Let your mind go, let yourself be free (pt10)
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~*~
It's fucking two at night, when they finally arrive where they were supposed to meet their crew at one. Blue is sitting on a trash-can, her long, scater-jeans-clad legs dangling against the metal. She's wearing a dark blue hoodie that says “I won't apologize for being awesome”, and Jensen is slightly jealous. It's cold, his jacket and shirt and pants and fucking shoes are drenched from the drizzle and the puddles they had to wade through. Jay's not better off, and he also sports a long tear in his pants that starts at the back of his knee and goes all the way down to his ankle. When he walks, that leg is flapping like he's wearing bell-bottoms. It looks ridiculous, but at least there's no blood.
“Fuck, where the fuck have you two chuckle-heads been?” Blue jumps from her post and advances, clearly pissed “the guys tried calling you, like, a thousand times, why don't you answer your phone? And what the hell happened with your clothes?” She seems to realize that they are, literally, in tatters. Not just Jared's pants but also Jensen's jacket-sleeves are torn and his hat is lost forever, his sunglasses crooked.
“Fido happened. Sorry we're late. But we brought the cans. Still on, or did the boys cut their losses?”
“No, fuckwits. They went to try get answers from Goldi. Should be back any minute, but I better call them. Man, you smell like crap, please tell me that's not shit I'm smelling?”
“Okay.”
“Okay, we won't tell you that's shit you're smelling.” Jay smirks, and even in the sickly streetlights, Blue pales and swallows.
“Aw, man... Stay as far away as you can, man.”
~*~*~*~
Yes, it is shit she's smelling. Dog shit. Again. This time, though, it's entirely Jared's fault. He slipped in a big, fresh pile of it and landed on his ass. In it. Yummy. There's nothing that spells 'urgency' quite as clear as a man coming to a meeting with a pant smeared with brown, yucky dog-shit.
And they should have realized that slipping in that particular waste was a bad sign. But it had taken the guardsmen snickering to tip them off that it wasn't as brilliant to drop into a scrap-yard at night as it had seemed.
The moment they had realized that there was something off, a deep growl confirmed it. From around a hollowed-out car, a thick-furred, dirty, smelly, snarling dog of unknown parentage stalked towards them, hackles raised and crooked tail high in the air. The low rumble from his impressive chest seemed to reverberate through the cracked tar of the yard, crept into their bones and started to rattle their teeth.
Or maybe it wasn't that dramatic, but that mutt had been huge and fucking dangerous. Jay and he had twisted on their heels and scrambled up the nearest pile of disused cars, high as possible and still the dog had tried to follow. Fuck, for a minute Jensen'd been sure they had a second Tret after them, and how fucking scary was that thought?
But the dog had dropped soon when he couldn't follow them anymore, barking and growling and yowling at them.
“Jensen, I don't think we should sit here and wait for the cops to pick us up.”
“Ya shink? Hop id.”
The tower of cars had been shaking when they moved, but if there is only one thing you learn from being a traceur, it's how to move without falling. They'd had to move much slower than they would have been able to on concrete or brick, but it wasn't a huge deal to jump from one tower to the next, touching ground only where it was unavoidable and just for a few seconds. The dog had followed along but never reached them. Until there was no pile of car's left that was high enough to lose the mutt.
“Dammit.”
“On shree.” In front of them stretched an area where people could try and salvage usable things from old to put in their own probably rusty buckets, and there was no way, no freaking way the dog wouldn't be able to get them here. The only chance they had was speed and the fact that there was one dog, and two of them.
The wall at the end of the scrap-yard was high but perfectly manageable. If, that is, they reached it with all limbs attached.
“One, - “
“Three.” Jared sprinted off, dropping and rolling and back up and on the first car just when Ferocious Fido rounded their pile. It gave chase at once and there was no doubt that Jay had planned it that way to lead the smelly monster away from Jensen. No doubt whatsoever, because if he hadn't beaten him to it, Jensen would have done the same.
“Fuck!” He didn't wait around, dropped and rolled and ran, more to the right than Jared had gone, used the open window of a pretzeled Chevy as a step to its roof. From there on, it was easy. The dog had abandoned Jared again, probably seeing Jensen as the easier prey, but his claws didn't provide grip and he slipped and slid along the metal, jumping to the ground soon and following those crazy humans from there and for a moment, it had looked like he had stopped the merry chase altogether.
Wrong.
Jensen might have been impressed, he can't remember right now, because Ugly Fido had placed himself between the wall and the last car, and the only chance they had was running right at him.
Which they'd done. Aligned on the cars, a few feet apart on different spots, they hadn't even hesitated. Jump, run, fend off angry teeth and lose a sleeve but not the arm, thank God, and Jensen was at the end of the yard and did a perfect wallrun, stopping in a crouch on top to observe Jared.
Jay was to his left, the dog, furious by now, close on his heels. Jared's legs are much longer and his reach much higher than Jensen's own, and he was nearly up the wall when the fucking crazy animal used his own speed to throw himself up high against the brick and scrabble after his bounty, dug his teeth into the cloth at Jared's knee. The tearing was audible all the way to Jensen, but Jared just kicked the dog against the nose and was up and then over the obstacle, Jensen following right after.
Sadly, the Great Escape from the Dog of Doom was halted by two police-cars coming at them, from opposite sides of the road. They were trapping them in the narrow street, or at least trying to.
“Left?” was all Jared had to ask, a nod and they were off, right at the left squad-car, up on the hood and over the roof, down the back and over the trunk and that was it, they were home-free, backs aching, legs burning, lungs on fire but free.
~*~*~*~
No ten minutes after meeting Blue, the three guys arrive. The greeting is short but there is no bad blood, if something goes haywire, they still have Sunday night to come back or start a new piece on one of the alternative locations. Jensen doesn't want that, but it's an option, after all. The equipment has been stored in the trash-container Blue was sitting on and they dig them out, the bags smelling slightly of rotting fruit and old milk.
They climb the wall at the back of the alley, with ladders because not all of the crew are traceurs. And it makes dealing with the equipment much easier. It's the other side they want to paint, because that alley opens wider, like a funnel that peaks at the wall at its end. It's placed perfectly, a lot of people walk by every day, a glance into the small dead-end street nearly a given and especially when there is something unexpected to see. It's well-lit, the walls to the left and right are of light color and the ground is clean and well-kept. Incidentally, that perfect little alley sits right beside City Hall, the southern walls belonging to the big, showy creme-tinged building that houses, on business days, the close-knit pack of politicians that rule here. And because of that, security is sharp as nails. City Hall's north-side doesn't have windows, so there are no cameras in the street itself, but five guys walking into the adjacent alley and not coming back out? Very, very suspicious.
That's why they chose to climb over, why, while Jay and Jensen are standing on the ground already, their friends are crouching on the wall to pull up and then hand over the ladders so they will be able to get out when they need to. It would be a close call, probably, but doable.
Crazy. They are crazy, Jensen realizes when he places the light aluminum ladder against the left side of their new canvas. He can't have them obstructing his view, and he gently, almost reverently glides his hand over the perfect, smooth surface they are gonna paint. It's dark here, the streetlight not enough to shine all the way to them, but that doesn't matter. He knows how the piece is supposed to look, they have planned the color-scheme and they are all tuned to each other like a well-oiled machine, now that they have been working together for so long.
“Man...” Bones moans and shudders exaggeratedly “I really don't wanna be caught spraying on the City Hall...”
“We're not spraying on the City Hall.” Jared glares. “This wall is probably not even theirs, so we're spraying -”
“On someone else's wall. And I so don't have a problem with that. What's yours, Bonesey?” Crop cuffs his friend on the head, who just grumbles something and opens the can for the grounding.
”Leave him, Crop. His dad works in City Hall, you forgot? If he's caught, it might cost him the job.”
“Waid, whad?”Jensen stops the line he was about to put up.”Why din'd you ssay ssomesing?” Despite the half-serious situation, Jared giggles - freaking giggles! - into his palm.
“Because I wanna do this, man. This piece... it's awesome. It's my favorite of all those you made, and I want to be part of it. Now shut up and let's work, okay?”
Robin, who has taken position at the entrance of the alley, holds his thumbs up and the crew turns and starts painting. It's gotta be fast, but it's gotta be perfect if this piece is shall stay for more than one night.
~*~*~*~
“Dude...”
Bones is staring at the painting, the wall that once was plain cream-colored now a much darker place. From a distance, especially if you were to look into the alley from the street, it looks as if the wall is simply not there, obstructed by the painting on it, completely fused into it so it looks like the alley doesn't stop, but goes on further, like the characters on the piece are running out of the wall and into another reality. The walls to the left and right have been incorporated into the mural, giving depth and preventing a sudden break between the walls' cream and the picture's darker composition. It is, Jensen has to say himself, a fucking awesome piece of art they created.
“Dude... I would actually pay money to have something like this on my bedroom-walls.” Bones looks over at Jensen, then at Jared who is still smelly but now, thank God, the stench is covered by the layer of Krylon that Blue has sprayed on his ass. To hear something like that from a guy who is no pawn himself, who is on the verge of becoming really awesome one day and rightfully so... that's like a rush of adrenaline to the ego, like feeling the wind tousle your hair while you're jumping from one roof to the other, or like that one time where he tried to do that awesome Banlieu 13-move through the small window above the door.
Sure, he got stuck ten times out of eleven tries, nearly broke his neck twice and had to watch Jay do it perfectly, with an elegant swing to his long, lean body, but he still did it, and it felt like winning the world.
Felt pretty close to this.
“Sanks.” he lisps “couln't have done it wissout any of you.” And he's not lying.
“We did it, Jack, Woody. We actually fucking damn well did it!” Robin high-fives them, and they stare for a few seconds more until the flash of a camera shakes them from their tired musings. They really should be going now, maybe sleep a little. Tomorrow is Sunday - no, it's Sunday already, has been for about four hours - and then it's Monday and the War will be done.
Weary-boned, they gather the scattered supplies into their bags, as silent as possible because this, the end of the real work, is usually the time you get caught. But nothing happens, this time, they leave like they came, silent and invisible like shadows in the dark.
~*~*~*~
“Sent!” is the last words they hear from Robin for two days. He announced going to bed with his girl for at least two nights, going into details way more than anyone wanted to hear. Cropper and Blue have taken off as well, making googly eyes at each other and Bones hasn't even accompanied them to Goldi after the piece in the alley, too tired and tense to do anything but go right home and sleep.
The two of them are now, alone in their usual, extra-long booth, bar empty at six in the morning, Goldi long time gone home with her husband. Jensen has his back against the wall, an old pillow from the 'couple's-couch' that Goldi insisted on having at her bar as a cushion for his poor, hurting back. He's got one knee bent, sock-clad foot on the colorful bench, his other leg resting limply on the floor. He can feel his eyes drop closed every other minute and the warm body resting against him isn't helping to keep him awake.
Jay has his body wedged between Jensen's thighs, his long legs hanging off the bench and head resting on Jensen's lower chest. Jared's wide shoulders fit perfectly in the niche between Jensen's raised knee and his abdomen, left arm draped between knee and wall as if he was cuddling Mr Brown, the other resting on his stomach, fingers twitching now and again in dreams. Jensen can feel the soft snores like purrs of a cat, resonating in his bones, can feel the thick head of his friend moving up and down with his own breath and it makes him want to follow Jared into the same dreams, running after that mischievous child, talking with that earnest, smart young man and joking with his best friend and brother, like he has done his whole life.
It's too good a feeling to let that chance pass, and with a fleeting smile over the memory of their wonderful creations from this week, he slips into sleep, where he's climbing a tree, accompanied by little-boy laughter.
~*~
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