tiptoe39 | Weird tippy is weird

totally. great idea. will do. :)

...is not much like Ferris Bueller's. He doesn't end up in a parade on the streets of Chicago, or driving cars through windows. Mostly, it's just sitting at home and pouting because he thought for sure Jensen would be taking the day after prom off, too. They were up all freaking night!

But no, that's Jensen, super-serious student, and he won't skip a day, even if it was the day after what Misha texts him is now "The Kiss Heard Round the World." Jared almost feels bad for faking sick and leaving Jensen to face the student body alone.

But after all night kissing and talking and enjoying the revelation that yes in fact they are madly in love, Jared's missing him already. He wants Jensen here. He wants Jensen looking down at him with that half-dazed, blank look in his eyes, the one that says Wow and really? and oh my God, finally, yes, I'm so glad.

His phone buzzes. Wearily, he looks up at it.

You're such a liar. You're not sick.

Jared smirks as he texts back, How d'you know? Maybe you should come over and check.

There's no response. Jared worries he's fucked up somehow.

You there? he thumbs out wearily after five minutes. No answer.

"Fuck," he murmurs, and settles under the covers.

He must doze off, because the next thing he's aware of is heat, heat and weight above him. Someone crawling over his body on the bed, on hands and knees. "Jared," Jensen murmurs into the comforter. "Jared, you faker, wake up."

Jared sighs, relieved and happy (and turned on), and mumbles, "Can't. Sick."

"Liar." Jensen finds the protrusion of his nose, presses his lips to the comforter where Jared's lips must be. A cloth-covered, distant kiss and it still sends electricity through Jared. His hands come up still covered in blanket and wrap around Jensen's waist, effectively cocooning Jensen inside instead. Jared wraps him up like a mummy, pushes him down onto the bed, and hovers above him instead.

"You are faking," Jensen says as he struggles to get free.

Jared bears down onto him. "Am not. You just cured me."

XD This is adorable and awesome.
\o/ huzzah! for miracle cures!

Oh my god precious musical boys and eeeee~ <3<3<3 This was adorable! And it's so easy to see gigantic Jared being this super awkward groupie. XD Thank you so much love!

You're welcome! And here is the link for

rockstarpeach's fic, Shootin' You Straight. (http://rockstarpeach.livejournal.com/tag/shootin%27%20you%20straight) You have to read it. It's so wonderful. <3

Eee, yay! :D

He remembers drowning. The water, all of a sudden everywhere, and the undertow so powerful he couldn't fight his way back to shore -- then, lucky break, caught against rocks, his leg twists, his head breaks the surface, and he lies there between death and life until sirens and shouts swim on the other side of his eyelids.

He breathes. Coughs. There's a mouth disengaging from his, just in time as water spurts from his mouth in horrible gagging heaves. His lungs ache, but they're moving again.

"You're OK," said the man above him, panting down into his face. His freckles are bright stars against a pale sky. "You're OK."

Jared's arms feel like lead, but he reaches up anyway, grabs the stranger, pulls him down. "Thank you," he whispers, laughing weakly. "Thank you so much."

Maybe it's the hug or maybe it's Jared's stubborn attempt to ask questions while they strap him to the gurney but the EMT ends up going with him to the hospital and waiting while he's given a clean bill of health.

Jared grins at him as he waits outside, still in uniform. "Jensen, right?" He gets a nod. "Look, thanks for sticking around. I really did want to thank you, you know, when I wasn't coughing up river water."

"I should thank you for putting up with me," Jensen says ruefully. "Truth be told, I lost someone recently, a teenager I thought was OK but then had problems after we took her to the hospital. Just... following up out of an abundance of caution."

Jared comes to sit next to him - Jensen's leaning against a railing that's just low enough for him to perch on, and Jared slides easily onto it. "That's tough," he says. "Well, I appreciate the follow up. If I were you I'd never be able to let go."

"I thought you weren't gonna let go," Jensen says, elbowing him gently. "That was a hell of a death grip for a guy who just got his life saved."

"I was grateful!" Jared pouts, but he can't keep the smile off his face. "I still am," he adds, but then realizes what he's saying and goes red and shuts up. He really just does feel like grabbing Jensen and squeezing him hard. Not even knowing the guy. Jared feels like a rescue dog who's finally found an owner. He just wants to pant at him, demand attention.

Jensen cocks his head to the side. "Wish everyone had that reaction," he says.

"People give you shit for saving them?"

"People get freaky." Jensen shrugs. "They don't know the difference between CPR and making out."

"Oh." Jared casts a glance at the lips that saved his life. Oh. Oh. Now he can't look away. "So what is the difference, exactly?"

Jensen starts, and his lips purse, but then he holds back his response, looks Jared over. "Are you suggesting you don't know the difference?"

It's the half-smile that lights one corner of his mouth that gives Jared the courage to answer. "I'm suggesting you could show me."

Jensen turns to him, puts one hand on his on the railing. "You do this every time someone saves your life?"

Jared's fingers curl around Jensen's hand. "You hold hands with everyone whose life you save?"

Heat is crackling up through that one point of contact. "Everybody who has your reaction," Jensen teases. His eyelashes flutter. "And, you know. Your, uh, eyes."

Jared inhales, then pulls up Jensen's hand to lie against his chest. Now Jensen can feel his heart humming madly. "Then I only do this to every EMT who has freckles like yours."

Jensen's eyelashes are fluttering. "You get your life saved often?"

"Actually, it's my first time." The distance between them won't stand-- Jared's mouth lands first on his face, on a glut of those wonderful freckles, and travels downward as Jensen's eyelashes bat against his face. When their lips meet, that's when they finally calm, his eyes closing and face tipping up into the feeling.

"You don't say," he breathes as Jared's lips lift from his.

Breathing heavily, swallowing, Jared meets his gaze. "But, and this is a very big but... I'm thinking about making it a habit."

Jensen moves in to the shelter of Jared's body, pressing himself against his chest. "Thinking about it?"

"Good results this time out," Jared says, shrugging, and pulls him in again.

OH GOD. LIFE-SAVING HAS NEVER BEEN A KINK OF MINE. BUT NWO IT IS. NEAR-DEAR-EXPERIENCE FLIRTING IS THE BESTESTESTEST.

MWAHM HWAMHWAMHWAMHWAMHWAMWAH.

*smooches you all over*

AwwwwwwwWWWWWwwwwwww!!! Love this so much! ♥_♥

Jared feels like a rescue dog who's finally found an owner. He just wants to pant at him, demand attention.

This is sooo perfectly Jared. :DDDD

He shows every sign of being a commoner. His skin is sun-dappled, his hands raw from exposure and hard work. Jensen has nothing in common with the nobility, not even his way of speaking - coarse and laced with insult. There's nothing about him that should appeal to Jared, there is nothing that they could possibly have in common.

The only thing that does pull them together is their shared love for the mare, Harlequin, with her doe eyes and caramel coat. Jensen brushes her down with loving hands, and Jared watches, content as he soothes her with pats on the nose, his pale hands a contrast to the tanned ones that wield the brush.

Jensen's concentration is absolute. His eyes remain on the horse. He doesn't see Jared staring at him, doesn't see Jared's eyes rake over his hands and wonder how well those hands might grip him in a thousand forbidden places. He misses the unconscious lick of Jared's lips when he gazes at Jensen's mouth, pressed together, but with lips so plush they might as well be a court lady's painted bow of a mouth.

Or maybe he does notice. Maybe the heat Jared feels on the back of his neck as he returns to the palace is Jensen's gaze. Or maybe Jared's just falling into a fever, a delirious state where all he can think about is close-cropped hair and furrowed eyebrows, a roll of the eyes when "Your Majesty" is said, hands that stroke an animal's fur with the tenderness one strokes a lover, and now Jared is stroking himself, alone, in a lonely bed, prey to wants he doesn't know how to name.

He finds himself in the stables late at night, with the moon glowing outside and his hair sleep-tousled and his breath quickened.

"I wish to ride," he hears himself say.

"At this hour, y'can wake her yourself," mutters Jensen, rubbing his eyes and getting to his feet. He gives Jared a cursory bow and stumbles toward the stable door where Harlequin snoozes comfortably.

Jared steps between him and the door. "Do you think it is not wise, then? To wake a sleeping horse?"

"I think s'not wise to wake a sleepin' groom," Jensen says, looking him straight in the eye. The contact has never been so sharp or so prolonged, and Jensen checks himself and looks away, his face coloring in the dim light. "Forgive me, y'Majesty, I..."

"No, you know better than I," Jared hastens to assure him. "But I'm curious now. I know well an angry horse can trample me, but what pray tell can an angry groom do, should I wake him?"

Jensen places his hands on his hips - wide arms, Jared thinks, and strong, and even, like the struts that hold up the stable itself - and frowns. "Y'want to find out?"

"Are you threatening me?"

"You think I'm that foolish?" Jensen laughs, brash, and the sleep seems to have fallen from his eyes now. "You're a crown prince. Y'could do to me whatever strikes your fancy."

"Whatever strikes my fancy." Jared chews over the thought as though it's the first time he's realized it. His gaze wanders, and he paces across the straw, struggling for further words.

"Indeed." Jensen is watching his eyes, carefully; Jared can feel the press of their gaze. "What room would I have to complain, should you decide, as a for-example, that I'm the one you'd like to ride, rather than the horse?"

Jared's lips part. He turns, whip-quick, to stare.

"As I said," Jensen goes on, "I'm not foolish. I see you look at me."

"I don't intend," Jared begins, but Jensen moves silently on bare feet over straw and touches a rough fingertip to his lips.

"Pardon, your Majesty," he whispers, "but yes, you do."

Something breaks in Jared then, something he didn't know he had, and he reaches forward, grabs the groom by the stable-strong arms, and yanks him in. Their mouths meet and it's savage, it's unrefined - it's nothing Jared has ever experienced before, and he doesn't know how to handle it, crushing Jensen's mouth beneath his, shaking all over, liquid pouring through him.

Jensen knows, though. Jensen guides him, pulls him to the floor, pulls his weight down and over Jensen's body. "Yes," he urges, "kiss me, there, Prince, everywhere--" And he holds Jared by the hair, solid and gentle, bringing his eager starving mouth to every spot in turn that makes Jensen's breath hitch and his body arch up. And Jensen knows
when Jared can take no longer, knows when to push him down into the soft straw and bid him relax into the sensation of rough hands and plush mouth exploring him everywhere.

In the end, the moonlight peeks through a crack in the door and illuminates their bodies, smooth white flesh on tanned muscles. They kiss, they linger, they laugh, and they stay together until morning, when Jared will be Your Majesty again and they will have nothing in common. Right now, they're Jared and Jensen, and they're everything to each other.

Oh to be a horse in that stable to get a front row seat of that sweet sweet groom-lovin'.

*fans self*

His hair was golden in the sidewalk sunlight; inside the studio it's chestnut brown. In the prints it will be gray, and the deep brown of his eyes (unchanged in any light) will darken to black. Right now, through the shutter, he's innocence and life, a whirring laughing piece of the universe that Jensen's trying desperately to capture.

Jensen's told him to just talk, to tell his story, and Jared has laughed and talked about long summer days in Texas childhood, about dreaming of being a star, about his dogs and his ex-boyfriends.

And then Jared turns away and murmurs, "Truth is, I only really agreed to do this cause you're kind of hot."

The shutter clicks as his eyes are half-lidded, as color rises in his cheeks. Jensen knows immediately the shot will be beautiful. He wants to grab the film now and run into the darkroom, he wants to capture that shot and stare at it forever.

"But," Jared goes on, "you're probably straight and I'm being creepy, so I should probably just let myself out, huh?"

No, forget the shot. Real Jared is way more interesting.

He approaches Jared, still clicking, getting right up into his face so he can look through the shutter at the startled face, deer eyes, round mouth. "Hey, you're, uh, you're getting up in my space... not that I'm complaining but.. uh..."

Jensen lowers the camera. He's an inch from Jared's face. "You're not complaining?"

Jared's eyes are so wide and round now that for an instant Jensen regrets not being able to shoot it.

"No," Jared says softly, "not complaining." He reaches for Jensen's face with cupped palms, and as the distance closes between them he murmurs, "You can tell me to stop."

Jensen does no such thing.

Jared's lips burn a bright brand into his, a wash of color on a plain white canvas, and Jensen grabs his collar with a free hand and tugs tight. The shutter goes off by accident while they're kissing, a click-whirr of a sound, and it's loud in the still room. The smack of parting lips a moment afterward isn't nearly as loud.

"That's going to be a great picture of the floor," Jared says with a soft laugh. His hand slides down from Jensen's neck to his back, skimming over the shoulder strap that keeps the camera in place.

"It's an exercise in negative space," Jensen says. His fingers tease at Jared's collar. "The interesting part is what's not in the picture."

Jared nods and pulls Jensen's body in tight. "I couldn't agree more."

You know why this is awesome (I mean aside from the obvious)? You basically got exactly what its like to be a photographer. I love this to no end.

Starch-dry, white hot, heavy summer days. Stubborn animals. Humans that give 'em a run for their money. In the sunlight, everything complains and nothing moves if it can help it. Jared's a six-foot ball and chain of his own weight, dragging himself along the ground like a dying man, forcing the voice to his throat as he rides, his weight pressing into the horse's heart thick as plaque. It's unfair to the both of them.

Jensen's light and scrappy, and the sunshine gives him energy. He gidyaps and rustles the cattle and frowns at Jared for not having the gumption to shake off the sun's oppressive heat like so many droplets of water. Jared watches him through glazed eyes. He's an impossibility is what he is. He shouldn't be. He should have melted into syrup for all the sweat that pours from his brow.

But at night, when the wind finally picks up along the hills, Jensen shudders, paralyzed, cold seeping into his bones. He glares and huddles closer to the fire when Jared tells him ghost stories, and he scoffs at the legends of dead cowboys whose spirits still haunt these hills. Once in a while he gets angry. He stands, faces Jared, crosses his arms and declares he won't hear of another word. Firelight reflects in his eyes and Jared thinks he's possessed. He backs off. Usually. Most nights.

Not this night. This night there's dry lightning brewing, distant clouds and dust storms, and Jared's remembering an old legend and feeling unsettled, lie he can't stay still. He starts talking, because when his mouth is still he feels like he's holding a whirlwind inside, and Jensen gets up and crosses his arms and says "Not another word, not one more word."

Thunder grumbles its disagreement. Jared stares. There's a crackle in the air, an electric snap, and Jensen licks his lips, the wet freshness of them like an oasis in the desert of the bone-dry night.

"Right," he says. "Not one more word."

He raises his palm, runs the heel of it over Jensen's jaw. Jensen swallows, his throat bobbing.

A flash in the skies, quick, searing heat lighting like tinder, and Jensen's body is molded against Jared's, arching, taking. Their lips have met, their bodies have found each other's. They're indistinguishable, two silhouettes in the flashes of brilliance that illuminate the dark sky, and when one moans, the other finishes the sound and they meet in the middle, the bridge where their mouths have joined. Jensen's fingertips trail down Jared's shirt, sliding between buttons. Jared's hand go straight for Jensen's belt buckle.

There's a loop of rope there, sliding coarse against his fingers. A thrill of lust goes through Jared. "God damn," he breathes brokenly, "wanna use that the wrong way."

Jensen gasps, his body tightens, and he pushes himself against Jared. "Such a big talker," he says, then grabs Jared's lower lip between his and sucks on it, tongue dancing across the underside.

"Right." Jared undoes the buckle, pulls out the rope, then the belt itself. "Forgot. no more talking."

"Don't know where in the hell you get your energy," Jensen complains, shuddering and pressing himself further into Jared's embrace as wind picks up and clouds start to gather.

"Think that about you every day," Jared retorts, kissing the hollow of his throat. Jensen moans and clutches the back of his head, grabbing a scruff of hair.

Jared figures maybe it's the same energy, maybe they've been sharing it all along. Jensen gets it in the daytime, Jared at night. And when they're together like this, they can share it.

Because, when Jensen opens up beneath him and the heavens open up above, they both have enough energy to ignore the rain and just keep moving.

i love this prom!verse. really. i luffles it! i swear if i could write rpfs then i would so do it cos god i got a super perfect idea... maybe if i just remember that they're only characters and not the actors themselves... then maybe. omc! i love you. *smishes you to death*

Wing kink! Yes!

Hot cowboys! Yay! It's 2.35 am, damn! *goes to bed*(couldn't read this at work, it would have make my shift better as always <3

Simply gorgeous, bb. Seriously. :D

maybe if i just remember that they're only characters and not the actors

RPF is kind of a squick for me, RPSex definitely so. Fortunately, I don't follow the entertainment news all that much, so I try to pretend it's a new show and the characters happen to have the same names. AUs are a lot easier to do that with. :D

Lovely and poignant, as forbidden loves are wont to be.

Guh! And, um, GUH! I can't believe how many First Times you can create, every one of them different. I could read these forever!

PS:
The "exercise in negative space" line was perfect.

Hooooooo, boy, did you ever nail that one! I could feel the Texas sun beating down on me, the trickle of sweat down my spine. The boys make a beautiful picture, making love in the warm rain, illuminated by sheet lightning.

*sends bouquet of yellow roses*

:D! So sweet. Thank you.

LOVE this! So cute that they're both adorably awkward. Thank you <3

Weird tippy is weird

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Jared Padalecki's Day Off

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purple prose totally intentional :D 1/2

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