Chapter 3: Friend or Foe
Chapter 3: Friend or Foe
Author: deirdre_c
Rating: pg-13
Pairing: Jared/Jensen, Jared/Jeff/Jensen, still potentially future everybody/everybody (except Chad, probably)
Word Count: 2517
Summary: In which Jeff meets privately with Jared and Jensen, until they're rudely interrupted by yet another redhead.
"Out," Jeff says, just to see her nostrils flare in irritation. He slaps on a rakish grin. "One of the perks of being captain: I don't have to obey my own orders."
Besides, he can think of a much better way to pass his time.
***
Jeff strides out the door and turns right at random, heading down one of the many paths that wind through the village. He figures it’s not a big place, so his gay threesome sixth sense should be able to lead him right to Jared and Jensen. Jeff’s gotten damn good at this kind of thing over the years. His dick is a dousing rod and those guys’ asses are fresh water.
He spies Felicia down at the shore’s edge, standing on the belly of their wallowing vessel, gesticulating wildly at a group of villagers nearby on land, miming the construction of a hoist to lift the airship out of the water. She looks like an orchestra conductor. Or a little like she’s having an epileptic fit. Or both. Gods know, a few well-placed seizures would’ve improved that one performance of Faust that Alaina had dragged him to a few months back on Centauri Prime.
But right now he’s trying to be a bit more inconspicuous than Felicia as he scouts the village out. He soon realizes it’s a lost cause by the way every single person he passes stops to grovel and scrape. He’s getting slightly dizzy from all the solemn, gracious nods he’s being forced to give in return. The ‘Your Majesty’ thing might be amusing now, but he can see it getting old if they’re here for long.
He sneaks another glance at the pitiful shape of their ship and how much work she needs to be spaceworthy again. Being King here on this uncharted cosmic hemorrhoid might not be the only thing that gets old.
Up ahead on the path, he spots that Misha guy hurrying his way. Jeff ducks behind the corner of a nearby hut, not wanting to be dragged into some ritual preparation for the Grand Feast of Finding Out What Fucking Impossible Task High King Jeff Must Dodge Long Enough To Pillage the Shrine and Get His Crew The Hell Out of Here. They’ll probably have to shorten that title on the engraved invitations.
But-feast or no feast, task or no task-at the very least, Jeff doesn’t want to be found until he’s had a chance to test out whether the inside of Jensen’s mouth is as hot and welcoming as it looks from the outside.
It appears that he’s going to get a chance, because Misha quickly turns and speeds off the other way, too, as if he’s the one avoiding Jeff.
Huh, Jeff thinks. So much for being everyone’s favorite Spirit in the Sky.
He might’ve given Misha’s odd action a second thought, if he didn’t happen to catch sight of a sign on the building across the way. There’s a carved picture engraved over the lintel of the door: a rough-hewn sign portraying cupped hands with a heart cradled in the center. It’s the most obvious thing Jeff’s seen since Chad rolled up a sleeve and showed off a new tattoo on his scrawny biceps that simply spelled out the word “CHAD.” If this planet had neon, that sign would be blinking: sex, sex, sex!
“Bingo,” he mutters under his breath. Or, you know, whatever backward, rudimentary game of chance they play around here.
He could just walk right up the door and knock. There’s no question of the reception he’ll get; those two had been sending off clearer signals than a cometball base coach waving in the winning disc. But Jeff would prefer to avoid being seen. Even if Misha’s currently avoiding him, Alaina or Felicia might eventually come searching. Right in the middle of his royal needs being met.
So Jeff decides to sneak across the path and around to the side of the structure.
Turns out to be a damn fine choice, because when he pushes aside the flap covering one of the windows and peeks inside, he sees the outline of two figures squeezed into what must be a small shower stall. The fabric curtain is not just this side of transparent, so he gets a good enough look at what’s going on-a steady stream of water rushing down over their shoulders and chests, Jared soaping up Jensen’s torso, Jensen combing fingers through Jared’s thick hair-that Jeff has to reach crotch-ward and make some adjustments. Stupid tight Captain’s uniform pants. Who’s idea of fashion are these anyway?
He seems to have arrived right at the end of the shower, though, because his two personal porn stars have already turned off the water and are toweling down. Which is okay with Jeff, because he was about one minute there from starting to hump the side of the house, and really, unless you’re on the kinkmeme, that’s never gonna be appropriate or satisfying.
But before Jeff can search for a rear entrance-to the building, you perverts-and join Jared and Jensen in convenient nakedness, he sees them both quickly draw on soft shirts and slacks and crouch down in the far corner of the room. Jeff hadn’t noticed before, but it appears there’s some kind of secret compartment or closet back there, and when Jared slides a hidden panel open, over his shoulder Jeff spies a familiar pattern blinking lights set in a plate of industrial-grade steel.
It’s the main control panel from the bridge of the vintage airship. It’s got to be. And it appears to be operational. And it appears these two yahoos are making it work.
Jeff sprints around to the front door of the shack and busts in.
“Shit-” Jensen leaps to his feet.
“-shit!” Jared slams the panel shut while Jensen scoots in front of him trying to shield view of it. Jared bounds up and stands shoulder-to-shoulder with Jensen.
“Your Majesty!” they say brightly in unison.
Their expressions have that same vague dopeyness they’d had back in the throne room, but it isn’t fooling Jeff any longer. Unfortunately, they’re also about six times as sexy up close, Jared’s still-damp hair curling back behind his ears and his cheeks prettily flushed, Jensen’s taut nipples saluting Jeff through his thin cotton shirt.
Before he gets completely distracted, he jabs a finger at the seamless wall of the hut. “What is that in there?”
“Nothing?” Jared offers.
“Nothing,” Jensen confirms more firmly.
“Bullshit,” Jeff growls, moving forward.
“No, stay back,” Jensen says, holding his hands palms out in front of him. “It’s…it’s…it’s-”
“-bees!”
“We keep bees,” Jensen continues earnestly. “A hive. Swarm really. Deadly stingers, very dangerous.”
“In the closet?” Jeff huffs.
“They prefer dark-” Jared says.
“-they’re nocturnal bees.”
“Don’t play dumb with me.” Jeff’s still trying to get his head around the presence of working technology in this primitive locale. Maybe they’ll actually get off this rock before his beard changes from its alluringly masculine, Elba-esqe salt-and-pepper to all white.
“But we are dumb,“ Jensen insists.
“Really dumb.”
“That blond slave of yours?-“
“-we make him look like a rocket scientist.”
“I have a sneaking suspicion,” Jeff cuts them off, not bothering to defend Chad's honor, his voice rising, “that you are rocket scientists!”
“Wellll-“ Jensen scrambles for another glib answer. He glances at Jared, clearly hoping for some help.
“-Less scientists, more applied engineers,” Jared mutters under his breath into the awkward silence, angling his head toward Jensen. “This one’s never been all that interested in theoretical modeling.”
“Oh gods, shut up,” Jensen snaps, slapping a hand over Jared’s mouth. Then they both look over at Jeff guiltily. He should probably be thrown in some ice planet prison for pedophiles, because the two of them give the impression of little boys caught in some scrape, and goddamn if that doesn’t make Jeff’s pants feel another size too small.
“You’re going to tell me what this is all about. Now,” he orders.
Jared and Jensen share a long, meaningful glance. Whole pages of dialogue get exchanged in that one look. Some impressively high word count. Then suddenly the baby-boy expressions are gone, and in their place is a sultry smolder that has Jeff’s libido threatening to sue for whiplash.
Jensen draws his hand slowly away from Jared’s mouth, letting his thumb drag at Jared’s bottom lip. Jared tongues at it, sucking the tip obscenely. Their gazes never leave Jeff’s.
They start to move toward him. Jensen untucks his shirt, Jared’s fingers lazily play with the drawstrings at his waist.
“Don’t think you can change the subject this way. I’m going to find out what’s in that closet,” Jeff says, torn as to whether to back away or step forward to grab two handfuls of ass. “Are you trying to seduce me?”
“Not so much ‘trying’-“ Jensen murmurs, his voice smoother than 300-year-old Rigelian bourbon.
“-as doing.” Jared slides around behind him, plastering himself to Jeff’s back, his fingers dragging slowly up the sides of Jeff’s thighs while Jensen presses into his front, snugging his groin up against Jeff’s thigh and tonguing hot kisses onto the skin revealed by the nimble fingers undoing the line of buttons on his shirt.
“Don’t you want to find out why they call Jensen the ‘Heart’-“ Jared breathes into his ear.
“-and Jared the ‘Hands?’” Jensen asks between sucks and licks.
And honestly? The whole hidden control panel thing can wait until later. There’s no real rush.
But before Jeff has the chance to get this particular ship off the ground, the door to the hut is thrown open once more, flying ajar with a sharp bang, and an army of midgets dashes in to attack them.
Well, it’s not so much an army as a group of seven or eight guys. And they’re not really midgets. Just kind of tiny. Generally short. Like the halfmen of Andromeda Minor. As they swarm in the door, Jared and Jensen push in front of Jeff to defend him, sending him stumbling to the ground behind them, flat on his ass. He watches, more useless than Chad’s flaccid dick, as the intruders surround the boys, shouting, wrestling them down, trying to overwhelm them with numbers.
What Jeff wouldn’t give for a stunner on his hip right now. Or, for these foes, even just a garden hose with strong water pressure might do the trick.
As he clambers to his feet, ready to throw himself into the fray, a tiny redheaded woman strides in the door and stands in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips. “Haud yer wheesht! Quiet nao! The lot of ye!” she shouts. And although Jeff’s not sure exactly what language she’s speaking, it appears to work. Even Jensen stops struggling against the hold three of them have on his arms. The woman glares at all of them like her eyes could shoot lasers. Felicia once constructed a robot butler for the ship that included that particular function. Jeff still isn’t sure why. Needless to say, it didn’t turn out well.
And seriously, another redhead? They make up, what… 3% of the human population of the galaxy? And maybe 1% of tentacle monsters, at best? How is it that Jeff seems to be surrounded by them? And where are all the redheaded men, anyway? It makes no damn sense at all.
Over to the side, Jared stands up slowly from beneath a pile of bodies, someone clinging precariously to his back.
“I’ve got the Hands, Ruthie!” a dark-haired kid calls out.
That may be wishful thinking. It looks to Jeff more like Jared’s giving a piggyback ride than he’s in any danger of being ‘gotten.’
“Get off of him, Osric, you numptie,” the woman snaps. “If ye hurt him, he’ll likely end up in a sling until at least Chapter Six. N’body wants to see that.”
“Richard, Gabe, let go of me,” Jensen says impatiently, shaking off his captors, “Rob, quit trying to cop a feel. And Ruth-“
“-what are you all doing here?” Jared demands, lowering Osric down carefully.
“Yes,” Jeff demands, “just what’s going on here?”
“Och, Sire,” Ruth says, giving a perfunctory nod of the head, even as the rest of her crew all quickly take a knee at the sight of him. “I dinnae ken you were here. ‘Tis just as well, you’ll want to be coming with us, too.”
“With you?” Jared and Jensen both say.
“Why would we go anywhere with you?” Jeff echoes. Unless it’s somewhere with a king-sized bed and no one under six feet tall admitted, he’s not especially interested.
“Now that the prophecies of the Auld Book are coming true,” Ruth says darkly, clearly relishing her role as the purveyor of exposition, “Misha fears he will lose all the power he’s quietly amassed over the past few years while you roasters-” she glares at Jared and Jensen, “-were too busy fuckin’ like bunnies to pay attention. Now he’s about to stage a coup and he’s gan to deliver the Heart and Hands over to the village’s enemies in exchange for their help assassinating the Bearded One.”
She turns her laser eyes to Jeff, raking him up and down. He can’t tell if she approves of that part of Misha’s plan or if the ‘fucking like bunnies’ part is giving her ideas. He quickly buttons up his shirt.
“Misha would never do that!” Jared protests.
“He loves us!” Jensen says.
“Oh really?” drawls one of the little guys next to Jared. “You should see what he writes about you on the wall of that one stall in the lavatory of the Great Hall.”
“I don’t know, Travis,” another guy says. “That’s supposed to be anon.”
“Anyway,” Ruth breaks in, sounding like she’s physically incapable of listening to another word they say, “why d’ye think I brought all these boyos with me to fetch ye? I knew you would nae believe it when you heard it. But we have to leave, now, and debate about it elsewhere. Otherwise, aye you’ll go. And a tuppence happnae stamp will no bring ye back.”
Jeff says, “Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that last part.”
She draws a finger across her neck ominously.
Jeff thinks it likely she’s a lunatic, that they all are, but he figures discretion is the better part of staying alive until his ship’s breaking atmosphere.
He turns to the boys. “Do you trust her?”
They exchange a glance, and then simultaneously shrug like, yeah, we guess so.
Not exactly a ringing endorsement, but Jeff figures he can gather more information on the move. “I say let’s go. But what about the-“ he tilts his head toward the back corner where the tech is hidden. He cuts himself off at the sight of Jared warning him off with wide eyes and an infinitesimal, urgent shake of his head. Jeff may not have Jensen’s eerie ability to hold an entire unspoken conversation with the guy, but he can take a hint.
“Never mind,” he covers, turning to Ruth. “Lead the way. But first-“ he runs a hand through his hair to make sure it’s presentable then scrubs it over his mighty kingly beard, “-we go and get my crew.”
And now I hand the baton off to the wonderful morrezela! Have at it! <3
Author: deirdre_c
Rating: pg-13
Pairing: Jared/Jensen, Jared/Jeff/Jensen, still potentially future everybody/everybody (except Chad, probably)
Word Count: 2517
Summary: In which Jeff meets privately with Jared and Jensen, until they're rudely interrupted by yet another redhead.
"Out," Jeff says, just to see her nostrils flare in irritation. He slaps on a rakish grin. "One of the perks of being captain: I don't have to obey my own orders."
Besides, he can think of a much better way to pass his time.
***
Jeff strides out the door and turns right at random, heading down one of the many paths that wind through the village. He figures it’s not a big place, so his gay threesome sixth sense should be able to lead him right to Jared and Jensen. Jeff’s gotten damn good at this kind of thing over the years. His dick is a dousing rod and those guys’ asses are fresh water.
He spies Felicia down at the shore’s edge, standing on the belly of their wallowing vessel, gesticulating wildly at a group of villagers nearby on land, miming the construction of a hoist to lift the airship out of the water. She looks like an orchestra conductor. Or a little like she’s having an epileptic fit. Or both. Gods know, a few well-placed seizures would’ve improved that one performance of Faust that Alaina had dragged him to a few months back on Centauri Prime.
But right now he’s trying to be a bit more inconspicuous than Felicia as he scouts the village out. He soon realizes it’s a lost cause by the way every single person he passes stops to grovel and scrape. He’s getting slightly dizzy from all the solemn, gracious nods he’s being forced to give in return. The ‘Your Majesty’ thing might be amusing now, but he can see it getting old if they’re here for long.
He sneaks another glance at the pitiful shape of their ship and how much work she needs to be spaceworthy again. Being King here on this uncharted cosmic hemorrhoid might not be the only thing that gets old.
Up ahead on the path, he spots that Misha guy hurrying his way. Jeff ducks behind the corner of a nearby hut, not wanting to be dragged into some ritual preparation for the Grand Feast of Finding Out What Fucking Impossible Task High King Jeff Must Dodge Long Enough To Pillage the Shrine and Get His Crew The Hell Out of Here. They’ll probably have to shorten that title on the engraved invitations.
But-feast or no feast, task or no task-at the very least, Jeff doesn’t want to be found until he’s had a chance to test out whether the inside of Jensen’s mouth is as hot and welcoming as it looks from the outside.
It appears that he’s going to get a chance, because Misha quickly turns and speeds off the other way, too, as if he’s the one avoiding Jeff.
Huh, Jeff thinks. So much for being everyone’s favorite Spirit in the Sky.
He might’ve given Misha’s odd action a second thought, if he didn’t happen to catch sight of a sign on the building across the way. There’s a carved picture engraved over the lintel of the door: a rough-hewn sign portraying cupped hands with a heart cradled in the center. It’s the most obvious thing Jeff’s seen since Chad rolled up a sleeve and showed off a new tattoo on his scrawny biceps that simply spelled out the word “CHAD.” If this planet had neon, that sign would be blinking: sex, sex, sex!
“Bingo,” he mutters under his breath. Or, you know, whatever backward, rudimentary game of chance they play around here.
He could just walk right up the door and knock. There’s no question of the reception he’ll get; those two had been sending off clearer signals than a cometball base coach waving in the winning disc. But Jeff would prefer to avoid being seen. Even if Misha’s currently avoiding him, Alaina or Felicia might eventually come searching. Right in the middle of his royal needs being met.
So Jeff decides to sneak across the path and around to the side of the structure.
Turns out to be a damn fine choice, because when he pushes aside the flap covering one of the windows and peeks inside, he sees the outline of two figures squeezed into what must be a small shower stall. The fabric curtain is not just this side of transparent, so he gets a good enough look at what’s going on-a steady stream of water rushing down over their shoulders and chests, Jared soaping up Jensen’s torso, Jensen combing fingers through Jared’s thick hair-that Jeff has to reach crotch-ward and make some adjustments. Stupid tight Captain’s uniform pants. Who’s idea of fashion are these anyway?
He seems to have arrived right at the end of the shower, though, because his two personal porn stars have already turned off the water and are toweling down. Which is okay with Jeff, because he was about one minute there from starting to hump the side of the house, and really, unless you’re on the kinkmeme, that’s never gonna be appropriate or satisfying.
But before Jeff can search for a rear entrance-to the building, you perverts-and join Jared and Jensen in convenient nakedness, he sees them both quickly draw on soft shirts and slacks and crouch down in the far corner of the room. Jeff hadn’t noticed before, but it appears there’s some kind of secret compartment or closet back there, and when Jared slides a hidden panel open, over his shoulder Jeff spies a familiar pattern blinking lights set in a plate of industrial-grade steel.
It’s the main control panel from the bridge of the vintage airship. It’s got to be. And it appears to be operational. And it appears these two yahoos are making it work.
Jeff sprints around to the front door of the shack and busts in.
“Shit-” Jensen leaps to his feet.
“-shit!” Jared slams the panel shut while Jensen scoots in front of him trying to shield view of it. Jared bounds up and stands shoulder-to-shoulder with Jensen.
“Your Majesty!” they say brightly in unison.
Their expressions have that same vague dopeyness they’d had back in the throne room, but it isn’t fooling Jeff any longer. Unfortunately, they’re also about six times as sexy up close, Jared’s still-damp hair curling back behind his ears and his cheeks prettily flushed, Jensen’s taut nipples saluting Jeff through his thin cotton shirt.
Before he gets completely distracted, he jabs a finger at the seamless wall of the hut. “What is that in there?”
“Nothing?” Jared offers.
“Nothing,” Jensen confirms more firmly.
“Bullshit,” Jeff growls, moving forward.
“No, stay back,” Jensen says, holding his hands palms out in front of him. “It’s…it’s…it’s-”
“-bees!”
“We keep bees,” Jensen continues earnestly. “A hive. Swarm really. Deadly stingers, very dangerous.”
“In the closet?” Jeff huffs.
“They prefer dark-” Jared says.
“-they’re nocturnal bees.”
“Don’t play dumb with me.” Jeff’s still trying to get his head around the presence of working technology in this primitive locale. Maybe they’ll actually get off this rock before his beard changes from its alluringly masculine, Elba-esqe salt-and-pepper to all white.
“But we are dumb,“ Jensen insists.
“Really dumb.”
“That blond slave of yours?-“
“-we make him look like a rocket scientist.”
“I have a sneaking suspicion,” Jeff cuts them off, not bothering to defend Chad's honor, his voice rising, “that you are rocket scientists!”
“Wellll-“ Jensen scrambles for another glib answer. He glances at Jared, clearly hoping for some help.
“-Less scientists, more applied engineers,” Jared mutters under his breath into the awkward silence, angling his head toward Jensen. “This one’s never been all that interested in theoretical modeling.”
“Oh gods, shut up,” Jensen snaps, slapping a hand over Jared’s mouth. Then they both look over at Jeff guiltily. He should probably be thrown in some ice planet prison for pedophiles, because the two of them give the impression of little boys caught in some scrape, and goddamn if that doesn’t make Jeff’s pants feel another size too small.
“You’re going to tell me what this is all about. Now,” he orders.
Jared and Jensen share a long, meaningful glance. Whole pages of dialogue get exchanged in that one look. Some impressively high word count. Then suddenly the baby-boy expressions are gone, and in their place is a sultry smolder that has Jeff’s libido threatening to sue for whiplash.
Jensen draws his hand slowly away from Jared’s mouth, letting his thumb drag at Jared’s bottom lip. Jared tongues at it, sucking the tip obscenely. Their gazes never leave Jeff’s.
They start to move toward him. Jensen untucks his shirt, Jared’s fingers lazily play with the drawstrings at his waist.
“Don’t think you can change the subject this way. I’m going to find out what’s in that closet,” Jeff says, torn as to whether to back away or step forward to grab two handfuls of ass. “Are you trying to seduce me?”
“Not so much ‘trying’-“ Jensen murmurs, his voice smoother than 300-year-old Rigelian bourbon.
“-as doing.” Jared slides around behind him, plastering himself to Jeff’s back, his fingers dragging slowly up the sides of Jeff’s thighs while Jensen presses into his front, snugging his groin up against Jeff’s thigh and tonguing hot kisses onto the skin revealed by the nimble fingers undoing the line of buttons on his shirt.
“Don’t you want to find out why they call Jensen the ‘Heart’-“ Jared breathes into his ear.
“-and Jared the ‘Hands?’” Jensen asks between sucks and licks.
And honestly? The whole hidden control panel thing can wait until later. There’s no real rush.
But before Jeff has the chance to get this particular ship off the ground, the door to the hut is thrown open once more, flying ajar with a sharp bang, and an army of midgets dashes in to attack them.
Well, it’s not so much an army as a group of seven or eight guys. And they’re not really midgets. Just kind of tiny. Generally short. Like the halfmen of Andromeda Minor. As they swarm in the door, Jared and Jensen push in front of Jeff to defend him, sending him stumbling to the ground behind them, flat on his ass. He watches, more useless than Chad’s flaccid dick, as the intruders surround the boys, shouting, wrestling them down, trying to overwhelm them with numbers.
What Jeff wouldn’t give for a stunner on his hip right now. Or, for these foes, even just a garden hose with strong water pressure might do the trick.
As he clambers to his feet, ready to throw himself into the fray, a tiny redheaded woman strides in the door and stands in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips. “Haud yer wheesht! Quiet nao! The lot of ye!” she shouts. And although Jeff’s not sure exactly what language she’s speaking, it appears to work. Even Jensen stops struggling against the hold three of them have on his arms. The woman glares at all of them like her eyes could shoot lasers. Felicia once constructed a robot butler for the ship that included that particular function. Jeff still isn’t sure why. Needless to say, it didn’t turn out well.
And seriously, another redhead? They make up, what… 3% of the human population of the galaxy? And maybe 1% of tentacle monsters, at best? How is it that Jeff seems to be surrounded by them? And where are all the redheaded men, anyway? It makes no damn sense at all.
Over to the side, Jared stands up slowly from beneath a pile of bodies, someone clinging precariously to his back.
“I’ve got the Hands, Ruthie!” a dark-haired kid calls out.
That may be wishful thinking. It looks to Jeff more like Jared’s giving a piggyback ride than he’s in any danger of being ‘gotten.’
“Get off of him, Osric, you numptie,” the woman snaps. “If ye hurt him, he’ll likely end up in a sling until at least Chapter Six. N’body wants to see that.”
“Richard, Gabe, let go of me,” Jensen says impatiently, shaking off his captors, “Rob, quit trying to cop a feel. And Ruth-“
“-what are you all doing here?” Jared demands, lowering Osric down carefully.
“Yes,” Jeff demands, “just what’s going on here?”
“Och, Sire,” Ruth says, giving a perfunctory nod of the head, even as the rest of her crew all quickly take a knee at the sight of him. “I dinnae ken you were here. ‘Tis just as well, you’ll want to be coming with us, too.”
“With you?” Jared and Jensen both say.
“Why would we go anywhere with you?” Jeff echoes. Unless it’s somewhere with a king-sized bed and no one under six feet tall admitted, he’s not especially interested.
“Now that the prophecies of the Auld Book are coming true,” Ruth says darkly, clearly relishing her role as the purveyor of exposition, “Misha fears he will lose all the power he’s quietly amassed over the past few years while you roasters-” she glares at Jared and Jensen, “-were too busy fuckin’ like bunnies to pay attention. Now he’s about to stage a coup and he’s gan to deliver the Heart and Hands over to the village’s enemies in exchange for their help assassinating the Bearded One.”
She turns her laser eyes to Jeff, raking him up and down. He can’t tell if she approves of that part of Misha’s plan or if the ‘fucking like bunnies’ part is giving her ideas. He quickly buttons up his shirt.
“Misha would never do that!” Jared protests.
“He loves us!” Jensen says.
“Oh really?” drawls one of the little guys next to Jared. “You should see what he writes about you on the wall of that one stall in the lavatory of the Great Hall.”
“I don’t know, Travis,” another guy says. “That’s supposed to be anon.”
“Anyway,” Ruth breaks in, sounding like she’s physically incapable of listening to another word they say, “why d’ye think I brought all these boyos with me to fetch ye? I knew you would nae believe it when you heard it. But we have to leave, now, and debate about it elsewhere. Otherwise, aye you’ll go. And a tuppence happnae stamp will no bring ye back.”
Jeff says, “Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that last part.”
She draws a finger across her neck ominously.
Jeff thinks it likely she’s a lunatic, that they all are, but he figures discretion is the better part of staying alive until his ship’s breaking atmosphere.
He turns to the boys. “Do you trust her?”
They exchange a glance, and then simultaneously shrug like, yeah, we guess so.
Not exactly a ringing endorsement, but Jeff figures he can gather more information on the move. “I say let’s go. But what about the-“ he tilts his head toward the back corner where the tech is hidden. He cuts himself off at the sight of Jared warning him off with wide eyes and an infinitesimal, urgent shake of his head. Jeff may not have Jensen’s eerie ability to hold an entire unspoken conversation with the guy, but he can take a hint.
“Never mind,” he covers, turning to Ruth. “Lead the way. But first-“ he runs a hand through his hair to make sure it’s presentable then scrubs it over his mighty kingly beard, “-we go and get my crew.”
And now I hand the baton off to the wonderful morrezela! Have at it! <3