Marconi Plays the Mamba, Part One
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Title: Marconi Plays the Mamba
Author: tcs1121
Artist: 2blueshoes
Pairing and Characters: Jensen/Jared, Felicia Day, Alaina Huffman, DJ Qualls, Chad Michael Murry, Misha Collins, Osric Chau, Katie Cassady, Genevieve Cortese,
Cameos and mentions: Jim Beaver, Sandy McCoy, Mark Pellegrino, Mark Sheppard, Richard Speight, Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Brock Kelley, Alona Tal Rob Benedict, Bryan Norcross, Jim Cantore
Rating: NC-17
Genre: J2 AU, romantic comedy, some hurt/comfort
Word Count: ~34,500
Warnings: No Warnings outside of the sexual activities associated with the rating.
Disclaimer: Untrue story. Character names are being used without permission. No money changes hands.
~~*~~*~~Special Thanks to~~*~~*~~
My longtime friend and beta kee Who is so very special.
To my artist 2blueshoes who captured the essence of Jensen's smiles :-)
The art master post is HERE Please take a look and send your love. <3
To wendy Tireless moderator for the SPN J2 Big Bang year after year after year. Thank you, wendy!
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A/N 1: If you don't understand Chad, it's because he speaks in Jimmy Buffett lyrics
A/N 2: All restaurants named are real. I didn't make up any of them.
Summary:
Jensen is a local Florida weatherman who is known for his handsome face and winning smiles. Although he gave up the dream of becoming a real meteorologist, he is extremely passionate about the weather. And, eventually, Jared.
Jared is a brilliant computer programmer whose company, PMC (Padalecki, Morgan, Collins) gets contracted by Jensen's TV studio to revamp their software. Jared speaks fluent Mexican Restaurant Menu Spanish and has strong affection for weather. And, eventually, Jensen.
It's all fun and games until deadly weather threatens their town. Then, it's up to them to save Coconut Bay.
~~*~~*~~
~~*~~*~~
Marconi Plays the Mamba
~~*~~*~~
"To sum it up, today, like every day, is JAPDAB. Just Another Perfect Day At the Bay. Stay safe, Coconut Bay, and don't forget to turn on your headlights when you turn on your windshield wipers. It's the law." Jensen flashed and held his signature Number One. That was the double row, blinding white smile looking dead into the camera with a hint of dimple on the left.
Felicia held out three fingers, then, two, one, "And we're out."
Jensen blew out a breath and opened his mouth wide to work out the strain of smiling for the last several minutes.
"Just another perfect forecast, Jensen."
"Bite me." Jensen sat and loosened his tie. He was tired but couldn't go home to stay until he finished his stint after the 9:00 PM news, 11:00 PM on Fridays. It sounded like a cushy job, delivering the weather forecast during the morning, afternoon, evening and nightly-twice on Friday nightly-newscasts. A whopping thirty-eight minutes, more or less, of air time for which, even he had to admit, he was stupidly overpaid, but it was an all-day job. More or less.
His weathercasts were also streamed, audio only, for those who preferred to just listen, but they missed out on his dental magic.
The very first time Jensen stood in front of the station manager and unveiled his pearly whites, they turned into gold for this local television station, which was the heart of this affluent little community. That was twelve years ago.
"Bite me. That's funny." Felicia laughed, shaking her head. "The boss wants to see you in her office after you finish your jaw exercises."
Jensen snapped his mouth shut and eyed her warily. "What does she want?"
"That's for her to know and for you to find out." She checked her watch. "I'm outta here in ten. Give me a buzz if she tells you something I need to know."
"Who's on for tonight?"
"Quall's on."
"Okay. That's cool." Jensen stretched his neck to the left. "I hope he doesn't do that thing with his tongue." Jensen unconsciously rolled his tongue into a tube.
"Hey, be nice to DJ, Jensen. His dog got out again."
"Again?" Jensen made a test smile with only the tips of his top teeth showing.
"Be. Nice." Felicia shook her finger menacingly.
"You know me. I'm always nice."
She continued shaking her finger.
"Oh, all right. I'll be nice." He smiled, genuinely this time, until her finger stopped wagging.
"You’d better." She grabbed her clipboard and hung up her headphones.
"See you tomorrow, Red."
"See you tomorrow, Weatherman."
Alaina Huffman was WBB's Station Manager, Coconut Bay's local television station. WBB was the NBC affiliate in this little corner of the great state of Florida, and she ruled it with a highly manicured iron fist, using as few words as possible.
Jensen knocked on her door and waited. When she first came on the scene eight years ago, he'd made the rookie mistake of barging into her office like he owned the station. After all, he was here first. He lifted this little station out of obscurity by his upbeat forecasts and striking good looks years before the owners brought her in.
His ass was handed back to him so hard his backside still stung.
"Ackles, come in. Sit down."
"Good afternoon, Ms. Huffman." Jensen sat, gingerly. "You're looking lovely, as always." He gave her his Number Four-a closed-lip, friendly smile with a dash of flirt.
"Put that away." She aimed her Sharpie at his face. "Changes are happening around here. New people, fresh blood, out with the old, in with the new."
Jensen was stunned. That was the most words he'd ever heard her say in one breath.
"Come again?"
"Revamping the system." She scribbled on her note pad with the Sharpie. "Major overhaul."
"C-come again?"
Huffman stilled her hand. "Jobs reassigned. New staff coming in."
"Ms. Huffman, am I being fired?"
Alaina began making big, black X's on the pad in front of her.
Jensen heartbeat sped up. If he were fired, then he wouldn't have to make the decision to quit. He was well paid, locally famous, spoiled at work, and could date anyone he aimed his Number Twelve at. The one with full dimples. He would be a fool to quit a job like this. But, if he were fired, the decision to quit a lucrative but dead-end job would be taken out of his hands.
"Of course you're not fired. You're our weatherman."
"Then who's getting fired?"
"Go back to work." She looked up from the blackened paper. "And be nice to DJ."
Unable, or unwilling to make a snappy comeback, Jensen stood and backed his way out of her office.
"I wonder who’s on the chopping block?" Jensen murmured. "She can't mean everybody."
"Everybody what?"
"Oh, hi DJ. Hey, you're looking good. Have you been working out?"
Tears flooded DJ's eyes. "If you call searching yards, garages, alleyways and drainage ditches, working out, then, yeah, I've been really, really working out." He wiped his eyes furiously.
"Scout got out again, huh?"
"Don't you judge him. Don't you dare judge him. He's smart, but he feels the call of the wild and he's unable to resist. Scout needs more freedom than I can give him in my townhouse's backyard." He wiped his nose on his sleeve. "He needs land. Lots of land. Under starry skis above. I can't fence him in."
"I'm sure he'll come home safe and sound. Miniature poodles like the water and you know how much he loves lounging in the kiddie pool you bought for him."
"Yeah," DJ said, wetly. "I set it up for him before I came to work. Maybe he'll come home tonight. He enjoys swimming under the stars." He sniffed and took in a deep breath. "I really wish I could move and buy a few acres where it’s not so hot."
"Sometimes wishes do come true, DJ." Jensen said, solemnly. "Sometimes they do."
"You're a good guy, Jensen. Too bad you don't have a dog. If you did, we could have play dates."
"Yes. That's too bad. I'm gonna go." Jensen pointed towards his dressing room suite. Yes, two little rooms made a suite.
"Okie dokie, I'll get everything set up for you to look good, tonight. Like I always do. JAPNOT, Jensen." He saluted military style.
"JAPNOT, DJ," Jensen answered. Then they smiled and said in unison, "Just Another Perfect Night On the Town."
~~*~~*~~
It wasn't exactly that they got fired. It was that the IT team got banished. Only Edna, a copywriter who worked from home and nobody ever saw anyway, got the actual axe.
The WBB IT team was big and bloated. Big Mark Pellegrino ran the place with a not-quite-iron-more-like-steel-wool fist. From coordinating the news streams from the affiliates, to breakaway reporting, assembling the business and sports information, as well as compiling weather stats, the WBB IT team managed, micromanaged, and micro-micromanaged all data coming into the studio. Big Mark, his evil twin partner, Little Mark Sheppard, and Dick Speight formed the Unholy Triumvirate. Their IT minions did not suffer fools lightly. Or news anchors, production assistants, producers, or testy weather reporters. If they didn't like you, they'd hex your equipment, curse your teleprompter, and smite your headset. That was, until Alaina forced them on hiatus. Jensen guessed that one of the Marks and Dick smitings must have gotten out of hand.
As far as the weather streams went, Jensen didn't need the station's internet technology for that. His well-kept secret was that he had converted much of the second floor of his house into his own personal weather center. Before every broadcast, he ran his own metrics from the data he compiled from his second bedroom and used those on the air. What Jensen didn't tell anyone, what he never, ever let anyone know, was that he was a certified, bona-fide, honest-to-god, no question about it, weather geek. As a little kid, growing up in Florida, weather became his passion, spurred on by the somewhat common tropical storm warnings, hurricane watches, thunder storms, lightning strikes, and the public service tornado warnings he watched on television between cartoons.
. Go into the basement or lowest floor of your house
. Go to an interior room
. Stay away from windows
. Get out of mobile homes to a sturdier structure
. If you're on the road get out of your car and lie down flat in a ditch, or someplace lower than the ground…not under an overpass.
The-get out of your car and go face down into a ditch-always sent a tingle through Jensen's bones.
But it was in 1992, while watching meteorologist, Bryan Norcross broadcast two days straight from Miami, as Hurricane Andrew hit Homestead, Florida, that Jensen knew he wanted to be a meteorologist. Andrew was a devastating Category 5 storm that Jensen had been tracking on his home Storm Tracker kit, and he got it right. He had correctly forecasted where and when landfall would take place-something many professionals couldn't do until shortly before it happened.
"I want to be just like Bryan Norcross when I grow up," thirteen year-old Jensen had said to the image of Kirby on his Game Boy.
And so he did.
Except, he didn’t. Because instead of getting his advanced degree in Meteorology and Atmospheric Science, and becoming a hurricane specialist for the The Weather Channel, he became WBB's JAPWAS.
Just Another Perfect Weatherman At the Station.
~~*~~*~~
Sandy was dusting powder on the tip of Jensen’s nose, ten minutes before his upcoming segment when she said, "Did you see the new internet techs setting up? Cute, cute boys, Jensen, and a couple of cute girls, too."
Sandy was Jensen’s friend going on five years and knew he straddled the fence, sexuality speaking. She always looked on both sides of it for him. She was a good friend.
"I don’t know, Sandy. I’m kind of missing Big Mark’s evil scowl when blue screens pop up on the monitors. Not so sure I miss Little Mark’s sarcastic laugh, though."
Jensen adopted Little Mark’s London’s accent saying, "You’re all a bunch of spoiled, stupid twits. So, be good little code monkeys and don’t touch anything, because I can destroy all you've ever created with the snap of my fingers."
"I know! That sounds just like him!" Sandy laughed, snapping her fingers. "He was always doing that." She snapped them three times more.
Jensen liked Sandy.
"Ten minutes, Jensen." Felicia poked her head into the makeup station. "Later on tonight, before your broadcast, IT wants to meet with you."
"What do they want to meet me for?" Jensen breathed into his hands, smelling the dregs of the spearminty life saver he'd been sucking on.
"They’re meeting everybody. One of the new IT guys is a WBB hero now. You’ll want to meet and thank him." Felicia touched the screen of her iPad as she spoke.
"Thank him for what?" Jensen checked his teeth in the mirror.
"He found Scout and took him home to DJ. Seems that Scout was swimming in the guy’s pool several miles away. Fortunately, DJ had posters of Scout hung on every tree, telephone pole, and street sign, within a ten-mile radius."
"That’s, that’s kinda weird. But nice, I guess."
"Why do you always see the weird in everything, Jensen?" Felicia huffed through her nose. "You’re on in five." She touched the screen again and flounced away.
"I don’t, do I Sandy?"
"You do. You see the weird, creepy, corny, and evil scowls and sarcastic laughs in everything."
Maybe he didn’t like Sandy as much as he thought.
"There you go, Coconut Bay. What can I say but JAPDIP? Just Another Perfect Day In Paradise. And remember, on these beautiful, sunny Coconut days, save your skin, ban the tan and use lots of sunscreen." Jensen cocked his head to the right and aimed his Number Six into the camera lens.
"And we’re out." Felicia took off her headset. "Good job at making boring weather sound exciting."
"Bite me, Red."
"Not now." Felicia gave Jensen a sheet of paper. "Here are the names of the new IT staff, for later."
"Why do I need to know their names, again?" Jensen took the paper and looked it up and down.
"So you know their names. Duh."
"I never had to talk to Mark or Mark or Dick."
"You knew their names, though. Hey, you never know when you may need them. I heard that they were going to be here all night, so go see them before your late-night spot. What do you have to lose? You might as well talk to them."
Jensen sighed heavily.
"Go." She pointed to the exit. "And be nice."
"All right. I will." Jensen tucked the paper into his back pocket. "Why are you always telling me to be nice?"
"Because you can be nice when you’re nice." She said, leaving the set.
"I’m always nice," he said to himself while finger styling his hair. "When I'm nice."
~~*~~*~~
It is never too late to be what you might have been.
No time for losers, 'cause we are the champions. Of the world.
I like mine with lettuce and tomato, Heinz 57 and French-fried potatoes.
~~*~~*~~
These were yellow sticky notes on the wall of the first cubicle-the new IT team's makeshift front office. Jensen read them twice and still wasn't sure what they meant.
He stepped inside the faux wall and noticed that most of the IT crew wore red and white tee shirts with red letters on the back that read:
The PMC Solution: Rock-Solid IT Concepts You Can Roll With
.
A diminutive young woman sitting at a computer console was all in black except for a red PMC logo button affixed to her black, gauzy cape.
DJ was speaking animatedly to a tall guy in the back corner.
Jensen knocked carefully on the wall where one of the PMC guys was standing.
"Hello?"
A slender, young man wearing a cap that had a large, red parrot sewn on the top and the word "Margaritaville" on it, turned and squinted at Jensen. "You’re the weatherman, right?"
"Yes, that’s me. Jensen Ackles. Pleased to meet you."
Jensen pulled the paper from his back pocket and searched furiously through the names.
"I’m Chad. Nice to meet you, too. I’m a huge fan of your work. I mean, all the sunshine you give us and all." He held out his right hand. "The weather is here, wish you were beautiful."
Jensen shook Chad’s hand. "I don’t actually cause the sunshine you know."
"I know, it’s a little joke," Chad smiled. "Nothing remains quite the same. With all of our running and all of our cunning," Chad shrugged, "if we couldn’t laugh, we would all go insane."
"I guess so." Jensen slowly backed out of the cubicle.
"Jensen! Jensen Ackles!"
Jensen turned. "Hi, DJ."
DJ ran up to him dragging the tall guy by the hem of this red and white tee. Up close, this tall guy was very easy on the eyes and the smile he flashed Jensen, with full dimples, made Jensen pull out his own Number Three. The one with his top teeth showing and a slight crinkle of the laugh lines around his eyes.
"Who’s your friend?"
"Hey, I’m Jared. Nice to meet you. Apparently, you’re Jensen Ackles."
"Yes," DJ said, breathlessly. "Yes, he is, and he knows Scout, too."
"Oh," Jensen smiled for-real. "So, you’re the hero who found Scout?"
"Well, I wouldn't say hero. Scout was skinny-dipping in my pool around midnight. Luckily, I’d seen his picture and knew who to call." Jared lightly punched DJ’s shoulder.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you. He’s kinda my only family. Except for Jensen and the news team." DJ smiled. "I gotta go set up, but maybe we can all go out for a drink sometime?"
"Maybe," Jared said.
"Maybe," Jensen said.
DJ turned tail, leaving the IT guy and the weatherman in his wake.
"So," Jensen scratched the back of his neck. "Welcome to WBB. Coconut Bay’s home for news, sports, and weather. Are you here to smooth out the glitches between them?" Jensen glanced at the five other PMC group members. "And why do your shirts say PMC? Shouldn’t you be wearing the WBB shirts with coconuts emblazoned around your names?"
Jared laughed, shaking his beanie-clad head. "WBB hired PMC to come in and upgrade the entire software system. We’ll be turning the department back over to your old staff when the upgrades are done. It’ll take some time, but we only temporary."
Jensen silently scrunched up the paper in his back pocket. "Well, it will be nice to have you, for as long as you're here."
"You are very nice to say that." Jared adjusted his beanie. "Let me introduce you to our motley crew."
See, Felicia. He said I am very nice.
"I already met Chad," Jensen offered.
"Oh, so you know he’s always looking for his lost shaker of salt." Jared got a fond gleam in his eye. "We grew up together and have been together through thick and thin. That includes his two failed marriages. Sorry, TMI."
Jared led Jensen to the main work space. There were two women and two men. One of the men wore a serious frown and had seriously blue eyes. The other was young and Asian and jumping up and down. The two women were gorgeous. The leggy blonde was chewing gum while keying information into her iPad, and the petite brunette Goth, with black eyeliner, black lips, black nails, a pierced nose and pierced eyebrows, was staring at the computer screen, touching it occasionally and writing things down. Her black lace dress hung past her knees where her spike-heeled riding boots began. And, of course, the gauzy, black cape.
"Hey, guys. Take a minute to meet Jensen Ackles. He’s the meteorologist for the station." He turned to Jensen. "We'll have a whole upgraded feeder system dedicated to weather alone. I think you’ll be pleased when we’re done."
"I’m not a, I’m not a real, uh," Jensen stuttered.
"Hello, Jensen." Blue eyed, unsmiling man held out his hand. "I’m Misha Collins. The "C" in PMC Solutions. It will be our pleasure to bring you all into the 21st century. I can’t believe how outdated some of this hardware is." He turned and pulled out his own iPad and began clicking.
"Okay, thank you?" Jensen said to Misha’s back.
"You’ll warm up to him," Jared said. "He’s really good at what he does. He could save your ass someday." He winked.
That wink sent a shiny little tingle of happy up Jensen's spine. He followed Jared to meet the others.
"Guys, this is Jensen Ackles. He reports the weather. Jensen, this is Katie C," Jared indicated the blonde.
"Hey, Jensen." She continued looking down at her iPad, snapping her gum, but raised her hand for Jensen to shake.
"Pleased to meet you, Katie C."
She nodded to her iPad.
The young, Asian man bounded over and held out both hands. "Hi! I’m Osric! I love weather!" Osric shook both of Jensen’s hands with both of his. "I hope we can get together and do a geek-out weather session. I would love that!"
"Osric," Jared said softly. "Behave."
"Yes, boss. Indoor voice. Got it." Osric smiled brightly and jumped back over to the corner.
"And this is Genevieve."
Genevieve stood, coming barely to Jared’s chest. "Very pleased to meet you, Jensen." She hovered over to Jensen and held out her ring adorned, tattooed right hand.
She had a firm, confident, patchouli-scented hand shake. "I hope we can bring you all up to speed and get you rocking and rolling in no time."
Jared wore a wide and knowing smile. He leaned into Jensen’s ear and whispered, "Wait for it."
"Because," she spoke softly, "at PMC, rocking and rolling is what we do. Observe." She touched a button on the remote she was carrying. Immediately the surround sound speakers blasted We Built This City, by Starship.
Genevieve grabbed her air guitar, pushed her cape over her left shoulder and mouthed the lyrics with Starship. "We built this city-we built this city on rock and roll, built this city-we built this city on rock and roooollll!"
When Genevieve got knee deep in the hoopla, Jared led Jensen out of the area and into a quieter hallway.
"So, that’s the crew." He lifted his beanie, smoothed his hair back, and pulled it back down. "Told you we were motley."
"I’m not a meteorologist," Jensen admitted. "I wish I were but I’m not. I do know a lot about weather and weather patterns, though."
"I like weather a lot. That’s why I put myself in charge of the weather feed revamping." Jared stepped back and stared. "Wait a minute. What do you mean you’re not a meteorologist? You sure sounded like one when you were delivering the forecast just now. You’re obviously very knowledgeable."
"I," Jensen hesitated, "I was on track for starting a degree, and maybe even an advanced degree, in Applied Atmospheric Sciences at East Carolina University in Greenville, North Carolina. It was a dream of mine to be a meteorologist and follow in Bryan Norcross’s shoes."
"Who?"
"He's the hurricane specialist at The Weather Channel."
"Oh, that's right. Him and Jim Cantore." Jared raised his hands excitedly. " Thundersnow, baby!"
"Yeah," Jensen scratched the floor with the toe of his shoe, "I needed tuition money, so I got a job here doing the nighttime weather. It went so well that I got the full-day weather slot and made a name for myself. You know, big fish, small pond?"
Jared nodded.
"I guess I got lazy and stayed." He looked up at Jared. "Sorry, TMI."
Jared shrugged. "It ain’t over ‘til it’s over. I’ll bet you a nickel that East Carolina University still stands in Greenville. All you gotta do is go for it."
"I know it does. I, sorta, keep checking. But that’s all about me. What about you?"
"Wait a minute, you said you know a lot about weather patterns. Does that mean you study the tides and winds?"
"I do, I check weather feeds every day from home." Jensen cleared his throat. "At least twice a day. My house isn't too far from here."
Jared sounded impressed. "I guess you’re the one I want if there come up a bad cloud."
Jensen lit up at the use of the term "come up a bad cloud."
"Or when it gets cold as a frosted frog." He countered. "My grandmother was from Texas and used those weather expressions all the time.
"Or, hotter than Satan’s housecat." Jared’s eyes twinkled. "I am definitely keeping all the weather IT updates for myself. Your Texas grandmother sounds a lot like my Tennessee grandmother. For all I know we may have the same grandmother."
"I hope not," Jensen said, as a pink blush crept up his neck.
"Yeah, I doubt it." Jared turned his glittering eyes to Jensen. "Hey, if you want, you and I can collaborate and prioritize the feeds. Do you ever have need to broadcast national weather conditions?"
"Sometimes, if there’s a weather system threatening …"
"Ackles!"
Alaina Huffman rapped her knuckles against the cubical frame. "Find Qualls. Get suited up and pretty. Tick tock." She seemed to suddenly notice Jared. A slow, seductive smile spread across her deep red lips. "Hi, I’m Alaina."
"Um, hi." Jared slid his eyes over to Jensen and back to his erstwhile boss.
"Talk later?" She brushed her red hair away from her eyes. "Talk business?"
"Of course, Miss Huffman." Jared looked friendly.
"Yes," she purred. "Later." She sashayed away.
"That’s new," Jensen mused aloud. "She's not usually here this late."
"She’s a little scary." Jared pitched his voice low. "She said to me earlier, ‘IT sexy.’" He gave a full-body shudder.
Jensen laughed. "Hey, I gotta go, but how about we get together some time, when we both have time, and talk priority weather. I’d love to add more national weather to the weathercast."
"Jensen Ackles!"
Jensen gritted his teeth. "Coming, DJ!" He turned to Jared and shrugged. "Gotta go."
"I’d love to," Jared said.
"You would?"
"I would."
"Good!" Jensen backed away. "Great!"
"Yeah, great."
Jensen swore that Jared aimed his own Number Two right back at him.
"Even though there’s a good chance we'll be getting some showers passing through tonight, here at the Bay it’s JAPNIR. Just Another Perfect Night In the Rain. Stay safe, Coconut Bay, and don’t forget, when you’re lifting something heavy, keep it close to your body and bend your knees. That way, you won't strain your back."
Tonight, Jensen unsheathed his Number Five. Eyebrows up, chin lifted and a pouty, flirty opened lip smile.
"And we’re out. Another great segment, Jensen." DJ pulled off his headset. "Oh, remember Jared from the other night? The one who found Scout? He asked me to ask you to meet him in the computer room if you had time. Boy, he’s really busy doing whatever he’s doing. I wonder if he has dogs."
Jensen shook his shoulders, opened his mouth wide and scrunched his eyes shut. "Sure, did he say what he wanted?"
"Nope." DJ wrote on a yellow pad and then pulled a plug out of a console.
Summarily dismissed, Jensen made his way to the Bullpen. That's where the IT team amassed to go about their electronic business. He was looking forward to seeing Jared's smile again. Maybe he could take notes.
~~*~~*~~
If I take 30 steps linearly, I get to 30. If I take 30 steps exponentially, I get to a billion.
We all float down here!
It's only half-past twelve but I don't care. It's five o'clock somewhere.
~~*~~*~~
Jensen thought he might be getting what these notes meant, but, no.
"Hello?" Jensen said, knocking on the cubicle frame.
Misha looked up from his tablet. "Hello, Jensen."
"Uh, hi. DJ said that Jared wanted to see me?"
"Yes," Misha said, looking down. "Osric."
"The weatherman’s here! The weatherman’s here!" Osric bounded over. "Jared loves the weather. I told you that I do, too. C’mon, he’s over here."
Osric grabbed the cuff of Jensen’s dress shirt and led him through a labyrinth of improvised computer stations, consoles, temporary desks, temporary walls, and rolling stools.
"Does everybody work this late every night?" Jensen checked his watch and found that it was 10:08 PM.
"Nope," Osric said. "Here he is. Here’s Jared. Hey, Jared, the weatherman’s here."
"Thanks, O." Jared sat at a desk with one desktop and two laptops fired up. He wore reading glasses that made him look unexpectedly sexy.
"We’re almost done here for tonight. Why don’t you go and see if you can get the remote feeds to upload to your platform at home. Then go to bed."
"Not tired, boss, but okay." Osric gave a thumbs-up and hurried away.
Jared stood and arched his back before placing his glasses on the desk. "Hey, Jensen. Thanks for making time for me tonight."
Jensen shrugged, "Ah, you know. Weather work is never done. You look beat."
"Your old IT Marks and Dick were pure evil. They’ve got it locked down with traps and schemes, wards and hexes making this IT landscape a living hell. They must have been jealous of their position in the etherworld." He sighed, tiredly. "But I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve to open the portals to free flowing internet news, weather, business and sports. After all, that’s what WBB hired us to do."
Jensen folded his arms and leaned against the door frame. "Are you the P or the M, because blue eyes out there is the C."
"What?"
"That’s the second time he’s called you ‘boss,’ so you must be one of the initials associated with this team."
All the fatigue left as Jared beamed. "I’m the P."
"Care to educate an old, tired broadcast weatherman, Mr. P?"
"Well, old man," Jared flashed a grin. "I told you the other night that I write code and have a Tennesee grandma who talked about the weather being so dry that the trees were bribing the dogs."
Jensen playfully smacked Jared upside his beanie-wearing head. "Let’s start again. Hi, I’m Jensen Ackles. Last name Ackles. And you’re Jared, last name P?" He held out a hand.
Jared clasped Jensen’s hand and shook saying, "Pleased to meet’cha Jensen Ackles. I’m Jared Padalecki, one of the founders of Padalecki, Morgan and Collins. Home of rock-solid IT you can roll with. And everyone should look as good as you when they’re old and tired." He winked again and Jensen’s ears pinked up.
"That’s a terrible slogan, you know."
"I know, but Misha’s son came up with it, and nobody could think of anything better than, PMC: We Usually Do Good Information Technology."
"Yeah, that's not good."
"Plus, Genevieve gave her rock-solid vote of approval." Jared smiled.
Jared smiled, and Jensen took a breath. "Look, don’t punch me or anything, or if you do, don’t aim for my face, but would you like to go out for a cup of coffee or a beer or both with me some time?"
Jared never lost his smile. "Beer coffee is my favorite. Coffee beer is my second favorite. I’d love to, but right now can I have a few minutes of your expertise to look at something weather-related for me?"
Jensen tried not to look disappointed. "Of course," he said through the smiling teeth of his Number Eight.
Jared tilted his head down and looked up from under his lashes. "You don’t have to use that on me. I already said I’d love to go out with you. In fact, I’m going to hold you to that offer of beer and/or coffee this week-end."
"Yeah?" Jensen folded up his Number Eight and grinned on his own.
"Definitely," Jared swayed up close and said, "Maybe beer on Saturday and coffee on Sunday."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Especially if you talk weather to me."
"You’re on. What do you have to show me?"
Jared sat, pulled up a stool for Jensen and put his glasses back on. "I was going through the weather data streams and saw that a shallow tropical wave has developed east of Saint Lucia. Isn’t that where Hurricane Harvey was born?"
"Yes, it was." Jensen looked at the map Jared had on the monitor. There were wind patterns, air and water temperatures, and the topography displayed.
"Harvey started out as a tropical wave and kept on churning. The storm intensified after crossing the Lesser Antilles where it was named and then upgraded to a tropical storm."
Jensen sat on the stool next to Jared and commandeered an optical mouse. He clicked and zoomed in on a pressure area in the atmosphere, scrolled over to the prevailing winds, and checked water temperatures.
Jensen spoke as he maneuvered the curser. "Harvey moved through the Winward Islands, making landfall on Barbados and even a second landfall on Saint Vincent."
Jensen moved the map angle and extrapolated a couple of vectors. "A couple of days later, when Harvey got to the Caribbean Sea, the storm began to weaken," he looked up, "due to wind shear."
Jensen readjusted the track on the screen. "Harvey degenerated back into a tropical wave north of Colombia and almost petered out before regenerating," Jensen reached over and clicked a different view on Jared’s screen, "…uh, regenerating over the Bay of Campeche, Mexico where the storm rapidly intensified into a hurricane later that day, finally making landfall as a Cat 4, with sustained winds of 130 miles per hour, smashing into San José Island and then Holiday Beach, both in Texas."
Jensen shook his head, but his eyes never left the computer screen. "That storm dumped more than twenty-seven trillion gallons of rain on Texas, making Harvey the wettest Atlantic hurricane ever measured. Some parts of Houston received more than fifty inches of rainfall - so much that the National Weather Service had to update the colors it uses on its weather charts to properly account for it. I read somewhere that the Earth's crust actually dipped under the weight of all that water."
Jensen sat back after a few more clicks. He took a breath. "But that doesn’t look like what’s happening with this depression." He pointed to the map. "On the track this one’s taking, there’s not enough energy, the ocean's surface temperatures are too low and the wind gradients in the mesosphere are too strong. It’ll blow the tops off any storm formation before it can organize into a hurricane. Good catch, though. I was looking at this area," he cursored over Jamaica, "a couple of hours ago and found some tropical low-pressure systems around the Greater Antilles, but I missed your tropical wave. Really good catch, Jared."
Jensen continued clicking around the maps. "You know, hurricanes and tornadoes are the better known storms that can cause huge property damage and human casualty, but there are other storm systems that are made up of families of downburst clusters that exhibit wide variations in wind speeds due to embedded microbursts, downbursts, and downburst clusters with severe gust winds that can be as destructive as tornadoes…" Jensen trailed off of his geek weatherspeak and slammed his eyes shut.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, he scolded himself silently. You want to impress this guy, not lull him to sleep. Or worse yet, come off so nerdy the he doesn't even want to go out for coffee with you. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
When Jensen finally peeked over at Jared, Jared’s pupils were blown wide, his forehead was shiny with sweat and he was breathing is short, fast bursts. He coughed and turned away. "That was so hot, Jensen. You talking wind shear and microbursts was the hottest thing ever," he groaned. "I am such a geek. I'm the geekiest geek whoever geeked. Shoot me now."
"You really like weather," Jensen stated.
"Who does that? Who gets turned on by downburst clusters?" Jared shook his head, sadly. "Shoot me, shoot me, shoot me."
"Naw, ‘cause then you’d miss my talk on the chemical release measurements in the lower thermosphere, and never get to see my hodograph."
"Stop it, stop it. Now you’re just teasing me." Jared’s eyes were shining. "I really do like weather, and I would love to see your hodograph. What's a hodograph?"
Jensen shook his head in mock dismay. "And here, I thought you knew all about velocity diagrams."
"I don't, but I'd still like to see yours." Jared winked.
It was Pavlovian. Every time Jared winked, Jensen's ears got pink.
"That can be arranged." Jensen tried but couldn’t hold in a yawn. "Give me your phone and I’ll key in my number. When you call me back, I’ll add you to my contacts. Speaking of contacts." He rubbed his eyes.
Jared handed Jensen his phone. "I’ll call. Very soon. I really appreciated you saying I made a good catch. It felt good."
Jensen looked perplexed. "I don’t know why. I’m just the weatherman."
"You’re not just the weatherman. But that conversation is for another day. See you tomorrow?"
"You bet. I’ll be here as sure as the sun rises perfectly over Coconut Bay."
"That’s your late-night Friday forecast for Saturday and beyond. This weekend, as always, Brock Kelly will be calling the weather shots, making it Just Another Perfect Weekend With Brock. Stay safe, Coconut Bay, and remember to make sure you have fully charged fire extinguishers on every floor of your house." Today, Jensen dusted off his Number Eighteen. A full closed-lip smile with his eyes scrunched shut, adding a gentle nod of the head.
Number Eighteen never went over well. Probably because Jensen’s eyes were closed and couldn’t see it in the mirror to work on. Plus, his selfy skills sucked.
"And we’re out." DJ smiled, tore off his headset and put his clipboard down. "The weekend begins!" He did a little dance where he kicked his left foot up in the air.
After he finished kicking, he asked, "Any plans for the weekend, Jense?"
Jensen ducked his head and said, "Maybe." He took off his tie and folded it over his arm.
"Maybe?" DJ asked, following him to the door. "Maybe?"
"Yeah, maybe."
"Is it fun or weather related?"
"If I’m lucky, both." Jensen winked and went to his dressing suite. Yes, two small rooms is a suite, goddammit.
He’d finished changing into his jeans and tee when he heard a soft knock at the door.
"Hey, Katie. What’s up?"
Katie stared at her phone, snapping her Doublemint and holding up a piece of paper. "Apparently we’re all twelve years old now."
Jensen took the paper, "What is this?"
"If I had to guess, I’d say it says, ‘Do you like me, yes or no?’ with a request to check the box next to yes."
He opened the note, smugly noticing that it was a request for his presence in the IT Bullpen. With a smiley face in Jared’s letter a.
~~*~~*~~
Two voices, one slightly louder that the other, carried on an animated conversation.
"Newsfeed, dude. It’s the heart and soul of the newsroom and their hardware is outdated, like -like-when they made new movies in old black and white with happy endings, where nobody fights outdated. It’s gonna cost way past our estimate if we’re gonna fix it. And we need to fix it to get our software to work. When the station hears this, they’ll freak. We are the people they couldn't figure out. We are the people our parents warned us about!"
"Chad, dude, chill. Don’t get your pencil-thin mustache in a bunch. I built contingencies into the quote, and besides if we need more, JD will get them to ante up. Get me a working estimate for what you need and Jeff will negotiate for it, he’s gutsy and salty." Jared lifted his eyes to Chad. "He’s the son of a son of a sailor."
Chad sighed. "The sea’s in my veins, my tradition remains…"
Jared and Chad both recited the ending lyrics, "I’m just glad I don’t live in a trailer."
"Okay, I’ll work it up. I’ll get a preliminary dollar amount by noon tomorrow."
"Good," Jared said. "I’ll give Jeff a call and get him on deck, okay?"
"Okay, good. Hey, you want to go out for some Boat Drinks tonight?"
"No," Jared looked at Jensen. "I’m hoping to grab some beer or coffee with a new friend."
Chad eyed Jensen up and down with a smirk. "No problem. Alexa and I can always make music without you."
"Good, say hi to her for me."
"Will do. Smell you later," Chad straightened his parrot hat and left.
"Alexa?" Jensen asked.
"His new girlfriend."
Jensen sat on the desktop. "What was that about?" He pointed to where Chad stood.
"Nothing we can’t fix. You just gotta know how to speak Chad’s language."
"Speak Chad's language?"
"Whatever works." Jared grinned and shrugged.
"So, who’s Jeff?"
Jared put a friendly arm around Jensen’s shoulders. "Jeff is the M."
"Oh," Jensen looked side to side.
"No, here’s not here. In fact, he doesn’t know code, software, or hardware. He barely knows how to use his smart phone, but he’s the best at getting business, keeping business and negotiating when business gets in the weeds. Chances are you’ll never see him here." Jared turned Jensen to face him. "Can I interest you in some refreshment?"
"You stole my line," Jensen grinned. "But I have one up on you. I have a dressing room suite with a variety of beverages made from barley, hops, yeast and something else."
"Water," Jared supplied.
"Well, yes, I have water, too, but I thought you might want a beer."
"Barley, hops, yeast and water is beer. My brother and I used to make it in my parents’ kitchen. We thought we could brew IPAs cheaper than buying them. Nobody told us about the equipment, ingredients, sterilizing bottles, and time it took to cook it all together."
"I’m afraid you might be too interesting for me. Either that, or you’ve run out of things to tell me about yourself." Jensen said. "I guess we’ll have to get drunk on yeast water all night and see."
"That’s a plan, too. Gen, I’m heading out." Jared shouted over to Genevieve, who was wearing something similar to Kate Beckensale’s shiny, black Underworld outfit, with a spiked neck choker. And spiked bracelets. And black, fingerless gloves. With spikes. How she got the PMC logo pin to stick without ruining the fabric, he'll never know.
"Of course," she purred.
"Is there someone here all night?" Jensen asked, steering Jared toward his rooms.
"Coconut Bay never sleeps, Jensen. Late night news only happens late at night." Jared stared into Jensen’s uncomprehending eyes. "Yes. We have staff here working through the nights, at least for now. We’re geeks. We drink Red Bull. We don’t sleep. We thrive on it."
"Okay, well, here are my rooms at the station." Jensen opened the door wide. "Also, as I said I live a little more than a mile from here, but I didn’t want to be too forward by inviting you to my house."
"You are adorable." Jared said, running his hand up and down Jensen’s arm. "Let’s sit, drink, get to know each other and then," Jared put his hand up and whispered, "talk weather."
"You’re only interested in me for my weather acumen." He handed Jared a bottle of Killian’s Irish Red and an opener. "Just wait until I start using my weather vernacular," he batted his eyes. "You won’t be able to resist me."
"It's true," Jared agreed. "I do like your weather. And your acumen." He sat in the middle of the couch in the bigger of Jensen’s two small rooms and turned to the side. "Sit, tell me more about yourself."
Jensen smiled, opened his beer and sat cross legged facing Jared. "Well, I’m a Pisces. I love a rainy night, and I strive to have a different piece of valuable advice at the end of every broadcast." He tilted his beer up. "And you?"
"I’m a Cancer, enjoy long walks on the beach and even longer strings of code." He held up his bottle and they clinked. "And I can’t wait to get into your vernacular."
"Whew, I’m glad that’s over. First introductions are always so awkward."
"I know I should have done my homework and watched your weather reports before coming to work the first day, you know, to see how you relayed your information. But, to tell you truth, as long as I’ve lived here-going on five years-I’ve heard your name but never really watched. I have seen Brock, though."
"He never gives advice," Jensen frowned, "but he does an okay job. Everybody here is competent and, except for the Marks and Dick, are friendly and professional. The head news anchors, Alona and Rob, are real pros and Big Jim is one of my favorite people in the world. Big Jim’s Sports Spot with Big Jim runs right before me most nights, and he’s more like family than a co-worker. I’m way too comfortable here."
"Is that why didn’t you go to Greenville?"
"Yeah. I let all this," he waved his arm expansively, "sidetrack me from my goal of being a hurricane specialist for The Weather Channel."
"You’re good on camera." Jared said, kindly. "Not to mention, way better looking than Bryan Norcross and Jim Cantore combined."
"You’re very kind to say that." Jensen drank again. "What about you? How did you get to be a weather-loving tech geek?"
"Remember my southern grandma?"
"I do."
"My grandparents’ farm in Tennessee was in the middle of Dixie Alley and was destroyed by a F3 tornado."
Jensen sat straight. "Holy shit, Jared, that’s awful."
"They’d gone into the storm shelter with the family and the family pets, right after they let the livestock out of the barns. That’s really all they had time to do since the storm came up fast."
"Yes," Jensen said. "You can’t leave them in the barns in case the barns get blown down."
"The family all survived, but the house and all the outbuildings were damaged or destroyed, and they could only round up half of their herds. They had cattle and goats and a large brood of hens. All but two hens died. It was devastating, both emotionally and financially." Jared paused. "They finally rebuilt, but it took a lot of sweat, tears, time and money."
"So, your parents told you that a tornado devastated your grandparent's farm, and that's how you became interested in weather?"
"Not exactly."
"No?"
"I was in the storm shelter hugging my dogs Buddy and Trey for dear life. I was seven years old."
"Holy shit."
"I know. My parents, grandfather and older brother were helping keep the bulkhead secure against the wind while my grandma covered me and my dogs with my granddad’s Army blanket. I can still hear it in my head. A runaway train barreling full-force towards us. It was terrifying and awe-inspiring at the same time, because I couldn't help but admire the pure force of nature."
"Why didn’t you pursue meteorology?"
Jared shrugged. "I like code better. I do dabble in weather forecast and weather tracker algorithms for fun."
"You need a lot of information for accuracy."
"So true. That’s part of the fun. The more info the merrier."
Jared drained his bottle and reached for another, but Jensen stopped him.
"What?" Jared asked.
"Do you mean that? About more information being merrier?"
"Well, sure."
"Then I have something to show you. Something you’ll probably like, but it’s, well, it's upstairs in my house."
Jared sat back and smiled coyly. "Either you really do have something interesting to show me, or that’s the worst pick-up line I’ve ever heard."
Jensen chuckled. "No, I’m sure that, without even trying, I could come up with a sorrier line than that. But I do have something to show you. Something I’ve never shown anyone before."
"Now that’s a pick-up line I can work with." Jared stood.
Jensen shook his head. "God, I hope I haven’t oversold it."
Jared leaned in close. "I’m sure I’ll like it."
"Then come with me." Jensen put the remaining beer in the mini fridge and pulled Jared up by the wrist. To Jensen’s surprise, Jared twined their fingers together and swung their clasped hands in the air.
"Lead on."
Jensen unlocked the door to his Mediterranean-style two story, three-bedroom, three bathroom Florida home. He put the coffee on and turned to Jared. "Nobody knows what I’m about to show you. Please tell me you can keep a secret."
Jared spoke seriously. "I can only try to keep a secret, but I can promise not to kiss and tell."
"Okay, that'll have to do." Jensen smiled shyly. "I'd be embarrassed if the people I work with found out what a tremendous weather geek I am."
"I’m people," Jared said.
"Yes, but you’re also a tremendous tech geek. We’re kinda kindred spirits." Jensen handed Jared his coffee and then grinned suddenly. "I do like the not telling about the kissing, though."
Jared put the cup down and moved in closer, pealing the brim of his cap up. "Shall we try that part?"
"After you’ve seen the clear extent of my over-the-top weather obsession. Only then will you have the true picture of whom you are kissing."
"It’s really that bad?"
Jensen sighed. "It’s really that bad."
Jared straightened his beanie, stood tall and said, "Okay, I’m ready. Show me."
Jensen led Jared up the stairs. The door to his master was shut, but the other two large bedrooms were whirring with activity.
"What’s all this?" Jared’s eyes were wide with wonder and maybe a little something else.
"Because I live kind of close to the station, I go home a lot between my segments. As long as I'm in makeup and in front of the camera when I’m supposed to be, nobody cares where I am. I'm sure a lot of the guys think I'm playing video games or napping, but I'm not."
Jensen took him into the bigger of the two bedrooms, and pulled up two chairs.
"Sit," Jensen instructed. "Behold."
He fired up three computers and the monitors glowed. Jensen took his mouse in hand, clicking and talking at the same time. "I have hotlines to the National Weather Service, NWS, and the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, NOAA." He cursored over another screen, "I tap into the High Resolution Rapid Refresh, HRRR models, that keep a real-time watch on the skies."
Jensen woke up a forth monitor, "Over here is the Aviation Weather Center, AWC, and the National Centers for Environmental Prediction." He scrolled down. "Here, I access the North American Mesoscale Forecast System or NAM. I even hook into data from local and regional amateur weather watchers. Some of these amateur guys are phenomenal. Their accuracy rates for specific local weather events can outshine some of the big forecast geniuses. There’s a group of us who periodically go online to go over our forecasts for concrit." Jensen looked over at Jared. "Constructive criticism."
He focused on one screen at a time. "I study the North American Forecast, *click*, the Global Forecast, *click*, Nested Grid, *click*, Canadian, *click*, and European models *click click*, to make my own weather predictions, based on all weather feeds I pull in. I log and chart weather systems, wind patterns, oceanic temperatures, and ocean phenomena like Alberta Clippers, Diablo and Santa Ana winds, El Niño and turbulence systems all over the world, because oceans and atmosphere are closely related. I even track the lunar cycles to predict the effects of high tides."
Jensen closed his eyes, not knowing what expression would be on Jared’s face when he opened them again. "I should probably stop now."
He knew he would eventually need to see, so he cautiously opened one eye. "So?"
During the course of Jensen’s harangue, Jared had removed his beanie and wiped his neck with it. For the first time, Jensen noticed the way Jared’s hair curled at the ends and shone silky smooth, reflecting his auburn highlights in the recessed lighting of his second bedroom.
Auburn highlights?
"This is absolutely amazing, Jensen. No, no, this is really, really awesome! You are awesome. This is a huge amount of information you’re pulling in from many sources and you're compiling it like a pro. Some of your sources are really discrete, like # SFLWX and # CBWX how cool is that. When do you have time to go through all this data? Do you have a tablet or laptops at work? I could help you access all this information from WBB if you do. I can interface all your feeds to your tablet and/or laptop-even your phone if you wanted me to. Or I could set up direct feeds from these sites to your…"
Jensen leaped into Jared’s lap, grabbed Jared’s face in his hands and kissed the words right out of his mouth. Jared returned the gesture with his own unbridled enthusiasm
"What was that for? Not that I'm complaining." He pulled Jensen back to him.
Jensen panted. "So, you’re not put off by all this?" He dove in for another taste. "Or even the fact that the # CBWX is my own anonymous hashtag and weather feed from Coconut Bay?"
"So not put off." Jared kissed up Jensen’s neck murmuring, "That was so hot, so hot. In fact, if I were Jim Cantore, I’d want to fuck you right now with the data from NOAA running in the background."
"Jesus, Jared, that is hot." Jensen refrained from palming his crotch.
They kissed until they both needed to come up for air. Jensen shifted back to sit on his desk chair and looked up. Jared’s hair was a mess, his lips were bitten raw and his eyes were shining. Jensen was sure he looked the same.
"There’s a word for us," Jensen said.
"I know, God help us," Jared said shaking his head, smiling.
"We are such nerds."
"With all the sunshine in today’s forecast, it makes it a Coconut Bay kinda day. Be good to each other! This is Brock Kelly for Brock’s Weekend Weather in the Sun."
"See," Jensen said, clicking the remote to pause the screen. "No instructions or snappy acronyms.
"Or helpful weather advice," Jared carded Jensen’s hair with his fingers.
"Or a Number Two killer smile with a single row of upper teeth and both dimples showing." Jensen shook his head.
"Plus," Jared kissed Jensen’s temple softly, "he’s not as cute as you."
Jensen leaned into Jared’s touch. "He does remind me of me when I was young."
Jared leaned back to look into Jensen’s eyes. "Meh, maybe a little." He snuggled under Jensen’s arm. "Do you TiVo all the weather forecasts?"
"A lot of them, yeah. I compare the local forecasts to one another and then compare my forecasts to their forecasts and then to the major weather centers." Jensen felt his cheeks blushing. "I like to micro forecast."
"No blushing or feeling embarrassed or self-conscious about your passions. It’s a new rule. Besides I think it’s neat that you know all that."
"Yeah?" Jensen said, hopefully.
"Yeah, and sexy as hell, but you have to remember that when I get my geek on." This time it was Jared’s turn to blush. "Sometimes I get in the zone and don’t resurface for days."
Jensen patted Jared’s knee. "I promise to remember." He yawned with jaw cracking abandon. "I’m out of steam for the evening, but I don’t want it to be over. It’s been a long time since I felt like that." He stifled another yawn. "I said that out loud, didn’t I?"
"Yes, and it was charming. I tell you what? We’ll meet tomorrow for brunch. I’ll spring for coffee and Bloody Marys." Jared unfolded himself from the couch and stood. "How does 11:30 sound?"
"Sounds like brunch," Jensen smiled.
Jared stretched high and wide. His shirt untucked and his midriff became exposed to the recessed lighting. Jensen tugged him down by his shirttail. "How ‘bout one for the road?"
"I’m all about the road." Jared plunked back on the couch next to Jensen and kissed him breathless. He stood again and planted a light kiss to Jensen’s hair.
"I gotta go. I really enjoyed being here tonight. I’m glad you showed me your secret weather obsession, because I may rock code, but you rock and roll weather better than anyone I’ve ever met and it’s dead sexy." Jared took a step away but couldn’t seem to make it any farther.
"Thank you," Jensen said, genuinely. "Thanks for tonight."
"You’re welcome. I also think you’re hella sexy and I’m looking forward to getting to know you better."
Jensen hauled himself to his feet. "You will. Starting tomorrow." He took Jared by the hand and walked him to the front door. "I think-I think you’re sexy, too."
Jared opened the door and smiled. "Then we’ll be rocking and rolling together." He leaned in one last time, for one last kiss. "See you tomorrow."
Jensen shut the door and leaned his back up against it. He closed his eyes and took a big breath in through his nose before heading to his bedroom.
"Rocking and rolling." Jensen hummed to himself. "Rock an’ rolling." He twanged before reaching for his air guitar. "Rock and roll!" strum "Built this city…" strum slap "… we built this city on rock and roooll."
~~*~~*~~
On to Part Two
~~*~~*~~
.
Title: Marconi Plays the Mamba
Author: tcs1121
Artist: 2blueshoes
Pairing and Characters: Jensen/Jared, Felicia Day, Alaina Huffman, DJ Qualls, Chad Michael Murry, Misha Collins, Osric Chau, Katie Cassady, Genevieve Cortese,
Cameos and mentions: Jim Beaver, Sandy McCoy, Mark Pellegrino, Mark Sheppard, Richard Speight, Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Brock Kelley, Alona Tal Rob Benedict, Bryan Norcross, Jim Cantore
Rating: NC-17
Genre: J2 AU, romantic comedy, some hurt/comfort
Word Count: ~34,500
Warnings: No Warnings outside of the sexual activities associated with the rating.
Disclaimer: Untrue story. Character names are being used without permission. No money changes hands.
~~*~~*~~Special Thanks to~~*~~*~~
My longtime friend and beta kee Who is so very special.
To my artist 2blueshoes who captured the essence of Jensen's smiles :-)
The art master post is HERE Please take a look and send your love. <3
To wendy Tireless moderator for the SPN J2 Big Bang year after year after year. Thank you, wendy!
~~*~~*~~
A/N 1: If you don't understand Chad, it's because he speaks in Jimmy Buffett lyrics
A/N 2: All restaurants named are real. I didn't make up any of them.
Summary:
Jensen is a local Florida weatherman who is known for his handsome face and winning smiles. Although he gave up the dream of becoming a real meteorologist, he is extremely passionate about the weather. And, eventually, Jared.
Jared is a brilliant computer programmer whose company, PMC (Padalecki, Morgan, Collins) gets contracted by Jensen's TV studio to revamp their software. Jared speaks fluent Mexican Restaurant Menu Spanish and has strong affection for weather. And, eventually, Jensen.
It's all fun and games until deadly weather threatens their town. Then, it's up to them to save Coconut Bay.
~~*~~*~~
~~*~~*~~
Marconi Plays the Mamba
~~*~~*~~
"To sum it up, today, like every day, is JAPDAB. Just Another Perfect Day At the Bay. Stay safe, Coconut Bay, and don't forget to turn on your headlights when you turn on your windshield wipers. It's the law." Jensen flashed and held his signature Number One. That was the double row, blinding white smile looking dead into the camera with a hint of dimple on the left.
Felicia held out three fingers, then, two, one, "And we're out."
Jensen blew out a breath and opened his mouth wide to work out the strain of smiling for the last several minutes.
"Just another perfect forecast, Jensen."
"Bite me." Jensen sat and loosened his tie. He was tired but couldn't go home to stay until he finished his stint after the 9:00 PM news, 11:00 PM on Fridays. It sounded like a cushy job, delivering the weather forecast during the morning, afternoon, evening and nightly-twice on Friday nightly-newscasts. A whopping thirty-eight minutes, more or less, of air time for which, even he had to admit, he was stupidly overpaid, but it was an all-day job. More or less.
His weathercasts were also streamed, audio only, for those who preferred to just listen, but they missed out on his dental magic.
The very first time Jensen stood in front of the station manager and unveiled his pearly whites, they turned into gold for this local television station, which was the heart of this affluent little community. That was twelve years ago.
"Bite me. That's funny." Felicia laughed, shaking her head. "The boss wants to see you in her office after you finish your jaw exercises."
Jensen snapped his mouth shut and eyed her warily. "What does she want?"
"That's for her to know and for you to find out." She checked her watch. "I'm outta here in ten. Give me a buzz if she tells you something I need to know."
"Who's on for tonight?"
"Quall's on."
"Okay. That's cool." Jensen stretched his neck to the left. "I hope he doesn't do that thing with his tongue." Jensen unconsciously rolled his tongue into a tube.
"Hey, be nice to DJ, Jensen. His dog got out again."
"Again?" Jensen made a test smile with only the tips of his top teeth showing.
"Be. Nice." Felicia shook her finger menacingly.
"You know me. I'm always nice."
She continued shaking her finger.
"Oh, all right. I'll be nice." He smiled, genuinely this time, until her finger stopped wagging.
"You’d better." She grabbed her clipboard and hung up her headphones.
"See you tomorrow, Red."
"See you tomorrow, Weatherman."
Alaina Huffman was WBB's Station Manager, Coconut Bay's local television station. WBB was the NBC affiliate in this little corner of the great state of Florida, and she ruled it with a highly manicured iron fist, using as few words as possible.
Jensen knocked on her door and waited. When she first came on the scene eight years ago, he'd made the rookie mistake of barging into her office like he owned the station. After all, he was here first. He lifted this little station out of obscurity by his upbeat forecasts and striking good looks years before the owners brought her in.
His ass was handed back to him so hard his backside still stung.
"Ackles, come in. Sit down."
"Good afternoon, Ms. Huffman." Jensen sat, gingerly. "You're looking lovely, as always." He gave her his Number Four-a closed-lip, friendly smile with a dash of flirt.
"Put that away." She aimed her Sharpie at his face. "Changes are happening around here. New people, fresh blood, out with the old, in with the new."
Jensen was stunned. That was the most words he'd ever heard her say in one breath.
"Come again?"
"Revamping the system." She scribbled on her note pad with the Sharpie. "Major overhaul."
"C-come again?"
Huffman stilled her hand. "Jobs reassigned. New staff coming in."
"Ms. Huffman, am I being fired?"
Alaina began making big, black X's on the pad in front of her.
Jensen heartbeat sped up. If he were fired, then he wouldn't have to make the decision to quit. He was well paid, locally famous, spoiled at work, and could date anyone he aimed his Number Twelve at. The one with full dimples. He would be a fool to quit a job like this. But, if he were fired, the decision to quit a lucrative but dead-end job would be taken out of his hands.
"Of course you're not fired. You're our weatherman."
"Then who's getting fired?"
"Go back to work." She looked up from the blackened paper. "And be nice to DJ."
Unable, or unwilling to make a snappy comeback, Jensen stood and backed his way out of her office.
"I wonder who’s on the chopping block?" Jensen murmured. "She can't mean everybody."
"Everybody what?"
"Oh, hi DJ. Hey, you're looking good. Have you been working out?"
Tears flooded DJ's eyes. "If you call searching yards, garages, alleyways and drainage ditches, working out, then, yeah, I've been really, really working out." He wiped his eyes furiously.
"Scout got out again, huh?"
"Don't you judge him. Don't you dare judge him. He's smart, but he feels the call of the wild and he's unable to resist. Scout needs more freedom than I can give him in my townhouse's backyard." He wiped his nose on his sleeve. "He needs land. Lots of land. Under starry skis above. I can't fence him in."
"I'm sure he'll come home safe and sound. Miniature poodles like the water and you know how much he loves lounging in the kiddie pool you bought for him."
"Yeah," DJ said, wetly. "I set it up for him before I came to work. Maybe he'll come home tonight. He enjoys swimming under the stars." He sniffed and took in a deep breath. "I really wish I could move and buy a few acres where it’s not so hot."
"Sometimes wishes do come true, DJ." Jensen said, solemnly. "Sometimes they do."
"You're a good guy, Jensen. Too bad you don't have a dog. If you did, we could have play dates."
"Yes. That's too bad. I'm gonna go." Jensen pointed towards his dressing room suite. Yes, two little rooms made a suite.
"Okie dokie, I'll get everything set up for you to look good, tonight. Like I always do. JAPNOT, Jensen." He saluted military style.
"JAPNOT, DJ," Jensen answered. Then they smiled and said in unison, "Just Another Perfect Night On the Town."
~~*~~*~~
It wasn't exactly that they got fired. It was that the IT team got banished. Only Edna, a copywriter who worked from home and nobody ever saw anyway, got the actual axe.
The WBB IT team was big and bloated. Big Mark Pellegrino ran the place with a not-quite-iron-more-like-steel-wool fist. From coordinating the news streams from the affiliates, to breakaway reporting, assembling the business and sports information, as well as compiling weather stats, the WBB IT team managed, micromanaged, and micro-micromanaged all data coming into the studio. Big Mark, his evil twin partner, Little Mark Sheppard, and Dick Speight formed the Unholy Triumvirate. Their IT minions did not suffer fools lightly. Or news anchors, production assistants, producers, or testy weather reporters. If they didn't like you, they'd hex your equipment, curse your teleprompter, and smite your headset. That was, until Alaina forced them on hiatus. Jensen guessed that one of the Marks and Dick smitings must have gotten out of hand.
As far as the weather streams went, Jensen didn't need the station's internet technology for that. His well-kept secret was that he had converted much of the second floor of his house into his own personal weather center. Before every broadcast, he ran his own metrics from the data he compiled from his second bedroom and used those on the air. What Jensen didn't tell anyone, what he never, ever let anyone know, was that he was a certified, bona-fide, honest-to-god, no question about it, weather geek. As a little kid, growing up in Florida, weather became his passion, spurred on by the somewhat common tropical storm warnings, hurricane watches, thunder storms, lightning strikes, and the public service tornado warnings he watched on television between cartoons.
. Go into the basement or lowest floor of your house
. Go to an interior room
. Stay away from windows
. Get out of mobile homes to a sturdier structure
. If you're on the road get out of your car and lie down flat in a ditch, or someplace lower than the ground…not under an overpass.
The-get out of your car and go face down into a ditch-always sent a tingle through Jensen's bones.
But it was in 1992, while watching meteorologist, Bryan Norcross broadcast two days straight from Miami, as Hurricane Andrew hit Homestead, Florida, that Jensen knew he wanted to be a meteorologist. Andrew was a devastating Category 5 storm that Jensen had been tracking on his home Storm Tracker kit, and he got it right. He had correctly forecasted where and when landfall would take place-something many professionals couldn't do until shortly before it happened.
"I want to be just like Bryan Norcross when I grow up," thirteen year-old Jensen had said to the image of Kirby on his Game Boy.
And so he did.
Except, he didn’t. Because instead of getting his advanced degree in Meteorology and Atmospheric Science, and becoming a hurricane specialist for the The Weather Channel, he became WBB's JAPWAS.
Just Another Perfect Weatherman At the Station.
~~*~~*~~
Sandy was dusting powder on the tip of Jensen’s nose, ten minutes before his upcoming segment when she said, "Did you see the new internet techs setting up? Cute, cute boys, Jensen, and a couple of cute girls, too."
Sandy was Jensen’s friend going on five years and knew he straddled the fence, sexuality speaking. She always looked on both sides of it for him. She was a good friend.
"I don’t know, Sandy. I’m kind of missing Big Mark’s evil scowl when blue screens pop up on the monitors. Not so sure I miss Little Mark’s sarcastic laugh, though."
Jensen adopted Little Mark’s London’s accent saying, "You’re all a bunch of spoiled, stupid twits. So, be good little code monkeys and don’t touch anything, because I can destroy all you've ever created with the snap of my fingers."
"I know! That sounds just like him!" Sandy laughed, snapping her fingers. "He was always doing that." She snapped them three times more.
Jensen liked Sandy.
"Ten minutes, Jensen." Felicia poked her head into the makeup station. "Later on tonight, before your broadcast, IT wants to meet with you."
"What do they want to meet me for?" Jensen breathed into his hands, smelling the dregs of the spearminty life saver he'd been sucking on.
"They’re meeting everybody. One of the new IT guys is a WBB hero now. You’ll want to meet and thank him." Felicia touched the screen of her iPad as she spoke.
"Thank him for what?" Jensen checked his teeth in the mirror.
"He found Scout and took him home to DJ. Seems that Scout was swimming in the guy’s pool several miles away. Fortunately, DJ had posters of Scout hung on every tree, telephone pole, and street sign, within a ten-mile radius."
"That’s, that’s kinda weird. But nice, I guess."
"Why do you always see the weird in everything, Jensen?" Felicia huffed through her nose. "You’re on in five." She touched the screen again and flounced away.
"I don’t, do I Sandy?"
"You do. You see the weird, creepy, corny, and evil scowls and sarcastic laughs in everything."
Maybe he didn’t like Sandy as much as he thought.
"There you go, Coconut Bay. What can I say but JAPDIP? Just Another Perfect Day In Paradise. And remember, on these beautiful, sunny Coconut days, save your skin, ban the tan and use lots of sunscreen." Jensen cocked his head to the right and aimed his Number Six into the camera lens.
"And we’re out." Felicia took off her headset. "Good job at making boring weather sound exciting."
"Bite me, Red."
"Not now." Felicia gave Jensen a sheet of paper. "Here are the names of the new IT staff, for later."
"Why do I need to know their names, again?" Jensen took the paper and looked it up and down.
"So you know their names. Duh."
"I never had to talk to Mark or Mark or Dick."
"You knew their names, though. Hey, you never know when you may need them. I heard that they were going to be here all night, so go see them before your late-night spot. What do you have to lose? You might as well talk to them."
Jensen sighed heavily.
"Go." She pointed to the exit. "And be nice."
"All right. I will." Jensen tucked the paper into his back pocket. "Why are you always telling me to be nice?"
"Because you can be nice when you’re nice." She said, leaving the set.
"I’m always nice," he said to himself while finger styling his hair. "When I'm nice."
~~*~~*~~
It is never too late to be what you might have been.
No time for losers, 'cause we are the champions. Of the world.
I like mine with lettuce and tomato, Heinz 57 and French-fried potatoes.
~~*~~*~~
These were yellow sticky notes on the wall of the first cubicle-the new IT team's makeshift front office. Jensen read them twice and still wasn't sure what they meant.
He stepped inside the faux wall and noticed that most of the IT crew wore red and white tee shirts with red letters on the back that read:
The PMC Solution: Rock-Solid IT Concepts You Can Roll With
.
A diminutive young woman sitting at a computer console was all in black except for a red PMC logo button affixed to her black, gauzy cape.
DJ was speaking animatedly to a tall guy in the back corner.
Jensen knocked carefully on the wall where one of the PMC guys was standing.
"Hello?"
A slender, young man wearing a cap that had a large, red parrot sewn on the top and the word "Margaritaville" on it, turned and squinted at Jensen. "You’re the weatherman, right?"
"Yes, that’s me. Jensen Ackles. Pleased to meet you."
Jensen pulled the paper from his back pocket and searched furiously through the names.
"I’m Chad. Nice to meet you, too. I’m a huge fan of your work. I mean, all the sunshine you give us and all." He held out his right hand. "The weather is here, wish you were beautiful."
Jensen shook Chad’s hand. "I don’t actually cause the sunshine you know."
"I know, it’s a little joke," Chad smiled. "Nothing remains quite the same. With all of our running and all of our cunning," Chad shrugged, "if we couldn’t laugh, we would all go insane."
"I guess so." Jensen slowly backed out of the cubicle.
"Jensen! Jensen Ackles!"
Jensen turned. "Hi, DJ."
DJ ran up to him dragging the tall guy by the hem of this red and white tee. Up close, this tall guy was very easy on the eyes and the smile he flashed Jensen, with full dimples, made Jensen pull out his own Number Three. The one with his top teeth showing and a slight crinkle of the laugh lines around his eyes.
"Who’s your friend?"
"Hey, I’m Jared. Nice to meet you. Apparently, you’re Jensen Ackles."
"Yes," DJ said, breathlessly. "Yes, he is, and he knows Scout, too."
"Oh," Jensen smiled for-real. "So, you’re the hero who found Scout?"
"Well, I wouldn't say hero. Scout was skinny-dipping in my pool around midnight. Luckily, I’d seen his picture and knew who to call." Jared lightly punched DJ’s shoulder.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you. He’s kinda my only family. Except for Jensen and the news team." DJ smiled. "I gotta go set up, but maybe we can all go out for a drink sometime?"
"Maybe," Jared said.
"Maybe," Jensen said.
DJ turned tail, leaving the IT guy and the weatherman in his wake.
"So," Jensen scratched the back of his neck. "Welcome to WBB. Coconut Bay’s home for news, sports, and weather. Are you here to smooth out the glitches between them?" Jensen glanced at the five other PMC group members. "And why do your shirts say PMC? Shouldn’t you be wearing the WBB shirts with coconuts emblazoned around your names?"
Jared laughed, shaking his beanie-clad head. "WBB hired PMC to come in and upgrade the entire software system. We’ll be turning the department back over to your old staff when the upgrades are done. It’ll take some time, but we only temporary."
Jensen silently scrunched up the paper in his back pocket. "Well, it will be nice to have you, for as long as you're here."
"You are very nice to say that." Jared adjusted his beanie. "Let me introduce you to our motley crew."
See, Felicia. He said I am very nice.
"I already met Chad," Jensen offered.
"Oh, so you know he’s always looking for his lost shaker of salt." Jared got a fond gleam in his eye. "We grew up together and have been together through thick and thin. That includes his two failed marriages. Sorry, TMI."
Jared led Jensen to the main work space. There were two women and two men. One of the men wore a serious frown and had seriously blue eyes. The other was young and Asian and jumping up and down. The two women were gorgeous. The leggy blonde was chewing gum while keying information into her iPad, and the petite brunette Goth, with black eyeliner, black lips, black nails, a pierced nose and pierced eyebrows, was staring at the computer screen, touching it occasionally and writing things down. Her black lace dress hung past her knees where her spike-heeled riding boots began. And, of course, the gauzy, black cape.
"Hey, guys. Take a minute to meet Jensen Ackles. He’s the meteorologist for the station." He turned to Jensen. "We'll have a whole upgraded feeder system dedicated to weather alone. I think you’ll be pleased when we’re done."
"I’m not a, I’m not a real, uh," Jensen stuttered.
"Hello, Jensen." Blue eyed, unsmiling man held out his hand. "I’m Misha Collins. The "C" in PMC Solutions. It will be our pleasure to bring you all into the 21st century. I can’t believe how outdated some of this hardware is." He turned and pulled out his own iPad and began clicking.
"Okay, thank you?" Jensen said to Misha’s back.
"You’ll warm up to him," Jared said. "He’s really good at what he does. He could save your ass someday." He winked.
That wink sent a shiny little tingle of happy up Jensen's spine. He followed Jared to meet the others.
"Guys, this is Jensen Ackles. He reports the weather. Jensen, this is Katie C," Jared indicated the blonde.
"Hey, Jensen." She continued looking down at her iPad, snapping her gum, but raised her hand for Jensen to shake.
"Pleased to meet you, Katie C."
She nodded to her iPad.
The young, Asian man bounded over and held out both hands. "Hi! I’m Osric! I love weather!" Osric shook both of Jensen’s hands with both of his. "I hope we can get together and do a geek-out weather session. I would love that!"
"Osric," Jared said softly. "Behave."
"Yes, boss. Indoor voice. Got it." Osric smiled brightly and jumped back over to the corner.
"And this is Genevieve."
Genevieve stood, coming barely to Jared’s chest. "Very pleased to meet you, Jensen." She hovered over to Jensen and held out her ring adorned, tattooed right hand.
She had a firm, confident, patchouli-scented hand shake. "I hope we can bring you all up to speed and get you rocking and rolling in no time."
Jared wore a wide and knowing smile. He leaned into Jensen’s ear and whispered, "Wait for it."
"Because," she spoke softly, "at PMC, rocking and rolling is what we do. Observe." She touched a button on the remote she was carrying. Immediately the surround sound speakers blasted We Built This City, by Starship.
Genevieve grabbed her air guitar, pushed her cape over her left shoulder and mouthed the lyrics with Starship. "We built this city-we built this city on rock and roll, built this city-we built this city on rock and roooollll!"
When Genevieve got knee deep in the hoopla, Jared led Jensen out of the area and into a quieter hallway.
"So, that’s the crew." He lifted his beanie, smoothed his hair back, and pulled it back down. "Told you we were motley."
"I’m not a meteorologist," Jensen admitted. "I wish I were but I’m not. I do know a lot about weather and weather patterns, though."
"I like weather a lot. That’s why I put myself in charge of the weather feed revamping." Jared stepped back and stared. "Wait a minute. What do you mean you’re not a meteorologist? You sure sounded like one when you were delivering the forecast just now. You’re obviously very knowledgeable."
"I," Jensen hesitated, "I was on track for starting a degree, and maybe even an advanced degree, in Applied Atmospheric Sciences at East Carolina University in Greenville, North Carolina. It was a dream of mine to be a meteorologist and follow in Bryan Norcross’s shoes."
"Who?"
"He's the hurricane specialist at The Weather Channel."
"Oh, that's right. Him and Jim Cantore." Jared raised his hands excitedly. " Thundersnow, baby!"
"Yeah," Jensen scratched the floor with the toe of his shoe, "I needed tuition money, so I got a job here doing the nighttime weather. It went so well that I got the full-day weather slot and made a name for myself. You know, big fish, small pond?"
Jared nodded.
"I guess I got lazy and stayed." He looked up at Jared. "Sorry, TMI."
Jared shrugged. "It ain’t over ‘til it’s over. I’ll bet you a nickel that East Carolina University still stands in Greenville. All you gotta do is go for it."
"I know it does. I, sorta, keep checking. But that’s all about me. What about you?"
"Wait a minute, you said you know a lot about weather patterns. Does that mean you study the tides and winds?"
"I do, I check weather feeds every day from home." Jensen cleared his throat. "At least twice a day. My house isn't too far from here."
Jared sounded impressed. "I guess you’re the one I want if there come up a bad cloud."
Jensen lit up at the use of the term "come up a bad cloud."
"Or when it gets cold as a frosted frog." He countered. "My grandmother was from Texas and used those weather expressions all the time.
"Or, hotter than Satan’s housecat." Jared’s eyes twinkled. "I am definitely keeping all the weather IT updates for myself. Your Texas grandmother sounds a lot like my Tennessee grandmother. For all I know we may have the same grandmother."
"I hope not," Jensen said, as a pink blush crept up his neck.
"Yeah, I doubt it." Jared turned his glittering eyes to Jensen. "Hey, if you want, you and I can collaborate and prioritize the feeds. Do you ever have need to broadcast national weather conditions?"
"Sometimes, if there’s a weather system threatening …"
"Ackles!"
Alaina Huffman rapped her knuckles against the cubical frame. "Find Qualls. Get suited up and pretty. Tick tock." She seemed to suddenly notice Jared. A slow, seductive smile spread across her deep red lips. "Hi, I’m Alaina."
"Um, hi." Jared slid his eyes over to Jensen and back to his erstwhile boss.
"Talk later?" She brushed her red hair away from her eyes. "Talk business?"
"Of course, Miss Huffman." Jared looked friendly.
"Yes," she purred. "Later." She sashayed away.
"That’s new," Jensen mused aloud. "She's not usually here this late."
"She’s a little scary." Jared pitched his voice low. "She said to me earlier, ‘IT sexy.’" He gave a full-body shudder.
Jensen laughed. "Hey, I gotta go, but how about we get together some time, when we both have time, and talk priority weather. I’d love to add more national weather to the weathercast."
"Jensen Ackles!"
Jensen gritted his teeth. "Coming, DJ!" He turned to Jared and shrugged. "Gotta go."
"I’d love to," Jared said.
"You would?"
"I would."
"Good!" Jensen backed away. "Great!"
"Yeah, great."
Jensen swore that Jared aimed his own Number Two right back at him.
"Even though there’s a good chance we'll be getting some showers passing through tonight, here at the Bay it’s JAPNIR. Just Another Perfect Night In the Rain. Stay safe, Coconut Bay, and don’t forget, when you’re lifting something heavy, keep it close to your body and bend your knees. That way, you won't strain your back."
Tonight, Jensen unsheathed his Number Five. Eyebrows up, chin lifted and a pouty, flirty opened lip smile.
"And we’re out. Another great segment, Jensen." DJ pulled off his headset. "Oh, remember Jared from the other night? The one who found Scout? He asked me to ask you to meet him in the computer room if you had time. Boy, he’s really busy doing whatever he’s doing. I wonder if he has dogs."
Jensen shook his shoulders, opened his mouth wide and scrunched his eyes shut. "Sure, did he say what he wanted?"
"Nope." DJ wrote on a yellow pad and then pulled a plug out of a console.
Summarily dismissed, Jensen made his way to the Bullpen. That's where the IT team amassed to go about their electronic business. He was looking forward to seeing Jared's smile again. Maybe he could take notes.
~~*~~*~~
If I take 30 steps linearly, I get to 30. If I take 30 steps exponentially, I get to a billion.
We all float down here!
It's only half-past twelve but I don't care. It's five o'clock somewhere.
~~*~~*~~
Jensen thought he might be getting what these notes meant, but, no.
"Hello?" Jensen said, knocking on the cubicle frame.
Misha looked up from his tablet. "Hello, Jensen."
"Uh, hi. DJ said that Jared wanted to see me?"
"Yes," Misha said, looking down. "Osric."
"The weatherman’s here! The weatherman’s here!" Osric bounded over. "Jared loves the weather. I told you that I do, too. C’mon, he’s over here."
Osric grabbed the cuff of Jensen’s dress shirt and led him through a labyrinth of improvised computer stations, consoles, temporary desks, temporary walls, and rolling stools.
"Does everybody work this late every night?" Jensen checked his watch and found that it was 10:08 PM.
"Nope," Osric said. "Here he is. Here’s Jared. Hey, Jared, the weatherman’s here."
"Thanks, O." Jared sat at a desk with one desktop and two laptops fired up. He wore reading glasses that made him look unexpectedly sexy.
"We’re almost done here for tonight. Why don’t you go and see if you can get the remote feeds to upload to your platform at home. Then go to bed."
"Not tired, boss, but okay." Osric gave a thumbs-up and hurried away.
Jared stood and arched his back before placing his glasses on the desk. "Hey, Jensen. Thanks for making time for me tonight."
Jensen shrugged, "Ah, you know. Weather work is never done. You look beat."
"Your old IT Marks and Dick were pure evil. They’ve got it locked down with traps and schemes, wards and hexes making this IT landscape a living hell. They must have been jealous of their position in the etherworld." He sighed, tiredly. "But I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve to open the portals to free flowing internet news, weather, business and sports. After all, that’s what WBB hired us to do."
Jensen folded his arms and leaned against the door frame. "Are you the P or the M, because blue eyes out there is the C."
"What?"
"That’s the second time he’s called you ‘boss,’ so you must be one of the initials associated with this team."
All the fatigue left as Jared beamed. "I’m the P."
"Care to educate an old, tired broadcast weatherman, Mr. P?"
"Well, old man," Jared flashed a grin. "I told you the other night that I write code and have a Tennesee grandma who talked about the weather being so dry that the trees were bribing the dogs."
Jensen playfully smacked Jared upside his beanie-wearing head. "Let’s start again. Hi, I’m Jensen Ackles. Last name Ackles. And you’re Jared, last name P?" He held out a hand.
Jared clasped Jensen’s hand and shook saying, "Pleased to meet’cha Jensen Ackles. I’m Jared Padalecki, one of the founders of Padalecki, Morgan and Collins. Home of rock-solid IT you can roll with. And everyone should look as good as you when they’re old and tired." He winked again and Jensen’s ears pinked up.
"That’s a terrible slogan, you know."
"I know, but Misha’s son came up with it, and nobody could think of anything better than, PMC: We Usually Do Good Information Technology."
"Yeah, that's not good."
"Plus, Genevieve gave her rock-solid vote of approval." Jared smiled.
Jared smiled, and Jensen took a breath. "Look, don’t punch me or anything, or if you do, don’t aim for my face, but would you like to go out for a cup of coffee or a beer or both with me some time?"
Jared never lost his smile. "Beer coffee is my favorite. Coffee beer is my second favorite. I’d love to, but right now can I have a few minutes of your expertise to look at something weather-related for me?"
Jensen tried not to look disappointed. "Of course," he said through the smiling teeth of his Number Eight.
Jared tilted his head down and looked up from under his lashes. "You don’t have to use that on me. I already said I’d love to go out with you. In fact, I’m going to hold you to that offer of beer and/or coffee this week-end."
"Yeah?" Jensen folded up his Number Eight and grinned on his own.
"Definitely," Jared swayed up close and said, "Maybe beer on Saturday and coffee on Sunday."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Especially if you talk weather to me."
"You’re on. What do you have to show me?"
Jared sat, pulled up a stool for Jensen and put his glasses back on. "I was going through the weather data streams and saw that a shallow tropical wave has developed east of Saint Lucia. Isn’t that where Hurricane Harvey was born?"
"Yes, it was." Jensen looked at the map Jared had on the monitor. There were wind patterns, air and water temperatures, and the topography displayed.
"Harvey started out as a tropical wave and kept on churning. The storm intensified after crossing the Lesser Antilles where it was named and then upgraded to a tropical storm."
Jensen sat on the stool next to Jared and commandeered an optical mouse. He clicked and zoomed in on a pressure area in the atmosphere, scrolled over to the prevailing winds, and checked water temperatures.
Jensen spoke as he maneuvered the curser. "Harvey moved through the Winward Islands, making landfall on Barbados and even a second landfall on Saint Vincent."
Jensen moved the map angle and extrapolated a couple of vectors. "A couple of days later, when Harvey got to the Caribbean Sea, the storm began to weaken," he looked up, "due to wind shear."
Jensen readjusted the track on the screen. "Harvey degenerated back into a tropical wave north of Colombia and almost petered out before regenerating," Jensen reached over and clicked a different view on Jared’s screen, "…uh, regenerating over the Bay of Campeche, Mexico where the storm rapidly intensified into a hurricane later that day, finally making landfall as a Cat 4, with sustained winds of 130 miles per hour, smashing into San José Island and then Holiday Beach, both in Texas."
Jensen shook his head, but his eyes never left the computer screen. "That storm dumped more than twenty-seven trillion gallons of rain on Texas, making Harvey the wettest Atlantic hurricane ever measured. Some parts of Houston received more than fifty inches of rainfall - so much that the National Weather Service had to update the colors it uses on its weather charts to properly account for it. I read somewhere that the Earth's crust actually dipped under the weight of all that water."
Jensen sat back after a few more clicks. He took a breath. "But that doesn’t look like what’s happening with this depression." He pointed to the map. "On the track this one’s taking, there’s not enough energy, the ocean's surface temperatures are too low and the wind gradients in the mesosphere are too strong. It’ll blow the tops off any storm formation before it can organize into a hurricane. Good catch, though. I was looking at this area," he cursored over Jamaica, "a couple of hours ago and found some tropical low-pressure systems around the Greater Antilles, but I missed your tropical wave. Really good catch, Jared."
Jensen continued clicking around the maps. "You know, hurricanes and tornadoes are the better known storms that can cause huge property damage and human casualty, but there are other storm systems that are made up of families of downburst clusters that exhibit wide variations in wind speeds due to embedded microbursts, downbursts, and downburst clusters with severe gust winds that can be as destructive as tornadoes…" Jensen trailed off of his geek weatherspeak and slammed his eyes shut.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, he scolded himself silently. You want to impress this guy, not lull him to sleep. Or worse yet, come off so nerdy the he doesn't even want to go out for coffee with you. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
When Jensen finally peeked over at Jared, Jared’s pupils were blown wide, his forehead was shiny with sweat and he was breathing is short, fast bursts. He coughed and turned away. "That was so hot, Jensen. You talking wind shear and microbursts was the hottest thing ever," he groaned. "I am such a geek. I'm the geekiest geek whoever geeked. Shoot me now."
"You really like weather," Jensen stated.
"Who does that? Who gets turned on by downburst clusters?" Jared shook his head, sadly. "Shoot me, shoot me, shoot me."
"Naw, ‘cause then you’d miss my talk on the chemical release measurements in the lower thermosphere, and never get to see my hodograph."
"Stop it, stop it. Now you’re just teasing me." Jared’s eyes were shining. "I really do like weather, and I would love to see your hodograph. What's a hodograph?"
Jensen shook his head in mock dismay. "And here, I thought you knew all about velocity diagrams."
"I don't, but I'd still like to see yours." Jared winked.
It was Pavlovian. Every time Jared winked, Jensen's ears got pink.
"That can be arranged." Jensen tried but couldn’t hold in a yawn. "Give me your phone and I’ll key in my number. When you call me back, I’ll add you to my contacts. Speaking of contacts." He rubbed his eyes.
Jared handed Jensen his phone. "I’ll call. Very soon. I really appreciated you saying I made a good catch. It felt good."
Jensen looked perplexed. "I don’t know why. I’m just the weatherman."
"You’re not just the weatherman. But that conversation is for another day. See you tomorrow?"
"You bet. I’ll be here as sure as the sun rises perfectly over Coconut Bay."
"That’s your late-night Friday forecast for Saturday and beyond. This weekend, as always, Brock Kelly will be calling the weather shots, making it Just Another Perfect Weekend With Brock. Stay safe, Coconut Bay, and remember to make sure you have fully charged fire extinguishers on every floor of your house." Today, Jensen dusted off his Number Eighteen. A full closed-lip smile with his eyes scrunched shut, adding a gentle nod of the head.
Number Eighteen never went over well. Probably because Jensen’s eyes were closed and couldn’t see it in the mirror to work on. Plus, his selfy skills sucked.
"And we’re out." DJ smiled, tore off his headset and put his clipboard down. "The weekend begins!" He did a little dance where he kicked his left foot up in the air.
After he finished kicking, he asked, "Any plans for the weekend, Jense?"
Jensen ducked his head and said, "Maybe." He took off his tie and folded it over his arm.
"Maybe?" DJ asked, following him to the door. "Maybe?"
"Yeah, maybe."
"Is it fun or weather related?"
"If I’m lucky, both." Jensen winked and went to his dressing suite. Yes, two small rooms is a suite, goddammit.
He’d finished changing into his jeans and tee when he heard a soft knock at the door.
"Hey, Katie. What’s up?"
Katie stared at her phone, snapping her Doublemint and holding up a piece of paper. "Apparently we’re all twelve years old now."
Jensen took the paper, "What is this?"
"If I had to guess, I’d say it says, ‘Do you like me, yes or no?’ with a request to check the box next to yes."
He opened the note, smugly noticing that it was a request for his presence in the IT Bullpen. With a smiley face in Jared’s letter a.
~~*~~*~~
Two voices, one slightly louder that the other, carried on an animated conversation.
"Newsfeed, dude. It’s the heart and soul of the newsroom and their hardware is outdated, like -like-when they made new movies in old black and white with happy endings, where nobody fights outdated. It’s gonna cost way past our estimate if we’re gonna fix it. And we need to fix it to get our software to work. When the station hears this, they’ll freak. We are the people they couldn't figure out. We are the people our parents warned us about!"
"Chad, dude, chill. Don’t get your pencil-thin mustache in a bunch. I built contingencies into the quote, and besides if we need more, JD will get them to ante up. Get me a working estimate for what you need and Jeff will negotiate for it, he’s gutsy and salty." Jared lifted his eyes to Chad. "He’s the son of a son of a sailor."
Chad sighed. "The sea’s in my veins, my tradition remains…"
Jared and Chad both recited the ending lyrics, "I’m just glad I don’t live in a trailer."
"Okay, I’ll work it up. I’ll get a preliminary dollar amount by noon tomorrow."
"Good," Jared said. "I’ll give Jeff a call and get him on deck, okay?"
"Okay, good. Hey, you want to go out for some Boat Drinks tonight?"
"No," Jared looked at Jensen. "I’m hoping to grab some beer or coffee with a new friend."
Chad eyed Jensen up and down with a smirk. "No problem. Alexa and I can always make music without you."
"Good, say hi to her for me."
"Will do. Smell you later," Chad straightened his parrot hat and left.
"Alexa?" Jensen asked.
"His new girlfriend."
Jensen sat on the desktop. "What was that about?" He pointed to where Chad stood.
"Nothing we can’t fix. You just gotta know how to speak Chad’s language."
"Speak Chad's language?"
"Whatever works." Jared grinned and shrugged.
"So, who’s Jeff?"
Jared put a friendly arm around Jensen’s shoulders. "Jeff is the M."
"Oh," Jensen looked side to side.
"No, here’s not here. In fact, he doesn’t know code, software, or hardware. He barely knows how to use his smart phone, but he’s the best at getting business, keeping business and negotiating when business gets in the weeds. Chances are you’ll never see him here." Jared turned Jensen to face him. "Can I interest you in some refreshment?"
"You stole my line," Jensen grinned. "But I have one up on you. I have a dressing room suite with a variety of beverages made from barley, hops, yeast and something else."
"Water," Jared supplied.
"Well, yes, I have water, too, but I thought you might want a beer."
"Barley, hops, yeast and water is beer. My brother and I used to make it in my parents’ kitchen. We thought we could brew IPAs cheaper than buying them. Nobody told us about the equipment, ingredients, sterilizing bottles, and time it took to cook it all together."
"I’m afraid you might be too interesting for me. Either that, or you’ve run out of things to tell me about yourself." Jensen said. "I guess we’ll have to get drunk on yeast water all night and see."
"That’s a plan, too. Gen, I’m heading out." Jared shouted over to Genevieve, who was wearing something similar to Kate Beckensale’s shiny, black Underworld outfit, with a spiked neck choker. And spiked bracelets. And black, fingerless gloves. With spikes. How she got the PMC logo pin to stick without ruining the fabric, he'll never know.
"Of course," she purred.
"Is there someone here all night?" Jensen asked, steering Jared toward his rooms.
"Coconut Bay never sleeps, Jensen. Late night news only happens late at night." Jared stared into Jensen’s uncomprehending eyes. "Yes. We have staff here working through the nights, at least for now. We’re geeks. We drink Red Bull. We don’t sleep. We thrive on it."
"Okay, well, here are my rooms at the station." Jensen opened the door wide. "Also, as I said I live a little more than a mile from here, but I didn’t want to be too forward by inviting you to my house."
"You are adorable." Jared said, running his hand up and down Jensen’s arm. "Let’s sit, drink, get to know each other and then," Jared put his hand up and whispered, "talk weather."
"You’re only interested in me for my weather acumen." He handed Jared a bottle of Killian’s Irish Red and an opener. "Just wait until I start using my weather vernacular," he batted his eyes. "You won’t be able to resist me."
"It's true," Jared agreed. "I do like your weather. And your acumen." He sat in the middle of the couch in the bigger of Jensen’s two small rooms and turned to the side. "Sit, tell me more about yourself."
Jensen smiled, opened his beer and sat cross legged facing Jared. "Well, I’m a Pisces. I love a rainy night, and I strive to have a different piece of valuable advice at the end of every broadcast." He tilted his beer up. "And you?"
"I’m a Cancer, enjoy long walks on the beach and even longer strings of code." He held up his bottle and they clinked. "And I can’t wait to get into your vernacular."
"Whew, I’m glad that’s over. First introductions are always so awkward."
"I know I should have done my homework and watched your weather reports before coming to work the first day, you know, to see how you relayed your information. But, to tell you truth, as long as I’ve lived here-going on five years-I’ve heard your name but never really watched. I have seen Brock, though."
"He never gives advice," Jensen frowned, "but he does an okay job. Everybody here is competent and, except for the Marks and Dick, are friendly and professional. The head news anchors, Alona and Rob, are real pros and Big Jim is one of my favorite people in the world. Big Jim’s Sports Spot with Big Jim runs right before me most nights, and he’s more like family than a co-worker. I’m way too comfortable here."
"Is that why didn’t you go to Greenville?"
"Yeah. I let all this," he waved his arm expansively, "sidetrack me from my goal of being a hurricane specialist for The Weather Channel."
"You’re good on camera." Jared said, kindly. "Not to mention, way better looking than Bryan Norcross and Jim Cantore combined."
"You’re very kind to say that." Jensen drank again. "What about you? How did you get to be a weather-loving tech geek?"
"Remember my southern grandma?"
"I do."
"My grandparents’ farm in Tennessee was in the middle of Dixie Alley and was destroyed by a F3 tornado."
Jensen sat straight. "Holy shit, Jared, that’s awful."
"They’d gone into the storm shelter with the family and the family pets, right after they let the livestock out of the barns. That’s really all they had time to do since the storm came up fast."
"Yes," Jensen said. "You can’t leave them in the barns in case the barns get blown down."
"The family all survived, but the house and all the outbuildings were damaged or destroyed, and they could only round up half of their herds. They had cattle and goats and a large brood of hens. All but two hens died. It was devastating, both emotionally and financially." Jared paused. "They finally rebuilt, but it took a lot of sweat, tears, time and money."
"So, your parents told you that a tornado devastated your grandparent's farm, and that's how you became interested in weather?"
"Not exactly."
"No?"
"I was in the storm shelter hugging my dogs Buddy and Trey for dear life. I was seven years old."
"Holy shit."
"I know. My parents, grandfather and older brother were helping keep the bulkhead secure against the wind while my grandma covered me and my dogs with my granddad’s Army blanket. I can still hear it in my head. A runaway train barreling full-force towards us. It was terrifying and awe-inspiring at the same time, because I couldn't help but admire the pure force of nature."
"Why didn’t you pursue meteorology?"
Jared shrugged. "I like code better. I do dabble in weather forecast and weather tracker algorithms for fun."
"You need a lot of information for accuracy."
"So true. That’s part of the fun. The more info the merrier."
Jared drained his bottle and reached for another, but Jensen stopped him.
"What?" Jared asked.
"Do you mean that? About more information being merrier?"
"Well, sure."
"Then I have something to show you. Something you’ll probably like, but it’s, well, it's upstairs in my house."
Jared sat back and smiled coyly. "Either you really do have something interesting to show me, or that’s the worst pick-up line I’ve ever heard."
Jensen chuckled. "No, I’m sure that, without even trying, I could come up with a sorrier line than that. But I do have something to show you. Something I’ve never shown anyone before."
"Now that’s a pick-up line I can work with." Jared stood.
Jensen shook his head. "God, I hope I haven’t oversold it."
Jared leaned in close. "I’m sure I’ll like it."
"Then come with me." Jensen put the remaining beer in the mini fridge and pulled Jared up by the wrist. To Jensen’s surprise, Jared twined their fingers together and swung their clasped hands in the air.
"Lead on."
Jensen unlocked the door to his Mediterranean-style two story, three-bedroom, three bathroom Florida home. He put the coffee on and turned to Jared. "Nobody knows what I’m about to show you. Please tell me you can keep a secret."
Jared spoke seriously. "I can only try to keep a secret, but I can promise not to kiss and tell."
"Okay, that'll have to do." Jensen smiled shyly. "I'd be embarrassed if the people I work with found out what a tremendous weather geek I am."
"I’m people," Jared said.
"Yes, but you’re also a tremendous tech geek. We’re kinda kindred spirits." Jensen handed Jared his coffee and then grinned suddenly. "I do like the not telling about the kissing, though."
Jared put the cup down and moved in closer, pealing the brim of his cap up. "Shall we try that part?"
"After you’ve seen the clear extent of my over-the-top weather obsession. Only then will you have the true picture of whom you are kissing."
"It’s really that bad?"
Jensen sighed. "It’s really that bad."
Jared straightened his beanie, stood tall and said, "Okay, I’m ready. Show me."
Jensen led Jared up the stairs. The door to his master was shut, but the other two large bedrooms were whirring with activity.
"What’s all this?" Jared’s eyes were wide with wonder and maybe a little something else.
"Because I live kind of close to the station, I go home a lot between my segments. As long as I'm in makeup and in front of the camera when I’m supposed to be, nobody cares where I am. I'm sure a lot of the guys think I'm playing video games or napping, but I'm not."
Jensen took him into the bigger of the two bedrooms, and pulled up two chairs.
"Sit," Jensen instructed. "Behold."
He fired up three computers and the monitors glowed. Jensen took his mouse in hand, clicking and talking at the same time. "I have hotlines to the National Weather Service, NWS, and the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, NOAA." He cursored over another screen, "I tap into the High Resolution Rapid Refresh, HRRR models, that keep a real-time watch on the skies."
Jensen woke up a forth monitor, "Over here is the Aviation Weather Center, AWC, and the National Centers for Environmental Prediction." He scrolled down. "Here, I access the North American Mesoscale Forecast System or NAM. I even hook into data from local and regional amateur weather watchers. Some of these amateur guys are phenomenal. Their accuracy rates for specific local weather events can outshine some of the big forecast geniuses. There’s a group of us who periodically go online to go over our forecasts for concrit." Jensen looked over at Jared. "Constructive criticism."
He focused on one screen at a time. "I study the North American Forecast, *click*, the Global Forecast, *click*, Nested Grid, *click*, Canadian, *click*, and European models *click click*, to make my own weather predictions, based on all weather feeds I pull in. I log and chart weather systems, wind patterns, oceanic temperatures, and ocean phenomena like Alberta Clippers, Diablo and Santa Ana winds, El Niño and turbulence systems all over the world, because oceans and atmosphere are closely related. I even track the lunar cycles to predict the effects of high tides."
Jensen closed his eyes, not knowing what expression would be on Jared’s face when he opened them again. "I should probably stop now."
He knew he would eventually need to see, so he cautiously opened one eye. "So?"
During the course of Jensen’s harangue, Jared had removed his beanie and wiped his neck with it. For the first time, Jensen noticed the way Jared’s hair curled at the ends and shone silky smooth, reflecting his auburn highlights in the recessed lighting of his second bedroom.
Auburn highlights?
"This is absolutely amazing, Jensen. No, no, this is really, really awesome! You are awesome. This is a huge amount of information you’re pulling in from many sources and you're compiling it like a pro. Some of your sources are really discrete, like # SFLWX and # CBWX how cool is that. When do you have time to go through all this data? Do you have a tablet or laptops at work? I could help you access all this information from WBB if you do. I can interface all your feeds to your tablet and/or laptop-even your phone if you wanted me to. Or I could set up direct feeds from these sites to your…"
Jensen leaped into Jared’s lap, grabbed Jared’s face in his hands and kissed the words right out of his mouth. Jared returned the gesture with his own unbridled enthusiasm
"What was that for? Not that I'm complaining." He pulled Jensen back to him.
Jensen panted. "So, you’re not put off by all this?" He dove in for another taste. "Or even the fact that the # CBWX is my own anonymous hashtag and weather feed from Coconut Bay?"
"So not put off." Jared kissed up Jensen’s neck murmuring, "That was so hot, so hot. In fact, if I were Jim Cantore, I’d want to fuck you right now with the data from NOAA running in the background."
"Jesus, Jared, that is hot." Jensen refrained from palming his crotch.
They kissed until they both needed to come up for air. Jensen shifted back to sit on his desk chair and looked up. Jared’s hair was a mess, his lips were bitten raw and his eyes were shining. Jensen was sure he looked the same.
"There’s a word for us," Jensen said.
"I know, God help us," Jared said shaking his head, smiling.
"We are such nerds."
"With all the sunshine in today’s forecast, it makes it a Coconut Bay kinda day. Be good to each other! This is Brock Kelly for Brock’s Weekend Weather in the Sun."
"See," Jensen said, clicking the remote to pause the screen. "No instructions or snappy acronyms.
"Or helpful weather advice," Jared carded Jensen’s hair with his fingers.
"Or a Number Two killer smile with a single row of upper teeth and both dimples showing." Jensen shook his head.
"Plus," Jared kissed Jensen’s temple softly, "he’s not as cute as you."
Jensen leaned into Jared’s touch. "He does remind me of me when I was young."
Jared leaned back to look into Jensen’s eyes. "Meh, maybe a little." He snuggled under Jensen’s arm. "Do you TiVo all the weather forecasts?"
"A lot of them, yeah. I compare the local forecasts to one another and then compare my forecasts to their forecasts and then to the major weather centers." Jensen felt his cheeks blushing. "I like to micro forecast."
"No blushing or feeling embarrassed or self-conscious about your passions. It’s a new rule. Besides I think it’s neat that you know all that."
"Yeah?" Jensen said, hopefully.
"Yeah, and sexy as hell, but you have to remember that when I get my geek on." This time it was Jared’s turn to blush. "Sometimes I get in the zone and don’t resurface for days."
Jensen patted Jared’s knee. "I promise to remember." He yawned with jaw cracking abandon. "I’m out of steam for the evening, but I don’t want it to be over. It’s been a long time since I felt like that." He stifled another yawn. "I said that out loud, didn’t I?"
"Yes, and it was charming. I tell you what? We’ll meet tomorrow for brunch. I’ll spring for coffee and Bloody Marys." Jared unfolded himself from the couch and stood. "How does 11:30 sound?"
"Sounds like brunch," Jensen smiled.
Jared stretched high and wide. His shirt untucked and his midriff became exposed to the recessed lighting. Jensen tugged him down by his shirttail. "How ‘bout one for the road?"
"I’m all about the road." Jared plunked back on the couch next to Jensen and kissed him breathless. He stood again and planted a light kiss to Jensen’s hair.
"I gotta go. I really enjoyed being here tonight. I’m glad you showed me your secret weather obsession, because I may rock code, but you rock and roll weather better than anyone I’ve ever met and it’s dead sexy." Jared took a step away but couldn’t seem to make it any farther.
"Thank you," Jensen said, genuinely. "Thanks for tonight."
"You’re welcome. I also think you’re hella sexy and I’m looking forward to getting to know you better."
Jensen hauled himself to his feet. "You will. Starting tomorrow." He took Jared by the hand and walked him to the front door. "I think-I think you’re sexy, too."
Jared opened the door and smiled. "Then we’ll be rocking and rolling together." He leaned in one last time, for one last kiss. "See you tomorrow."
Jensen shut the door and leaned his back up against it. He closed his eyes and took a big breath in through his nose before heading to his bedroom.
"Rocking and rolling." Jensen hummed to himself. "Rock an’ rolling." He twanged before reaching for his air guitar. "Rock and roll!" strum "Built this city…" strum slap "… we built this city on rock and roooll."
~~*~~*~~
On to Part Two
~~*~~*~~