble. The pressure was just enough he could feel the tub spigot cutting into his neck. A faintly dangerous sort of pain.
Fuck, you're beautiful, said Jensen's lips, the spread of his freckles over his chest, the grasp of his fingers, and the green green green of his eyes--even if only, at present, imagined. Fuck, you're beautiful, said Jensen.
"Eh, you're all right," Jeff returns. "Could use a little work."
Jeff pays mind to nothing but the peek of Jensen's cock out of the water.
Could he touch it with his toe? he wondered. Flexibility wasn't exactly his strong suit, but some challenges were worth accepting.
"Do I get to meet him?" Audre asks, some time after lunch. They'd been talking supplier orders up until that point, Big Dick Zs and Fairy Frottage and the one neither of them can remember but that starts with a P.
"Mr. Anonymous, I mean. Not P-whatever," Audre clarifies quickly.
Hell, Jeff can imagine it--they'd get along, her and Jensen. She'd find him funny. He'd ask her for dirt--all in good fun, he'd swear. As coffee between friends went, they'd all bat a thousand.
But "I'd rather you didn't," he says. "Not yet."
Audre pretends to focus extra-hard on the receipts she's filing.
"It's just… you know how you want to keep some things personal for a while? Intimate. And just--have that space together? Alone?" Jeff rambles. (Swing and a miss, he thinks.)
(No space between them, he thinks; his fingers against Jensen's neck, he thinks; Jensen's lashes drooping duskily over iris, he thinks. The beat of their hearts.)
But Audre gets it, and of course she does. They'd loved each other once, after all. There'd been reasons--as many as there were to lead their new lives now. "Totally," she says. "I think that was always our problem, J. We never believed that. Too busy letting the world know how great we were."
"You'd like him," Jeff says.
"Oh, I'll be the judge of that someday, I'm sure."
And Audre winks.
Jeff sees Jensen in the act--the flutter of her lashes, crinkle of her eyes.
It's Jensen in Audre, and not the other way around. He's relieved; not that he'd ever found them similar, or that he'd been afraid. But it feels good to know. To feel this right. It's a faintly dangerous sort of certainty, but all the best things are.
He gets a text.
Figured we'd skip the house plant, it reads. Happy fucking Big New Tub Day!
Selfie or didnt happen, Jeff texts back.
"I know that face! I know what you're doing over there!" Audre pipes up, twisting away from the filing cabinet. And when Jeff opens his mouth to protest, she says, "No, no, don't deny it, you totally are--"
Jeff's phone pings again. One more--just one! he mouths to Audre.
Thx for proving youre not just sitting in the ikea display, he texts back.
Another ping. And Jensen: …how do you know im not? ;}
Jeff smiles at their private joke, and for once he keeps it for himself.
And did I mention sillie82’s gorgeous, sultry artwork??
May 2016 be a year of unexpected adventures, tried-and-true indulgences, and multifarious fannish activity for all. ♥
Anyway, the premise ended up being something like, Jeff and Jensen met online and have been dating for a while. Jeff works with his ex-wife doing something that involves very public exhibitionism--maybe porn, or a strip club, or some variant on that, though their marriage had ended nearly two decades ago, presumably because they'd gotten a little too carried away with performing their marriage for "the scene" than actually being married. XD Anyway, Jeff is smitten with Jensen and his dedication to privacy.
Title: Her Privates We
Pairing: Jeff/Jensen
Genre: slash, fluff, RPS AU
Rating: R
Word Count: ~950
Notes: For sillie82’s gorgeous, sultry artwork, which she drew for beelikej.
She thinks his name is Anonymous. Her lips are tighter than usual, and she's stressed about the new bookkeeping software, and she thinks he's gone off the goddamn deep end. And maybe he has, but his head's still resting against the tub spigot, Jensen's hair brushing the bottom of his chin, their feet struggling for dominance at the other side of the too-small tub. The water had gotten too cold too quick, but Jeff maintains their selfie had been hot. Jensen said he hated that word, and don't you dare post that on your insta-whatevers.
You know, my ex and I fit in here better, Jeff insinuated. (--maybe too risky, he'd thought, just a half-second too late to redact.)
But Jensen didn't skip a beat. We're not buying a goddamn Whirlpool, dude.
Then he sank deeper into the water and
"Jeff, I'm serious," says Audre. "You gotta be careful with that stuff. I don't want you to get hurt. You're always way too…full-frontal…and like. I don't know."
Jeff wants to point out that that's exactly what she'd said before she divorced him, but it's only reflex. They are years beyond that. Tina'd been in diapers then, and she's filling out a FAFSA now. (He remembers Tina small, bathing in the full tub on her own for the first time. She'd been playing near the spigot, imagining it a waterfall for her plastic animals, when she stood up suddenly. Tore a chunk out of her back on the beak of the falcon-like spigot.)
"Audre, I'm serious," says Jeff. "Besides, I'm the one with the badass tattoo. Catfishers don't mess with guys with badass tattoos."
Audre laughs out loud, but it's a genuine sound. And her spreadsheet isn't giving her any more error pings.
"Do you want to know his name?" Jeff asks. He thinks maybe she doesn't; that even if they're over--over enough to go back to working with each other, thank god; because looking for reliability was hell in this business--maybe that's a shade too far.
But Audre says yes, affable and light, like the high school sweetheart he'd married. Jeff likes her better as a friend, he decides, the way he decides every day; and fuck whatever psycho-babble Buzzfeed has to say about that. It's true. (He likes her better with Jared, if he's going to get technical. She and Jared are better together than they ever were--)
--Jensen's lips at his jawline, just where it crested over, became chin. He imagined Jensen's lips flushed red, kindled by his stubble. The pressure was just enough he could feel the tub spigot cutting into his neck. A faintly dangerous sort of pain.
Fuck, you're beautiful, said Jensen's lips, the spread of his freckles over his chest, the grasp of his fingers, and the green green green of his eyes--even if only, at present, imagined. Fuck, you're beautiful, said Jensen.
"Eh, you're all right," Jeff returns. "Could use a little work."
Jeff pays mind to nothing but the peek of Jensen's cock out of the water.
Could he touch it with his toe? he wondered. Flexibility wasn't exactly his strong suit, but some challenges were worth accepting.
"Do I get to meet him?" Audre asks, some time after lunch. They'd been talking supplier orders up until that point, Big Dick Zs and Fairy Frottage and the one neither of them can remember but that starts with a P.
"Mr. Anonymous, I mean. Not P-whatever," Audre clarifies quickly.
Hell, Jeff can imagine it--they'd get along, her and Jensen. She'd find him funny. He'd ask her for dirt--all in good fun, he'd swear. As coffee between friends went, they'd all bat a thousand.
But "I'd rather you didn't," he says. "Not yet."
Audre pretends to focus extra-hard on the receipts she's filing.
"It's just… you know how you want to keep some things personal for a while? Intimate. And just--have that space together? Alone?" Jeff rambles. (Swing and a miss, he thinks.)
(No space between them, he thinks; his fingers against Jensen's neck, he thinks; Jensen's lashes drooping duskily over iris, he thinks. The beat of their hearts.)
But Audre gets it, and of course she does. They'd loved each other once, after all. There'd been reasons--as many as there were to lead their new lives now. "Totally," she says. "I think that was always our problem, J. We never believed that. Too busy letting the world know how great we were."
"You'd like him," Jeff says.
"Oh, I'll be the judge of that someday, I'm sure."
And Audre winks.
Jeff sees Jensen in the act--the flutter of her lashes, crinkle of her eyes.
It's Jensen in Audre, and not the other way around. He's relieved; not that he'd ever found them similar, or that he'd been afraid. But it feels good to know. To feel this right. It's a faintly dangerous sort of certainty, but all the best things are.
He gets a text.
Figured we'd skip the house plant, it reads. Happy fucking Big New Tub Day!
Selfie or didnt happen, Jeff texts back.
"I know that face! I know what you're doing over there!" Audre pipes up, twisting away from the filing cabinet. And when Jeff opens his mouth to protest, she says, "No, no, don't deny it, you totally are--"
Jeff's phone pings again. One more--just one! he mouths to Audre.
Thx for proving youre not just sitting in the ikea display, he texts back.
Another ping. And Jensen: …how do you know im not? ;}
Jeff smiles at their private joke, and for once he keeps it for himself.
And did I mention sillie82’s gorgeous, sultry artwork??
May 2016 be a year of unexpected adventures, tried-and-true indulgences, and multifarious fannish activity for all. ♥