J2!Scrubs Fic: "Close Encounters"
FINALLY. Oy.
Title: Close Encounters (J2!Scrubs)
Pairing: Jared/Jensen (J2 AU)
Rating: NC-17 for sexin', cussin', and adult snark wars.
Word Count: 3500
Summary: Jared's a harried, hassled, frazzled, frustrated resident at Saint Francis of Immaculate Mercy General. Jensen's a cranky, bristly, snarky attending physician who'd rather play head games than risk losing his heart (although it might already be too late). Toppy!Jared and pushy-bottom!Jensen. (Follow-up to "Cattycornered"; master list of J2!Scrubs here).
In today's episode: The war council gives way to an extended flashback of the first time Jared met Jensen, and the conclusion is this: Jensen's trouble. He's heartbreak hotel. He's a risk no sane man would take.
And there's no way in hell Jared can walk away from him.
"Close Encounters"
Jared's dangling an anchovy upside down -- he thinks -- and peering at it with one eye closed. Slimy. Hairy. Is it okra in disguise, or is it demon fish spawn that took a bath in vinegar and salt? The world may never know.
"Stop that," Sophia scolds, plucking the creepy piscine away and popping it in her mouth. She chews and swallows with what Jared has to assume is genuine enjoyment. The "mmm, mmm" sounds are a pretty decent indicator.
Chad watches her with his jaw hanging open, but that's standard practice for Chad in Sophia's presence so Jared doesn't pay him any attention.
"How can you do that?" he asks, fascinated.
"How can you eat pineapple on your pizza?" Sophia flicks a piece of perfectly tasty canned yellow fruit at him as she sits in the chair opposite Jared.
Chad zooms to his place on the arm of Sophia's chair.
Sophia looks at him. Pointedly.
"Sorry, baby." Chad goes to the floor and starts unlacing Sophia's sensible hospital-approved sneakers without being asked.
Behind the pair of them, Imaginary Catwoman Sophia winks at Jared and cracks her whip.
He rubs his hand over his mouth to hide his grin and smears the flavor of anchovies all over his lips. Ewww.
"So where do we start, Big Bird?" she asks, wiggling her toes at Chad, who gets to work with the massaging.
"We could start with you teaching me a thing or two," Jared says, staring at his old friend who has, under Sophia's influence, metamorphosized into a sensitive and gentlemanly -- okay, he's still a douche, but he rubs feet. C'mon. There have to be some lessons there he can apply toward softening Ackles.
Not that he really wants Jensen soft. He wants him hard, ready, thick --
Chad slaps Jared upside the head.
"Ow!" Jared gingerly pokes the sore spot and glares at Chad. "What the hell, dude?"
Chad points at Sophia. "She says she can smell testosterone rising to dangerously horny levels, and she made me do it."
Fair enough.
Jared snags the last piece of the first pineapple pepperoni pizza -- Sophia's cousin was baked tonight as well as pissed at his boss and he went nuts fixing them all the pizza they could carry. The cheese has gone cold but that just enhances the sweetness of the pineapple, if you ask him.
Sophia relaxes in the relative softness and comfort of the one decent chair he and Chad own, fully confident in her absolute right to be there -- jeez, why can't Jared be more like that, he wonders? No questions or doubts or worries, just queen of all she surveys, and she knows it, too.
Like Jensen, only he's a king, not a queen. Well, Jared could argue that part. He especially suspects Jensen might be a size queen from the way he has not yet failed to react to the mightiness of the Padacock.
Definitely a queen, in his way, and there's not a single damn doubt in the world that Dr. Ackles rules the hospital…
Flashback…
Jared's shoelaces have come untied for the fourth time this morning. Shaky hands, nervous fingers, and if he can't even do a French knot then exactly how is he supposed to make a good impression as an intern?
"Shit, shit, shit," he curses in a steady stream, trying to hop on one leg and tie the right shoe. His scrubs are a weensy bit tight -- okay, so he might have bought the wrong size -- okay, so he might have actually been in the women's section by mistake -- what? They all look alike, blue and blue and blue again --
"Dude." Chad, who's almost at the vacuum doors leading into Immaculate Mercy, his flawlessly tied shoe on the very threshold, turns to gesture impatiently, one might say vehemently or possibly even panick-ed-ly. Is that a word?
"Sorry, it's just --" Jared plants his sneaker on the wall and stretches to grab the trailing laces.
"Again? Fuck, Jay, it's like this is your first day of kindergarten or something," Chad bitches. He crowds between Jared's foot and the edge of the door and, thank all that is sweet and benevolent in the universe, makes quick work of a neat knot any sailor would be proud of.
"Go team Surgeon Hands!" Jared tries to thump him on the back.
"Keep those bear paws offa me, dick! We gotta go!" Chad's waving his arm at Jared. He's wearing a watch. Jared has never, ever, not once at all, seen Chad with a watch. Chad would grab the nearest available arm with a timepiece on whoever happened to be standing close when he needed to count anything on a patient.
"Shiny," Jared says, transfixed, because since it is Chad they're talking about, the watch has serious bling. Pawn-shop nil-carat glass bling, but still.
Chad slaps his hand away. "We're gonna be late," he emphasizes. "Move, move, move!"
"Okay, okay. I'm good. Right behind you." Jared tests the strength of Chad's knot and deems himself pleased. "On the count of three."
"Swear to God, Jared --"
"For me?" They've never not done this and if there's one sure way to make Chad relax, it's to give him a challenge he's sure to win. Jared fully plans to let Chad beat him inside. "Pleeeeeease?"
For all that Chad groans, Jared can see a light shinier than the bling gleaming in his eyes. "Fine. One last time."
"That's the spirit! On my mark."
"Mark," Chad says, falling into place beside him.
"One… two… three-go!"
Chad takes off like a bat out of hell, on uppers, and zooms ahead, steady as she goes. He dodges a janitor pushing a cart and he's already pointed toward a bombshell of a nurse who's watching his approach with a raised eyebrow and a reluctant smirk.
"Since when did you grow a super jet pack?" Jared hollers, chasing after Chad as fast as he can.
He means to zig left and avoid the janitor's cart, honest he does.
Only the cart zags when he zigs, the shoelace he forgot to tie gets caught under his foot, and WHAMMO. The next thing Jared knows, he's gut-checked by the cart handle, mop water goes SPLOOSH, and his new scrubs are soaked clear up to their dainty daisy-decorated drawstrings.
He reels back and finds himself gaping at a janitor who's got him fixed kind of like a deer in the headlights. His shoelace, still caught under his foot, jerks and down, down, down he goes.
(It'll be a position he gets uncomfortably familiar with over the next year.)
"Let me guess, boy," the guy says, not making a move to help Jared up. "This is a game, huh? Start your first day at the hospital with a joke on the good ol' hired help. He won't mind another mess to clean up, 'cause that's his job, right? Ha fuckin' ha."
"No! God, no. I didn't mean to."
"So why didn't you dodge? You saw me coming a mile away, didn't you? This was planned, wasn't it? Knock the janitor over. Bowling for peons. Let me tell you something, son, you don't know who you've just got on the bad side of."
"A… janitor?" Jared tries.
The janitor seems to summon a mop to his hand with the stealthy sneaky skill of a ninja on PCP. The mop handle's an inch from Jared's nose. "Yeah. Janitor. You think I'm less than you because I carry this? Do you?"
Jared meeps and crosses his eyes, but all he can see are the headlines: INTERN SLAUGHTERED ON FIRST DAY; "CAUSE OF DEATH: TERMINAL FOOT IN MOUTH AND OTHER PLACES DISEASE", they'll read. And on his tombstone, they can write: "GONE, BUT NOT FORGOTTEN."
This guy will probably dig him up and hammer the mop handle through his heart. Or possibly just bludgeon him to death all over again with the guitar case Jared sees strapped to the back of his custodial services cart.
What the…?
"I'm sorry?" he whispers very, very quietly, because apparently it's intern season and this nutbar's on the hunt.
A sharp whistle interrupts whatever the janitor's about to do next, which would probably be excessively painful. "Hey!"
The janitor narrows his eyes at Jared. Eek. Rattlesnake smile. "I've got my eye on you, boy. Watch yourself."
Jared gapes after him and his insolently retreating cart.
"Newbie. I assume you are one of the baby ducklings, right? Quack, quack? Get up off your ass and go change into some scrubs that don't make you look like you want to be Frank N Furter when you grow up." Fingers snap. "Are you hearing me, Newbie?"
Jared follows the deep, impatient baritone to its source. His elbows slip in the mop water and he thumps fully to the floor, cracking his head on the wet linoleum. Stars dance in front of him, birdies go tweet-tweet, the works, but they can't overcome the memory of green eyes with sinful lashes, a too-pretty mouth, and a pair of slightly bowed legs that he wants to test-drive right then and there to see how they look hooked over his shoulders or wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his back and --
Oh, hello. Neatly shod feet arrive at the side of his head. Through the haze of ow, Jared can see the doctor bending over him.
Hi, he thinks. You're gorgeous. It's California. Marry me?
The doctor -- is he a doctor? He's not wearing a white coat, and he has a University of Dallas iron-on logo on his scrub shirt -- leans over Jared and snags his shiny, laminated ID. "Figures," he grunts. "Hello, Intern Pada-can't be bothered to figure out how to pronounce that. Life is short, you're wet, there are alarming stains on your shirt, and you have five minutes to get cleaned up and get your tight ass changed into fresh scrubs that didn't come from a WNBA closeout sale before we start rounds."
"Before we wha-huh?"
"For the love of God," the doctor -- still not sure about that one -- groans. He grabs Jared by the arm and heaves.
Jared follows as the wise men did their star, and lo, he is both sore and afraid, for once he's on his feet he can read Green Eyes' ID and it doth say: JENSEN ACKLES, MD. Attending Physician.
"I can explain," Jared starts.
He stops when he notices that Dr. Ackles isn't looking him in the eye. He's got his attention fixed somewhere rather more southward. Somewhere that is soaking wet, the thin cotton of his scrubs leaving almost nothing to modesty, daisy-bedecked or not, and even if that mop water was cold there are certain things that happen to a guy when someone's looking at his sturdy sapling and plums -- he's not a twig and berries sized man, thank you -- uh, so, anyway.
"Are you my attending?"
Dr. Ackles clears his throat and looks away. He whips his clipboard down before Jared can see -- so he was looking, turnabout's fair play, give him a break -- and covers his crotch.
All the same, the clipboard doesn't quite lie… flat.
"You bet your ass I'm your attending, and guess what? You're already on three shit lists. Kane? The guy you just plowed down? He's a dangerous one. You're in for a world of hurt, Newbie."
Jared had already had a sinking bad feeling about the janitor, but -- "Wait, three? Who else did I piss off?"
Dr. Ackles grabs Jared by the wrist and shakes his arm. Mop water splashes Ackles' U of D shirt. "Me," he says with a straight face. "Now I've got to get changed, too, and I like this shirt. It gives Dr. Lehne an aneurism whenever he sees it, and let me tell you that in a hellhole like this, you'll do just about anything you can think of to give your day a lift."
Significant look at Jared's tree limb and oranges there.
"In case you're wondering, because I can already tell you don't think too quickly on your feet or haven't learned how to walk in the clown shoes yet, Dr. Lehne would be the third person who'd like to see you suffer."
Jared tries to remember. It's kind of hard -- ahahah -- when Dr. Ackles is not only undressing him with his eyes, but already has Jared's cock down his throat.
Dr. Ackles draws his lip between his teeth and sucks. Slowly. Sensually. Promisingly. Lushly.
Jared wants to whimper.
"Dr. Lehne, Chief of Medicine?" Jared remembers with a startle. "What did I --"
"Nothing. He hates all residents. It's his daily mission to make your life, and the lives of all your ilk, a living hell. Locker room's that way, scrubs vending machine is that way --" Dr. Ackles points in two different directions. "Five minutes, remember, and now I have to get changed too."
He trails the tip of his tongue over his lower lip and walks away backwards, deliberately adding to Jared's vivid fantasies a face shot to the nakedness, on his knees, and ohmyGOD, the attending's hot for him.
Jared stares after him, flabbergasted and flummoxed and hornswoggled (thank you, Word-a-Day Calendar). He's made a mortal enemy, found out the Chief of Medicine is gunning for him, and been eyefucked to the tune of wham-bam-thank-you-sir within what, three minutes of entering Immaculate Mercy? That's got to be some kind of land speed record.
"That was impressive, even for you." Chad's at his side. He starts to pat Jared on the back and draws away, lip curled. "Dude, there's wet vomit stains on your shoulders."
"Hey!" The nurse Chad was chatting up is leaning over the station. "Big Bird!"
"I think that'd be you," Chad says, smoothing his buzz-cut, all Rico suave. "She says I'm Super Grover."
Jared wonders if he should tell Chad that's probably not a compliment, then remembers the wet vomit and decides that bit of info can wait.
Besides… Big Bird?
The nurse grins at him, warmer and more welcome than the sun right now, and suddenly he thinks the new nickname is kinda okay. Cute, even. "I'm Sophia. We've got some scrubs back here you can borrow. Want 'em?"
Jared follows the retreating attending physician walking away, face forward, the rear view a wonder of nature as it flexes smoothly under his scrubs that camouflage absolutely none of his good GOD er, assets.
"Yeah-huh," he says, mouth dry. "Jared want."
Five minutes later, his new scrubs around his ankles, Jared gets.
And then Jared gives.
And he learns, for the first time, what his name sounds like coming from those sinful lips, gasped and broken. What Jensen's cock tastes like and how it fills his mouth. The just-this-side-of-too-rough thrusts that Jensen writhes like a cat in heat for.
"This is probably -- oh, fuck -- illegal."
"Don't care," Jensen -- no way he's calling him "Dr. Ackles" after being balls-deep in him -- grunts.
"Unethical." Jared's hands can almost span Jensen's narrow hips, and that extra bit of leverage -- "Jesus Christ."
"Couldn't give less of a flying --"
"Fuuuck!"
Jensen tosses his head and looks over his shoulder at Jared, stealing what's left of Jared's breath and adding a thump to his heart that isn't just horniness. His grin is evil and his eyelids at half-mast, his skin flushed and his breathing fast. "You call that a fuck? Give it to me like you mean it, Newbie."
"Can't -- won't last --" Jared does it anyway, gripping Jensen hard enough to leave a damn pretty set of fingerprint bruises on both sides. "God, you're --"
Jensen bares his teeth. "Do it right or don't do it at -- uh -- all. Got that?"
Something snaps inside Jared, and he body-slams Jensen on the next shove, jarring him flush to the lockers. The clamor and bang is tremendous and there's no way everyone around them doesn't know what's going on, but Jensen mewls and shudders and damn, is it worth it.
Jensen has awesome recovery time. His cock jerks in Jared's hand, shooting a second payload when Jared lets go and fills him.
Jensen slumps, shoulders heaving, then turns around to smirk at Jared, so well-fucked that Jared wants to try for a second go himself. He licks his lips, slow and taunting, and says, "Still worried about unethical now?"
"Nnngh," Jared says out loud.
What he thinks, on the inside -- no, what he knows -- is that this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
"What the --" Jensen struggles. "No cuddling allowed."
"Aw, c'mon," Jared coaxes. He tries brushing the back of his hand over Jensen's cheek. "I like--"
The good doctor wavers for maybe half a second. "Get off. We're done here."
"But --"
Jensen knees him where it's never ever a good place to take a knee, especially not now; dear God, he's lamed for life. "I said no. Bad Newbie!"
End Flashback
Smiley faces float in front of Jared, happy and multicolored as gummy bears.
"Mmm," Jared says happily. "The gift that keeps on giving."
Chad punches his shin.
"Ow. Fucking quit it, Chad!"
"Your hand was drifting zipper-wards, Big Bird," Sophia points out. "I have to hear about it more than I'm honestly comfortable with and have to literally hear it in surround sound when you two are nowhere as discreet as you'd like think you are, which is not at all, so keep your mind focused, okay?"
"You do get this is Jared we're talking about, right?" Chad asks dubiously, reaching under the chair for a bottle of cherry-red nail polish he likes to pretend Jared doesn't know he hides there for Sophia's pleasure.
Jared shifts and wiggles his toes, still nicely socked-up, and prays he can work up the nerve to buy nail polish remover before Chad witnesses the evidence of how bored and antsy he got one morning before the performance assessments.
Some people say it helps to wear sassy underwear when you're nervous, okay? The best Jared owns is a pair of Spongebob boxers, so nail polish it was.
It looks really pretty, actually. When he had Jared laid out over an empty bed, rimming him with long slow licks that drove Jared nuts, Jensen muttered something about lace panties, and there's pretty much nowhere Jared won't go for the Ackles Ass so if he can find something in his size --
He clears his throat. "…what were we talking about, again?"
Chad rolls his eyes and draws a deliberate, shiny red "X" over Jared's sock. "How you can't quit Ackles, because you're a moron that way."
Jared sulks and wiggles his toes to comfort himself. Shiny.
"It really would be for the best," Sophia says, so kind and motherly Jared can almost smell warm chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven.
Ooh, cookies. "Do we have any --"
"Focus!" Chad glares at Jared over Sophia's foot, occupied with very precisely painting her nails like a good puppy who knows he's not chasing his own tail.
"We were planning on a war council," Sophia reminds him. "How to give Ackles a taste of his own medicine." She extends her leg to critically assess the polish job. "Chad might be right, though, Big Bird. You'd save yourself so much heartbreak if you could walk away from Ackles now. It's just going to lead somewhere messy and I can't stand to see you hurt."
Jared sighs and hangs his head. Thing is, he knows she's right. Knows Chad's right, too, and while that rocks his grasp on reality it doesn't change the essential truth. Jensen's trouble. He's heartbreak hotel. He's a risk no sane man would take.
And there's no way in hell Jared can walk away from him.
Sophia pets the top of his head. "Okay. We'll keep working on it."
Impulsively, Jared grasps her hand and kisses the knuckles.
Chad jabs him in the gut.
"Hey!" Jared oofs.
"Don't go making time with my woman."
"Excuse me?" Sophia rockets upright. "Your woman?"
The doorbell rings point five seconds before the latch rattles open and Sandy pops her head in. "Jared! I found a whole bunch of used Danielle Steele novels down in the lost and found box!" Her arms are full of luridly covered paperbacks. "She wrote a lot of doctors. I bet we can find something good --"
Ahh. Jared relaxes, blissfully letting the peace of good company wash over him. All is right with his world.
And tomorrow's another day, after all. Right? A new day, a new start, a new chance at Ackles.
And if he happens to lose the battle again, no matter what the end results of their war council, Jared figures he can't complain too hard.
Well, he could.
But he won't.
Beta'd by: mini_moue and jenadamson. Many thanks to them!
Title: Close Encounters (J2!Scrubs)
Pairing: Jared/Jensen (J2 AU)
Rating: NC-17 for sexin', cussin', and adult snark wars.
Word Count: 3500
Summary: Jared's a harried, hassled, frazzled, frustrated resident at Saint Francis of Immaculate Mercy General. Jensen's a cranky, bristly, snarky attending physician who'd rather play head games than risk losing his heart (although it might already be too late). Toppy!Jared and pushy-bottom!Jensen. (Follow-up to "Cattycornered"; master list of J2!Scrubs here).
In today's episode: The war council gives way to an extended flashback of the first time Jared met Jensen, and the conclusion is this: Jensen's trouble. He's heartbreak hotel. He's a risk no sane man would take.
And there's no way in hell Jared can walk away from him.
"Close Encounters"
Jared's dangling an anchovy upside down -- he thinks -- and peering at it with one eye closed. Slimy. Hairy. Is it okra in disguise, or is it demon fish spawn that took a bath in vinegar and salt? The world may never know.
"Stop that," Sophia scolds, plucking the creepy piscine away and popping it in her mouth. She chews and swallows with what Jared has to assume is genuine enjoyment. The "mmm, mmm" sounds are a pretty decent indicator.
Chad watches her with his jaw hanging open, but that's standard practice for Chad in Sophia's presence so Jared doesn't pay him any attention.
"How can you do that?" he asks, fascinated.
"How can you eat pineapple on your pizza?" Sophia flicks a piece of perfectly tasty canned yellow fruit at him as she sits in the chair opposite Jared.
Chad zooms to his place on the arm of Sophia's chair.
Sophia looks at him. Pointedly.
"Sorry, baby." Chad goes to the floor and starts unlacing Sophia's sensible hospital-approved sneakers without being asked.
Behind the pair of them, Imaginary Catwoman Sophia winks at Jared and cracks her whip.
He rubs his hand over his mouth to hide his grin and smears the flavor of anchovies all over his lips. Ewww.
"So where do we start, Big Bird?" she asks, wiggling her toes at Chad, who gets to work with the massaging.
"We could start with you teaching me a thing or two," Jared says, staring at his old friend who has, under Sophia's influence, metamorphosized into a sensitive and gentlemanly -- okay, he's still a douche, but he rubs feet. C'mon. There have to be some lessons there he can apply toward softening Ackles.
Not that he really wants Jensen soft. He wants him hard, ready, thick --
Chad slaps Jared upside the head.
"Ow!" Jared gingerly pokes the sore spot and glares at Chad. "What the hell, dude?"
Chad points at Sophia. "She says she can smell testosterone rising to dangerously horny levels, and she made me do it."
Fair enough.
Jared snags the last piece of the first pineapple pepperoni pizza -- Sophia's cousin was baked tonight as well as pissed at his boss and he went nuts fixing them all the pizza they could carry. The cheese has gone cold but that just enhances the sweetness of the pineapple, if you ask him.
Sophia relaxes in the relative softness and comfort of the one decent chair he and Chad own, fully confident in her absolute right to be there -- jeez, why can't Jared be more like that, he wonders? No questions or doubts or worries, just queen of all she surveys, and she knows it, too.
Like Jensen, only he's a king, not a queen. Well, Jared could argue that part. He especially suspects Jensen might be a size queen from the way he has not yet failed to react to the mightiness of the Padacock.
Definitely a queen, in his way, and there's not a single damn doubt in the world that Dr. Ackles rules the hospital…
Flashback…
Jared's shoelaces have come untied for the fourth time this morning. Shaky hands, nervous fingers, and if he can't even do a French knot then exactly how is he supposed to make a good impression as an intern?
"Shit, shit, shit," he curses in a steady stream, trying to hop on one leg and tie the right shoe. His scrubs are a weensy bit tight -- okay, so he might have bought the wrong size -- okay, so he might have actually been in the women's section by mistake -- what? They all look alike, blue and blue and blue again --
"Dude." Chad, who's almost at the vacuum doors leading into Immaculate Mercy, his flawlessly tied shoe on the very threshold, turns to gesture impatiently, one might say vehemently or possibly even panick-ed-ly. Is that a word?
"Sorry, it's just --" Jared plants his sneaker on the wall and stretches to grab the trailing laces.
"Again? Fuck, Jay, it's like this is your first day of kindergarten or something," Chad bitches. He crowds between Jared's foot and the edge of the door and, thank all that is sweet and benevolent in the universe, makes quick work of a neat knot any sailor would be proud of.
"Go team Surgeon Hands!" Jared tries to thump him on the back.
"Keep those bear paws offa me, dick! We gotta go!" Chad's waving his arm at Jared. He's wearing a watch. Jared has never, ever, not once at all, seen Chad with a watch. Chad would grab the nearest available arm with a timepiece on whoever happened to be standing close when he needed to count anything on a patient.
"Shiny," Jared says, transfixed, because since it is Chad they're talking about, the watch has serious bling. Pawn-shop nil-carat glass bling, but still.
Chad slaps his hand away. "We're gonna be late," he emphasizes. "Move, move, move!"
"Okay, okay. I'm good. Right behind you." Jared tests the strength of Chad's knot and deems himself pleased. "On the count of three."
"Swear to God, Jared --"
"For me?" They've never not done this and if there's one sure way to make Chad relax, it's to give him a challenge he's sure to win. Jared fully plans to let Chad beat him inside. "Pleeeeeease?"
For all that Chad groans, Jared can see a light shinier than the bling gleaming in his eyes. "Fine. One last time."
"That's the spirit! On my mark."
"Mark," Chad says, falling into place beside him.
"One… two… three-go!"
Chad takes off like a bat out of hell, on uppers, and zooms ahead, steady as she goes. He dodges a janitor pushing a cart and he's already pointed toward a bombshell of a nurse who's watching his approach with a raised eyebrow and a reluctant smirk.
"Since when did you grow a super jet pack?" Jared hollers, chasing after Chad as fast as he can.
He means to zig left and avoid the janitor's cart, honest he does.
Only the cart zags when he zigs, the shoelace he forgot to tie gets caught under his foot, and WHAMMO. The next thing Jared knows, he's gut-checked by the cart handle, mop water goes SPLOOSH, and his new scrubs are soaked clear up to their dainty daisy-decorated drawstrings.
He reels back and finds himself gaping at a janitor who's got him fixed kind of like a deer in the headlights. His shoelace, still caught under his foot, jerks and down, down, down he goes.
(It'll be a position he gets uncomfortably familiar with over the next year.)
"Let me guess, boy," the guy says, not making a move to help Jared up. "This is a game, huh? Start your first day at the hospital with a joke on the good ol' hired help. He won't mind another mess to clean up, 'cause that's his job, right? Ha fuckin' ha."
"No! God, no. I didn't mean to."
"So why didn't you dodge? You saw me coming a mile away, didn't you? This was planned, wasn't it? Knock the janitor over. Bowling for peons. Let me tell you something, son, you don't know who you've just got on the bad side of."
"A… janitor?" Jared tries.
The janitor seems to summon a mop to his hand with the stealthy sneaky skill of a ninja on PCP. The mop handle's an inch from Jared's nose. "Yeah. Janitor. You think I'm less than you because I carry this? Do you?"
Jared meeps and crosses his eyes, but all he can see are the headlines: INTERN SLAUGHTERED ON FIRST DAY; "CAUSE OF DEATH: TERMINAL FOOT IN MOUTH AND OTHER PLACES DISEASE", they'll read. And on his tombstone, they can write: "GONE, BUT NOT FORGOTTEN."
This guy will probably dig him up and hammer the mop handle through his heart. Or possibly just bludgeon him to death all over again with the guitar case Jared sees strapped to the back of his custodial services cart.
What the…?
"I'm sorry?" he whispers very, very quietly, because apparently it's intern season and this nutbar's on the hunt.
A sharp whistle interrupts whatever the janitor's about to do next, which would probably be excessively painful. "Hey!"
The janitor narrows his eyes at Jared. Eek. Rattlesnake smile. "I've got my eye on you, boy. Watch yourself."
Jared gapes after him and his insolently retreating cart.
"Newbie. I assume you are one of the baby ducklings, right? Quack, quack? Get up off your ass and go change into some scrubs that don't make you look like you want to be Frank N Furter when you grow up." Fingers snap. "Are you hearing me, Newbie?"
Jared follows the deep, impatient baritone to its source. His elbows slip in the mop water and he thumps fully to the floor, cracking his head on the wet linoleum. Stars dance in front of him, birdies go tweet-tweet, the works, but they can't overcome the memory of green eyes with sinful lashes, a too-pretty mouth, and a pair of slightly bowed legs that he wants to test-drive right then and there to see how they look hooked over his shoulders or wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his back and --
Oh, hello. Neatly shod feet arrive at the side of his head. Through the haze of ow, Jared can see the doctor bending over him.
Hi, he thinks. You're gorgeous. It's California. Marry me?
The doctor -- is he a doctor? He's not wearing a white coat, and he has a University of Dallas iron-on logo on his scrub shirt -- leans over Jared and snags his shiny, laminated ID. "Figures," he grunts. "Hello, Intern Pada-can't be bothered to figure out how to pronounce that. Life is short, you're wet, there are alarming stains on your shirt, and you have five minutes to get cleaned up and get your tight ass changed into fresh scrubs that didn't come from a WNBA closeout sale before we start rounds."
"Before we wha-huh?"
"For the love of God," the doctor -- still not sure about that one -- groans. He grabs Jared by the arm and heaves.
Jared follows as the wise men did their star, and lo, he is both sore and afraid, for once he's on his feet he can read Green Eyes' ID and it doth say: JENSEN ACKLES, MD. Attending Physician.
"I can explain," Jared starts.
He stops when he notices that Dr. Ackles isn't looking him in the eye. He's got his attention fixed somewhere rather more southward. Somewhere that is soaking wet, the thin cotton of his scrubs leaving almost nothing to modesty, daisy-bedecked or not, and even if that mop water was cold there are certain things that happen to a guy when someone's looking at his sturdy sapling and plums -- he's not a twig and berries sized man, thank you -- uh, so, anyway.
"Are you my attending?"
Dr. Ackles clears his throat and looks away. He whips his clipboard down before Jared can see -- so he was looking, turnabout's fair play, give him a break -- and covers his crotch.
All the same, the clipboard doesn't quite lie… flat.
"You bet your ass I'm your attending, and guess what? You're already on three shit lists. Kane? The guy you just plowed down? He's a dangerous one. You're in for a world of hurt, Newbie."
Jared had already had a sinking bad feeling about the janitor, but -- "Wait, three? Who else did I piss off?"
Dr. Ackles grabs Jared by the wrist and shakes his arm. Mop water splashes Ackles' U of D shirt. "Me," he says with a straight face. "Now I've got to get changed, too, and I like this shirt. It gives Dr. Lehne an aneurism whenever he sees it, and let me tell you that in a hellhole like this, you'll do just about anything you can think of to give your day a lift."
Significant look at Jared's tree limb and oranges there.
"In case you're wondering, because I can already tell you don't think too quickly on your feet or haven't learned how to walk in the clown shoes yet, Dr. Lehne would be the third person who'd like to see you suffer."
Jared tries to remember. It's kind of hard -- ahahah -- when Dr. Ackles is not only undressing him with his eyes, but already has Jared's cock down his throat.
Dr. Ackles draws his lip between his teeth and sucks. Slowly. Sensually. Promisingly. Lushly.
Jared wants to whimper.
"Dr. Lehne, Chief of Medicine?" Jared remembers with a startle. "What did I --"
"Nothing. He hates all residents. It's his daily mission to make your life, and the lives of all your ilk, a living hell. Locker room's that way, scrubs vending machine is that way --" Dr. Ackles points in two different directions. "Five minutes, remember, and now I have to get changed too."
He trails the tip of his tongue over his lower lip and walks away backwards, deliberately adding to Jared's vivid fantasies a face shot to the nakedness, on his knees, and ohmyGOD, the attending's hot for him.
Jared stares after him, flabbergasted and flummoxed and hornswoggled (thank you, Word-a-Day Calendar). He's made a mortal enemy, found out the Chief of Medicine is gunning for him, and been eyefucked to the tune of wham-bam-thank-you-sir within what, three minutes of entering Immaculate Mercy? That's got to be some kind of land speed record.
"That was impressive, even for you." Chad's at his side. He starts to pat Jared on the back and draws away, lip curled. "Dude, there's wet vomit stains on your shoulders."
"Hey!" The nurse Chad was chatting up is leaning over the station. "Big Bird!"
"I think that'd be you," Chad says, smoothing his buzz-cut, all Rico suave. "She says I'm Super Grover."
Jared wonders if he should tell Chad that's probably not a compliment, then remembers the wet vomit and decides that bit of info can wait.
Besides… Big Bird?
The nurse grins at him, warmer and more welcome than the sun right now, and suddenly he thinks the new nickname is kinda okay. Cute, even. "I'm Sophia. We've got some scrubs back here you can borrow. Want 'em?"
Jared follows the retreating attending physician walking away, face forward, the rear view a wonder of nature as it flexes smoothly under his scrubs that camouflage absolutely none of his good GOD er, assets.
"Yeah-huh," he says, mouth dry. "Jared want."
Five minutes later, his new scrubs around his ankles, Jared gets.
And then Jared gives.
And he learns, for the first time, what his name sounds like coming from those sinful lips, gasped and broken. What Jensen's cock tastes like and how it fills his mouth. The just-this-side-of-too-rough thrusts that Jensen writhes like a cat in heat for.
"This is probably -- oh, fuck -- illegal."
"Don't care," Jensen -- no way he's calling him "Dr. Ackles" after being balls-deep in him -- grunts.
"Unethical." Jared's hands can almost span Jensen's narrow hips, and that extra bit of leverage -- "Jesus Christ."
"Couldn't give less of a flying --"
"Fuuuck!"
Jensen tosses his head and looks over his shoulder at Jared, stealing what's left of Jared's breath and adding a thump to his heart that isn't just horniness. His grin is evil and his eyelids at half-mast, his skin flushed and his breathing fast. "You call that a fuck? Give it to me like you mean it, Newbie."
"Can't -- won't last --" Jared does it anyway, gripping Jensen hard enough to leave a damn pretty set of fingerprint bruises on both sides. "God, you're --"
Jensen bares his teeth. "Do it right or don't do it at -- uh -- all. Got that?"
Something snaps inside Jared, and he body-slams Jensen on the next shove, jarring him flush to the lockers. The clamor and bang is tremendous and there's no way everyone around them doesn't know what's going on, but Jensen mewls and shudders and damn, is it worth it.
Jensen has awesome recovery time. His cock jerks in Jared's hand, shooting a second payload when Jared lets go and fills him.
Jensen slumps, shoulders heaving, then turns around to smirk at Jared, so well-fucked that Jared wants to try for a second go himself. He licks his lips, slow and taunting, and says, "Still worried about unethical now?"
"Nnngh," Jared says out loud.
What he thinks, on the inside -- no, what he knows -- is that this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
"What the --" Jensen struggles. "No cuddling allowed."
"Aw, c'mon," Jared coaxes. He tries brushing the back of his hand over Jensen's cheek. "I like--"
The good doctor wavers for maybe half a second. "Get off. We're done here."
"But --"
Jensen knees him where it's never ever a good place to take a knee, especially not now; dear God, he's lamed for life. "I said no. Bad Newbie!"
End Flashback
Smiley faces float in front of Jared, happy and multicolored as gummy bears.
"Mmm," Jared says happily. "The gift that keeps on giving."
Chad punches his shin.
"Ow. Fucking quit it, Chad!"
"Your hand was drifting zipper-wards, Big Bird," Sophia points out. "I have to hear about it more than I'm honestly comfortable with and have to literally hear it in surround sound when you two are nowhere as discreet as you'd like think you are, which is not at all, so keep your mind focused, okay?"
"You do get this is Jared we're talking about, right?" Chad asks dubiously, reaching under the chair for a bottle of cherry-red nail polish he likes to pretend Jared doesn't know he hides there for Sophia's pleasure.
Jared shifts and wiggles his toes, still nicely socked-up, and prays he can work up the nerve to buy nail polish remover before Chad witnesses the evidence of how bored and antsy he got one morning before the performance assessments.
Some people say it helps to wear sassy underwear when you're nervous, okay? The best Jared owns is a pair of Spongebob boxers, so nail polish it was.
It looks really pretty, actually. When he had Jared laid out over an empty bed, rimming him with long slow licks that drove Jared nuts, Jensen muttered something about lace panties, and there's pretty much nowhere Jared won't go for the Ackles Ass so if he can find something in his size --
He clears his throat. "…what were we talking about, again?"
Chad rolls his eyes and draws a deliberate, shiny red "X" over Jared's sock. "How you can't quit Ackles, because you're a moron that way."
Jared sulks and wiggles his toes to comfort himself. Shiny.
"It really would be for the best," Sophia says, so kind and motherly Jared can almost smell warm chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven.
Ooh, cookies. "Do we have any --"
"Focus!" Chad glares at Jared over Sophia's foot, occupied with very precisely painting her nails like a good puppy who knows he's not chasing his own tail.
"We were planning on a war council," Sophia reminds him. "How to give Ackles a taste of his own medicine." She extends her leg to critically assess the polish job. "Chad might be right, though, Big Bird. You'd save yourself so much heartbreak if you could walk away from Ackles now. It's just going to lead somewhere messy and I can't stand to see you hurt."
Jared sighs and hangs his head. Thing is, he knows she's right. Knows Chad's right, too, and while that rocks his grasp on reality it doesn't change the essential truth. Jensen's trouble. He's heartbreak hotel. He's a risk no sane man would take.
And there's no way in hell Jared can walk away from him.
Sophia pets the top of his head. "Okay. We'll keep working on it."
Impulsively, Jared grasps her hand and kisses the knuckles.
Chad jabs him in the gut.
"Hey!" Jared oofs.
"Don't go making time with my woman."
"Excuse me?" Sophia rockets upright. "Your woman?"
The doorbell rings point five seconds before the latch rattles open and Sandy pops her head in. "Jared! I found a whole bunch of used Danielle Steele novels down in the lost and found box!" Her arms are full of luridly covered paperbacks. "She wrote a lot of doctors. I bet we can find something good --"
Ahh. Jared relaxes, blissfully letting the peace of good company wash over him. All is right with his world.
And tomorrow's another day, after all. Right? A new day, a new start, a new chance at Ackles.
And if he happens to lose the battle again, no matter what the end results of their war council, Jared figures he can't complain too hard.
Well, he could.
But he won't.
Beta'd by: mini_moue and jenadamson. Many thanks to them!