Early Mornings and Late Nights Under Overcast Sky (Jensen/Jared RPS) -- 9/? (WIP)
Title: Early Mornings and Late Nights Under Overcast Sky
Characters/Pairing: Jensen Ackles / Jared Padalecki; Jensen Ackles / OFC
POV: Jensen Ackles
Author's Notes: It’s fiction. That means it’s not real, folks. Jensen and Jared are real people. So is Eric Kripke. The show “Supernatural” is a real TV show on the WB11. If anything else in this is real, I wasn’t aware of it.
I'm not going to say when or if the next chapter will be posted... I am writing on this, but really, it took on a mind/life of it's own, and it's sorta festering at upset!Jared and a Jensen who's entirely unsure what to do... So... read at your own risk. I would enjoy feedback, but I'll understand if you don't want to start reading a WIP with no end in sight or in the works. I really have no idea what's coming next here.
Summary: Jared’s girl (Sandra) breaks up with him. Jensen tries to help.
Spoilers: Nothing to see here, folks...
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Chapter Nine: Reset, Repeat
Rating: R, for language, boys being boys, and the promise of sex
Pairing: Jensen/Jared, but not yet in sight
Word Count: 2,241
Reset, Repeat
Eric calls while I’m standing in the checkout line at the supermarket. There are two customers in front of me-a young couple who can’t keep their hands off each other, and an elderly lady who’s arguing about a coupon and the price of paper towels-I’m almost ready to reach into my pocket and give her the money for the coupon and the paper towels just to get her to shut up and to speed things along.
“How are things on set? You gonna need us tomorrow?” I cross my fingers, hoping he says ‘no’, because there’s no way Jared’s in any shape to work, and I don’t feel like being the one to tell Kripke that even though the weather might be cooperating now, Jared’s health isn’t.
Eric sighs heavily. “Grounds crew says it’s still pretty wet. That’s why I’m calling.” He takes a breath. “We’re not going to be able to get anything done with the ground as wet as it is… crews are working overtime to get some of the indoor sets together, so you should be here Monday regardless.”
I nod. “’kay. So I’ll see you Monday.”
Another sigh. “Yes. Have a good weekend, and get some rest. We’re going straight through Monday.” That means lunch break is cut in half to catch up on filming, and that we’re working late. I barely hide my groan.
I’m about to hang up and give this lady a piece of my mind and some money out of my wallet, when I hear Eric’s voice again-he didn’t sever the connection yet. “Jensen?”
“Yes, Eric.”
“I can’t reach Jared…”
I interrupt him. “He’s…” And I break off there, not prepared to complete the sentence-‘at my place’. If Sandy hadn’t told me what she did, I’d have told Eric that Jared was at my apartment without a second thought. I stand in silence, barely hearing Eric as he prods me-‘yes?’ I give a halfhearted laugh. “Well… you know him… he’s probably out with Sandy somewhere…” I lie glibly, wondering why I feel the need to.
Eric says something that gets lost in the static, followed by, “If you hear from him, would you mind telling him?”
“Sure, sure.” I say, and hang up after we exchange closing pleasantries of ‘have a good weekend’, and ‘hope the weather clears up’.
The cashier has called the store manager over to deal with the ornery old lady. The couple between me and the elderly lady take this as their cue to stick their tongues down each other’s throats-noisily. I find another checkout line, carefully maneuvering my cart along tiled floor, convinced the line I was in will start moving the second I settle in another line-Murphy’s Law.
I pay for my groceries-some food along with the necessary Tylenol and Ny-Quil, namely canned chicken soup, and orange juice (Jared’s favorite)-and make it back to the apartment just as Jared’s waking, in a coughing fit.
“Sounds pretty bad,” I say, leaning against the doorjamb, still in my jacket, keys in hand. It earns me a sickly glare from him, a slight pause in coughing followed by more coughing. He spits into a cup. “That’s real pleasant, Jared.”
He sighs and pushes himself off the mattress, heads towards the door without looking at me. I reach out and snake my right arm around his midsection as he brushes past me, pulling him back. “Where d’ya think you’re going, sick-boy?”
“Not funny, Dean.”
I manage a small smile at that as I tuck my keys in my jacket pocket and reach up around him to cup his forehead. His skin is hot, sweaty and dry simultaneously, and for that instant, nothing has changed between us, and things are as easy and as comfortable as they’ve always been, since day one. “C’mon, Jare… back to bed.”
I start walking towards the bed, not letting go of him. His long legs get tangled beneath him as he tries to turn around in my arms, and he stumbles awkwardly. I manage to catch him before he takes both of us to the floor, and get him to bed without further incident. He settles, sitting up, propped against the pillows.
I’m not sure what to say or what to offer him, so I turn to leave, only to be stopped by his voice. “Jensen…” And everything comes crashing back to me at his careful utterance of my full name. Sandy telling me he screams my name when he’s fucking her… and… everything else. But there really isn’t anything else.
“Jensen… I don’t feel so well.”
“Get some rest.” I advise.
“…can’t sleep…” His Texas drawl is slow, overly pronounced and nasally now with his cold. “Feel like shit, Jensen.”
The name is bugging me. Everything else seems to slowly be going back to normal… or at least, to what it used to be… but Jared insists on calling me Jensen, and it’s too formal, too… distant coming from his mouth. It makes me all too aware of the silence between us.
I sigh. “So come play Halo with me. I’ll make you tea.”
He raises his eyes to mine, bites his lower lip before sliding out of bed. He follows me out to the living room, and starts up the X-Box, throws the Halo disk in the machine while I head into the kitchen. I heat up a cup of coffee for myself, water for his tea, and make soup for him, in the hopes he’ll eat it.
He sips at the tea, makes a face at the honey and lemon, but drinks it anyway.
We play head-to-head for hours, during which Jared glances at me nervously at least a dozen times, probably thinking I’m going to start talking to him about things-his sexuality, why I found out from Sandra, him not taking care of himself-eventually relaxes after I don’t say anything for two hours.
He eats the soup-half of it, at least-swallows two Tylenol, and fidgets uncomfortably on the couch as I log another kill-I’m kicking his ass. “Dammnit…” Jared mutters, sinking back against the cushions, swallowing the rest of the now cold tea, wrinkling his nose as he spits a lemon seed back into the cup. “You killed me again, you bastard.”
I snicker. He punches my arm in retaliation. “I’m sick. You’re supposed to let me win, you know.” He resets the game as I notch the winning hit, muttering curses beneath his breath the whole time.
I raise an eyebrow. “I am? Where’s that written?” I smile as he pushes himself off the couch.
“It’s in the older brother handbook. Every older brother gets one.” He picks through the Playstation games from his knees. “Mortal Kombat?” He asks, already opening the case to the Playstation and disconnecting the X-Box.
“Ah, but see, I’m not your older brother.” I get up to bring the dishes to the kitchen, get a coke for myself and a glass of orange juice for him.
“Sure you are.” He says, sitting back down on the couch, closer to me than he’d been last time, and leaning in, nudging me with his arm. “Dean.” And he smiles.
I nod, offer a smile in return, all the while the wheels inside my head turning. Things aren’t okay between us… they can’t just be okay after all that’s happened. But they’re less stilted than they used to be just a few short hours ago, and far less stilted than they were yesterday. It’s a good sign.
Jared takes Movado, I take Johnny Cage. He beats me-handily. I never did figure out how he mastered Movado-I could never get even the most basic combination with Movado’s hookswords. We switch up characters, but he always finds his way back to Movado, and every time he does, I lose. He laughs, and after an hour or two, when the sky darkens with nightfall rather than the threat of rain, takes a dose of Ny-Quil.
I put in Tetris: Worlds, and let him play. I get up to do a load of laundry and scrounge up dinner. There’s little in my apartment. I should have gotten more in the way of food while I was at the supermarket this afternoon.
I make a sandwich, poke my head into the living room. “Jare, you hungry?”
His nose wrinkles, the corner of his mouth turns down, and I swear he looks a little green as he shakes his head no. “No… no food.” He says quietly. The glass of orange juice sits untouched on the coffee table, and I remember his earlier trip to the bathroom. I hadn’t given it a second thought at the time, but now I’m wondering if maybe he threw up.
Jared puts a movie in after tiring of Tetris-quickly, might I add-and I join him to watch Kevin Costner in The Untouchables. Halfway through the movie, Jared’s head finds my shoulder, and his eyes close. He’s asleep by the time the credits start rolling.
“Jare…” I whisper, gently push at his ribs. “Jare, get up…”
Another nudge, and he groans, pushes at my hands, mumbles something that could be ‘go away’, but I’m not sure.
“Come on, Jared… you can’t sleep on the couch…”
His hair tickles the skin of my neck as he mumbles something else I can’t make out and shifts position. He reaches one hand up to rub at his nose, pushes off the couch with the other hand, moving himself slowly into a sitting position. “Bed?” He asks.
“Yeah.” I stand up, lean down and slide an arm around him, hauling him to his feet with a little help from him. He’s shaky on his feet at best, still half-asleep and woozy from the Ny-Quil. “C’mon, Jare…” I sigh softly, and start moving with him, negotiating the couch and the duffel on the floor as I guide him down the hall.
He turns into the bathroom rather than the guest room, closes the door and I hear him brushing his teeth, taking a piss, washing up. He exits the bathroom when he finishes, strips of his tee shirt on his way to the guest room.
I retrieve the Tylenol from the living room, get a glass of water, and find Jared already asleep atop the covers when I enter his room to leave both on the table near the bed. I tug the blankets from under him, drape them over his lanky frame and close the door behind me on the way out.
He didn’t even ask if we were supposed to be on set tomorrow.
I lock up, hang newly washed and dried shirts on hangers, and answer my phone on the first ring, nearly tripping over the duffel near the sofa in my haste to get to the phone before it rings again and wakes Jared. “…e’lo?”
“Baby…” Luanne’s sugary soprano floats through the phone and puts a smile on my face. “You sound tense, baby…”
I lean on the armrest of the couch, let myself tumble onto the cushions. “Yeah… it’s been a long day, sugar.”
“I could come over…” Spoken in a voice that hints a million things, subtitles and whispers, unspoken promises of ‘just for tonight’ and ‘let me love you’ that ring tinny in my ears, because I don’t want forever, and I know it’s what she wants, even hidden behind facades of one-night-stands that she hopes will lead to more.
“No… no, that’s…” I stutter over my words. I think of Jared, briefly, and the minor concern of his being sick. Normally I don’t think it’d matter if I had a girl-any girl-over while Jared was in the guest room, but now… well, the sound of his coughing up a lung wouldn’t exactly add to the ambience, and for reasons I’m not entirely sure of, his sexuality makes me think twice about having a girl over while he’s there.
“I could meet you… at a hotel?” She slurps at something-I know licking her fingers without asking-and the sound goes straight to my dick.
When I don’t answer right away, she takes it as hesitation. “One night, honeycakes… Jen… come on… it’ll be good, I promise…”
“With you it always is.” My voice is already lowering, I can hear the edge of my own desire, and I’m sure she can too.
“So meet me?” She asks. “I’ll make it worth your while...”
“I’ll be gone in the morning.” I tell her. And I want to make it clear, this is one night only, everything between us has always been that way, and I don’t know why I feel the need to make sure she’s aware of that now though I never did before. “I’m not staying…”
She interrupts me, purring lightly into the phone. “I’d expect nothing less, Jen…” And lower, more sultry, “The Red Roof… I’ll text you with the room number. It’ll be open.”
She hangs up without confirming that I’ll be there. She knows as well as I do that it’s not a question. I sigh and roll off the couch, but thoughts of Luanne, naked and wriggling beneath me get me moving faster.
I double-check to make sure there are two condoms in my wallet (better to be safe than sorry), grab my jacket, cell phone and keys, and head out the door.
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Characters/Pairing: Jensen Ackles / Jared Padalecki; Jensen Ackles / OFC
POV: Jensen Ackles
Author's Notes: It’s fiction. That means it’s not real, folks. Jensen and Jared are real people. So is Eric Kripke. The show “Supernatural” is a real TV show on the WB11. If anything else in this is real, I wasn’t aware of it.
I'm not going to say when or if the next chapter will be posted... I am writing on this, but really, it took on a mind/life of it's own, and it's sorta festering at upset!Jared and a Jensen who's entirely unsure what to do... So... read at your own risk. I would enjoy feedback, but I'll understand if you don't want to start reading a WIP with no end in sight or in the works. I really have no idea what's coming next here.
Summary: Jared’s girl (Sandra) breaks up with him. Jensen tries to help.
Spoilers: Nothing to see here, folks...
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Chapter Nine: Reset, Repeat
Rating: R, for language, boys being boys, and the promise of sex
Pairing: Jensen/Jared, but not yet in sight
Word Count: 2,241
Reset, Repeat
Eric calls while I’m standing in the checkout line at the supermarket. There are two customers in front of me-a young couple who can’t keep their hands off each other, and an elderly lady who’s arguing about a coupon and the price of paper towels-I’m almost ready to reach into my pocket and give her the money for the coupon and the paper towels just to get her to shut up and to speed things along.
“How are things on set? You gonna need us tomorrow?” I cross my fingers, hoping he says ‘no’, because there’s no way Jared’s in any shape to work, and I don’t feel like being the one to tell Kripke that even though the weather might be cooperating now, Jared’s health isn’t.
Eric sighs heavily. “Grounds crew says it’s still pretty wet. That’s why I’m calling.” He takes a breath. “We’re not going to be able to get anything done with the ground as wet as it is… crews are working overtime to get some of the indoor sets together, so you should be here Monday regardless.”
I nod. “’kay. So I’ll see you Monday.”
Another sigh. “Yes. Have a good weekend, and get some rest. We’re going straight through Monday.” That means lunch break is cut in half to catch up on filming, and that we’re working late. I barely hide my groan.
I’m about to hang up and give this lady a piece of my mind and some money out of my wallet, when I hear Eric’s voice again-he didn’t sever the connection yet. “Jensen?”
“Yes, Eric.”
“I can’t reach Jared…”
I interrupt him. “He’s…” And I break off there, not prepared to complete the sentence-‘at my place’. If Sandy hadn’t told me what she did, I’d have told Eric that Jared was at my apartment without a second thought. I stand in silence, barely hearing Eric as he prods me-‘yes?’ I give a halfhearted laugh. “Well… you know him… he’s probably out with Sandy somewhere…” I lie glibly, wondering why I feel the need to.
Eric says something that gets lost in the static, followed by, “If you hear from him, would you mind telling him?”
“Sure, sure.” I say, and hang up after we exchange closing pleasantries of ‘have a good weekend’, and ‘hope the weather clears up’.
The cashier has called the store manager over to deal with the ornery old lady. The couple between me and the elderly lady take this as their cue to stick their tongues down each other’s throats-noisily. I find another checkout line, carefully maneuvering my cart along tiled floor, convinced the line I was in will start moving the second I settle in another line-Murphy’s Law.
I pay for my groceries-some food along with the necessary Tylenol and Ny-Quil, namely canned chicken soup, and orange juice (Jared’s favorite)-and make it back to the apartment just as Jared’s waking, in a coughing fit.
“Sounds pretty bad,” I say, leaning against the doorjamb, still in my jacket, keys in hand. It earns me a sickly glare from him, a slight pause in coughing followed by more coughing. He spits into a cup. “That’s real pleasant, Jared.”
He sighs and pushes himself off the mattress, heads towards the door without looking at me. I reach out and snake my right arm around his midsection as he brushes past me, pulling him back. “Where d’ya think you’re going, sick-boy?”
“Not funny, Dean.”
I manage a small smile at that as I tuck my keys in my jacket pocket and reach up around him to cup his forehead. His skin is hot, sweaty and dry simultaneously, and for that instant, nothing has changed between us, and things are as easy and as comfortable as they’ve always been, since day one. “C’mon, Jare… back to bed.”
I start walking towards the bed, not letting go of him. His long legs get tangled beneath him as he tries to turn around in my arms, and he stumbles awkwardly. I manage to catch him before he takes both of us to the floor, and get him to bed without further incident. He settles, sitting up, propped against the pillows.
I’m not sure what to say or what to offer him, so I turn to leave, only to be stopped by his voice. “Jensen…” And everything comes crashing back to me at his careful utterance of my full name. Sandy telling me he screams my name when he’s fucking her… and… everything else. But there really isn’t anything else.
“Jensen… I don’t feel so well.”
“Get some rest.” I advise.
“…can’t sleep…” His Texas drawl is slow, overly pronounced and nasally now with his cold. “Feel like shit, Jensen.”
The name is bugging me. Everything else seems to slowly be going back to normal… or at least, to what it used to be… but Jared insists on calling me Jensen, and it’s too formal, too… distant coming from his mouth. It makes me all too aware of the silence between us.
I sigh. “So come play Halo with me. I’ll make you tea.”
He raises his eyes to mine, bites his lower lip before sliding out of bed. He follows me out to the living room, and starts up the X-Box, throws the Halo disk in the machine while I head into the kitchen. I heat up a cup of coffee for myself, water for his tea, and make soup for him, in the hopes he’ll eat it.
He sips at the tea, makes a face at the honey and lemon, but drinks it anyway.
We play head-to-head for hours, during which Jared glances at me nervously at least a dozen times, probably thinking I’m going to start talking to him about things-his sexuality, why I found out from Sandra, him not taking care of himself-eventually relaxes after I don’t say anything for two hours.
He eats the soup-half of it, at least-swallows two Tylenol, and fidgets uncomfortably on the couch as I log another kill-I’m kicking his ass. “Dammnit…” Jared mutters, sinking back against the cushions, swallowing the rest of the now cold tea, wrinkling his nose as he spits a lemon seed back into the cup. “You killed me again, you bastard.”
I snicker. He punches my arm in retaliation. “I’m sick. You’re supposed to let me win, you know.” He resets the game as I notch the winning hit, muttering curses beneath his breath the whole time.
I raise an eyebrow. “I am? Where’s that written?” I smile as he pushes himself off the couch.
“It’s in the older brother handbook. Every older brother gets one.” He picks through the Playstation games from his knees. “Mortal Kombat?” He asks, already opening the case to the Playstation and disconnecting the X-Box.
“Ah, but see, I’m not your older brother.” I get up to bring the dishes to the kitchen, get a coke for myself and a glass of orange juice for him.
“Sure you are.” He says, sitting back down on the couch, closer to me than he’d been last time, and leaning in, nudging me with his arm. “Dean.” And he smiles.
I nod, offer a smile in return, all the while the wheels inside my head turning. Things aren’t okay between us… they can’t just be okay after all that’s happened. But they’re less stilted than they used to be just a few short hours ago, and far less stilted than they were yesterday. It’s a good sign.
Jared takes Movado, I take Johnny Cage. He beats me-handily. I never did figure out how he mastered Movado-I could never get even the most basic combination with Movado’s hookswords. We switch up characters, but he always finds his way back to Movado, and every time he does, I lose. He laughs, and after an hour or two, when the sky darkens with nightfall rather than the threat of rain, takes a dose of Ny-Quil.
I put in Tetris: Worlds, and let him play. I get up to do a load of laundry and scrounge up dinner. There’s little in my apartment. I should have gotten more in the way of food while I was at the supermarket this afternoon.
I make a sandwich, poke my head into the living room. “Jare, you hungry?”
His nose wrinkles, the corner of his mouth turns down, and I swear he looks a little green as he shakes his head no. “No… no food.” He says quietly. The glass of orange juice sits untouched on the coffee table, and I remember his earlier trip to the bathroom. I hadn’t given it a second thought at the time, but now I’m wondering if maybe he threw up.
Jared puts a movie in after tiring of Tetris-quickly, might I add-and I join him to watch Kevin Costner in The Untouchables. Halfway through the movie, Jared’s head finds my shoulder, and his eyes close. He’s asleep by the time the credits start rolling.
“Jare…” I whisper, gently push at his ribs. “Jare, get up…”
Another nudge, and he groans, pushes at my hands, mumbles something that could be ‘go away’, but I’m not sure.
“Come on, Jared… you can’t sleep on the couch…”
His hair tickles the skin of my neck as he mumbles something else I can’t make out and shifts position. He reaches one hand up to rub at his nose, pushes off the couch with the other hand, moving himself slowly into a sitting position. “Bed?” He asks.
“Yeah.” I stand up, lean down and slide an arm around him, hauling him to his feet with a little help from him. He’s shaky on his feet at best, still half-asleep and woozy from the Ny-Quil. “C’mon, Jare…” I sigh softly, and start moving with him, negotiating the couch and the duffel on the floor as I guide him down the hall.
He turns into the bathroom rather than the guest room, closes the door and I hear him brushing his teeth, taking a piss, washing up. He exits the bathroom when he finishes, strips of his tee shirt on his way to the guest room.
I retrieve the Tylenol from the living room, get a glass of water, and find Jared already asleep atop the covers when I enter his room to leave both on the table near the bed. I tug the blankets from under him, drape them over his lanky frame and close the door behind me on the way out.
He didn’t even ask if we were supposed to be on set tomorrow.
I lock up, hang newly washed and dried shirts on hangers, and answer my phone on the first ring, nearly tripping over the duffel near the sofa in my haste to get to the phone before it rings again and wakes Jared. “…e’lo?”
“Baby…” Luanne’s sugary soprano floats through the phone and puts a smile on my face. “You sound tense, baby…”
I lean on the armrest of the couch, let myself tumble onto the cushions. “Yeah… it’s been a long day, sugar.”
“I could come over…” Spoken in a voice that hints a million things, subtitles and whispers, unspoken promises of ‘just for tonight’ and ‘let me love you’ that ring tinny in my ears, because I don’t want forever, and I know it’s what she wants, even hidden behind facades of one-night-stands that she hopes will lead to more.
“No… no, that’s…” I stutter over my words. I think of Jared, briefly, and the minor concern of his being sick. Normally I don’t think it’d matter if I had a girl-any girl-over while Jared was in the guest room, but now… well, the sound of his coughing up a lung wouldn’t exactly add to the ambience, and for reasons I’m not entirely sure of, his sexuality makes me think twice about having a girl over while he’s there.
“I could meet you… at a hotel?” She slurps at something-I know licking her fingers without asking-and the sound goes straight to my dick.
When I don’t answer right away, she takes it as hesitation. “One night, honeycakes… Jen… come on… it’ll be good, I promise…”
“With you it always is.” My voice is already lowering, I can hear the edge of my own desire, and I’m sure she can too.
“So meet me?” She asks. “I’ll make it worth your while...”
“I’ll be gone in the morning.” I tell her. And I want to make it clear, this is one night only, everything between us has always been that way, and I don’t know why I feel the need to make sure she’s aware of that now though I never did before. “I’m not staying…”
She interrupts me, purring lightly into the phone. “I’d expect nothing less, Jen…” And lower, more sultry, “The Red Roof… I’ll text you with the room number. It’ll be open.”
She hangs up without confirming that I’ll be there. She knows as well as I do that it’s not a question. I sigh and roll off the couch, but thoughts of Luanne, naked and wriggling beneath me get me moving faster.
I double-check to make sure there are two condoms in my wallet (better to be safe than sorry), grab my jacket, cell phone and keys, and head out the door.
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