Vieux Carre
Oct. 9th, 2009 04:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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spn_30snapshots
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Table: A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words
Prompt: 30.
There's something self-destructive in Jared that he would agree to this. He walks through the streets of the French Quarter, weaving up one block and down another aimlessly, listening to the plaintive wailing of a saxophone here, the lauding of a trumpet there, the frenzy of a banjo off in the distance. While his body walks, his mind wanders, trying to retrace how he got here, got to this place.
A plane, you dolt - sneers the little voice in his head, always stating the obvious. But he shakes that away as his brain well knows that's not what he means. Because he's a fantastic fuck - his dick twitches in his linen slacks at the memory of the last time he was buried in Jensen. But that's not it either. You know why - that's the soft whisper of his heart which somehow seems to be tangled up in his stomach as it gives a startling lurch into his throat.
Jared's smart. He didn't go to college, but when you have an English teacher for a mother you don't exactly grow up stupid either. He knows precisely how he got to this place. He went and fell in love with his best friend.
It was just supposed to be some late-night fun, some after-work relaxing, a way to release tension. It was never supposed to MEAN anything. Jensen had been utterly crystal clear on that point. But as intelligent as Jared is, he couldn't manage to keep his emotions out of it. He never could. Sex was never just a quick blow-job or a convenient one-night-stand for him. He should have known better. But after downing a case of beer between them after a long day of fight scenes, when Jensen's hand rested hot and heavy on his thigh, he couldn't find the fortitude necessary to resist the dark glitter in Jensen's eyes or the wet heat of his mouth.
Danneel had actually been the one to invite him. Jared liked her, a lot. She was good for Jensen: she made him laugh, she was bright and easygoing, and even though she was an actress and drop-dead gorgeous--shockingly low-maintenance. He'd said yes without actually thinking the whole thing through; he'd always wanted to visit Louisiana, especially New Orleans and what could be better than doing it with your best friend and his girl--who just happened to be a native?
The answer to that question was painfully clear to him now as he found himself wandering down Basin Street listening to the city sing the blues around him as his heart strummed in harmony. Anything would be better than this, this confirmation of who held Jensen's heart and pulled the strings. The light in his eyes was stronger for her, the languorous motions of his body were more emphatic around her, she was the one who elicited the sweet-nothings from his lips.
All Jared has now is this city, and these blues.
spn_30snapshots Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Table: A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words
Prompt: 30.
There's something self-destructive in Jared that he would agree to this. He walks through the streets of the French Quarter, weaving up one block and down another aimlessly, listening to the plaintive wailing of a saxophone here, the lauding of a trumpet there, the frenzy of a banjo off in the distance. While his body walks, his mind wanders, trying to retrace how he got here, got to this place.
A plane, you dolt - sneers the little voice in his head, always stating the obvious. But he shakes that away as his brain well knows that's not what he means. Because he's a fantastic fuck - his dick twitches in his linen slacks at the memory of the last time he was buried in Jensen. But that's not it either. You know why - that's the soft whisper of his heart which somehow seems to be tangled up in his stomach as it gives a startling lurch into his throat.
Jared's smart. He didn't go to college, but when you have an English teacher for a mother you don't exactly grow up stupid either. He knows precisely how he got to this place. He went and fell in love with his best friend.
It was just supposed to be some late-night fun, some after-work relaxing, a way to release tension. It was never supposed to MEAN anything. Jensen had been utterly crystal clear on that point. But as intelligent as Jared is, he couldn't manage to keep his emotions out of it. He never could. Sex was never just a quick blow-job or a convenient one-night-stand for him. He should have known better. But after downing a case of beer between them after a long day of fight scenes, when Jensen's hand rested hot and heavy on his thigh, he couldn't find the fortitude necessary to resist the dark glitter in Jensen's eyes or the wet heat of his mouth.
Danneel had actually been the one to invite him. Jared liked her, a lot. She was good for Jensen: she made him laugh, she was bright and easygoing, and even though she was an actress and drop-dead gorgeous--shockingly low-maintenance. He'd said yes without actually thinking the whole thing through; he'd always wanted to visit Louisiana, especially New Orleans and what could be better than doing it with your best friend and his girl--who just happened to be a native?
The answer to that question was painfully clear to him now as he found himself wandering down Basin Street listening to the city sing the blues around him as his heart strummed in harmony. Anything would be better than this, this confirmation of who held Jensen's heart and pulled the strings. The light in his eyes was stronger for her, the languorous motions of his body were more emphatic around her, she was the one who elicited the sweet-nothings from his lips.
All Jared has now is this city, and these blues.
