Scars
Scars
Wordcount: 1347
Rating: umm, PG13...I guess
Feedback: Hell yea! I didn’t post this thing for my health...but be kind, I seriously spazzed over this one
Disclaimer: I don't own Jensen...but I wish I did
Jensen groaned quietly in his throat. As much as he loved his job, he hated mornings.
Of course staying up until two a.m. can tend to do that to a guy.
He sighed, stubbornly refusing to open his eyes and buried his nose deeper in her hair.
When a golden ray of light pierced through the blinds to flood his eyes with red he finally opened them blearily.
The sun draped over her form like a lazy caress and he paused.
Propping himself up on an elbow he just stared at her.
In this light the marks on her body stood out all the more and he began to notice the scars. Not that he hadn’t seen them before, or knew they were there, it’s just they were so blinding in that moment.
She laid asleep, hand pillowed beneath her head, curled on her side, the comforter pulled over her hips, but the rest of her lay bare.
He saw the small circular scar that stood out against the pale underside of her wrist.
She had twin lines that ran across her other arm, down one side just to curve around under the wrist. If he didn’t know her as well as he did he would almost say they looked like a suicide attempt.
He knew the ridge that passed over her knee and absent mindedly ran his hand over the small bump.
There was a jagged but short one that swept across the swell of her breast and his lip twitched wondering how much that would have hurt.
Various lines and nicks marked patterns across her hands.
There was a small one right under her hair line above her forehead that she scratched unconsciously at times.
But the ones that stood out most in the orange light of dawn were the ones he couldn’t see, but knew hurt her more than the rest of them combined.
Like the sun rising above the horizon it dawned in his mind just how different they were.
And her words came crashing back to him.
“You okay?” he asked, walking up to where she was standing towards the edge of set, staring out at the wilderness.
She nodded, but it didn’t belay his fear any.
He bit his lip, contemplating his next move, next words.
“Promise me something,” she whispered, the tremor in her voice rooting him to where he stood.
“What?” he asked quietly.
He almost thought she wasn’t going to answer, the way she paused.
“Promise me…you’ll never forget how lucky you are,” she said softly, her voice breaking towards the end.
He felt like someone had just hooked him up to a set of jumper cables and sent a jolt through his body.
He glanced out at the trees she was staring at. He knew enough about her to understand why she had said that, but it was then he really started to pick it apart.
When he had first met her she had stepped out of her car wearing boots, worn jeans and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt.
He had rolled his eyes at the time, thinking he had a crazy fangirl he had to entertain for the weekend. They had had fans come to set before, do stupid little interviews for their websites, snap rolls and rolls of film and squeal and giggle asking for everything under the sun to be signed.
But she had shocked him. She reached out and shook his hand firmly with nothing but a genuine smile across her face.
No squealing, no giggling, no omgicantbelieveimmeetingyouiloveyousomuch rambling. Just a smile and a nice to meet you.
It had floored him.
Floored him even more when she took out her camera, and instead of begging for a picture with him and Jared, or asking about the Impala or the set, she started taking random shots of the scenery around them, whispering about how beautiful everything was.
Oh, she was still a fangirl alright, kind of scared him with the amount of knowledge about not just the show, but he himself she had but there was something deeper there, he just had to look for it.
About a week later, a week of hanging out and getting comfortable around each other, which scared him enough, the way it was so easy with her, she was just slightly buzzed, not enough to where he claim her to be drunk and that was the reason why she had said what she had, but just enough to let her bite back her fear and say what she meant.
“I guess that’s why I like Dean so much, we both had to grow up too fast,” she whispered.
They both had lost their mother, both had had the responsibility of taking care of the family thrust onto them much too soon, so many parallels could be drawn between the two.
And at that moment he understood. She wasn’t a crazy fangirl that dressed like Dean and acted like him and fawned over him in the show because he was an adorable mess, but because she was just like him.
This was her.
And at that moment he thinks he fell in love.
It was such a weird situation, that had thrust them together. How many Hollywood actors could say they had ever been in a relationship, an actual relationship with one of their fans?
It had all happened so surreal. She was there for two weeks, and Jensen didn’t realize how much he had come to depend on her, seek comfort in her, until she pulled out of set and drove home.
He realized how much he missed the smell of food coming from the small kitchen in his trailer when he woke up. She had always insisted on cooking breakfast, the catering service be damned.
He missed the flare in his stomach when her smile would catch him off guard.
The way she helped him study his lines, and more than once, helped him calm down on set when he was just about to blow a gasket from stumbling over the words one too many times.
Missed the quiet horseback rides through the Vancouver wilderness. Jared had gone with him once or twice, but growing up in the city he wasn’t half the farm boy Jensen was and was never into riding the way he was. But she had been. She had spent almost six years working with horses and would wake up at the butt crack of dawn if that’s what it took to get out to the trail ride on time.
He missed they way they would kick back on the couch and watch movies on the rare nights they got let out of filming early enough.
And maybe most of all he missed the way she would let him curl up against her without a word after a tough scene. Jensen could never understand the way so many in Hollywood could just call tears on demand. He always had to dig deep and focus on some gut wrenching memory and it always left him feeling drained, broken and just a bit guilty. She never asked for an explanation, never asked him what it was he called upon to summon the tears, just let him relax into her until they both passed out from exhaustion and it almost never failed there’d be pancakes and a smile when he woke up.
A smile tugged at his lips as he thought about the memories. About all the times she had been there for him and the way she trusted him.
After the whole awkward ‘I love you,’ ‘No you don’t,’ ‘Yes I do,’ ‘I’m a fangirl,’ ‘I don’t give a shit,’ spiel she had opened herself to him and let him see things no one else did.
Just the thought brought tears pricking to his eyes and he smiled, leaning over her and kissing her on the cheek, wrapping his arm around her.
She smiled and leaned back into him.
“I promise,” he whispered. I’ll love you till my dying day, he added silently, scars and all.
Wordcount: 1347
Rating: umm, PG13...I guess
Feedback: Hell yea! I didn’t post this thing for my health...but be kind, I seriously spazzed over this one
Disclaimer: I don't own Jensen...but I wish I did
Jensen groaned quietly in his throat. As much as he loved his job, he hated mornings.
Of course staying up until two a.m. can tend to do that to a guy.
He sighed, stubbornly refusing to open his eyes and buried his nose deeper in her hair.
When a golden ray of light pierced through the blinds to flood his eyes with red he finally opened them blearily.
The sun draped over her form like a lazy caress and he paused.
Propping himself up on an elbow he just stared at her.
In this light the marks on her body stood out all the more and he began to notice the scars. Not that he hadn’t seen them before, or knew they were there, it’s just they were so blinding in that moment.
She laid asleep, hand pillowed beneath her head, curled on her side, the comforter pulled over her hips, but the rest of her lay bare.
He saw the small circular scar that stood out against the pale underside of her wrist.
She had twin lines that ran across her other arm, down one side just to curve around under the wrist. If he didn’t know her as well as he did he would almost say they looked like a suicide attempt.
He knew the ridge that passed over her knee and absent mindedly ran his hand over the small bump.
There was a jagged but short one that swept across the swell of her breast and his lip twitched wondering how much that would have hurt.
Various lines and nicks marked patterns across her hands.
There was a small one right under her hair line above her forehead that she scratched unconsciously at times.
But the ones that stood out most in the orange light of dawn were the ones he couldn’t see, but knew hurt her more than the rest of them combined.
Like the sun rising above the horizon it dawned in his mind just how different they were.
And her words came crashing back to him.
“You okay?” he asked, walking up to where she was standing towards the edge of set, staring out at the wilderness.
She nodded, but it didn’t belay his fear any.
He bit his lip, contemplating his next move, next words.
“Promise me something,” she whispered, the tremor in her voice rooting him to where he stood.
“What?” he asked quietly.
He almost thought she wasn’t going to answer, the way she paused.
“Promise me…you’ll never forget how lucky you are,” she said softly, her voice breaking towards the end.
He felt like someone had just hooked him up to a set of jumper cables and sent a jolt through his body.
He glanced out at the trees she was staring at. He knew enough about her to understand why she had said that, but it was then he really started to pick it apart.
When he had first met her she had stepped out of her car wearing boots, worn jeans and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt.
He had rolled his eyes at the time, thinking he had a crazy fangirl he had to entertain for the weekend. They had had fans come to set before, do stupid little interviews for their websites, snap rolls and rolls of film and squeal and giggle asking for everything under the sun to be signed.
But she had shocked him. She reached out and shook his hand firmly with nothing but a genuine smile across her face.
No squealing, no giggling, no omgicantbelieveimmeetingyouiloveyousomuch rambling. Just a smile and a nice to meet you.
It had floored him.
Floored him even more when she took out her camera, and instead of begging for a picture with him and Jared, or asking about the Impala or the set, she started taking random shots of the scenery around them, whispering about how beautiful everything was.
Oh, she was still a fangirl alright, kind of scared him with the amount of knowledge about not just the show, but he himself she had but there was something deeper there, he just had to look for it.
About a week later, a week of hanging out and getting comfortable around each other, which scared him enough, the way it was so easy with her, she was just slightly buzzed, not enough to where he claim her to be drunk and that was the reason why she had said what she had, but just enough to let her bite back her fear and say what she meant.
“I guess that’s why I like Dean so much, we both had to grow up too fast,” she whispered.
They both had lost their mother, both had had the responsibility of taking care of the family thrust onto them much too soon, so many parallels could be drawn between the two.
And at that moment he understood. She wasn’t a crazy fangirl that dressed like Dean and acted like him and fawned over him in the show because he was an adorable mess, but because she was just like him.
This was her.
And at that moment he thinks he fell in love.
It was such a weird situation, that had thrust them together. How many Hollywood actors could say they had ever been in a relationship, an actual relationship with one of their fans?
It had all happened so surreal. She was there for two weeks, and Jensen didn’t realize how much he had come to depend on her, seek comfort in her, until she pulled out of set and drove home.
He realized how much he missed the smell of food coming from the small kitchen in his trailer when he woke up. She had always insisted on cooking breakfast, the catering service be damned.
He missed the flare in his stomach when her smile would catch him off guard.
The way she helped him study his lines, and more than once, helped him calm down on set when he was just about to blow a gasket from stumbling over the words one too many times.
Missed the quiet horseback rides through the Vancouver wilderness. Jared had gone with him once or twice, but growing up in the city he wasn’t half the farm boy Jensen was and was never into riding the way he was. But she had been. She had spent almost six years working with horses and would wake up at the butt crack of dawn if that’s what it took to get out to the trail ride on time.
He missed they way they would kick back on the couch and watch movies on the rare nights they got let out of filming early enough.
And maybe most of all he missed the way she would let him curl up against her without a word after a tough scene. Jensen could never understand the way so many in Hollywood could just call tears on demand. He always had to dig deep and focus on some gut wrenching memory and it always left him feeling drained, broken and just a bit guilty. She never asked for an explanation, never asked him what it was he called upon to summon the tears, just let him relax into her until they both passed out from exhaustion and it almost never failed there’d be pancakes and a smile when he woke up.
A smile tugged at his lips as he thought about the memories. About all the times she had been there for him and the way she trusted him.
After the whole awkward ‘I love you,’ ‘No you don’t,’ ‘Yes I do,’ ‘I’m a fangirl,’ ‘I don’t give a shit,’ spiel she had opened herself to him and let him see things no one else did.
Just the thought brought tears pricking to his eyes and he smiled, leaning over her and kissing her on the cheek, wrapping his arm around her.
She smiled and leaned back into him.
“I promise,” he whispered. I’ll love you till my dying day, he added silently, scars and all.