Fic: Rollerball (J2, nc-17, 4/6)
Aug. 22nd, 2007 12:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ladyjanellyTitle:Rollerball
Author:Ladyjanelly
Movie Adapted: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0246894/
Genre: CW RPS
Characters/Pairings:Jared/Jensen
Rating:NC-17
Word Count: 10,202. Done.
Warnings: violence
Notes/Credits: Thanks to Jellicle for looking over this for me and giving me hand-holding and feed-back.
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended; fair use only. Not created for profit.
Jensen sleeps for maybe three hours in the car, the isolation and hum of the road making him feel safe. As soon as they’re back to the hotel though, his worries come crashing back on him. He’d thought that was it, out on the track, when “The Tank” had broadsided him. He’d thought today was the day they were done with him, when his bloody end would make good ratings.
He has to get out, and that’s no joke. This game will kill him surer than cancer.
The kid tries to follow him to bed, and God, as much as he’d like to not be alone, he knows the freakin’ hotel room is bugged like the car. He can’t risk Jared saying something that the company will hear.
He can’t risk becoming emotionally attached to someone the company sent him. It’d be stupid and Jensen hasn't survived this long by being an idiot.
Alone in his room, Jensen works on the plan in his head. He’s got a new asset, maybe a liability too. He wants to play fair with Jared, let him earn Jensen's trust. First, he needs to know what he has to work with.
----------
Ackles’ toes to his ribs wakes Jared up in the morning. And okay, so it’s not really a kick so much as a nudge, but Jared’s not even in the mood.
“Why are you such an asshole?” he whines and stretches his aching limbs. Floors suck. Sleeping on floors sucks even more.
Ackles hands him a plain black helmet. “You skate?”
Jared can totally see why they needed to hire somebody to keep this guy alive. If it wasn’t his job, Jared would kill him himself.
“Now?”
Ackles reaches down and grabs Jared’s hand, hauling him up to his feet. “Now. Do you skate?”
Jared scrubs a hand over his face. “A little. Not like you guys.”
Ackles steers him over to the couch and starts strapping protective gear to his knees and elbows and wrists. There’s something hot about another man touching him like that, all business but in his personal space. Jared hasn’t even lost his morning wood, and Jensen on his knees at Jared’s feet isn’t helping--the thin tank-top and loose, low-slung pants either.
Sure, strong hands tape Jared’s ankles with white sports tape. “You’ll have less sensitivity this way, but I can’t afford to have you out with a sprain.” Then he puts a pair of heavy rollerblades on Jared’s feet, lacing them up so tight he thinks his feet will be numb in minutes.
Ackles puts on his own skates and a pair of gloves. Jared feels stupidly over-protected as they clomp out of the room and to the elevator. Wheels and carpet don’t work so well together and he catches himself on the brass rail to keep from going down. The lobby’s worse, the waxed and polished marble too-slick under his wheels.
“Come on,” Ackles says, surprisingly patient, “You can’t walk, you have to push, glide.”
“What am I doing here?” Jared asks when they hit the outside. The sun is just starting to lighten the horizon and the streetlights are still on. The rough cement of the sidewalk gives him enough friction to get his balance, and he starts to move better.
Jensen glances behind them, and Jared follows his gaze to a big black car, slowly pulling away from the curb at their hotel. Jared knows a tail when he sees one.
“We losin’ them?” he asks without looking over at Ackles.
“Not yet. I work out every morning; they’re used to this. Get your feet under you; I want to see what you can do.”
So they skate, Jared scuttling along while Ackles glides around him. He moves like the hawk he’s nicknamed for, swooshing up and down the street, sliding down rails and bouncing off of walls on his wheels. Just killing time and trying not to be bored out of his head keeping the pace so slow. Jared wonders what the usual morning workout looks like without a noob to slow him down.
Jared doesn’t even realize how Ackles is herding him, guiding him, until they slip down an alley too narrow for the car.
“Move,” Jensen says, pointing the way, and Jared goes, doing his best. He hasn’t felt this awkward since he was twelve and hit that growth spurt. They roll through alleyways and down sidewalks and through a tiny little park. At a deep doorway, Ackles grabs Jared’s arm and stops them, swinging Jared around and up against the wall.
They stand there for a moment, Ackles’ head cocked to the side like he’s listening for their pursuit.
“We can talk now,” Ackles says when he’s decided they’re in the clear. “What do you want? What are they offering you, what do I have to trump to get your loyalty?”
Jared shivers. Jensen's so close, up in his personal space. He’s so direct, not playing the games everyone else does in this new world. He’s never seen eyes like Jensen's, burning in their intensity.
“I want to go home,” Jared says before he can stop himself, before he can figure out what his opening bid should be for the haggling. “I want to get back to the states. Back to Texas.”
Jensen's eyes narrow. “They tell you to say that?”
Jared’s skates and safety gear suddenly feel more dangerous than protective as Ackles leans in against his chest. If they fight here, he’s not going to be able to keep his feet, never mind getting enough balance to throw much of a punch. Jensen fights on skates for a living.
“No, man. They don’t even know that’s what I want their money for.” He tries to push every bit of earnestness he has out through his eyes, to force Ackles to believe him. “I got stuck here during the crash, no money to get back; my parents lost their house, their jobs, nobody can afford to send me a ticket.” He fights back the stupid display of emotion that threatens to choke him.
“I haven’t--I haven’t even spoken to them in a year. I just want to go home.”
He expects Ackles to laugh at him or deck him. Instead, he steps back, the permafrost thawed in his eyes. “Okay,” he says, like he’s come to some great conclusion, “Okay. I can work with that.”
-------
Istanbul
“Here,” Ackles whispers in the arena parking lot as he slides a cell-phone into Jared’s hand. “Don’t use it in the hotel room or the car or anywhere the company has control over the security cameras.”
Jared looks down at the phone, a quick glance before he hides it in his pocket. It’s got the logo of one of the pre-paid companies. Virtually untraceable.
“Do you understand?” Ackles asks, impatient. Jared bobbles his head in agreement.
“No problem. Jensen, where did you get this?” They’ve been together all day every day since the first time they met. Except when Jensen closed the bedroom door at night, which Jared still didn’t get, and who the heck tips whores with expensive cell-phones when they’re not even fucking?
“It doesn’t matter,” he whispers back, waving for the flashing cameras of his fans. His smile is hard and fake, but it’ll make good posters, good television stills. “There’s five hundred US minutes on there. Don’t let it go to waste.”
A part of Jared feels sick, knowing this stupid phone cost half what it would take to get home. Ackles could just send him home; he’s apparently got the money to do it. He doesn’t know why this particular customer’s selfishness pisses him off so bad, but it does.
Jared’s angry all through the game, through helping Jensen dress before and undress after. He’s angry as Ackles drives them back to the hotel. He’s pissed off when Ackles gets off the elevator at their floor, and points Jared down the hall. “Switch to the service elevator, go up on the roof. Make sure they don’t follow you.”
In a corner of the roof, between some air conditioner thing and the wall, he calls information and fights the long-distance phone codes. The last time he talked to his family, they were losing the house, and he’s not surprised the home phone number is long gone. He goes through his memories, trying to think of where his parents would have gone, who would give them shelter. He hits dead ends--friends who haven’t heard from them in months, disconnected lines. Finally, finally he gets a number for his great-aunt Betty that rings through.
He hates Ackles, right up until the moment Betty hands his mom the phone. Her voice is scratchy and hollow over all that distance, but still his momma’s.
“JT? Jared! Oh, God, we’d been so worried.”
Jared’s crying like a baby, and he’s almost glad he couldn’t make this call in the hotel room or anywhere that anybody might see him like this. “I’m okay,” he says. “I’m okay, momma. I’m trying to get home.”
---------
There’s a bar in the flashier part of the city. There’s always a bar.
It’s a game, pretending to drink, pretending to laugh and have a good time. Some of the others know he’s faking--Costas, probably Misha. Those who almost knew him, before. They’re way on the other side of the club though.
Jared’s standing a few feet away, leaning against the wall, trying to be a bodyguard without looking like he’s squashing Jensen's good time.
There’s a dark haired girl grinding in Jensen’s lap, pretty enough, for a girl. It’s what people expect of him, the fans, the hard-partying crowd around them. Her eyes are dark and her lips too red, but she reminds him of home, of the sweet Latinas he knew there. There’s a similarity in their exoticness, and he tries to lose himself in her body rocking against his, tries to forget the tall man beside him who makes him ache for Texas.
Not-thinking about Jared forces him to think of him. Jensen can’t help but look up, and Jesus, how did the kid survive this long with that crappy a poker face. Everything Jared’s feeling is written in the lines of his face--his anger, jealousy, pain. It hurts just to look at him and Jensen's stomach twists. This--it can’t mean what the kid wants it to, but Jensen isn’t in the mood to kick puppies tonight. It’s not worth it, too much work, too much fallout, just to get his rocks off.
“Get off me,” he says to the girl, and when she smiles and grinds down against him, he pushes her off his lap.
“I said, go away,” he tells her, shooing her off with an imperious wave of his hand. Fuck this. If they’re gonna call him an asshole anyway, he can get away with being one. The chick finds her footing, standing and screaming in Jensen's face in whatever foreign language they speak around here.
Then Jared’s there between them, all “Look, I’m really sorry, but you need to leave now,” his voice all reasonable and calm, and she goes.
“The hell was that?” Jared asks, leaning in to be heard over the pounding bass of the club.
“No fucking style,” Jensen hollers back, knowing that neither of them believe it.
“Anyone tell you you’re picky as shit?” Jared teases, but there’s an edge to it, and Jensen figures he’s been taking all those nights with the bedroom door shut and all those days spent not-fucking to heart.
He can’t say “I want you so bad it’s dangerous” or “I can’t afford to fuck someone I care about,” so he snickers and waves the comment off, promising himself that when this is all over, he’ll do something, anything to make it up to the kid.
-------
Author:Ladyjanelly
Movie Adapted: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0246894/
Genre: CW RPS
Characters/Pairings:Jared/Jensen
Rating:NC-17
Word Count: 10,202. Done.
Warnings: violence
Notes/Credits: Thanks to Jellicle for looking over this for me and giving me hand-holding and feed-back.
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended; fair use only. Not created for profit.
Jensen sleeps for maybe three hours in the car, the isolation and hum of the road making him feel safe. As soon as they’re back to the hotel though, his worries come crashing back on him. He’d thought that was it, out on the track, when “The Tank” had broadsided him. He’d thought today was the day they were done with him, when his bloody end would make good ratings.
He has to get out, and that’s no joke. This game will kill him surer than cancer.
The kid tries to follow him to bed, and God, as much as he’d like to not be alone, he knows the freakin’ hotel room is bugged like the car. He can’t risk Jared saying something that the company will hear.
He can’t risk becoming emotionally attached to someone the company sent him. It’d be stupid and Jensen hasn't survived this long by being an idiot.
Alone in his room, Jensen works on the plan in his head. He’s got a new asset, maybe a liability too. He wants to play fair with Jared, let him earn Jensen's trust. First, he needs to know what he has to work with.
----------
Ackles’ toes to his ribs wakes Jared up in the morning. And okay, so it’s not really a kick so much as a nudge, but Jared’s not even in the mood.
“Why are you such an asshole?” he whines and stretches his aching limbs. Floors suck. Sleeping on floors sucks even more.
Ackles hands him a plain black helmet. “You skate?”
Jared can totally see why they needed to hire somebody to keep this guy alive. If it wasn’t his job, Jared would kill him himself.
“Now?”
Ackles reaches down and grabs Jared’s hand, hauling him up to his feet. “Now. Do you skate?”
Jared scrubs a hand over his face. “A little. Not like you guys.”
Ackles steers him over to the couch and starts strapping protective gear to his knees and elbows and wrists. There’s something hot about another man touching him like that, all business but in his personal space. Jared hasn’t even lost his morning wood, and Jensen on his knees at Jared’s feet isn’t helping--the thin tank-top and loose, low-slung pants either.
Sure, strong hands tape Jared’s ankles with white sports tape. “You’ll have less sensitivity this way, but I can’t afford to have you out with a sprain.” Then he puts a pair of heavy rollerblades on Jared’s feet, lacing them up so tight he thinks his feet will be numb in minutes.
Ackles puts on his own skates and a pair of gloves. Jared feels stupidly over-protected as they clomp out of the room and to the elevator. Wheels and carpet don’t work so well together and he catches himself on the brass rail to keep from going down. The lobby’s worse, the waxed and polished marble too-slick under his wheels.
“Come on,” Ackles says, surprisingly patient, “You can’t walk, you have to push, glide.”
“What am I doing here?” Jared asks when they hit the outside. The sun is just starting to lighten the horizon and the streetlights are still on. The rough cement of the sidewalk gives him enough friction to get his balance, and he starts to move better.
Jensen glances behind them, and Jared follows his gaze to a big black car, slowly pulling away from the curb at their hotel. Jared knows a tail when he sees one.
“We losin’ them?” he asks without looking over at Ackles.
“Not yet. I work out every morning; they’re used to this. Get your feet under you; I want to see what you can do.”
So they skate, Jared scuttling along while Ackles glides around him. He moves like the hawk he’s nicknamed for, swooshing up and down the street, sliding down rails and bouncing off of walls on his wheels. Just killing time and trying not to be bored out of his head keeping the pace so slow. Jared wonders what the usual morning workout looks like without a noob to slow him down.
Jared doesn’t even realize how Ackles is herding him, guiding him, until they slip down an alley too narrow for the car.
“Move,” Jensen says, pointing the way, and Jared goes, doing his best. He hasn’t felt this awkward since he was twelve and hit that growth spurt. They roll through alleyways and down sidewalks and through a tiny little park. At a deep doorway, Ackles grabs Jared’s arm and stops them, swinging Jared around and up against the wall.
They stand there for a moment, Ackles’ head cocked to the side like he’s listening for their pursuit.
“We can talk now,” Ackles says when he’s decided they’re in the clear. “What do you want? What are they offering you, what do I have to trump to get your loyalty?”
Jared shivers. Jensen's so close, up in his personal space. He’s so direct, not playing the games everyone else does in this new world. He’s never seen eyes like Jensen's, burning in their intensity.
“I want to go home,” Jared says before he can stop himself, before he can figure out what his opening bid should be for the haggling. “I want to get back to the states. Back to Texas.”
Jensen's eyes narrow. “They tell you to say that?”
Jared’s skates and safety gear suddenly feel more dangerous than protective as Ackles leans in against his chest. If they fight here, he’s not going to be able to keep his feet, never mind getting enough balance to throw much of a punch. Jensen fights on skates for a living.
“No, man. They don’t even know that’s what I want their money for.” He tries to push every bit of earnestness he has out through his eyes, to force Ackles to believe him. “I got stuck here during the crash, no money to get back; my parents lost their house, their jobs, nobody can afford to send me a ticket.” He fights back the stupid display of emotion that threatens to choke him.
“I haven’t--I haven’t even spoken to them in a year. I just want to go home.”
He expects Ackles to laugh at him or deck him. Instead, he steps back, the permafrost thawed in his eyes. “Okay,” he says, like he’s come to some great conclusion, “Okay. I can work with that.”
-------
Istanbul
“Here,” Ackles whispers in the arena parking lot as he slides a cell-phone into Jared’s hand. “Don’t use it in the hotel room or the car or anywhere the company has control over the security cameras.”
Jared looks down at the phone, a quick glance before he hides it in his pocket. It’s got the logo of one of the pre-paid companies. Virtually untraceable.
“Do you understand?” Ackles asks, impatient. Jared bobbles his head in agreement.
“No problem. Jensen, where did you get this?” They’ve been together all day every day since the first time they met. Except when Jensen closed the bedroom door at night, which Jared still didn’t get, and who the heck tips whores with expensive cell-phones when they’re not even fucking?
“It doesn’t matter,” he whispers back, waving for the flashing cameras of his fans. His smile is hard and fake, but it’ll make good posters, good television stills. “There’s five hundred US minutes on there. Don’t let it go to waste.”
A part of Jared feels sick, knowing this stupid phone cost half what it would take to get home. Ackles could just send him home; he’s apparently got the money to do it. He doesn’t know why this particular customer’s selfishness pisses him off so bad, but it does.
Jared’s angry all through the game, through helping Jensen dress before and undress after. He’s angry as Ackles drives them back to the hotel. He’s pissed off when Ackles gets off the elevator at their floor, and points Jared down the hall. “Switch to the service elevator, go up on the roof. Make sure they don’t follow you.”
In a corner of the roof, between some air conditioner thing and the wall, he calls information and fights the long-distance phone codes. The last time he talked to his family, they were losing the house, and he’s not surprised the home phone number is long gone. He goes through his memories, trying to think of where his parents would have gone, who would give them shelter. He hits dead ends--friends who haven’t heard from them in months, disconnected lines. Finally, finally he gets a number for his great-aunt Betty that rings through.
He hates Ackles, right up until the moment Betty hands his mom the phone. Her voice is scratchy and hollow over all that distance, but still his momma’s.
“JT? Jared! Oh, God, we’d been so worried.”
Jared’s crying like a baby, and he’s almost glad he couldn’t make this call in the hotel room or anywhere that anybody might see him like this. “I’m okay,” he says. “I’m okay, momma. I’m trying to get home.”
---------
There’s a bar in the flashier part of the city. There’s always a bar.
It’s a game, pretending to drink, pretending to laugh and have a good time. Some of the others know he’s faking--Costas, probably Misha. Those who almost knew him, before. They’re way on the other side of the club though.
Jared’s standing a few feet away, leaning against the wall, trying to be a bodyguard without looking like he’s squashing Jensen's good time.
There’s a dark haired girl grinding in Jensen’s lap, pretty enough, for a girl. It’s what people expect of him, the fans, the hard-partying crowd around them. Her eyes are dark and her lips too red, but she reminds him of home, of the sweet Latinas he knew there. There’s a similarity in their exoticness, and he tries to lose himself in her body rocking against his, tries to forget the tall man beside him who makes him ache for Texas.
Not-thinking about Jared forces him to think of him. Jensen can’t help but look up, and Jesus, how did the kid survive this long with that crappy a poker face. Everything Jared’s feeling is written in the lines of his face--his anger, jealousy, pain. It hurts just to look at him and Jensen's stomach twists. This--it can’t mean what the kid wants it to, but Jensen isn’t in the mood to kick puppies tonight. It’s not worth it, too much work, too much fallout, just to get his rocks off.
“Get off me,” he says to the girl, and when she smiles and grinds down against him, he pushes her off his lap.
“I said, go away,” he tells her, shooing her off with an imperious wave of his hand. Fuck this. If they’re gonna call him an asshole anyway, he can get away with being one. The chick finds her footing, standing and screaming in Jensen's face in whatever foreign language they speak around here.
Then Jared’s there between them, all “Look, I’m really sorry, but you need to leave now,” his voice all reasonable and calm, and she goes.
“The hell was that?” Jared asks, leaning in to be heard over the pounding bass of the club.
“No fucking style,” Jensen hollers back, knowing that neither of them believe it.
“Anyone tell you you’re picky as shit?” Jared teases, but there’s an edge to it, and Jensen figures he’s been taking all those nights with the bedroom door shut and all those days spent not-fucking to heart.
He can’t say “I want you so bad it’s dangerous” or “I can’t afford to fuck someone I care about,” so he snickers and waves the comment off, promising himself that when this is all over, he’ll do something, anything to make it up to the kid.
-------
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-08-22 06:45 pm (UTC)this is rapidly becoming one of
my most faves!
no subject
Date: 2007-08-22 07:01 pm (UTC)More tonight. I should finish the epilogue and then post all the chapters to be in compliance with the challenge (and not use the extention)
no subject
Date: 2007-08-22 06:53 pm (UTC)I'm keen to know what plan Jensen is hatching. He definitely seems to have something up his sleeve.
I also like how Jensen's character has become so sympathetic while still retaining his A-hole quirks.
no subject
Date: 2007-08-22 07:00 pm (UTC)I think I'm the first person to write Rollerball fic. How silly is that?
Dude, he's such a dick, but I still enjoy writing him like this. I think it's 'cause he doesnt want to be this way, he's backed into a corner.
He definitely has a plan. A good plan, even, unless he gets screwed over.
no subject
Date: 2007-08-22 08:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-22 06:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-22 07:02 pm (UTC)It's doing strange things to my head, writing this fast. Hope the end is as good as the slower-written beginning.
no subject
Date: 2007-08-22 07:21 pm (UTC)I love the interactions between the boys and am curious to know more on Jensen's back story, how did he end up in such a place and what really happened to him along the way. The guy has such anger and bitterness that hint at so much more than what Jared knows so far.
I'm all pins and needles to find out what happens next!
no subject
Date: 2007-08-22 09:09 pm (UTC)Added in a little at your request. :)
I'll probably post the rest tonight.
Thank you so much for all the love you've shown this fic. I know it's not my usual thing or a lot of people's cup of tea.
Hope the rest of it lives up to your expectations.
no subject
Date: 2007-08-22 11:14 pm (UTC)You added a little for me? I'm so touched, thank you!
I think it's an amazing fic and you've done spectacularly with it. I hope that even if someone thinks this fic might not be up their alley, that they would give it a chance, cause they are seriously missing out otherwise.
No doubt it will exceed my expectations cause you are awesome that way. Can't wait till the last part goes up!
no subject
Date: 2007-08-22 11:17 pm (UTC)I've never ever written this much this fast. Ever. I feel kinda dizzy, and I worry about the ending.
I think I need to put a note on it that it's not much like the movie and I've used no movie dialog or characters at all. That might help. :)
no subject
Date: 2007-08-23 12:54 am (UTC)I have to confess that I've never seen the movie so I have no idea how much the movie influenced things since I don't have anything to compare. Is it worth seeing?
no subject
Date: 2007-08-23 01:05 am (UTC)the movie had:
The game
Cheezy pseudo-european accents
Jensen's goal (but the character is very very different)
Um, I think that's about it.
I think I'm gonna take tonight off of writing (even though I have scra-verse ideas) and draw sketches of Jensen in a hoodie for the model-verse.
no subject
Date: 2007-08-23 03:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-22 11:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-23 12:50 am (UTC)I didn't even think anything was really missing, I thought maybe I was being greedy for wanting more info. ;-)
no subject
Date: 2007-08-23 01:07 am (UTC)Thanks. It was very much appreciated, greedy or not. Someone else was really worried thye'd fall together too easy and I'd lose the tension, and that was very flattering too.
I think in this case, the deadline helped me, because I would have wandered around and taken too long with the falling action. This forced me to a cleaner end.
no subject
Date: 2007-08-22 07:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-22 09:11 pm (UTC)That's the cool thing about fanfiction--I think the reader has a little more trust that the characters will redeem themselves, are a little more willing to forgive.
Jensen's like a tiger in a cage, going nuts to get his freedom, biting anybody that comes by.
no subject
Date: 2007-08-22 08:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-22 09:20 pm (UTC)The phone-anger was a surprise for me as the writer too.
I wanted jared to be excited about the phone, for it to be a big-deal and a trust-builder. But if it didn't cost much or was easy to get, he couldhave gotten it himself. And then when he/I realized how else that cash could have been spent, he got real pissed.
I live for when my characters surprise me. Totally.
no subject
Date: 2007-08-22 10:41 pm (UTC)OOOHHHHH MY GOOOOOD. JUST... work tomorrow be DAMNED, i'm reading this all over again tomorrow.
(Uhm, sorry if my previous comment in chapter 2 was all waffley and stuff- you've already proven to me in these last two chapters the direction this will be taking and i am enjoying it! )
xxx ♥
no subject
Date: 2007-08-22 11:07 pm (UTC)I finished writing it and plan on posting the rest tonight to meet the reel_spn un-extended deadline. I've never actually ifnished a challenge in time before and I want it to be official. :)
no subject
Date: 2007-10-11 03:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-11 08:16 pm (UTC)Jen's really too soft to be doing what he's doing and it's fucking him up.