Angry And Moist: An Undead Chronicle (1/?)
Title: Angry And Moist: An Undead Chronicle (1/?)
Pairing/Character: Jensen/Jared
Rating: PG (for now)
Genre: AU
Word Count: ~1500
Summary: Jensen owns an army store. Jared is a couch potato. Things are about to change.
General warning: I watched Shaun Of The Dead.
Note: This fic is the result of a chat with viviansface. So I should blame thank her :)
Also on AO3.
Scratching his ass is the first thing Jensen does that day. He scratches his ass as he walks through the house in his boxers, towards his salvation: coffee.
“Morning,” comes from the living room.
Jared is already - or still? - sitting on the couch, playing Left 4 Dead on Jensen's Xbox.
“Morning,” Jensen grumbles.
When Jensen takes a closer look at Jared, it's clear he is still playing. His once white t-shirt is more of a dirty gray, his hair a not brushed nor washed mess, and he's having cold leftover pizza for breakfast.
And still he looks kind of adorable.
Tom is clearing off the breakfast table in the kitchen, he's already fully showered and suited up for work.
“Jensen, is he ever going to leave? He was supposed to stay a week, and now it's been... seven weeks?” he whispers.
“Yeah, well. Nothing's changed. He has no job and no place to stay.”
“I know he's your friend, but could you just tell him to clean up the living room a bit?”
“What happened to your hand, Tom?”
“Ah, some drunk asshole bit me last night. It's nothing.”
Jensen sighs and makes himself a large cup of strong coffee. Then he walks over to the couch and steps over Jared's long legs. He sits down next to him and picks up a controller.
“Jared, watch out! There's a zombie behind yo-”
“Frrrrrtfrfrfrrrrrtfrrrrt. It's OK, I killed him with my minigun. You're lucky an expert is living on your couch.”
“That's all you're good for, lazy fucker. Ah, yeah. That reminds me, could you clean up the living room a bit today? Tom was bugging me about it.”
Jared is fully already immersed in the game again, his tongue between his teeth.
“Eat that, you motherfucker!”
“Jay?”
“Yes mom, I heard you the first time.”
“OK, I have to get ready for work now,” Jensen says.
“Try-hard.”
“Couch surfer.”
When Jensen comes downstairs wearing his army-gear, Jared wolf whistles at him.
“Pfweeeeeet, pfeeeeeeeeew. Looking good, Jensen. Go earn those big bucks!”
“Penis head.”
“Ouch Jen, that hurts,” Jared says, gripping his crotch. Then he turns over lightning quick to punch Jensen in the gut as he makes the mistake of walking by too close.
“Fucker. I'll show you real hurt, you spineless wimp,” Jensen says as he jumps Jared like an American wrestler with his elbows first.
Jensen pins Jared down in a head lock.
“Beg for mercy,” Jensen says.
“Never!”
Jensen looks down on Jared.
“You are filthy.”
“But you love me anyway,” Jared grins.
“That's true. Love to stay. Gotta go.”
Jensen walks to work every day. He crosses the front lawn diagonally and jumps the low fence.
“Good morning Mr. Kripke,” he says to the old guy with the poodle.
“Morning,” Mr. Kripke answers.
Mrs. Ferris is walking behind her stroller. Some kids help her across the road. He watches and smiles as she hands out some candy to them.
“Hey dude, watch where you're walking,” Jensen says to the drunk guy who bumps into him.
He greats Mr. Singer who's cleaning the windows. Some kids sprayed 'Save yourself!' all over the front of the shop.
Danneel is waiting outside their shop. Luckily it has been spared by the graffiti attack.
“Hiya handsome,” she calls out to him.
She has taken some liberties with the shop dress code, as usual. Her green t-shirt is cut off short to show her navel piercing, and in stead of the standard camouflage pants she's wearing a tiny camouflage skirt. The costumers seem to like it, so Jensen's not complaining.
The day starts off with a bang.
“Help me! Help me!” the guy yells as he comes running into the store.
Jensen gives Danneel a pointed look: 'nutcase'. That's one of the perils of owning an army store. It seems to attract an unusually high number of strange people.
“Hello sir,” Danneel says in her 'I'm not impressed with your kind of crazy' voice. “How can I help you?”
“I need something to kill them!” the guy screams at her.
“Aha, I see. And them being.. ?”
“Dead fuckers! I need to kill me some dead fuckers!”
“I'm sorry sir, but why would you need to kill them, seeing as they're already dead?” Danneel asks him in her 'shit this guy could be ready for the loony bin' voice.
Jensen is standing some feet behind the crazy guy. He holds his phone to his ear and gestures to Danneel if he should call 911.
She shakes her head almost unnoticeably.
“Sir, for killing dead fuckers we recommend this spray,” she says with a stone dead serious look on her face.
She picks up a can of army-green body-paint.
“It's your lucky day, 'cause we give 'em out for free today.”
The guy snatches the spray can from her hand and scrambles out of the shop without so much as a thank you.
“Crazy fucker,” she says.
A few minutes later a man buys a full body armor, two swords, and a whole box of hand grenades.
The swords and machetes seem to be popular in particular, and at the end of the day they have to tell several people 'no', because they're clean out of cutting blades.
Jensen closes up shop, says goodbye to Danneel and walks home.
He greats his neighbor Mr. Singer again, who's contemplating cleaning the windows of his shop again. His suit is covered in red stains. Some kids must have been squirting ketchup on him and the windows.
'What's this world coming to,' Jensen thinks.
“Hey dude, watch where you're walking,” Jensen says to the drunk guy who bumps into him. There is probably a party going on in the neighborhood he wasn't aware of.
Jensen crosses the street. Some kids in scary Halloween costumes are chasing Mrs. Ferris down the sidewalk. She's playing a very convincing victim.
Jensen smiles. He just loves this time of year. Although the kids actually might be a few weeks early.
“Good evening Mr. Kripke,” he says to the old guy with the poodle.
“Hrrrrrmmmmm,” Mr. Kripke answers.
He must have caught a cold or something. His dog doesn't look too hot as well.
Jensen jumps the low fence and crosses the front lawn diagonally. He pushes the front door open. He then gathers a semi-clean knife, some bread, and peanut butter from the kitchen, says hi to Tom and lands on the couch next to Jared.
“Hey hot stuff,” Jared says.
Jensen flips him off.
“What're you watching?”
“They canceled the game tonight, so just channel surfing.”
“Why? What's so important?”
”... important to stay in. Do not leave your house in any case. On the streets you stand no chance. Make sure all doors and windows are locked- ,“ the man on the news reads.
“I'm not watching this bullshit,” Jared says as he turns the TV off.
“Hey Tom, get us some beers,” Jensen yells towards the kitchen.
“Hrrrrrmmmmm,” Tom answers.
“Is he pissed that you didn't clean today?”
“I totally cleaned up, but then I had some pizza and beers and...”
Tom walks into the living room. He grabs Jared from behind.
“Wanna wrestle Tommy-boy?” Jared asks as he flips Tom over the back of the couch. “I knew you couldn't stay mad at me for long.”
“Hrrrrrmmmmm,” Tom says.
He tries to push his face close to Jared's.
“Hey, stop!” Jared laughs. “Not looking for a boyfriend just now, dude. Jensen, help me. Get him off me.”
Jensen is laughing his ass off and is generally not helping at all.
“Tom, knock it out. Seriously.”
Jared pushes Tom a bit too hard and he falls - face first - on the knife Jensen's holding. It enters Tom's head through his mouth and the sharp point exits via his neck. He gurgles a bit and falls limp down on Jensen's lap.
“Fuck, what happened?” Jared asks with wide eyes.
“You fucking killed him is what happened,” Jensen deadpans. “Call 911, you idiot.”
“I can't get a signal.”
“That's just great. He was an asshole, but he didn't deserve to die like this. Let's put him on the other couch and think this through.”
“It was a freak accident!” Jared says.
“I know, don't get your panties all in a twist.”
“Hrrrrghghghghgh,” Tom says as he gets up from the couch with the handle of the knife just visible in his mouth.
He tries to lunge at Jared again.
“He really doesn't like me, does he? Not even when he's a zombie,” Jared says.
Tom tries to bite Jared in the arm. Then he grabs hold of Jared's ears and pulls him closer to his bloody mouth.
“Jen, now would be a good time to do something.”
Jensen gets a golf club and smacks Tom over the head.
“We need to get to the shop,” he says.
What do you think?
Should I write more or should I get the hell out of here before the zombies eat what's left of my brain?
.
Pairing/Character: Jensen/Jared
Rating: PG (for now)
Genre: AU
Word Count: ~1500
Summary: Jensen owns an army store. Jared is a couch potato. Things are about to change.
General warning: I watched Shaun Of The Dead.
Note: This fic is the result of a chat with viviansface. So I should blame thank her :)
Also on AO3.
Scratching his ass is the first thing Jensen does that day. He scratches his ass as he walks through the house in his boxers, towards his salvation: coffee.
“Morning,” comes from the living room.
Jared is already - or still? - sitting on the couch, playing Left 4 Dead on Jensen's Xbox.
“Morning,” Jensen grumbles.
When Jensen takes a closer look at Jared, it's clear he is still playing. His once white t-shirt is more of a dirty gray, his hair a not brushed nor washed mess, and he's having cold leftover pizza for breakfast.
And still he looks kind of adorable.
Tom is clearing off the breakfast table in the kitchen, he's already fully showered and suited up for work.
“Jensen, is he ever going to leave? He was supposed to stay a week, and now it's been... seven weeks?” he whispers.
“Yeah, well. Nothing's changed. He has no job and no place to stay.”
“I know he's your friend, but could you just tell him to clean up the living room a bit?”
“What happened to your hand, Tom?”
“Ah, some drunk asshole bit me last night. It's nothing.”
Jensen sighs and makes himself a large cup of strong coffee. Then he walks over to the couch and steps over Jared's long legs. He sits down next to him and picks up a controller.
“Jared, watch out! There's a zombie behind yo-”
“Frrrrrtfrfrfrrrrrtfrrrrt. It's OK, I killed him with my minigun. You're lucky an expert is living on your couch.”
“That's all you're good for, lazy fucker. Ah, yeah. That reminds me, could you clean up the living room a bit today? Tom was bugging me about it.”
Jared is fully already immersed in the game again, his tongue between his teeth.
“Eat that, you motherfucker!”
“Jay?”
“Yes mom, I heard you the first time.”
“OK, I have to get ready for work now,” Jensen says.
“Try-hard.”
“Couch surfer.”
When Jensen comes downstairs wearing his army-gear, Jared wolf whistles at him.
“Pfweeeeeet, pfeeeeeeeeew. Looking good, Jensen. Go earn those big bucks!”
“Penis head.”
“Ouch Jen, that hurts,” Jared says, gripping his crotch. Then he turns over lightning quick to punch Jensen in the gut as he makes the mistake of walking by too close.
“Fucker. I'll show you real hurt, you spineless wimp,” Jensen says as he jumps Jared like an American wrestler with his elbows first.
Jensen pins Jared down in a head lock.
“Beg for mercy,” Jensen says.
“Never!”
Jensen looks down on Jared.
“You are filthy.”
“But you love me anyway,” Jared grins.
“That's true. Love to stay. Gotta go.”
Jensen walks to work every day. He crosses the front lawn diagonally and jumps the low fence.
“Good morning Mr. Kripke,” he says to the old guy with the poodle.
“Morning,” Mr. Kripke answers.
Mrs. Ferris is walking behind her stroller. Some kids help her across the road. He watches and smiles as she hands out some candy to them.
“Hey dude, watch where you're walking,” Jensen says to the drunk guy who bumps into him.
He greats Mr. Singer who's cleaning the windows. Some kids sprayed 'Save yourself!' all over the front of the shop.
Danneel is waiting outside their shop. Luckily it has been spared by the graffiti attack.
“Hiya handsome,” she calls out to him.
She has taken some liberties with the shop dress code, as usual. Her green t-shirt is cut off short to show her navel piercing, and in stead of the standard camouflage pants she's wearing a tiny camouflage skirt. The costumers seem to like it, so Jensen's not complaining.
The day starts off with a bang.
“Help me! Help me!” the guy yells as he comes running into the store.
Jensen gives Danneel a pointed look: 'nutcase'. That's one of the perils of owning an army store. It seems to attract an unusually high number of strange people.
“Hello sir,” Danneel says in her 'I'm not impressed with your kind of crazy' voice. “How can I help you?”
“I need something to kill them!” the guy screams at her.
“Aha, I see. And them being.. ?”
“Dead fuckers! I need to kill me some dead fuckers!”
“I'm sorry sir, but why would you need to kill them, seeing as they're already dead?” Danneel asks him in her 'shit this guy could be ready for the loony bin' voice.
Jensen is standing some feet behind the crazy guy. He holds his phone to his ear and gestures to Danneel if he should call 911.
She shakes her head almost unnoticeably.
“Sir, for killing dead fuckers we recommend this spray,” she says with a stone dead serious look on her face.
She picks up a can of army-green body-paint.
“It's your lucky day, 'cause we give 'em out for free today.”
The guy snatches the spray can from her hand and scrambles out of the shop without so much as a thank you.
“Crazy fucker,” she says.
A few minutes later a man buys a full body armor, two swords, and a whole box of hand grenades.
The swords and machetes seem to be popular in particular, and at the end of the day they have to tell several people 'no', because they're clean out of cutting blades.
Jensen closes up shop, says goodbye to Danneel and walks home.
He greats his neighbor Mr. Singer again, who's contemplating cleaning the windows of his shop again. His suit is covered in red stains. Some kids must have been squirting ketchup on him and the windows.
'What's this world coming to,' Jensen thinks.
“Hey dude, watch where you're walking,” Jensen says to the drunk guy who bumps into him. There is probably a party going on in the neighborhood he wasn't aware of.
Jensen crosses the street. Some kids in scary Halloween costumes are chasing Mrs. Ferris down the sidewalk. She's playing a very convincing victim.
Jensen smiles. He just loves this time of year. Although the kids actually might be a few weeks early.
“Good evening Mr. Kripke,” he says to the old guy with the poodle.
“Hrrrrrmmmmm,” Mr. Kripke answers.
He must have caught a cold or something. His dog doesn't look too hot as well.
Jensen jumps the low fence and crosses the front lawn diagonally. He pushes the front door open. He then gathers a semi-clean knife, some bread, and peanut butter from the kitchen, says hi to Tom and lands on the couch next to Jared.
“Hey hot stuff,” Jared says.
Jensen flips him off.
“What're you watching?”
“They canceled the game tonight, so just channel surfing.”
“Why? What's so important?”
”... important to stay in. Do not leave your house in any case. On the streets you stand no chance. Make sure all doors and windows are locked- ,“ the man on the news reads.
“I'm not watching this bullshit,” Jared says as he turns the TV off.
“Hey Tom, get us some beers,” Jensen yells towards the kitchen.
“Hrrrrrmmmmm,” Tom answers.
“Is he pissed that you didn't clean today?”
“I totally cleaned up, but then I had some pizza and beers and...”
Tom walks into the living room. He grabs Jared from behind.
“Wanna wrestle Tommy-boy?” Jared asks as he flips Tom over the back of the couch. “I knew you couldn't stay mad at me for long.”
“Hrrrrrmmmmm,” Tom says.
He tries to push his face close to Jared's.
“Hey, stop!” Jared laughs. “Not looking for a boyfriend just now, dude. Jensen, help me. Get him off me.”
Jensen is laughing his ass off and is generally not helping at all.
“Tom, knock it out. Seriously.”
Jared pushes Tom a bit too hard and he falls - face first - on the knife Jensen's holding. It enters Tom's head through his mouth and the sharp point exits via his neck. He gurgles a bit and falls limp down on Jensen's lap.
“Fuck, what happened?” Jared asks with wide eyes.
“You fucking killed him is what happened,” Jensen deadpans. “Call 911, you idiot.”
“I can't get a signal.”
“That's just great. He was an asshole, but he didn't deserve to die like this. Let's put him on the other couch and think this through.”
“It was a freak accident!” Jared says.
“I know, don't get your panties all in a twist.”
“Hrrrrghghghghgh,” Tom says as he gets up from the couch with the handle of the knife just visible in his mouth.
He tries to lunge at Jared again.
“He really doesn't like me, does he? Not even when he's a zombie,” Jared says.
Tom tries to bite Jared in the arm. Then he grabs hold of Jared's ears and pulls him closer to his bloody mouth.
“Jen, now would be a good time to do something.”
Jensen gets a golf club and smacks Tom over the head.
“We need to get to the shop,” he says.
What do you think?
Should I write more or should I get the hell out of here before the zombies eat what's left of my brain?
.