rivers_bend

For deirdre_c who asked for J2: slippery when wet
Title: Slippery When Wet (or something clever and original)
Genre: J2 H/C
Words: ~500
Rating: PG-13 (talk of sex)
Summary: Jared probably shouldn't wash the floor first thing on a Sunday morning


"Jensen, don't—"

It's morning, there was alcohol last night, lots of alcohol, and Jensen's reaction time is way too slow. His flailing arms and the ceiling are replacing the coffee maker in Jensen's line of sight before his brain even processes that Jared spoke. His back and then his head hit the floor, and the universe narrows down to pain and embarrassment.

When Jensen gets his eyes open, Jared is right there and it's like they're filming mystery spot all over again: Jared torn between wanting to laugh and getting ready to cry.

"I'm okay," Jensen says, and tries to sit up, but that feels like being hit in the head with an axe, so he decides to stay where he is for just another minute.

"You're not," Jared corrects, and gently runs his fingers over Jensen's scalp. "But you will be," he adds once he's satisfied.

Jensen's feeling better already, and is about to try sitting up again when Jared picks him up, like he hardly weighs anything, and with exaggerated care, carries Jensen over to the sofa.

"Um," Jensen says, because he's not a child, and he didn't break his legs, but Jared's got a hand under his neck, and is doing comforting things with pillows, and Jensen loses the rest of his protest. Then, when Jared stands upright again, and Jensen remembers that he doesn't need to be treated like a baby, before he can say anything, Jared's gone, murmuring something about pain killers and coffee, and Jensen's totally not going to protest that.

Jared comes back with a mug, a bottle of pills, a glass of water and an ice pack. Crazy giant hands. He says, "Someone spilled a bottle of red on the floor. I thought I should clean it up," and hands Jensen the pills and the water.

Jensen is very proud of the fact that me manages to swallow them down without spilling. "What did God tell us about Sunday, Jared? It's supposed to be a day of rest."

"I thought it was supposed to be a day of sex," Jared says, making Jensen laugh. Which hurts his head, but he doesn't care.

Jared puts the coffee down next to his own mug on the table, and then maneuvers Jensen so Jared's propped in the corner of the sofa and Jensen is leaning on his chest. He puts the ice pack right where Jensen hurts most, shivering when Jensen leans back, which puts the ice on Jared's shoulder, too.

They sit and sip their coffee until the pills and ice combine to make Jensen feel better, and then Jensen stands and tugs Jared towards the stairs.

"So," Jared says, when they're half-way up, "you ever fucked to Bon Jovi before? I've got Slippery When Wet up here somewhere."

"I hate you," Jensen says, and he totally does. Except for how he maybe loves him.

For beckaandzac who asked for non-AU J2? Something best-friendy
Title: Gives You Wings
Genre: J2 friendship
Words: 625
Rating: PG
Summary: Jared, Jensen, and flikr albums of the Red Bull Soapbox Derby


It's cold and miserable outside, hovering around freezing so the stuff falling from the sky doesn't know whether it's snow or rain, but it's a day off, and the heating works, and there's food in the fridge, so it's all good. Jared's chuckling to himself over in the corner with his laptop while Jensen's noodling around on his guitar, pushing through the discomfort in his fingertips, there because it's been too damn long since he took the time.

"Your sister sending you stupid jokes again?" Jensen asks, grinning, because it's pretty much impossible not to grin when Jared Padalecki so much as cracks a smile, never mind when he's cracking himself up.

"Nah," Jared answers. "Just remembering."

"Remembering?" Jensen cranes his neck, but he can't see Jared's screen from his chair.

Jared stands and brings the laptop over, settles on the floor between Jensen's knees, puts the computer on the coffee table. He's on flikr, watching a slideshow of pictures from the soapbox car thing they did at the beginning of the year. All the pictures seem to be of them, in their matching jerseys, with Jared looking tanned and huge and delighted about the whole thing, and Jensen looking a little less of everything except maybe the delighted.

"That was really kind of insanely fun," Jensen agrees, laughing himself when a picture of Jared jumping up to do a fist pump appears on screen.

"You thought we were going to die," Jared reminds him.

"They were literally wedging us into tin cans and rolling us down a hill."

"I totally had your back, man." Jared tips his head so it's resting on Jensen's thigh and he's looking up into Jensen's face. His grin is huge, and a little evil. "Except for how you were behind me because I am way more awesome than you."

The next picture is of Jensen in the middle of the totally kick-ass hook he pulled around Jared's car at the finish line. "You might have the body mass, Sasquatch, but I totally have the mad skills."

"Whatever." Jared sits up again, hooks one arm over Jensen's knee, and says, "We should start at the beginning. You missed some good ones."

Jensen, careful not to hit Jared in the head, puts his guitar to the side and then leans forward, forearms resting on Jared's shoulders, so he can see better.

They spend an hour or more laughing and reminiscing and looking at pictures of themselves: racing, sitting on bales of hay, laughing—there's even one of Jared reflected in Jensen's sunglasses, which Jensen has a twinge of envy over, because it's a seriously awesome shot. When they get to photos of the two of them out of their jerseys having drinks afterwards, it strikes Jensen what they're doing here.

"Is it a little creepy to do flikr searches for yourself?"

"This is just like looking at our vacation pictures," Jared says. "Creepy is when you google Jared Padalecki naked."

"'Creepy' doesn't begin to cover it." Jensen leans back, stretching his arms over his head, which ends up squeezing Jared's ribs between his knees. "So how often are you searching for naked pictures of yourself on line, anyway?"

"I've got a mirror, idiot. I google naked Ackles."

"Yeah right." Jensen pushes Jared out of the way so he can stand up. He's seen some of those pictures of his head pasted onto other people, and he'd rather not think about them. "I'm starving. Let's eat."

"I like the way you think, man." Jared shuts the laptop and follows Jensen to the kitchen where they make a pot of chili and a batch of corn bread and talk about Texas, and summer, and how much their day has felt like home.