I don't know how many people are actually awake right now, but I'm sort of at a loose ends and getting restless, so. Prompts? Songs, lyrics, pairings, situations, objects, etc. *looks pretty*
The third time Jensen hits his head on a low door frame, he says, "Okay, this is just. I am so fucking sick of this."
Jared barely even looks up.
"Hmm," he says. "Yeah," and twists the necklace around his fingers absently. He's been staring at it like that for over an hour already, as if he might figure out what it's done by sheer pig-stubborn will. So far the answers haven't magically appeared, but Jared seems optimistic and Jensen, up to now, hasn't had the heart to stop him.
Though, touching the tender swell on the front of his head, Jensen's beginning to reconsider. "Jay," he sighs finally. "Come on, this is. We gotta talk to someone who knows this stuff. You're not Sam."
Jared lifts his head only long enough to give Jensen a weird, familiar glare, and then goes back to studying the wooden beads. Jensen covers his eyes with his new paw of a hand and tries to convince himself that this is all a dream. A very, very strange, broccoli-induced dream. He's been watching too much X-Files. Yeah. That's it.
"Hey, Jen, you remember any of that weird Latin we had to memorize?"
"Some," Jensen answers slowly.
He watches Jared clamor up off the sofa, movements odd and gangly, compensating for the sudden shortness of his limbs in a way that makes Jensen wince and think of high school.
"I can't believe this, dude," Jared's mumbling around a pencil. He sounds strangely excited. "No, like, get over here. There are inscriptions." A pointed emphasis on the word. "They look kind of familiar, right? I mean, it's not the same, but. 'Beatus homo qui invenit sap-...sapentiam inter alios.'"
Jensen peers over Jared's - his own - shoulder, and wow is that weird. "Homo's man, right? So. Man."
"That was really helpful," Jared says.
"Shut up. Homo, man. Sapentiam..." Jensen puzzles over his for a minute. "Sap. Sapient!"
Jared snorts. "You took SAT prep courses, didn't you? Where they made you learn root words. I bet you had color coded index cards - neon pink and orange and -"
"Shut up," Jensen says again, and experiences first hand what Jared's face feels like when it blushes. They were yellow and blue, mostly. "It means wise."
Jared gives him a look that means he'll remember this later, but picks up a pen and awkwardly writes down what they have on a sheet of printer paper. His handwriting is stilted and spidery, and he's holding the pen like it's too small for his hand. Jensen sighs and snatches it, correcting Jared's finger placement until it's more like how he himself writes.
Coughing strangely, Jared continues, "Right, so. Wise man."
"Beatus has to be something, like, good," Jensen offers. "Beauty, beatific, you know."
"It's good that a man's wise," Jared translates.
"Uh, no," Jensen says. He sighs. "Dude. Christ, budge over, your back hurts when I stand like this."
They settle into the couch, the paper half on each of their thighs so they can both see, the beads draped across Jared's knee, inscription-side up. Neither of them talks for a minute. Jensen contemplates having to live his life while permanently trapped in his best friend's body.
"So maybe we have to learn something," he says quickly. "Maybe that's what this is about, and it'll change us back when we...epiphany."
"I don't think epiphany is a verb," Jared comments dubiously.
"Whatever." Jensen rubs his thumb over the beads and hates himself a little for getting them into this. He should know better by now than to touch things left around set. If it's not an electric shock or a shower of disgusting, half-congealed fake blood, it's body swapping - how is this his life?
Given the small frown on his face, Jared seems to be seriously giving this some thought, though - which is definitely good. He's smarter than most people give him credit for when he actually focuses on one thing instead of twenty.
"But what do we need to learn? I feel pretty enlightened already."
Jensen knocks their shoulders together, pleased Jared is keeping up. "Allies, all, aliens. Oh," he says, sitting up straighter. "Hey, wait, that makes sense. Aliens - others." He pauses. "Jesus. Way to take something literally."
"Wait, what," Jared smacks Jensen in the arm, hard, "tell me."
"Good men find knowledge in others," Jensen says firmly, and then, a little more hesitant, "I think."
"Dude, we're like super sleuths!" Jared crows.
Jensen rolls his eyes - "Still doesn't tell us how to fix it, Batboy" - smacking Jared back, right on his stomach while his arms are above his head. It's such an automatic touch he doesn't think anything of it until he realizes it's, woah, his stomach he's smacking with Jared's hand. Whole new level of awkward.
"Uh," Jared says.
"Right," Jensen agrees. The offending appendage doesn't move.
"So, um," Jared starts, "I'm...not the only one who -"
Jensen knocks him over, dimly noting the hollow crack of the wooden beads against the glass coffee table, and it's like fireworks behind his eyelids when their mouths crush together, bright light and a woosh of sound, louder than the blood rushing in his ears - and then he realizes that he's on the bottom and he can feel his dry contact lenses in his eyes and Jared's stupid belt buckle digging into his thigh.
"Oh," he whispers. Jared kisses him softly this time, controlled and sweet enough that Jensen's not sure it's Jared's weight that's making it hard to breathe.
When they pull apart, Jensen grins slowly. "Told you epiphany was a verb."
*actual translation, as far as i know: "blessed is the man who finds wisdom among others"
The crowd pulses to the beat of the loud, pounding music, all rolling hips and outstretched arms - an invitation to sin.
"This cannot be sanitary," Rodney grumbles to himself, and then yelps and glares at the smirking man in a golden bow tie who's not wearing much more than glitter and mouthing, Nice. Rodney's hand hovers protectively close to his own ass the entire way over to the bar, and he still gets groped very thoroughly at least twice.
He shouts his order at the bartender, and gets a watered down beer he didn't want for his efforts. He sips at it anyway, because bad alcohol is better than no alcohol at all.
"Well aren't you a ray of sunshine," someone says against his ear.
Rodney loses half of his beer to the floor. "Jesus Christ!" When he turns around, gearing up to really rip a new asshole into whatever jerk thinks he's entertainment, he catches sight of dark, tousled hair and sharp lines and abruptly can't remember what he was about to say.
"Um," he offers intelligently.
The man's hips shift, cocking out suggestively; Rodney swallows and tries to keep his eyes fixed on the man's sharp-toothed grin and laughing eyes. Noticing Rodney's scrutiny, the guy arches an eyebrow. "You lookin' for a ride?"
Rodney's mouth works for a moment, soundless. "Did you actually just say that to me? Does that work?"
The man throws back his head and laughs, a braying sound that's completely at odds with his put-together outfit and easy charm. Rodney finds himself leaning forward, smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.
"I'm John," the man grins, holding out his hand. Rodney takes it.
-
"John, oh god," Rodney gasps.
That same lazy grin, a sharp nip of teeth at his hip that has Rodney arching and cursing John's family back ten generations. John just happily laps at the blooming bruise low on Rodney's stomach, his chin bumping the wet tip of Rodney's cock with maddening regularity.
"I - fuck, I didn't ask for it slow," Rodney points out breathlessly. "Shouldn't...you cater to the paying customer?"
John's hands slide up the insides of his thighs, pushing them apart and coaxing Rodney into bending his knees. "Hmmm," John hums, perilously close to the base of Rodney's cock. "Think you like this more'n your letting on, Rodney." As if to prove his point, he licks a slow stripe up the underside, pausing to tease at the sensitive spot right under the ridge for a long moment.
"Oh my god yes," Rodney manages, holding onto John's broad shoulders with both hands.
John chuckles, adding a hint of teeth. "You're fun."
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HIIII. I am awake! it is only 9.20pm!
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Jared barely even looks up.
"Hmm," he says. "Yeah," and twists the necklace around his fingers absently. He's been staring at it like that for over an hour already, as if he might figure out what it's done by sheer pig-stubborn will. So far the answers haven't magically appeared, but Jared seems optimistic and Jensen, up to now, hasn't had the heart to stop him.
Though, touching the tender swell on the front of his head, Jensen's beginning to reconsider. "Jay," he sighs finally. "Come on, this is. We gotta talk to someone who knows this stuff. You're not Sam."
Jared lifts his head only long enough to give Jensen a weird, familiar glare, and then goes back to studying the wooden beads. Jensen covers his eyes with his new paw of a hand and tries to convince himself that this is all a dream. A very, very strange, broccoli-induced dream. He's been watching too much X-Files. Yeah. That's it.
"Hey, Jen, you remember any of that weird Latin we had to memorize?"
"Some," Jensen answers slowly.
He watches Jared clamor up off the sofa, movements odd and gangly, compensating for the sudden shortness of his limbs in a way that makes Jensen wince and think of high school.
"I can't believe this, dude," Jared's mumbling around a pencil. He sounds strangely excited. "No, like, get over here. There are inscriptions." A pointed emphasis on the word. "They look kind of familiar, right? I mean, it's not the same, but. 'Beatus homo qui invenit sap-...sapentiam inter alios.'"
Jensen peers over Jared's - his own - shoulder, and wow is that weird. "Homo's man, right? So. Man."
"That was really helpful," Jared says.
"Shut up. Homo, man. Sapentiam..." Jensen puzzles over his for a minute. "Sap. Sapient!"
Jared snorts. "You took SAT prep courses, didn't you? Where they made you learn root words. I bet you had color coded index cards - neon pink and orange and -"
"Shut up," Jensen says again, and experiences first hand what Jared's face feels like when it blushes. They were yellow and blue, mostly. "It means wise."
Jared gives him a look that means he'll remember this later, but picks up a pen and awkwardly writes down what they have on a sheet of printer paper. His handwriting is stilted and spidery, and he's holding the pen like it's too small for his hand. Jensen sighs and snatches it, correcting Jared's finger placement until it's more like how he himself writes.
Coughing strangely, Jared continues, "Right, so. Wise man."
"Beatus has to be something, like, good," Jensen offers. "Beauty, beatific, you know."
"It's good that a man's wise," Jared translates.
"Uh, no," Jensen says. He sighs. "Dude. Christ, budge over, your back hurts when I stand like this."
They settle into the couch, the paper half on each of their thighs so they can both see, the beads draped across Jared's knee, inscription-side up. Neither of them talks for a minute. Jensen contemplates having to live his life while permanently trapped in his best friend's body.
"So maybe we have to learn something," he says quickly. "Maybe that's what this is about, and it'll change us back when we...epiphany."
"I don't think epiphany is a verb," Jared comments dubiously.
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"Whatever." Jensen rubs his thumb over the beads and hates himself a little for getting them into this. He should know better by now than to touch things left around set. If it's not an electric shock or a shower of disgusting, half-congealed fake blood, it's body swapping - how is this his life?
Given the small frown on his face, Jared seems to be seriously giving this some thought, though - which is definitely good. He's smarter than most people give him credit for when he actually focuses on one thing instead of twenty.
"But what do we need to learn? I feel pretty enlightened already."
"Inter alios," Jensen murmurs. "Inter - within, among. Alios..."
"Allies?" Jared hazards.
Jensen knocks their shoulders together, pleased Jared is keeping up. "Allies, all, aliens. Oh," he says, sitting up straighter. "Hey, wait, that makes sense. Aliens - others." He pauses. "Jesus. Way to take something literally."
"Wait, what," Jared smacks Jensen in the arm, hard, "tell me."
"Good men find knowledge in others," Jensen says firmly, and then, a little more hesitant, "I think."
"Dude, we're like super sleuths!" Jared crows.
Jensen rolls his eyes - "Still doesn't tell us how to fix it, Batboy" - smacking Jared back, right on his stomach while his arms are above his head. It's such an automatic touch he doesn't think anything of it until he realizes it's, woah, his stomach he's smacking with Jared's hand. Whole new level of awkward.
"Uh," Jared says.
"Right," Jensen agrees. The offending appendage doesn't move.
"So, um," Jared starts, "I'm...not the only one who -"
Jensen knocks him over, dimly noting the hollow crack of the wooden beads against the glass coffee table, and it's like fireworks behind his eyelids when their mouths crush together, bright light and a woosh of sound, louder than the blood rushing in his ears - and then he realizes that he's on the bottom and he can feel his dry contact lenses in his eyes and Jared's stupid belt buckle digging into his thigh.
"Oh," he whispers. Jared kisses him softly this time, controlled and sweet enough that Jensen's not sure it's Jared's weight that's making it hard to breathe.
When they pull apart, Jensen grins slowly. "Told you epiphany was a verb."
*actual translation, as far as i know: "blessed is the man who finds wisdom among others"
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"I don't think epiphany is a verb," Jared comments dubiously.
DID I MENTION THE LOVE?
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Any fandom, any pairing, go forth and prosper. =D
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"This cannot be sanitary," Rodney grumbles to himself, and then yelps and glares at the smirking man in a golden bow tie who's not wearing much more than glitter and mouthing, Nice. Rodney's hand hovers protectively close to his own ass the entire way over to the bar, and he still gets groped very thoroughly at least twice.
He shouts his order at the bartender, and gets a watered down beer he didn't want for his efforts. He sips at it anyway, because bad alcohol is better than no alcohol at all.
"Well aren't you a ray of sunshine," someone says against his ear.
Rodney loses half of his beer to the floor. "Jesus Christ!" When he turns around, gearing up to really rip a new asshole into whatever jerk thinks he's entertainment, he catches sight of dark, tousled hair and sharp lines and abruptly can't remember what he was about to say.
"Um," he offers intelligently.
The man's hips shift, cocking out suggestively; Rodney swallows and tries to keep his eyes fixed on the man's sharp-toothed grin and laughing eyes. Noticing Rodney's scrutiny, the guy arches an eyebrow. "You lookin' for a ride?"
Rodney's mouth works for a moment, soundless. "Did you actually just say that to me? Does that work?"
The man throws back his head and laughs, a braying sound that's completely at odds with his put-together outfit and easy charm. Rodney finds himself leaning forward, smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.
"I'm John," the man grins, holding out his hand. Rodney takes it.
-
"John, oh god," Rodney gasps.
That same lazy grin, a sharp nip of teeth at his hip that has Rodney arching and cursing John's family back ten generations. John just happily laps at the blooming bruise low on Rodney's stomach, his chin bumping the wet tip of Rodney's cock with maddening regularity.
"I - fuck, I didn't ask for it slow," Rodney points out breathlessly. "Shouldn't...you cater to the paying customer?"
John's hands slide up the insides of his thighs, pushing them apart and coaxing Rodney into bending his knees. "Hmmm," John hums, perilously close to the base of Rodney's cock. "Think you like this more'n your letting on, Rodney." As if to prove his point, he licks a slow stripe up the underside, pausing to tease at the sensitive spot right under the ridge for a long moment.
"Oh my god yes," Rodney manages, holding onto John's broad shoulders with both hands.
John chuckles, adding a hint of teeth. "You're fun."
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I Can Haz SGA?
If you're still taking--
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