ladyjanelly (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ladyjanelly) wrote2007-07-20 11:06 am
ladyjanelly) wrote2007-07-20 11:06 am
Entry tags:
Fic: Life Drawing 4/? PG-13 J2
fictional
not-mine
PG-13
warnings for Jensen ouchies. Read at your own risk
Special thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jellicle for the rich feedback and help picking a career path for this Jensen.
There’s something intimate about drawing a person, something Jared hasn’t felt before this. Tracing Jensen's jaw line with his eyes, stroking that same line onto paper with the edge of his pencil, it’s almost like touching the man himself. A small strand of hair falls against Jensen's cheekbone, and Jared wants to reach over, see how it feels under his fingers, see how it contrasts with the softness of his skin, the rasp of stubble.
He’s never wanted to touch a man before, and this is strange, new. It twists around in his chest, a mix of apprehension and fascination. He’s glad to have something to do, some reason he’s allowed to stare for so long and just appreciate Jensen.
And the work itself, Jared knows that’s good too. He’s using pencil for Jensen's face, the tips of his fingers and the edges of the book, and charcoal for the shadows and folds of the hoodie and loose jeans. He likes the way the precision of the pencils lines contrasts with the vagueness of the charcoal, how he can capture every curved eyelash, the hard lines of his glasses, and leave the details of clothing and setting as shadows.
Jensen shifts, apologizes. Jared takes that opening to push his luck, to ask for a tiny bit more. He’s seen Jensen naked, and somehow the sight of the other man’s wrists and ankles, as he rolls up his cuffs and takes off his shoes, makes him shift in his chair. It’s not lust, not exactly. He thinks he’d rather see Jensen smile than see his junk. He’d rather have the pulse at Jensen's throat against his skin than his hands down his pants.
Jensen works on math or something for a while. A few times, he pushes his fingers under the edge of his glasses and rubs at one eye then the other. He finally takes the glasses off altogether and closes both eyes, squeezing the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb. He looks about three minutes from passing out asleep and Jared has no idea what to do. The good manners he was raised with say to offer his guest a bedroom or at least a pillow. Having spent a few hours with Jensen though, he thinks the best he could hope for is Jensen becoming irritated with him, and the worst, he’d leave and go back to the dorms.
He’s not sure it’s good luck when the dogs start their barking and he hears dad’s car pulling up to the garage. Jensen startles to full wakefulness, and pushes down his sleeves and pant legs, quick like they’d been French kissing on the couch. His expression is calm, but Jared can see the flare of his nostrils and the hitch of his breathing as he tries to stay still. Color flushes his cheeks even before Jared’s dad bangs his way in the back door.
“JT!” his dad calls from the kitchen, “Can you help me get the groceries out of the--” He pokes his head into the living room and his jaw snaps shut. His smile is kind of funny, Jared thinks--half pleased and half-pained. “Oh. I didn’t know you had company.”
Jared grins. “Hey dad. This is my friend Jensen. Jensen, dad.”
Jensen stands, ducking his head and shifting on his feet. “Pleasure to meet you sir.” He gets the words out, but they sound like anything but a pleasure. He looks trapped, and Jared wants to step up and put a hand on his back, to ground him, reassure him, but he’s not sure how that’d go over.
“Ah, from the drawing class,” Jared’s dad says with an unruffled grin. “Nice meeting you too. Please, call me Jerry.” His eyes dart around, taking in the books and Jared’s sketchpads and the flush on Jensen's cheeks. Jensen sits again, fidgeting with the cuffs of his sleeves.
“Calculus? Really? I thought you were in the art program to get away from the math.” It’s an old joke told with a warm smile.
“That’s mine,” Jensen says, glancing away like he’s ashamed of being so smart, which Jared totally doesn’t get.
“What’s your major?” Jared’s dad asks, taking a seat in the vacant recliner near the couch. Jared kind of thinks that’s strange too. His dad’s friendly with his friends, but doesn’t usually put this much effort into getting to know them. And it’s so bad that he’s starting now, with Jensen, who doesn’t like people talking to him and is looking like he wishes the couch would swallow him.
“Pre-med,” Jensen replies, and Jared’s shocked for a second, because he never thought the guy was stupid, but man. That’s a serious life plan. “Molecular biology.” He can see how tight Jensen's throat is as he gets the words out. “I’m going into pathology.”
“Really.” Jerry says again, impressed. “Pathology. That’s a field with a nice strong future.” And then he meets Jared’s eye. And winks. Honest to God winks at him, and what the hell?
“Um, dad,” Jared interrupts, “You have groceries melting in the car still?”
His dad pulls an embarrassing Homer Simpson impersonation with his “Doh!”
“I’ll give you a hand,” Jared offers, as Jensen shoots him a quick look of intense gratitude.
“Oh, no, no. You spend time with your--friend. I’ll haul the groceries in. There aren’t really that many.” Weird just keeps getting weirder, and Jared wonders if he’s imagining that significant pause before his dad said ‘friend.’
“I need to put my clothes in the dryer,” Jensen says when Jerry goes out again. His gaze is on the carpet and his voice is quiet and flat. Jared gets up to go help, or maybe just hover so Jensen doesn’t make a break for the exit.
“Sorry about that--” Jared gestures vaguely at the back door. “I think my dad’s been out in the sun too long or something.” Jensen doesn’t smile, even when he adds, “I hope crazy isn’t hereditary or something.”
They move the laundry over, and Jared’s dad starts getting burgers ready for the grill. His mom has a late night, some PTA thing or whatever. Jensen tries to study, and Jared tries to draw, but the air’s full of tension now. The way Jensen's posing himself doesn’t look comfortable or natural and Jared’s wrist is too tight; he keeps drawing angles where he wants curves, scratching the paper with the charcoal where he wanted a gentle smudge.
By the time the back yard’s full of smoke and the dogs are sniffing around for dropsies, Megan is home from her track team practice. She takes one look at Jensen and then she’s all blushing and stammering worse than he is. She makes an effort to ask how he is and how long he’s known Jared before she gives up and runs upstairs.
“Jesus,” Jared breathes when she’s gone. “Is there something in the water? I’m sorry about that. So sorry.” He turns and yells so his voice carries up to Megan’s room, “If I’d known my family was crazy!” He lowers his voice again, “I’d never have said we should do this here.”
-------------
Jared’s family is crazy. His dad asks Jensen all these questions, and he tries to get them right. He thinks he must be fucking it up, because the man’s grin is strained, plastic. Jerry’s trying so hard, and Jensen wants to tell him not to worry about it, he’s just here for the one dinner, but that might make him ask more questions, so he keeps his mouth shut.
Jared’s little sister, Megan, is cute and nice but she stares so hard that Jensen feels the phantom tickles of food on his face or a stain on his shirt. Girls do this to him sometimes, stammering and flushing and laughing that weird high-pitched laugh. He’s never sure what it means, what the hell they want, and it creeps him out.
Jared’s mom comes home just as the burgers are coming off of the grill. Jared introduces them, and she promptly tells Jensen “Call me Sherri.” Then she hugs him, and he almost faints. He can’t remember the last time he was hugged. He works hard to avoid it, “It’s so nice to meet you,” she says, eyes bright and teeth flashing.
She doesn’t seem like she’s gonna let go until Jared whines a “Mommm” at her and makes this funny gesture with his head and she steps back, blushing like a schoolgirl. “Jesus,” Jared whispers, stepping in so that he’s between Jensen and his family. “I’m sorry,” he says, and Jensen starts to feel bad for him.
Dinner starts and Jensen tries to pick up the family routine, bowing his head as Jared says grace, following the taller man’s cue on when to snag burger and bun off the plate, which way to pass the mayo. It smells great, all mesquite-scented smoke and quality meat. His stomach roils, though. The day’s been long and he hasn’t slept well and, oh yeah, Jared’s family is crazy. He needs a minute, a chance to catch his breath and center himself down before he loses it.
“May I be excused?” he asks.
“Of course,” Jared’s mom tells him, a perfect June Cleaver slightly concerned smile on her lips.
He can feel their eyes on him as he leaves the table, headed for the bathroom. This was too much, so much more than he should have tried to do. He’s embarrassing himself, embarrassing Jared. He closes the bathroom door behind himself, standing there in front of the mirror. He takes his glasses off and splashes water on his face. Keep it together, he tells himself--don’t be a freak, don’t lose your shit; keep it together.
Jensen heads back for the kitchen--he hears voices though, Jared saying “He’s just a little shy, that’s all--” and he doesn’t want to hear more. The sliding glass door is on his way, and the dogs are wagging their tails as he walks near, hopeful expressions on their doggy faces. He’s never had a pet, and Garrett’s mom was allergic to everything with fur, but a dog’s never asked if he was retarded before, or cared if he froze and couldn’t think of what to say.
Jared’s dogs are friendly dogs, and Jensen opens the door far enough to slip out and join them in the yard. Just for a minute, he thinks, just for enough time to let Jared and his folks finish talking about him in peace.
The bigger dog, Harley, snuffles his hair when he crouches down. Sadie nudges at his hands, guiding him to her favorite scritchy spots. They’re warm and inviting and don’t think he’s a freak. He leans against the rough stucco of the house, letting the dogs soak the tension and fear from his heart. The sun’s down and the patio light’s on, attracting a big fat moth that bumps against the glass with an unsteady ‘tink tink’ noise.
The door slides open again, and Jensen bites down on the urge to startle up, to apologize for fleeing the dinner table. Show no fear, he whispers in his head.
“Hey,” Jared says, soft like Jensen might fall over if he’s too loud. Gentle, and Jensen's so surprised he has to look up to see.
Jared’s smiling like an angel, and he hunkers down next to Jensen. He’s got a plate that he holds over his head to keep the dogs out of.
“Your family’s really great,” Jensen says, to soften any offense he’s given.
“For crazy people.” Jared grins crookedly, and Jensen can hear the love in his voice. Jared’s--God, Jared’s just beautiful and it makes his eyes all blurry. “Sorry they were being so weird today.”
Jensen's mouth twitches. It’s funny to hear somebody besides him called weird.
“I brought your dinner out,” Jared says, “Mine too, but if you wanna eat alone that’s fine too. I just--whatever works best for you.”
And after the emotional pressure-cooker of the family kitchen, sitting alone with Jared seems easy by comparison. “That would be nice,” he murmurs, “Us, I mean. Eating together.”
Jared smiles again, and leads the way to the picnic table. Jared talks, but he’s just saying stuff, not asking questions, and that’s nice. He tells Jensen about when his mom brought Sadie home, this little puppy so skinny the vet warned them she’d probably die. He talks about how Jerry never finished his degree, but he says after the kids all graduate that he’ll go start over, because an education is a worthy endeavor at any age. He talks about how much work the art classes in college are, but fun too. He tells stories of his older brother, always bringing girls home, getting into trouble, until he found the one who turned him down and that was the one he had to marry.
Jared says that he’s worried a little, about being an artist. He figures he can be happy living on very little; he’s learned to tell the difference between what he wants and what he needs. He needs to express himself, needs to make people smile or think or feel. He really wants to help with Megan’s tuition though, and he doesn’t know how an artist can do that in the first couple years. He talks about maybe teaching, if he can, or doing some side-work like faux finishing for house-painters.
Jensen eats his burger, and he listens. He cares what Jared has to say. He likes listening to the sound of his voice. It’s been a long time since he spent time with somebody new and didn’t feel that clench in his gut, that dread that at any second, things would go terribly wrong and he’d look stupid and the budding friendship would wither and die, leaving him hurt and alone and a failure. Jared feels safe, with his big grin and his bright eyes and dimples that go on forever.
“I’ve got an eight AM class,” Jensen says as the chorus of crickets starts up in the back yard. He hopes the regret he feels shows in his voice.
“No problem,” Jared says, “I’ll help you pack your stuff.”
He carries the laundry bag out to the truck. Jensen has his backpack over one shoulder and the Tupperware Sherri gave him in his hands. He feels a little like he won the lottery. He’s got a new friend (maybe), clean clothes, food for a few days, and he didn’t lose too much time on his schoolwork.
Jared’s quiet for the ride back, it doesn’t seem like he’s sulking, just comfortable. Jensen watches him from the side of his vision, in the reflection on the glass. When Jared pulls up to the curb, Jensen's almost disappointed.
“Hey,” he hears himself say, and wonders if there really was some free-floating craziness at Jared’s house that’s latched onto him now. “Garrett’s got a baseball game tomorrow. Interested?”
Jared grins, and Jensen feels the thrill of knowing he did that. “I’d love it,” Jared says, and Jensen bites the inside of his lip to keep from beaming like a dork.
“Game starts at six,” he says, opening the truck door and stepping out into the night. “We’ll be down by the dugout.”
“I’ll be there,” Jared promises, and Jensen slams the door before he can fuck it up. He grabs his laundry bag out of the back and forces himself not to run across the grass to his dorm.
He looks back, just once, and sees Jared still there in his truck, a puzzled expression on his face.
-------------------
Jared sits in the truck, watching to make sure Jensen gets to the dorm’s doors okay. Or maybe so he can watch Jensen for a few minutes more. That’s like--almost the same thing, right?
Jensen's words twist around in Jared’s head. “We’ll be down by the dugout,” he’d said. Not “I.” Garrett will be in the dugout, won’t he? So who the heck is “we?”
The question bugs him all the way back home.
not-mine
PG-13
warnings for Jensen ouchies. Read at your own risk
Special thanks to
jellicle for the rich feedback and help picking a career path for this Jensen.There’s something intimate about drawing a person, something Jared hasn’t felt before this. Tracing Jensen's jaw line with his eyes, stroking that same line onto paper with the edge of his pencil, it’s almost like touching the man himself. A small strand of hair falls against Jensen's cheekbone, and Jared wants to reach over, see how it feels under his fingers, see how it contrasts with the softness of his skin, the rasp of stubble.
He’s never wanted to touch a man before, and this is strange, new. It twists around in his chest, a mix of apprehension and fascination. He’s glad to have something to do, some reason he’s allowed to stare for so long and just appreciate Jensen.
And the work itself, Jared knows that’s good too. He’s using pencil for Jensen's face, the tips of his fingers and the edges of the book, and charcoal for the shadows and folds of the hoodie and loose jeans. He likes the way the precision of the pencils lines contrasts with the vagueness of the charcoal, how he can capture every curved eyelash, the hard lines of his glasses, and leave the details of clothing and setting as shadows.
Jensen shifts, apologizes. Jared takes that opening to push his luck, to ask for a tiny bit more. He’s seen Jensen naked, and somehow the sight of the other man’s wrists and ankles, as he rolls up his cuffs and takes off his shoes, makes him shift in his chair. It’s not lust, not exactly. He thinks he’d rather see Jensen smile than see his junk. He’d rather have the pulse at Jensen's throat against his skin than his hands down his pants.
Jensen works on math or something for a while. A few times, he pushes his fingers under the edge of his glasses and rubs at one eye then the other. He finally takes the glasses off altogether and closes both eyes, squeezing the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb. He looks about three minutes from passing out asleep and Jared has no idea what to do. The good manners he was raised with say to offer his guest a bedroom or at least a pillow. Having spent a few hours with Jensen though, he thinks the best he could hope for is Jensen becoming irritated with him, and the worst, he’d leave and go back to the dorms.
He’s not sure it’s good luck when the dogs start their barking and he hears dad’s car pulling up to the garage. Jensen startles to full wakefulness, and pushes down his sleeves and pant legs, quick like they’d been French kissing on the couch. His expression is calm, but Jared can see the flare of his nostrils and the hitch of his breathing as he tries to stay still. Color flushes his cheeks even before Jared’s dad bangs his way in the back door.
“JT!” his dad calls from the kitchen, “Can you help me get the groceries out of the--” He pokes his head into the living room and his jaw snaps shut. His smile is kind of funny, Jared thinks--half pleased and half-pained. “Oh. I didn’t know you had company.”
Jared grins. “Hey dad. This is my friend Jensen. Jensen, dad.”
Jensen stands, ducking his head and shifting on his feet. “Pleasure to meet you sir.” He gets the words out, but they sound like anything but a pleasure. He looks trapped, and Jared wants to step up and put a hand on his back, to ground him, reassure him, but he’s not sure how that’d go over.
“Ah, from the drawing class,” Jared’s dad says with an unruffled grin. “Nice meeting you too. Please, call me Jerry.” His eyes dart around, taking in the books and Jared’s sketchpads and the flush on Jensen's cheeks. Jensen sits again, fidgeting with the cuffs of his sleeves.
“Calculus? Really? I thought you were in the art program to get away from the math.” It’s an old joke told with a warm smile.
“That’s mine,” Jensen says, glancing away like he’s ashamed of being so smart, which Jared totally doesn’t get.
“What’s your major?” Jared’s dad asks, taking a seat in the vacant recliner near the couch. Jared kind of thinks that’s strange too. His dad’s friendly with his friends, but doesn’t usually put this much effort into getting to know them. And it’s so bad that he’s starting now, with Jensen, who doesn’t like people talking to him and is looking like he wishes the couch would swallow him.
“Pre-med,” Jensen replies, and Jared’s shocked for a second, because he never thought the guy was stupid, but man. That’s a serious life plan. “Molecular biology.” He can see how tight Jensen's throat is as he gets the words out. “I’m going into pathology.”
“Really.” Jerry says again, impressed. “Pathology. That’s a field with a nice strong future.” And then he meets Jared’s eye. And winks. Honest to God winks at him, and what the hell?
“Um, dad,” Jared interrupts, “You have groceries melting in the car still?”
His dad pulls an embarrassing Homer Simpson impersonation with his “Doh!”
“I’ll give you a hand,” Jared offers, as Jensen shoots him a quick look of intense gratitude.
“Oh, no, no. You spend time with your--friend. I’ll haul the groceries in. There aren’t really that many.” Weird just keeps getting weirder, and Jared wonders if he’s imagining that significant pause before his dad said ‘friend.’
“I need to put my clothes in the dryer,” Jensen says when Jerry goes out again. His gaze is on the carpet and his voice is quiet and flat. Jared gets up to go help, or maybe just hover so Jensen doesn’t make a break for the exit.
“Sorry about that--” Jared gestures vaguely at the back door. “I think my dad’s been out in the sun too long or something.” Jensen doesn’t smile, even when he adds, “I hope crazy isn’t hereditary or something.”
They move the laundry over, and Jared’s dad starts getting burgers ready for the grill. His mom has a late night, some PTA thing or whatever. Jensen tries to study, and Jared tries to draw, but the air’s full of tension now. The way Jensen's posing himself doesn’t look comfortable or natural and Jared’s wrist is too tight; he keeps drawing angles where he wants curves, scratching the paper with the charcoal where he wanted a gentle smudge.
By the time the back yard’s full of smoke and the dogs are sniffing around for dropsies, Megan is home from her track team practice. She takes one look at Jensen and then she’s all blushing and stammering worse than he is. She makes an effort to ask how he is and how long he’s known Jared before she gives up and runs upstairs.
“Jesus,” Jared breathes when she’s gone. “Is there something in the water? I’m sorry about that. So sorry.” He turns and yells so his voice carries up to Megan’s room, “If I’d known my family was crazy!” He lowers his voice again, “I’d never have said we should do this here.”
-------------
Jared’s family is crazy. His dad asks Jensen all these questions, and he tries to get them right. He thinks he must be fucking it up, because the man’s grin is strained, plastic. Jerry’s trying so hard, and Jensen wants to tell him not to worry about it, he’s just here for the one dinner, but that might make him ask more questions, so he keeps his mouth shut.
Jared’s little sister, Megan, is cute and nice but she stares so hard that Jensen feels the phantom tickles of food on his face or a stain on his shirt. Girls do this to him sometimes, stammering and flushing and laughing that weird high-pitched laugh. He’s never sure what it means, what the hell they want, and it creeps him out.
Jared’s mom comes home just as the burgers are coming off of the grill. Jared introduces them, and she promptly tells Jensen “Call me Sherri.” Then she hugs him, and he almost faints. He can’t remember the last time he was hugged. He works hard to avoid it, “It’s so nice to meet you,” she says, eyes bright and teeth flashing.
She doesn’t seem like she’s gonna let go until Jared whines a “Mommm” at her and makes this funny gesture with his head and she steps back, blushing like a schoolgirl. “Jesus,” Jared whispers, stepping in so that he’s between Jensen and his family. “I’m sorry,” he says, and Jensen starts to feel bad for him.
Dinner starts and Jensen tries to pick up the family routine, bowing his head as Jared says grace, following the taller man’s cue on when to snag burger and bun off the plate, which way to pass the mayo. It smells great, all mesquite-scented smoke and quality meat. His stomach roils, though. The day’s been long and he hasn’t slept well and, oh yeah, Jared’s family is crazy. He needs a minute, a chance to catch his breath and center himself down before he loses it.
“May I be excused?” he asks.
“Of course,” Jared’s mom tells him, a perfect June Cleaver slightly concerned smile on her lips.
He can feel their eyes on him as he leaves the table, headed for the bathroom. This was too much, so much more than he should have tried to do. He’s embarrassing himself, embarrassing Jared. He closes the bathroom door behind himself, standing there in front of the mirror. He takes his glasses off and splashes water on his face. Keep it together, he tells himself--don’t be a freak, don’t lose your shit; keep it together.
Jensen heads back for the kitchen--he hears voices though, Jared saying “He’s just a little shy, that’s all--” and he doesn’t want to hear more. The sliding glass door is on his way, and the dogs are wagging their tails as he walks near, hopeful expressions on their doggy faces. He’s never had a pet, and Garrett’s mom was allergic to everything with fur, but a dog’s never asked if he was retarded before, or cared if he froze and couldn’t think of what to say.
Jared’s dogs are friendly dogs, and Jensen opens the door far enough to slip out and join them in the yard. Just for a minute, he thinks, just for enough time to let Jared and his folks finish talking about him in peace.
The bigger dog, Harley, snuffles his hair when he crouches down. Sadie nudges at his hands, guiding him to her favorite scritchy spots. They’re warm and inviting and don’t think he’s a freak. He leans against the rough stucco of the house, letting the dogs soak the tension and fear from his heart. The sun’s down and the patio light’s on, attracting a big fat moth that bumps against the glass with an unsteady ‘tink tink’ noise.
The door slides open again, and Jensen bites down on the urge to startle up, to apologize for fleeing the dinner table. Show no fear, he whispers in his head.
“Hey,” Jared says, soft like Jensen might fall over if he’s too loud. Gentle, and Jensen's so surprised he has to look up to see.
Jared’s smiling like an angel, and he hunkers down next to Jensen. He’s got a plate that he holds over his head to keep the dogs out of.
“Your family’s really great,” Jensen says, to soften any offense he’s given.
“For crazy people.” Jared grins crookedly, and Jensen can hear the love in his voice. Jared’s--God, Jared’s just beautiful and it makes his eyes all blurry. “Sorry they were being so weird today.”
Jensen's mouth twitches. It’s funny to hear somebody besides him called weird.
“I brought your dinner out,” Jared says, “Mine too, but if you wanna eat alone that’s fine too. I just--whatever works best for you.”
And after the emotional pressure-cooker of the family kitchen, sitting alone with Jared seems easy by comparison. “That would be nice,” he murmurs, “Us, I mean. Eating together.”
Jared smiles again, and leads the way to the picnic table. Jared talks, but he’s just saying stuff, not asking questions, and that’s nice. He tells Jensen about when his mom brought Sadie home, this little puppy so skinny the vet warned them she’d probably die. He talks about how Jerry never finished his degree, but he says after the kids all graduate that he’ll go start over, because an education is a worthy endeavor at any age. He talks about how much work the art classes in college are, but fun too. He tells stories of his older brother, always bringing girls home, getting into trouble, until he found the one who turned him down and that was the one he had to marry.
Jared says that he’s worried a little, about being an artist. He figures he can be happy living on very little; he’s learned to tell the difference between what he wants and what he needs. He needs to express himself, needs to make people smile or think or feel. He really wants to help with Megan’s tuition though, and he doesn’t know how an artist can do that in the first couple years. He talks about maybe teaching, if he can, or doing some side-work like faux finishing for house-painters.
Jensen eats his burger, and he listens. He cares what Jared has to say. He likes listening to the sound of his voice. It’s been a long time since he spent time with somebody new and didn’t feel that clench in his gut, that dread that at any second, things would go terribly wrong and he’d look stupid and the budding friendship would wither and die, leaving him hurt and alone and a failure. Jared feels safe, with his big grin and his bright eyes and dimples that go on forever.
“I’ve got an eight AM class,” Jensen says as the chorus of crickets starts up in the back yard. He hopes the regret he feels shows in his voice.
“No problem,” Jared says, “I’ll help you pack your stuff.”
He carries the laundry bag out to the truck. Jensen has his backpack over one shoulder and the Tupperware Sherri gave him in his hands. He feels a little like he won the lottery. He’s got a new friend (maybe), clean clothes, food for a few days, and he didn’t lose too much time on his schoolwork.
Jared’s quiet for the ride back, it doesn’t seem like he’s sulking, just comfortable. Jensen watches him from the side of his vision, in the reflection on the glass. When Jared pulls up to the curb, Jensen's almost disappointed.
“Hey,” he hears himself say, and wonders if there really was some free-floating craziness at Jared’s house that’s latched onto him now. “Garrett’s got a baseball game tomorrow. Interested?”
Jared grins, and Jensen feels the thrill of knowing he did that. “I’d love it,” Jared says, and Jensen bites the inside of his lip to keep from beaming like a dork.
“Game starts at six,” he says, opening the truck door and stepping out into the night. “We’ll be down by the dugout.”
“I’ll be there,” Jared promises, and Jensen slams the door before he can fuck it up. He grabs his laundry bag out of the back and forces himself not to run across the grass to his dorm.
He looks back, just once, and sees Jared still there in his truck, a puzzled expression on his face.
-------------------
Jared sits in the truck, watching to make sure Jensen gets to the dorm’s doors okay. Or maybe so he can watch Jensen for a few minutes more. That’s like--almost the same thing, right?
Jensen's words twist around in Jared’s head. “We’ll be down by the dugout,” he’d said. Not “I.” Garrett will be in the dugout, won’t he? So who the heck is “we?”
The question bugs him all the way back home.
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i love this story and the slow build and getting to know both
love the "crazy" family of jared!
more please!
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This is a wonderful chapter..I love how embarrassed you have Jared being by his familys reaction to Jensen..I love his familys reaction to Jensen...I love how much Jared loves his family despite being embarressed and I love your Jesen...he's so messed up it hurts and yet so so fascinating...
" but a dog's never asked if he was retarded before, or cared if he froze and couldn't think what to say"
That line is awesome....it just says so much about Jensen and how other people react to him, and I love the glimpses into what Garret means to him, that you have throughout this whole story.
And pathology...thats a really cool career choice for Jensen and fitting I guess..cause he wouldn't have to interact with his patients...
So yeah, lving this so much, you have such a brilliant way with words...awesome.
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I knew a guy that reminds
Re: I knew a guy that reminds
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You know what? You did it! Rereading it now, I can say with absolutely no doubt that the last nice you chose was perfect!
I love this Jensen so much and Jerry is so much fun!
And the questioning? Seriously, the questioning is such a big give away. I love it! But you know that already!
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Can't wait for more.
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I really enjoyed Jared's family. Their reaction to Jensen left me feeling that, despite being a friendly person, Jared maybe does not have that many friends. I also got the suspicion that Jared's father seems to know his son is gay, even if Jared does not know it himself.
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(Anonymous) 2007-07-21 09:23 pm (UTC)(link)(no subject)
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So I'm wondering if Jared is really all that social, despite being friendly? Having a strong artistic gift can be hard, sometimes, between the temperament/needing time and space to seriously work/seeing things differently than others do...and let's not forget the possibility of his being gay or bi. I'm sure the assumptions of others are something he's had to deal with at some time; or his family has, if Jared's not been paying attention.
I thought the bit where Jensen was talking about his long-term career plans and Jerry winked about it being "a field with a nice strong future" was cute. You could practically see the "Snap this one up, boy!" comment being bitten back.
Jensen inviting Jared to the game is a very positive sign. He's feeling more comfortable, and letting a new friend mix with established ones is a step forward. Once Garret has a chance to inspect Jared up close a little further and accept that he means no harm, he'll be important in convincing Jensen that something real's being built-it's not imagination or wishful thinking. And, too, give Jared a Jensen-interpreter.
Jensen's self-consciousness and over-thinking seems completely believable to me. He's very smart, which is isolating enough; he's smart in a science-geekery way, which is ditto; he's shy, which is *excruciating* to live with, I know! He *is* very fucked-up, but realistically so. (I was writhing through dinner right along with him.)
This chapter is important, because it shows Jensen's got personality under the layers of screwedupedness; and that maybe Jared isn't as problem-free as one might think at first glance.
Pesti
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you made my cat panic! *snorfles*
Re: you made my cat panic! *snorfles*
I like discussions
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(Anonymous) 2007-07-22 05:58 am (UTC)(link)Love that Jensen wants to be a pathologist--not much patient contact. Perfect for someone so incomfortable with strangers.
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I love Megan's reaction.
And I am, as always, delighted to see fic with dog-bonding Jensen. There can never be too much dog-bonding Jensen.
But I felt so sorry for him, all worried that they're talking about him!
And I'm so glad he got up his nerve about the ball game.
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broken!Jensen is tugging at my heart strings, and I'm intrigued--wondering what it is in his background (i.e., what has happened to him) that has made him so fragile, emotionally. Or, whether, it might not be that, at all, but something intrinsic to his personality--some kind of OCD or other mental condition.
And the fact that you have this shy, broken boy choose to earn money by taking off his clothes and modeling for art students presents us with a fascinating dichotomy.
Great stuff.
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