Life Drawing (9/?)
Title Life Drawing 9/?
Author LadyJanelly
Pairing Jared/Jensen (this chapter is Jensen focused gen)
Rating R
Warnings Possibly triggering material regarding a minor (feel free to message me if you'd like a more detailed warning)
Jensen is thirteen and wishes he was anywhere else. The photo shoot is in an old vacant office park. Halls and outdoor spaces dressed up with rows of lockers ad bright hand-painted signs to make it look like a school. Go Team and Varsity on poster-board. Jensen knows his dad works in an office. Worked in one at least back before Donna left him and took Jensen with her. Four years since he’s seen his dad or his big brother or baby sister. They could be anywhere now. Doing anything.
The abandoned conference room they’re using as dressing room and waiting area for the models smells like paint and mold. The parents are somewhere else. Jensen hears them sometimes as he’s changing clothes or walking to a new piece of background scenery. Laughing and talking together in a blurb of bright noise.
The photographer’s assistant pops her head in the door. “Five minutes, guys,” she says with plastic cheer. “I’ll be back for you. Everyone ready to have fun?”
She’s doing that buddy thing that Jensen hates so much. Like they’re not smart enough to understand that they’re kids and she’s a grown-up and she’s not their friend. But the other kids all grin and agree and look excited. Older than him and doubt creeps in that he is the only one she’s faking it for.
He empties the last of his Coke and wishes for another sip from the flask that Donna carries in her purse. For another of the little blue pills.
The girls are talking clothes and the boys sports. Jensen reties his shoes and pretends he doesn’t hear someone say “Stuck up” and someone else agree “Snob.”
The assistant comes back and leads them all down a corridor and into a new section of the complex, to a cinder-block wall with bleachers set up in front of it, littered with streamers and pom-poms. A portable radio blares some tinny pop song to get them in the mood.
The photographer and his assistant move the kids to where they want them. The woman’s hands are cool on Jensen’s arm as she moves his hand to one of the girl’s waist. She turns his hips just so and moves his shoulders over here. The girl casts one look over her shoulder at him, face unreadable before she is adjusted in turn. He wants to tell her that he’s sorry but he isn’t sure what for.
And he smiles for the camera as the the shutter rolls off triple-clicks of pictures and the multiple flash bulbs strobe him blind. Becomes nothing behind that smile. A pretty rack for the school clothes only a mother would buy. It’s easier if he goes somewhere else. Practices being empty. He moves where he’s told. Leans against another boy like they’re telling secrets and then like they’re watching a pretty girl. Throws his head back and laughs on cue. Grins and poses with a football, pretends to catch it.
He’s tired when it’s over, a little sore from holding positions that only look natural on the page. Not really paying attention until he sees Donna talking to the photographer and realizes the other kids are gone or going, dressed in their own clothes and filtering out to the parking lot.
“…for my portfolio,” Jensen overhears the photographer say. “And his too, of course. Something more artistic, to show his versatility.”
Donna has stars in her eyes. “This could be very important,” she tells him as she walks him around a partition and hands him the clothes the photographer wants him in for this. “This could open some doors for you.”
“Mom,” he starts to protest but her look quiets him back down. It’s the I gave up everything for you, look. The Why must you be so difficult? look. And he nods and sighs (but not too loud) and she leaves while he puts on the plain t-shirt and the faded jeans.
The music is off and the assistant is gone when Jensen steps back out. Donna too. The photographer looks up from where he’s adjusting a light and stares, looking Jensen up and down. He has a moment of fear, that he’s done something wrong, forgotten to zip his fly or put his shirt on backwards. “Um, where do you want me, sir?” and the photographer startles a little like he was caught daydreaming.
“Hey,” he says in that grown-up-to-kid voice. “Call me Mike.” And then he gestures to the bleachers, where there’s no longer the faux detritus of teenage life. “Right here’s fine.”
The lights are different. Harder from one side but Jensen knows better than to turn completely away from the glare. He tries to smile again but Mike shakes his head from behind the camera. “No, don’t. Just relax. Look right here. Look through here.”
It’s the oddest photo shoot Jensen’s been on. “Here, pull up your knees, rest your chin on them. MmHmm, just like that,” then “Okay, lean back on your elbows. Spread your knees a little. Think tired, like you’ve been in a fight or something. Can you chew on your lip a little? Let me see your teeth there.”
And Jensen is not stupid. He knows it’s some sex thing. If it gets worse, he’s going to yell. He’s going to call for Donna or get up or run or something. If it gets worse.
“Here,” Mike says and comes over. “Turn your chin this way.” And he puts his fingers under Jensen’s jaw and tilts his neck. Goes back to the camera and takes more pictures. Lifts it tripod and all to be closer, lower.
“Let me fix your shirt.” And he steps close. Too close. Both hands reaching for Jensen’s collar. There’s a click like fingernail clippers and then Mike gives the fabric a quick yank. The sound of fabric ripping is very loud in the big quiet of the room and Jensen is frozen. He’s stuck and he can’t yell and he can’t run. Mike steps back and looks him over then nods once. The air and lights are warm on Jensen’s bared neck and shoulder but his hands are numb.
The camera whirs and whirs.
Author LadyJanelly
Pairing Jared/Jensen (this chapter is Jensen focused gen)
Rating R
Warnings Possibly triggering material regarding a minor (feel free to message me if you'd like a more detailed warning)
Jensen is thirteen and wishes he was anywhere else. The photo shoot is in an old vacant office park. Halls and outdoor spaces dressed up with rows of lockers ad bright hand-painted signs to make it look like a school. Go Team and Varsity on poster-board. Jensen knows his dad works in an office. Worked in one at least back before Donna left him and took Jensen with her. Four years since he’s seen his dad or his big brother or baby sister. They could be anywhere now. Doing anything.
The abandoned conference room they’re using as dressing room and waiting area for the models smells like paint and mold. The parents are somewhere else. Jensen hears them sometimes as he’s changing clothes or walking to a new piece of background scenery. Laughing and talking together in a blurb of bright noise.
The photographer’s assistant pops her head in the door. “Five minutes, guys,” she says with plastic cheer. “I’ll be back for you. Everyone ready to have fun?”
She’s doing that buddy thing that Jensen hates so much. Like they’re not smart enough to understand that they’re kids and she’s a grown-up and she’s not their friend. But the other kids all grin and agree and look excited. Older than him and doubt creeps in that he is the only one she’s faking it for.
He empties the last of his Coke and wishes for another sip from the flask that Donna carries in her purse. For another of the little blue pills.
The girls are talking clothes and the boys sports. Jensen reties his shoes and pretends he doesn’t hear someone say “Stuck up” and someone else agree “Snob.”
The assistant comes back and leads them all down a corridor and into a new section of the complex, to a cinder-block wall with bleachers set up in front of it, littered with streamers and pom-poms. A portable radio blares some tinny pop song to get them in the mood.
The photographer and his assistant move the kids to where they want them. The woman’s hands are cool on Jensen’s arm as she moves his hand to one of the girl’s waist. She turns his hips just so and moves his shoulders over here. The girl casts one look over her shoulder at him, face unreadable before she is adjusted in turn. He wants to tell her that he’s sorry but he isn’t sure what for.
And he smiles for the camera as the the shutter rolls off triple-clicks of pictures and the multiple flash bulbs strobe him blind. Becomes nothing behind that smile. A pretty rack for the school clothes only a mother would buy. It’s easier if he goes somewhere else. Practices being empty. He moves where he’s told. Leans against another boy like they’re telling secrets and then like they’re watching a pretty girl. Throws his head back and laughs on cue. Grins and poses with a football, pretends to catch it.
He’s tired when it’s over, a little sore from holding positions that only look natural on the page. Not really paying attention until he sees Donna talking to the photographer and realizes the other kids are gone or going, dressed in their own clothes and filtering out to the parking lot.
“…for my portfolio,” Jensen overhears the photographer say. “And his too, of course. Something more artistic, to show his versatility.”
Donna has stars in her eyes. “This could be very important,” she tells him as she walks him around a partition and hands him the clothes the photographer wants him in for this. “This could open some doors for you.”
“Mom,” he starts to protest but her look quiets him back down. It’s the I gave up everything for you, look. The Why must you be so difficult? look. And he nods and sighs (but not too loud) and she leaves while he puts on the plain t-shirt and the faded jeans.
The music is off and the assistant is gone when Jensen steps back out. Donna too. The photographer looks up from where he’s adjusting a light and stares, looking Jensen up and down. He has a moment of fear, that he’s done something wrong, forgotten to zip his fly or put his shirt on backwards. “Um, where do you want me, sir?” and the photographer startles a little like he was caught daydreaming.
“Hey,” he says in that grown-up-to-kid voice. “Call me Mike.” And then he gestures to the bleachers, where there’s no longer the faux detritus of teenage life. “Right here’s fine.”
The lights are different. Harder from one side but Jensen knows better than to turn completely away from the glare. He tries to smile again but Mike shakes his head from behind the camera. “No, don’t. Just relax. Look right here. Look through here.”
It’s the oddest photo shoot Jensen’s been on. “Here, pull up your knees, rest your chin on them. MmHmm, just like that,” then “Okay, lean back on your elbows. Spread your knees a little. Think tired, like you’ve been in a fight or something. Can you chew on your lip a little? Let me see your teeth there.”
And Jensen is not stupid. He knows it’s some sex thing. If it gets worse, he’s going to yell. He’s going to call for Donna or get up or run or something. If it gets worse.
“Here,” Mike says and comes over. “Turn your chin this way.” And he puts his fingers under Jensen’s jaw and tilts his neck. Goes back to the camera and takes more pictures. Lifts it tripod and all to be closer, lower.
“Let me fix your shirt.” And he steps close. Too close. Both hands reaching for Jensen’s collar. There’s a click like fingernail clippers and then Mike gives the fabric a quick yank. The sound of fabric ripping is very loud in the big quiet of the room and Jensen is frozen. He’s stuck and he can’t yell and he can’t run. Mike steps back and looks him over then nods once. The air and lights are warm on Jensen’s bared neck and shoulder but his hands are numb.
The camera whirs and whirs.