#bribing votes ficlets

[dyed-red]

I voted for priest Sam hair! Not only because it was the correct choice, but, hey, bribery! So for a mini Dickey, a choice between outsider POV of the boys being weird about each other or late seasons domestic!Winchesters? If neither of those work for you, write something you like 😁

I love that my bribery accomplished nothing, because everyone taking me up on the offer is someone who was already going to (or already had) vote for the correct choice anyway :D truly net zero impact on the poll, which is likely for the best.

and ahh, i do love both outsider PoV and domestic!chesters, so this is good. and in my typical fashion, my answer is:

Set after 12x11, "Regarding Dean".

They're very beautiful boys is the thing. Well, not the thing, but certainly part of it. Rowena thinks that anyone would be hard-pressed to judge her somewhat embarrassing lack of self-preservation in this regard, if they too got to experience the full effect of Sam Winchester imperious gaze or Dean's intermittently roguish and boyish smiles.

That or, like so many before her, she truly just did contract Winchester Derangement Syndrome. Oh well.

She'd wanted to skirt out of town quickly, after helping fix up Dean's memory. It would be the prudent thing to do. But it was also an opportunity, one that might not drop into her lap quite so easily again anytime soon, to get a read on the brothers without being observed herself. One had to wonder how they did it, held the world together with duck tape and a can-do attitude, considering how ordinary and brutish they'd seemed at first.

Well. Maybe not entirely brutish. Sam's command of Latin and spellwork had always intrigued her. But that was neither here nor there, and he wasn't accomplished enough a spellcrafter to see through the glamour that she wove around herself -- an angling and aging of the face, a darkening and straightening of the hair, a thinning of the lips and tinting to the eyes. Enough that, with an outfit passably dull, she could opposite to them in the pub where they made their way for dinner and rest before they'd set out in the morning. A quiet place on the outskirts of town, locals trudging work boots in and tired or sore from the day. Sam and Dean fit right in. They seemed to fit in most anywhere they went.

Better chameleons than even her glamour could afford her. A few hundred years and Rowena wasn't sure she'd perfected the art of invisibility as well as two men gorgeous enough to be on magazine covers. That was something.

She'd followed them in, waited across the parking lot, and wondered if Dean had injured himself somehow on the day's misadventures. She didn't recall anything, not much action except for at the end there, otherwise just Sam pasting sticky notes to objects and Dean becoming cuter and more bearable by the minute. She didn't recall anything, but Sam's hand never strayed from Dean's back as they made their way across the lot, and Dean never shrugged it off.

By the time she slipped inside, found herself a stool at a table with a view of their booth, they were seated across from one another. She'd never noticed, never bothered to, how far their legs stretched under a table, tangled up into each other's foot-space. At her height, not an issue she had frequently. But Sam was leaned back, fingers on the table, leg, ankle jostling against Dean's calf underneath it. He looked relaxed, and something in Rowena's chest eased at seeing it.

The curse was properly fixed then. Of course she wouldn't wait around in town just to be sure, she wasn't their minder and anyway she'd been certain it was fixed before they parted ways. Still though, confirmation never rankled.

Dean looked around and Rowena turned her gaze to the bland offerings on the menu and in her peripheral she heard his voice, not the words, and then Sam's laughter, loud and startled for a moment then quieter.

When she glanced over, Dean was grinning, leaned in, and Sam's face was so fond her own stomach felt a little gurgly, as if caterpillars (never butterflies) might take up residence.

There was a motion, quick dart, and Sam's hand was on Dean's. Overtop, maybe on his wrist. Rowena's caterpillars turned to lead -- waited with bated breath as their waitress came over and they separated, expressions shifting quick like guilty schoolboy -- and then burst forth into winged insects instead, fluttering around her insides. She bit the inside of her cheek, eyes alight, and ignored the moths taking up residence inside of her.

Well, that was something then.

It wasn't all that scandalous, that kind of sin. Proscribed by the law of every place and time, but something you saw a time or twenty if you lived long enough. It wasn't as if she hadn't suspected. Her imaginings had been more brutal though, more teeth gnashing end-of-world anger with each other, clinging and messy and mad with it. Hand touches across the tables and -- the memory surfaced from earlier in the day -- delighted grins over the potential for a front row seat to some 'live skinemax', that hadn't been what she'd conjured up.

And oh, to be the live entertainer with Sam, to have pleasure made into a show for Dean's affections. Too bad Sam had to be so focused on fixing his brother, they could have had some real fun that afternoon. She certainly wouldn't have complained.

She ordered something herself, a salad and, because life was short, two types of dessert to follow. If there was some thing cold-blooded American capitalism had done right, it was egregiously portioned and delectably indulgent desserts.

The brothers ate, and laughed, and sighed across their bench from each other, seeming weary but well. Ordinary, but far from it. Their legs tangled deeper into each other's space. Dean's fingers drummed an absent pattern, no doubt from one of those rock bands he liked, and Sam nudged him with his leg and directed him to where some dart boards were setup. They brushed shoulders and elbowed each other, were close enough for her to catch snatches of their conversation. Teasing, mostly. Challenging, boyish one-upmanship. Flirting, quite obviously, when Sam's voice dropped to growl something in Dean's ear she couldn't catch, the tone of which had her stomach swooping anyway.

They left not long after, when her second dessert arrived. A little flavourless, in comparison. She left without bothering to finish, left town that night without dawdling any longer. The boys were good, and were comforting each other, and they owed her one. The rest was between them.

#outsider pov #weirdcest #or whatever you want to make it #bribing votes ficlets #tumblr ficlets #phyn's writing #my writing #phyn writes #rowena #because why not #episode coda

[alexa-crowe]

Sorry for all the asks lately 😅 but do you have any head cannons about Scully being director of the bureau? Also your gifset is beautiful ❤️

Thank you so much, loaf! To lay the groundwork, Scully being Director of the FBI fits into my AU where there’s no baby at the end of S11, which I illustrate in my fic Crumbs. I reference Scully wanting to go back to medicine but having been suddenly offered a position as the head of the bureau’s Laboratory Division, which she took. (Mulder left and got a PhD in Psychology just to have something to do with his time other than troll around for X-Files between lectures at universities in the area and at the FBI academy, which I reference in my Director ficlet.)

Essentially, through a statistically improbable but not impossible series of events, between taking that position as head of the Lab Division in 2016 and assuming the role of Director in 2023, she rose up the ranks. Head of Lab retired and Scully was a very easily-qualified candidate to push through. Then the Executive Assistant Director of the Science and Technology Department suddenly died, and Scully was pushed through to get the job. It’s not until she got put on the shortlist for Director after the previous one was arrested for a federal offense that she found out Skinner (an Assistant Director like her) and Kersh (Deputy Director, which is the position just below Director) were the ones pushing for her promotions. But still—statistically improbable that a retirement and death and arrest happened at the precise times for Scully to irrefutably have enough experience necessary for each position. Or at least enough not to cast doubt on her abilities.

It’s because she’s trustworthy. She charms people. Sometimes they try to use her or bribe her (politics, after all) but she holds fast, and that’s why Kersh and Skinner pushed so hard for her. All this to say that sometimes Scully’s a little out of her depth and overwhelmed and constantly seems 100% done with her job, but every time Mulder suggests stepping down after the next presidential election, she shuts him down immediately.

She loves getting her hands dirty, although she doesn’t really have time to do autopsies, but she manages to finagle enough time in her schedule to teach a forensic pathology class every few months. All the secretaries love Mulder, of course, because he sends her cheesy letters, especially with pictures of their dog Pequod inside. (Yes. Pequod. The name of the ship in Moby Dick. It was Mulder’s attempt at being funny while sticking to Scully’s dog-naming. Not originally part of the AU but I’m adding it now.)

It was definitely an interesting interaction when she ran into one of the Congressmen who interrogated her while Mulder was trapped in a gulag, though. But they were a representative in the House, and the vote for her was in the Senate, so there wasn’t much he could say.

Mulder takes great pride in making a game out of his Valentine’s day flowers that he sends to her office. He spaces them out throughout the day and sends clues with them to hint at which restaurant he’s taking her to. (Never any fancy ones with reservations required—she’s had to cancel too many times for those, but he always makes it special for the occasion regardless.)

Jackson sends his holiday pictures to her office ever since she told him she framed one for her desk. He sends a copy to the house, too. The first one was just him and his dog dressed up in festive clothes, and Scully still has that one in her office, too. That framed photo of her and Mulder back when they were on the X-Files is also in her office.

She and Mulder text throughout the day to stay in touch, which is especially important due to how often she works late. But she always makes sure to be home around six unless there’s a true emergency.

#ask #txf #i'll probably think of more later but i feel like that might be a bit lengthy lol #<333

[that-tall-queer-bassist]

Idk if this will work but I am willing to bribe y'all to vote blood and other lusts in @blocksruinedme 's poll about wip wednesday

i promise one doodle/drawing, or a ficlet on topic chosen by you if you vote

#this is for the bit #However. I am willing to commit #buckling down on this #i think this is great fun #i get to be a little unhinged. as a treat <3 #so yeah #bribery in process? #cmon its so easy :3 #(lilac i'll draw your guy(s) (girls?) if you vote ovo)

[fialleril]

I love your new ficlet about Han setting Anakin up so much. I love how you write Anakin post DAV -- I'm about the same age and also demi as hell and he sounds so much like me. I love Anakin making all these cool friends. I love that Dinsa made it to this AU, and also the destruction of Orn Free Taa (also how does that guy literally have "Free" in his name talk about irony), and I LOVE Piett finding true love because he deserves a break from the universe

Thank you so much, kind anon! I’m really glad you liked it!

I’m ace but not demi myself, so I’m glad my portrayal resonates.

Pretty much all my OCs migrate across universes eventually. I’m glad it’s enjoyable and not annoying. ;)

As for Orn Free Taa, the cracky thought has just occurred: What if he actually added the “Free” in his name as some political stunt to declare his absolute dedication to opposing slavery in the galaxy, because his opponent (Cham Syndulla probably) was calling him out on his record? Of course, he didn’t alter his voting habits (or his personal bribe-taking habits) at all, but really people should be satisfied with such a grand gesture!

Tbh Anakin owes Piett quite a lot for the hell he put him through during the Empire years, so helping him find true love is really the least he can do.

#replies #anon #star wars #double agent anakin #nice things people say to me #anakin skywalker #dinsa atray #orn free taa #admiral piett #slavery

[marigoldhasmoved-blog]

Marigold Reacts | 2

hello and welcome to Marigold Reacts. ficlets based on my reactions to stories/chapters/scenes in various fanfiction i’ve read. mostly inspired by @darkhawkflying​‘s work on AO3. in fact, almost entirely inspired by that.

the following is a short scene (very) loosely based on the Folie A Deux series, if only because it focuses on the “real life” versions of my two favorite characters featured therein (you’ll see who i mean XD).

all you need to know is that i treat the stories as though they are tv series’/films.

enjoy!

    WIENER SCHNITZEL

              It was the hurried sound of many somethings click-clacking against the hardwood floors that roused Marigold, a frown already deeply set and eyes narrowed in suspicion. She rose and stood in one fluid motion, blankets thrown aside with a whoosh.

He couldn’t have.

They’d talked about it. Had a long, loud meeting over too much beer and not enough pizza. Voted, for Chrissakes! Though it had been a miracle anyone could write legibly at two-forty-fucked in the morning but they had and it had been a unanimous No.

Well, except for one rabble-rouser who continued to give no fucks about the majority because he went ahead and did the thing they’d agreed not to do anyway!

Mother. Fucker.

Marigold stomped down the hall towards the last door on the left, footfalls elephant-heavy and fists clenched at her sides. She could hear Ross’ voice from within, asking questions that had nothing to do with why or how or what were you thinking. What infuriated her most was his tone, more amused than concerned. Bloody conspirator.

               "She’s going to rip your balls off.“ He said with an audible smirk.

               "Nah. Once she sees them, she’ll fall head over heels.”

               "I’m not so sure.“

               "You don’t trust me?”

There was a moment of quiet when Marigold suspected Ross was being pulled into Jim’s trap. She’d been there and knew how the blond used his angelic blue eyes and cheeky dimples as tools for evil; lulled you in and let you believe everything was rainbows …

Marigold wanted to seethe but the fight drained from her like water through a sieve when Ross – unbeknownst to him – began dredging up a truth that had no business being dredged, up or otherwise!

              “Mari’s two adore you already; just spoil them rotten. They’ll be lured over to the Dark Side in a matter of minutes.”

               "I don’t know what she’s told you but that is precisely why I - “

Spurred into action, Marigold charged through the door like a battleaxe on wheels until her nose was pressed flat against Jim’s. ”No.“

Jim was not in the least surprised by the hurricane of a woman who’d practically battered down their door. Ross, meanwhile, had a hand clutched over his heart and nearly toppled sideways.

               "Are you sure?” Jim’s smile was all innocent and cotton-candy-sweet.

              “Very!”

               "Are you one-hundred percent certain?“ He asked again and slowly – so slowly – raised between them squirmy, wriggly proof that Marigold was about to concede.

Ross watched in fascination as the woman faltered. Apparently, Jim knew what he was doing; had known the minute he’d returned from wherever the hell he’d been with two illicit little companions in tow.  

               "I – ”

All it took was a whimper.

With a nails-on-chalkboard squeal, Marigold gathered the long furry body into her arms, welcoming the onslaught of kisses and nips to her chin and neck. Another Dachshund waddled out from behind Jim where he sat on the bed, making noises that were between a whine and a grumble.

Jim turned to Ross with a boastful, “I told you I’d win,” and immediately felt the prickle of Marigold’s eyes pinning him in place.

“You didn’t win any-fucking-thing, Hawkins. Just because they’re cute as hell doesn’t mean I’m going to be the one to look after them.”

               "But …" Jim paused and considered her. What he said next wasn’t a question, “… they can stay.”

Marigold pressed her lips together and scooped up the second puppy without acknowledging the question, inching toward the door. Jim opened his mouth but one twitch of an amber eye and he closed it again.

And then, as quickly as she’d come, Marigold was gone, taking the wieners with her (presumably downstairs and out through the garden to be fed and coddled and, yeah, sure, Jim hadn’t won any-fucking-thing).

Ross flopped back down on the bed, sprawling out behind Jim and grabbing him around the waist, pulling Jim’s back to lean against his side. “You’re not going to lift a finger, are you?”

               "Why should I? In a few days, she’ll insist on doing everything.“

               "Oh?” Ross slipped his hand under the hem of Jim’s shirt and began to scrape through the hair of his belly, hoping to soothe away what he predicted was going to be a spectacular sulk. “How do you figure that?”

               "Because I’m the one who brought Piccolo and Pistachio home from the Folieset.“ Jim said in a flat tone. "She bribed them away from me with banana.” Ross barked a laugh. “I swear! It didn’t take a week before they’d abandoned me.”

He didn’t need to see to know Ross was rolling his eyes fondly, “You’re such a child.”

               "What would you know? Your rabbit hasn’t betrayed you.“

               "Firstly, I’m sure if someone bribed her with a carrot, she would betray her own mother.” Ross chuckled. “And secondly, I brought Coffee home for Demelza. T knew Dem wanted her. So, she isn’t exactly mine, is she?”

               "No,“ The blond wasn’t entirely convinced, "But that’s beside the point.”

               "Stop being so fussy; you said it yourself, you won. The dogs can stay.“

But Jim didn’t stop. He determinedly groused when Piccolo and Pistachio clambered in, seeking the source of all the commotion and unfamiliar dog-smells. Pistachio jumped up onto the bed and into Jim’s lap while Piccolo kept inspecting the room (the dirty boxers in the corner were of particular interest).

               "See? They haven’t abandoned you.”

               "Only because Mari’s ignoring them,“ Pistachio snorfled. "Hear that? He agrees.”

In a moment of clarity, it dawned on Ross that he had absolutely no clue how their two new additions came to be in their bedroom at four in the morning, merely that he’d woken up to the unmistakable shifts and shuffles of Jim having done something he shouldn’t have.

              “Where did you find them, anyway?”

No sooner had the question tumbled from Ross’ lips when a sound like thunder burst through the house.

Ross startled for the second time in under an hour, nearly jumping three feet in the air as the front door was thrown open.

              “JIM!!!” T’s unmistakable voice bellowed from below, all fire and brimstone. Ross swore he could feel the air crackle as the woman ascended the stairs. “I know you have them, you bastard!! Where are they!?”

Jim cleared his throat and grinned at Ross, “Oh, nowhere in particular.”

in the series, their names are Zeus and Apollo but, i figure, most dogs are rotated when filming so why not let Jim bring home two when everything is all wrapped up?  c(:

part 2 of the ongoing series

#DarkHawk #Ross Poldark #Jim Hawkins #ficlet #writing #my writing #Marigold Reacts #@darkhawkflying #@my-trex-has-fleas #AO3 #Folie a Deux #dachshund #wiener dogs #i'm exhausted trying to reblog everything #[ ± _ ± ]

[dyed-red]

Bribing Votes Ficlet Fills

@soulmates-for-real voted for priest!sam hair in this pivotal poll and prompted:

This is a J2 non AU prompt. They had a showdown, their only big fight during filming, way back in S1. Apparently, they exchanged heated words, there was a bit of shoving and Jared stormed off to his trailer. Jensen cooled down a bit and went in search of him and found him in the trailer shedding tears. They had a talk and hugged it out. I'm quoting from what I remember from Jensen's answer in a con panel.

It could be romantic or platonic, anything is fine

Completing with a non-platonic fill :) Remember folks: you’ve got about 8hours* to vote, get in my inbox, and get a mini ficlet fill

*fair warning i’ll be asleep for a lot of those 8 so any subsequent prompters may have to wait till tomorrow for their fills

--

Jared wouldn’t know discretion if it smacked him in the face.

That’s what Jensen’s thinking, anyway, when Jared keeps cracking jokes between takes, ones that skirt way too close to the truth of what went down on the weekend, complete with knowing smirks just for Jensen. It was funny the first time, but the shoot’s been running long, it’s an outside one and the temperate is dropping because that’s what Canada is like, and he wants to focus up and get this scene done before his balls freeze off, or more likely shrivel inside him and die a slow and icy death.

It was funny the first time, but the fourth has Jensen shooting him glares, and Jared doesn’t know how to back down from a challenge either, or else he thinks it’s funny, or what, but either way he waits until the cameras are on Jensen and he’s delivering a line and then sneaks in a quick motion with his thumb jerked to the side in front of his mouth and his tongue pressing on his cheek from the inside of his mouth, blowjob joke designed to make him crack.

And it does.

“Can I talk to you?” he snaps and doesn’t wait for an answer before marching off to the side, the ‘okay take 5′ and ‘guys?’ of the head P.A. and Kim, their director, both trailing, with other staff already moving into to reset the scene. Jensen ignores that and the rest, heat in his ribs and stomach, fingers sore from the cold and from keeping from clenching.

“Jensen? Jen - Ackles - c’mon, wait up, what - ?”

It’s as good a place as any, as close to privacy as exists on a film set and no one in direct earshot and he spins on his heel, looks up -- up, because the guy’s a freaking giant and Jensen’s never getting over how stupid tall he is -- and snaps with a,

“What the hell are you even doing here man?”

The problem with Jared is he’s a goddamn puppy dog, so he gets this look on his face all genuinely hurt like he got smacked on the nose with a newspaper and it just pisses him off further.

“They don’t need you back on set until I’m done this section so what are you even -- are you just out here to fuck with me?”

“Fuck with you?” Jared’s nostrils flare, reeling back now, and he takes the offense. It’s a relief, really, free license for Jensen’s chest to get hot and shoulders to set wide with all the fight he’s had raring to go for the last half hour or more. “I’m just joking around, man, the same as we always - “

“Not the same as we always you, you asshole. What the fuck is your problem?”

“We joked about this shit all the time before -- what, you can suck my dick but can’t take a joke about it?” 

Jensen rears back and his arm twitches and Jared’s whole body gets tense and Jensen doesn’t, wouldn’t, but he’s not above shoving the guy and -

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Are you?” Jared shoves him back, three times as hard. And maybe he’s channeling Dean still because his body’s primed for a fight and he almost wants to punch him. He’s not that stupid, not about to fuck up his co-lead’s face but blood is pounding in his ears and he gets into Jared’s space, close enough to hiss,

“You know what you are, Jared?”

Jared pushes him back. “What am I? Come on - what am I?”

Thinks Jensen’s about to go for the easy blow, the one that sinks him all the same but what comes out -- loud, louder than he intended, and a lot more anger in it -- is, “You are goddamn unprofessional, is what.”

--

“We got it!”

Jensen’s shoulders sag. If there’s one thing fighting is good for, it’s focus. He can take all that bullshit and get it into a scene and it works, worked in this case, and they’re only marginally more behind schedule than they were before.

Jared disappearing off to his trailer might have something to do with it.

It pisses Jensen off, the fact that thinking about that sent a fucked up pang of guilt through his stomach. Jared was the one out of line and if he’s gonna be a baby about it -

“Hey Cilla, can you go and grab Jared, we’ll be ready for him in ten. They might need to do some retouches so grab Ashley from makeup on your way back.”

“Don’t worry about Jared,” Jensen hears himself saying to Kim, resigned to it even as it’s coming out his mouth. “I got it.”

He gets a Look over it, since their little display didn’t exactly go unnoticed. As far as he can tell, no one heard what Jared insinuated because Jared’s not actually unprofessional enough to fuck up like that, but they sure as hell caught Jensen’s shout, and Jared’s snarled ‘go fuck yourself’ before disappearing off to his trailer.

But Kim’s a professional guy, good head on his shoulders and even better head for the industry and he gives Jensen a level look then nods, says thanks, and turns his attention elsewhere. Discrete guy too. Unlike Jared.

Jensen’s rubbing his forehead all the way back to the guy’s trailer, not even sure where he’s gonna start. Damage control, maybe. Or if Jared’s gonna be a dick about it then cold, if he’s gotta be, and -

He knocks twice, knuckle rap on the door, and lets himself in without waiting for an answer. It’s halfway out Jared’s mouth when he steps inside, a half-shout “gimme a minu - ...” toward the door.

Shit.

Jensen freezes. Jared freezes.

Jared’s crying.

“Fuck, sorry, one sec, I - “ he’s on his feet, wiping at his face and spinning on his heel all in one motion and Jensen closes the door behind him, embarrassed on Jared’s behalf. Embarrassed for himself, too. Jesus.

Jensen’s politely looking at the mini-fridge with the stupid endearing Texas fridge magnet Jared’s mom sent him. Jared breathes for a sec, then there’s a strangled sort of laugh. 

“Ashley’s gonna kick my ass.”

It startles a laugh of out Jensen too. Ashley from makeup is definitely not going to be too stoked about whatever Jared’s crying has done to mess up his face for the rest of the scene. “Or mine.”

A pause, a sigh. “Not your fault.”

Jensen tentatively looks over. It’s not, not really. Jared was being a dick. The question he’s struggling with is -

“You know why that wasn’t cool?”

“You know I wasn’t -- it’s not like I was trying to be homophobic.”

Jensen’s face screws up. Is that what Jared thinks he thinks?

“What’d’you even - no, man, with the - “ He makes a vague hand motion. “It’s like you want people to talk.”

Jared’s eyebrows climb. “Talk? What, you think people are gonna know we fooled around because I made a joke about sucking dick?”

“Obviously not but - “

“We’ve been making jokes like that since day 1! Hell, you keep telling people I’m too hot to play your brother on TV - “

“Once, Jared. I said that once. And immediately felt like an idiot.”

Jared looks, for whatever stupid reason, hurt by that. Jensen shifts restlessly on his feet, sighs, not sure what the hell to say to fix this.

“Look, man. People are - waiting for us. Counting on us. We need to figure this shit out.”

“You think I don’t know that? Why do you think I was trying to keep up the mood on set earlier when you started acting all pissed off? You snapped at like, three PAs - “

“Because you kept joking about fucking and then smirking at me - “

Jared bites the inside of his cheek, Jensen can see it, and shakes his head.

“Seriously,” Jensen forges ahead, “this shit is dangerous. You know that, right? I know you do. Would it kill you to have some discretion.”

Jared looks mad and also like he’s gonna cry again, which is just - bad - but he sniffs and shakes his head and there’s a half-second there where he looks like Sam, not like Jared, and then he blinks and it’s gone and his voice comes out like his own, not like his character’s, when he says,

“This is me being discrete.”

Jensen’s gonna kill him. Both of them, maybe. Death by Canadian ball-freezing.

“If I stopped joking about it now, wouldn’t that look weirder? You think I wanna act like I have something to hide? I’m not good with -- I’m an open book, Jensen. I know how to be discrete, I do, but this is how I do it. I hide in plain sight. No guy in his right mind would suck his friend’s dick on Saturday then show up at work and joke about sucking it in front of 50 people, right?”

His eyebrows climb. It sets something -- off edge, on edge. His shoulders relax but his stomach clenches, anger sliding into nervousness instead. Fuck.

“You...” He trails off, not sure how to say it. Jensen doesn’t know, is the thing, what this means. They’re just fooling around. They were drunk, and it was stupid, and Jared is stupid hot, and his friend, and an easy flirt, and an even easier lay. Except not really, he couldn’t be, he’s been in the industry long enough and done enough projects with enough press that he’s not some idiot who’d let slip something that he shouldn’t, or who wouldn’t be careful about which costars he slipped into bed with.

“You’re right.” Jared sniffs, wipes his face another time with one of those big mitts he calls hands, calmer now. “We gotta get our shit together. Joking or not joking or doing or not doing -- whatever. None of that matters, not like - it’s fucking cold outside and there’s a few dozen people waiting for us and we’re...”

“Yeah,” Jensen says. He drags his hand up the back of his neck, darts a look at Jared then back at the floor. “Acting like we’re in some dick swinging contest.”

“Not the kind of dick swinging I wanna... sorry, too soon.”

Jensen snorts. “You’re an idiot.”

“Think that’s Sam’s line.”

It gets a real laugh of Jared and that’s something, at least.

“Let’s talk about this later. Proper talk. About -- I dunno, priorities, or whatever. Discretion. Expectations.”

“Maybe how to tell when you’re funny mad and actually mad?”

“Yeah, that too.”

They smile.

“That’s assuming Ashley doesn’t kill us.”

“Oh yeah. Come on, big man. She’s gonna need to fix you right.”

“Yeah.”

Jared follows him out, and Jensen pats him on the back, lets his hand linger on his shoulder as they walk together toward makeup. And they don’t hug it out now, but they do later, hours later, when the work is done for the day and things are easier.

#tumblr ficlets #phyn's writing #i've never written j2 and i did not look up anything to anchor their characterization #this is all just vibes ba-bey #also this is longer than i planned to make these fills #but there was some ground to cover to make this work so this is where we landed #j2 #kind of #bribing votes ficlets