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.
no subject
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.