Finally

[essene_backup]

aside:  this is my 6th (yes, s.i.x.t.h.) attempt at posting this (and everything showing up right), so if it doesn't work, I give up.

A while back,  I did a drabble request and responded fairly quickly to three of them.  The last one sorta stumped me.  But I have written it at last!  And it has turned out to be more of a ficlet than a drabble (I'm sure you don't mind llaras, do you?)

Here goes:

llaras requested:  J2 - italian food

 Jensen let his hands slide down and across the ridges of his abdomen as he soaped up, lost in thought.

It had been an…odd evening.

There was that moment at dinner where he looked across the table at Jared and saw something, something different. He wasn’t sure what it was. There was a spot of red sauce on his chin, a wide sparkling grin and hair dangling in his eyes, but that wasn’t anything unusual.

It was the intensity of Jared’s look. That there seemed to be more behind what he was saying than just the usual bullshit they discussed: scotch, football, music, who was hotter—Alyssa Milano or Rosario Dawson, work , etc. As if the things Jared was saying were only hints of brighter and bolder things that lay just behind his words.

There’d been way too many Glen Scotia’s and Jensen had been thinking way too much about the way Jared’s eyes lit up when Jensen came back to the table after using the restroom, or how something dark had flickered in them when the waitress not-so-discretely passed her phone number to Jensen along with the bill. How when he laughed, really laughed, his eyes completely disappeared and his lips stretched wide while his head fell back and his hands came up to splay his fingers over his stomach.

So when Jared asked, “What’re you thinkin’ on Jen?” after realizing that Jensen had just been sitting there watching him babble on about random things, Jensen answered, “Why you look at me the way you do. ‘s not friendly, or brotherly, or…” he trailed off as Jared’s brows knitted in confusion.

“What do you mean?” his question seemed innocent enough, but Jensen had known Jared long enough, spent enough time with him to hear the underlying guardedness in his voice.

“I mean the way your grin splits your stupid face when you see me. The way you listen to every single idiotic word that comes out of my mouth like it’s gospel. The way you look at me when you think I’m not looking--like I’m a giant gummy bear, and it’s your last chance to have candy for the rest of your life.” Jensen was slurring, so it may not have all come out exactly as it lined up in his head.

But Jared knew what he meant. Jensen could tell that much from his face. The split second parade of emotions that crossed over it: shock, fear, suspicion, resignation, determination.

That’s when it happened. Instead of answering, Jared leaned in and carefully and slowly pressed his lips to Jensen’s. A dry, not unpleasant slide of tissue thin skin against Jensen’s parted mouth.

When Jensen didn’t immediately move away—more because he was curious as to how far Jared would take it, not because he was rocked to his core, oh no—Jared raised his hands (fucking huge hands) to grasp Jensen’s head as he slanted his mouth against Jensen’s more insistently.

Jensen sucked in air through his nose and opened his mouth to Jared, his tongue moving forward into Jared’s mouth as Jared’s moved into his. Jared tasted of garlic and heat. Moist and slick, but was also much firmer and demanding than any girl he’d kissed.

It wasn’t long (not long enough) before Jared pulled away and let his hands drop to his lap as he just looked at Jensen, obviously waiting for some sort of reaction.

Jensen just looked back. Blinked his eyes a few times, raised the last of his scotch to his slightly stinging lips and drained it.

Looking back at Jared he said, “Huh. Well, I guess that answers that then.”

Jared had only raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

Hoisting himself to alcohol weakened legs (not kiss weakened, surely not) he grabbed Jared’s collar and said, “Come on, let’s go home.”

There’d been silence during the cab ride home, and it continued as Jared unlocked the door, let the dogs out, got a bottle of water from the fridge and started rummaging through the cupboard for ibuprofren.

Jensen slung his jacket over one of the kitchen barstools and said, “I’ma take a shower.”

A short nod was his response.

Which brought Jensen to where he was. Soaping up in the shower thinking about how his best friend had just kissed him. He was too sloshed to do anything at the moment. He knew that much. It was like drunk dialing: if he did anything about it now, it wouldn’t mean anything; but if he waited…

Did he want to wait? That was the question. Because if he waited, and they talked about it, or did something else, while they were sober, then…well then it would mean something.

Jensen came back into the great room, a towel wrapped around his waist, droplets still drying on his shoulders and legs.

Jared was standing at the island, hands braced on it, head hanging down.

“Jared.” Jensen waited.

A few moments passed and then a low, “Yeah?” came from him.

“We cool for tonight?”

Jared didn’t move. “Yeah.”

“Good. Because I’d like to…revisit this when I’m sober. I don’t want the alcohol to do my talking for me.”

Jared’s head drooped even farther down, like Jensen had just berated him.

“More than that, I want to be completely sober so I can actually get my dick up.”

It took a few seconds, but then Jared’s head popped up and he spun around to face Jensen, incredulity writ large upon his face.

Jensen just grinned at him before saying, “’night Jare.”

Jared grinned back and said, “’night Jen.”


wesleysgirl  requested: J2, one of them feeding the other something with his fingers.

Jared was kind of obscene when he ate. No, not kind of. He WAS. The noises he made, the look on his face, the way he reacted so viscerally to taste, texture and the aroma of food.

It wasn’t all the time. It wasn’t when they were sitting around playing Guitar Hero, eating half cold pizza and chugging beer. It wasn’t when he was scarfing his lunch because they had to be onset in 20 minutes and he’d used the majority of his time on a powernap.

It was on Sunday afternoons when Cliff had thrown a couple of steaks on the grill, Jensen threw together a salad and Jared mixed cocktails. The way the boy would cut giant size bites of rib-eye and then moan as he chewed and swallowed.

It was when he’d come home from Anton’s with a box of sinful pastries and balance his elbows on his knees; éclair in one hand, the other hovering underneath in case of any drips while his eyes rolled back in his head and his lips would plump and redden from the very act of eating.

The worst was when he offered to share. Bite size morsels held between two fingers dangling in midair right in front of Jensen’s face. Twinkle in his eye, grin on his face. Long slender digits covered in chocolate or barbeque sauce or whatever he was eating that he deemed worthy of sharing.

It was only because of the way Jared looked that Jensen ever dared open his mouth and lean in to Jared’s fingers. Wrap his lips around the morsel and let his tongue sweep up and catch what his lips left behind.

It wasn’t for the moan or guttural utterance that would follow Jensen’s slow drag and pop off Jared’s hand. No, that wasn’t why at all.


sockkpuppett requested: Sam meets Castiel. Sees true face. Hears true voice. Dean's there. Freaks out?

Sam wondered if this was like what Dean had seen before he was dragged away to hell. The way the skin of the shell of a human shimmered and almost seemed translucent. Like if he stuck his hand out and moved to touch, his fingers would slide right through the human and touch the…thing inside.

It was almost painful to look at him. There was a kind of terrible incandescence emanating from him, that looked almost like an entity unto itself. And there were wings. Enormous, shuddering wings that furled and unfurled almost like breathing.

Dean couldn’t see it. Sam knew. Knew by the way Dean talked to him so calmly, as if he were just another person. Couldn’t hear the rushing-wailing sonorous timbre of the voice under the human voice. Sam couldn’t imagine what it must be like at full register. The breaking of glass and mirrors was minor compared to what the undertone promised at: shattering of bones and explosions of muscle. It was a voice that could kill.

And Dean stood there unable to see. Sam was glad for that. For Sam saw, and inside he trembled.


luvxander requested: Dean/Sam, funny colored condoms

“What the fuck is this?” Dean held the offending item between his thumb and forefinger.

Sam looked up from The Divine Pymander in annoyance. Dean was always nitpicking about something these days.

Sam squinted at the shiny square object, “Looks like you forgot more than just your time in Hell if you don’t know what that is, Dean.”

“I know WHAT it is Sam, what I DON’T know is why it’s PURPLE.”

Sam grinned as he dropped his head back to his reading, “It’s entertaining.”

Dean shook his head as if trying to shake something into place. “A purple, or,” he turned back to the box he’d found wedged in the corner of the trunk, and pulled out a handful and started tossing them on the bed as he read through them, “’vibrant pink,’ ‘brilliant blue,’ or ‘acid green’…’acid green’? Come on. That is something that your dick should never ever be. That’s going to the doctor-time right there. Who wants to look down and see an 8 inch long purple thing bobbing between your legs instead of a rock solid dick? Nobody. That’s who.”

Sitting back in the chair and crossing his legs, Sam watched his brother rant. He placed the palm of his hand over his cock and began to press down and up as Dean paced the floor of the hotel room, waving his arms about, fists still full of condoms.

Because Dean was still railing about the horror and inhumanity of colored condoms he didn’t notice that Sam had reached over to the bed, plucked a package off of it and unzipped his jeans.

It wasn’t until Sam swiveled his chair towards Dean, ‘brilliant blue’ sheathed cock gently curving towards his belly while he fingered his own balls that Dean stopped. Stopped in mid-sentence actually, “…like hookers and that Julia Ro…oh.”

Dean’s eyes widened at the sight of his brother erect and nonchalantly touching himself through blue latex. He grinned.

“Huh, maybe you got something with that ‘entertainment’ idea. I might find a thing or two to enjoy about that.” Dean moved to his brother and sank to his knees in front of him, filling his mouth with 8 long inches of pure entertainment.

Thanks to dancetomato for being the smart one in our relationship and suggesting that I use Semagic to post rather than attempting to depend on the LJ update panel to work the way it should. 

Comments

[cityphonelines.livejournal.com]

I liked all of these, the first two and the last for their playfulness, but dear lord (pun not intended) the third HIT SO HARD. It was perfectly subtle so plausible.

Well done all around.

[essene.livejournal.com]

Thanks! (I do like that 3rd one quite a lot myself).

[allegraconbrio.livejournal.com]

I literally have a HUGE grin on my face that may never leave about the first ficlet. Adorable, E.

I really enjoyed all four, but 1 and 3 were both lovely in such different ways. 3 - I love how Sam can see Castiel differently, that just makes sense. Beautifully written, too.

[essene.livejournal.com]

Awww, shucks. Thanks for reading and giving such nice comments!

*hug*

[llaras.livejournal.com]

I don't mind at all! That was awesomegreatandfantastic!

Whee!

I loved how Jensen wanted to be sober for revisiting the kiss. Smart boy.

*pets them both*