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[personal profile] elohvee
and cut.
CWRPS. Jared/Jensen. R. Approx. 560 words. Because I'm feeling prolific tonight. For Kate, because I love her madly. *kisses*


They fuck for the first time in the hospital. The hospital set, anyway, for that one episode where Dean's got the health problem and the death wish, and Jared puts his hands on Jensen's shoulders and his thigh between Jen's legs and smirks and says, So. Think your heart can handle this?

And Jensen laughs and says, Fuck you, man. And then, Shit, stop. You hear something?

Jared shrugs one shoulder. I think you're just tryin' to get out of this, he says. And he grins. 'Cause you know I know you're a bottom, and you—

Jensen rolls his eyes and says, Shut up and get out of your pants, man.

::

On the couch in Jen's apartment with a case worth of empty beer bottles on the table, Jared mindlessly changes channels, pausing to examine Pamela Anderson's boobs or the US sports highlights. You know, whatever.

Jensen ruffles the pages of his script and takes a sip of his beer. He scratches at the back of his neck and says, Sam sure gets tied up a lot. They write to your character well.

Jared grins and flips him off on principle. Blow me, he says and yawns, and clicks off the TV. It's nothing but politics and infomercials anyway.

Jen tips his head to one side, considers, and says, You get come on my couch and I swear to god I'll—

::

They argue over the proper way to make scrambled eggs and don't speak for two days.

They mock Vancouver weather together and their mothers send them care packages with parkas in October, concerned their babies will never find coats in Canada.

They tackle each other and rough house on the floor until one of them cries uncle and Jensen's back is carpet-burned and rubbed red.

Sometimes, they spend the night, fuck in the mornings before Jensen gets up to make coffee because he says Jared's understanding of proportions is all wrong. Jared makes toast, vindictive, and doesn't manage to burn a single slice. He shows off the chipped blue plate like a prize, and opens his mouth to say something, to taunt, but Jen just interrupts him with his tongue.

::

On a Thursday, they get drunk and get a cab to keep out of the rain, go to Jared's and try every key on the ring before they can unlock the door. The dogs greet them with playful barks and floppy, wet tongues, and they scratch and whine at the bedroom door when it's closed and Jen's got his fingers curling around Jared's dick.

He's smiling when he says, What d'you want? Tell me. His hand keeps moving, relentless, and he leans in to bite at the shell of Jared's ear. Tell me.

Jared moans, incoherent, and comes before he can answer.

::

In the morning, they go to work wearing sunglasses and Jared makes Blues Brothers jokes over a bottle of aspirin.

Fuck, like Dean would drive a Cadillac, Jen mutters and presses two fingers to his temple.

Jared brings him coffee in a melting Styrofoam mug, and he says, You're a god, man. He reaches for his script and starts running lines in his head. Jared laughs and walks away.

They spend the rest of the day stepping on each other's cues and cutting each other off, and they still laugh whenever they do, every single time.
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