Accidents will happen - fic'n'art
Mar. 27th, 2016 02:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
amberdreamsTime to claim my 
spn_masquerade fills - both for the same prompt
First the fic, then the art.
Title: Accidents will happen [on AO3]
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Words: ~4100
Warnings: written in a rush and it's a bit of an unbeta'd mess. Bonus Felicia.
Summary/Prompt: Jared is a guardian angel moonlighting as a handy man, Jensen is a very accident prone human. Zaniness ensues. Cue schmoop and various times Jensen has his life saved by the handyman he is secretly crushing on. Prefer top Jared if it gets to that.
Jensen was the first to admit it – he was a class one klutz. But surely even he couldn’t be this unlucky for the second time this week. Okay, maybe with his record he shouldn’t have tried to change the living room light bulb standing on a chair, but he’d just reached the denouement, the climactic moment when Clara discovers that Harry’s been cheating on her for years with her best friend Laura, and Jensen had been on a roll. The words were flowing onto the page almost faster than he could write and then phutt! The crappy light had blown and he needed to see, dammit!
With hindsight, maybe he should have moved his desk into the bedroom, or even just grabbed his notebook and sat on the toilet seat to finish off the scene, instead of dragging his too-low chair into the middle of the room, and overstretching himself while trying to remove the offending dead bulb on tiptoes. He felt the chair wobble even as his fingers closed around the still-hot glass, the net result being a crushed bulb, lacerated fingers and a feeling of déjà vu as the chair tipped over, spilling him headfirst into the edge of the desk before hitting the floor. He really hadn’t wanted his famous last words to be oh no, not again, but we don’t always get what we want in this life, do we?
Fortunately, Jensen didn’t die so he had time to come up with some better last words, though, as his long-suffering literary agent and good friend Felicia pointed out when he came to in his hospital bed, it wasn’t for want of trying.
“Seriously, Jensen, this is the second time you’ve injured yourself this week! Though I have to admit this one beats dropping your iPad on your foot or knocking your coffee over and scalding your groin. Three stitches in your pinky finger and a grade one concussion, well done, you,” she said, leaving Jensen wincing at the exasperation in her voice. He had to imagine the accompanying look on her sharp pixie-face, because he was currently seeing at least double, if not triple Felicias, and it was making him dizzy. “Why on earth didn’t you call me, or better yet, the handyman? It’s his job to fix stuff on the estate, after all. That’s what we pay him for.”
That riled Jensen into opening his eyes and defending himself. “You know I can’t call Old Bob,” he protested, trying not to sound whiny. “He hates me! Ever since the boiler incident…”
“Bob Singer retired last month, silly,” Felicia said, rolling her eyes. Jensen was almost too distracted by seeing six sets of eyes moving in unison in some sort of ocular wave to latch onto the importance of Felicia’s next snippet of information. “There’s a new guy started and he’s just your type too – tall, dark and handsome. Hell, if he had the right equipment I’d have him fixing my everything, every day.”
If Jensen hadn’t been overtaken by an inconveniently timed wave of nausea, he might have been curious enough to file that interesting snippet of information away for future reference. Unfortunately, somewhere in the process of him chucking up his guts and Felicia’s major panic, he completely forgot about the new guy.
Which meant when he arrived home with bandaged finger and aching head, he realised the light bulb still hadn’t been changed. He was contemplating the bloodstain on the carpet and wondering if he had a taller chair to stand on, when there was a diffident tap on the door.
Jensen opened it without looking through the spyhole (Felicia would have had words to say about that, gated community or no), so he was totally taken by surprise by the apparition in front of him. It was a guy – a very tall, stunningly gorgeous guy, to be precise. Jensen wasn’t exactly short, but this long-haired, broad-chested specimen of manhood had Jensen cricking his neck to meet a disorientating chameleon gaze.
“Ms Day at Munchkin Manor said you needed a light fitting?”
Jensen winced internally, as he always did on hearing someone use the stupid naming system the developers had saddled the homeowners with when they built the Emerald City gated estate. Naming all the houses and streets after any and everything Oz related was idiosyncratic at best, but tipped over into plain idiotic when Jensen had a headache and was in dire need of a caffeine fix. Mostly he did his best to forget his own house was called Whimsie. What was wrong with giving houses numbers any way? At least he hadn’t bought Fuddlecumjig, or Winkie, or god forbid Dicksie Land. It was bad enough being ‘that gay writer’ without living in a house named after a penis.
He was brought back from his reverie by a large hand waving in front of his face.
“Um, Mr Ackles? Are you okay?” Tall Dark and Handsome had a little furrow in his magnificently heavy brow, and crinkles of concern at the corners of his slanted eyes. “I can come back another time if this is not convenient for you. Felicia—I mean Ms Day—said you’d just come out of hospital.”
“No!” Jensen absolutely did not squeak at the thought of this vision of virility disappearing so soon. He coughed and moderated his tone in an attempt to sound nonchalant. “Please, come in, I’ll show you what needs doing.”
The guy held out a large hand, still smiling. Jensen took it, mesmerised by the way his own hand was engulfed. It was an unusual feeling. Jensen was not a small guy; he was used to being the engulfer, not the engulfee.
“Name’s Jared, by the way. Padalecki. I’m the new maintenance factotum handyperson. Or something. Can’t remember exactly what it said on the job description; apparently they were trying to be politically correct.”
Jensen thought he could have been forgiven for forgetting to stop shaking of Jared's hand while the guy was talking - but come on, he did talk a LOT. When Jensen finally realised Jared's hand was getting a bit sweaty in his grip, he let go in a hurry. A glimpse in the hall mirror as he escorted Jared into his house confirmed that Jensen was blushing like a girl, so it was unlikely his attempted nonchalance was working.
Jensen had forgotten about the blood on the carpet. What with that and the papers all over the floor where he’d knocked over his desk when he’d head-butted it, made his living room looked like a crime scene. He rushed to tidy up some of the mess, mumbling excuses, but when he turned around with an armful of loose-leaf notes, Jared was already standing on a stepladder, unscrewing the remains of the offending bulb. Which was weird, because Jensen didn’t remember Jared carrying anything, let alone anything as large as a ladder. He was quickly distracted from that mystery by the sight of Jared’s buttocks flexing under his appealingly low-slung jeans as he reached up, and especially by the trickle of sweat that was running down the groove of Jared’s spine. Which brought Jensen to another issue that had been bothering him since he’d opened his front door.
“Shouldn’t you be wearing a shirt?” Jensen blurted out. Jared turned, holding the dead bulb in one hand, and looked down at his bare chest. Which, Jensen couldn’t help noticing, was beautifully sculpted and only enhanced by the sprinkling of chest hair and the glistening sweat. Jensen swallowed, wishing he hadn’t spoken. If he’d thought the back view was distracting, the front was mesmerising.
“A shirt? Oh, yeah, maybe I should,” Jared said, tilting his head in a considering manner. Then he shrugged. “But I find clothing a little constricting.”
Jensen blinked. For a moment, when Jared shrugged his shoulders, Jensen had thought he’d seen something large and shadowy moving in the air behind Jared’s back. He glanced outside but the sun was shining brightly and the trees were still, there was no sign of any dark clouds or wind. How weird. Jared handing him the old bulb snapped him out of his musings.
“Oh, right. Thanks,” he burbled, then frowned. Get a grip, Ackles, you’re behaving like a moonstruck calf, whatever that is. “Look, uh, can I get you a drink? Coffee? Beer?” That’s better, almost smooth. Jared had produced a fresh light bulb out of nowhere, and was stretching up again to fit it, but he threw Jensen a blinding grin from over one tanned shoulder.
“Coffee would be wonderful, thank you.”
Jensen fled to the kitchen before he could be tempted to start licking the sweat off Jared’s back. Sadly, the coffee machine was empty, so Jensen opened the top cupboard to get a new pack, in his distraction forgetting that he hadn’t yet fixed the door. He’d broken its hinges two weeks ago when he’d slipped on some spilt milk while hanging onto the cupboard. In what felt like slow motion, he felt the door come away in his hand and fall inexorably towards his already injured head.
Except Jared got there first. Somehow the big guy had come up behind Jensen quiet as a cat, and caught the door before it impacted on anything fragile, like Jensen’s face.
“Looks like you have a few more repairs that need doing, Mr Ackles,” Jared said cheerfully as he put the broken door down and handed Jensen the pack of coffee he’d been after.
Jensen was blushing again, so he made busy with the coffee machine while Jared replaced the broken hinges and refitted the door. Jensen was feeling so flustered, he didn’t think to wonder how Jared just happened to have the right hinges in his pocket (or wherever), or in fact, where Jared had been hiding that large screwdriver he was using…
The scent of fresh coffee filled the kitchen and Jensen closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. Man, he really needed this.
“Should I leave you two alone?” Jared’s voice was full of amusement, but thankfully he didn’t follow through on his suggestion, instead reached across Jensen to pull down two mugs. He set them on the counter and waited for Jensen to pour. It was a strangely domestic scene, one that Jensen could get used to. Oh shit. He was falling for the handyman, wasn’t he? He was going to kill every member of the Emerald City committee for employing someone who fit every one of Jensen’s wet dreams. How was he supposed to get any work done now, when his mind’s eye was full of broad shoulders, mischievously sparkling eyes and stupidly messy hair?
Over the next couple of weeks, Jensen would swear he went out of his way to avoid the new factotum, hardly setting foot outside his front door in an attempt to get two more chapters done, but somehow Jared seemed to pop up wherever Jensen went, like some sort of giant, friendly, hairy ghost.
Like the time he went into town to get some groceries, and Jared turned up just in time to divert an inattentive Jensen from crashing his cart into a stack of tinned soup. Jensen saw the look of relief on the floor manager’s face and flushed defensively. He wasn’t that bad – okay, he might have tripped over that display of Coors Light last month causing a flood of beer over the shop floor, and there was the time he’d taken an apple from an artfully balanced pyramid of fruit and been buried under a colourful avalanche of produce, but the store was well known for putting excessively elaborate displays of groceries in unexpected places.
Then there was the time Jensen was book signing at Morton’s bookstore. There wasn’t a huge queue, but the fans wanting his signature on his books made up for their small numbers with their enthusiasm. Jensen couldn’t help responding, but he did have a bad habit of waving his arms around when he got excited. Luckily Jared caught the coffee mug before the sweep of a hand meant Jensen sprayed the over-milky liquid over everyone.
“Um, hello?” Jensen said, trying to cover his surprise and failing. “I didn’t know you were much of a reader,” he added, then clapped a hand over his mouth. “Oh my god, I’m sorry, that came out wrong!”
Jared didn’t appear to take offense, just gave Jensen one of those blithe, toothy grins that melted Jensen’s insides. Jared waved a paperback in Jensen’s face. “I’m broadening my horizons,” he said in explanation when he saw Jensen’s raised eyebrows.
“The Devil Wears Prada? I definitely would not have had you down as a chick-lit fan.”
“Chick-lit? Is that what this is? I was just curious – I mean, I had no idea the Devil was into fashion, but I suppose it makes sense when you think about it. I mean, fashion is all about the surface, dressing things up so they appear pretty on the outside, all the while covering up what lies beneath…”
Jared’s rather charming ramble was interrupted by a throat clearing noise from a short middle-aged woman who’d been waiting patiently in line for Jensen’s scrawl, whose patience had evidently run out. Apologising, Jensen started signing again, and when he next looked up, Jared had vanished.
“He was adorable,” the last remaining fan observed, and Jensen wanted to know how she knew who he was looking for. “Is he your boyfriend?”
“What? No!”
“Pity,” she said, as she took her book, “you two would make a very cute couple.”
Jensen was left sitting in his chair open-mouthed, as the fan, whose name he’d instantly forgotten the moment he’d written it, walked away.
The following evening Jensen nearly severed a tendon in his left hand while chopping zucchini, and his main concern as he dropped the bloody knife into the sink was that Jared didn’t show. For some reason, Jensen had it in his head that Jared was always somewhere nearby, like some sort of non-crazy stalker, so he was stupidly disappointed Jared didn’t jump out from behind a curtain to help him out in his time of need. He managed to wrap a tea towel round the gaping wound, tying it as tight as he could with one good hand and his teeth, before dialling Felicia on his cell phone.
“Um, Felicia,” he said, fighting off twin and contradictory urges to both throw up and faint.
“What have you done now, Jen? No, don’t tell, me, I’ll come right over with the first aid kit.”
By the time Felicia arrived, Jensen was woozy as hell and his hand wouldn’t stop bleeding. Felicia took one look at his white face and bundled him into the car. She made the drive to the hospital in record time, and waited patiently while Jensen’s amateur slasher-movie injury was irrigated and stitched. She drove him home with pockets full of painkillers and antibiotics and an admonition “to try not to cut anything else off while I’ve got my back turned, okay?”
She stood looking at his sorry ass as he crawled into bed and awkwardly pulled up the covers with this good hand.
“Shall I stay over?” she asked, her tone concerned even while her arms akimbo stance told Jensen he was still in the dog house. He shook his head, ready to wallow in misery for as long as he could stay awake against the pull of the painkillers, and she rolled her eyes before she turned to leave.
Heavy duty painkillers always knocked Jensen right out, so he slept like the dead, only waking when a shaft of sunlight started burning his face. Disgruntled and still groggy with the drugs, Jensen rolled over to put his back to the light and nearly startled out of his skin when his nose brushed against something warm that was breathing mint in his face. His eyes flew open, tried and failed to focus on the blurry pink and brown object in front of him. That was suddenly split by a gleam of white that some slightly less befuddled part of his brain recognised instantly.
“Shit, Jared! What’re you doin’ in my bed?”
Jared, because of course it was he, came into focus as he moved back slightly, and propped himself up on one elbow. His long brown hair was delightfully tousled, and Jensen was not a tiny bit resentful that he managed to look so attractive having just woken up. Even his breath smelled good. How was that fair?
“I came to apologise,” Jared said, his eyes taking on a bluer tone that spoke of remorse. Jensen allowed satisfaction to wash over him before realising he had no idea what Jared was talking about.
“Wait, what are you apologising for?”
“For not being here last night. I had been summoned by the Dominion Choir, and I was not allowed to return until late last night, and then it was already too late to prevent it, and Felicia had taken you to hospital.”
Jensen grasped at the only part of this that seemed comprehensible. His hand had started throbbing in time with his heartbeat, and he didn’t know whether he needed painkillers or caffeine more urgently. He certainly needed to pee pretty damn soon.
“You’re in a choir? I didn’t know you sang.”
“No, no,” Jared said, frowning. “The choirs oversee our work, make sure we are conforming to all the rules. I’m not in favour at the moment, broken too many regulations…”
Jensen didn’t like to see Jared upset, but he was struggling to understand what was going on here.
“Choirs oversee maintenance guys? What, like health and safety stuff? No, wait, that doesn’t make much sense.” Another thought struck him as he gradually became more alert, “Hang on a minute, how did you get into my house?”
Jared hung his head so his hair fell across his face, obscuring it from Jensen’s view.
“There aren’t many locks in this world that can keep me from your side, Jensen.”
Jensen knew that statement should have had him running for the hills – or at very least to his phone to call 911, but somehow instead, he felt comforted. He did, however, still really need to pee.
He half expected to find Jared gone when he came back from a hurried bathroom visit – a pee, wash and quick teeth-brushing, just in case – but the handyman was still there, stretched out on Jensen’s sheets like an offering on an altar. Even without his glasses on, Jared looked beautiful. Blurry, but beautiful. Jensen gulped when he approached the bed and realised Jared was completely naked. His cock twitched violently inside his sleep pants and he juddered to a halt, not knowing what to do next.
Jared lay on his back, one leg bent and his magnificent cock standing to attention, all but begging Jensen to take action. It was an invitation Jensen couldn’t resist, and he crawled onto the bed into the welcoming V of Jared’s long legs. Forgetting his injury, he put his left hand down and yelped with pain. Jared swiftly pulled him down and rolled him onto his back.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jared murmured, “Let me see.”
Jensen reluctantly allowed Jared to take hold of his bandaged hand, wincing as the motion exacerbated the pain. Even the sight of Jared’s long hard cock sliding up his stomach where the other man was straddling Jensen’s thighs wasn’t sufficient a distraction from the throbbing. Jared was being gentle, but Jensen was still full of trepidation as Jared’s long fingers hovered over his stitched up palm. Jared stared into Jensen’s eyes, full of earnest appeal.
“Can I kiss it better?” Jared said, and Jensen found himself nodding, all will power sucked out of him by the tawny gold in Jared’s eyes.
Jared leant over Jensen’s upturned palm and breathed over the bandages. That was when something strange happened. All the pain stopped. It didn’t merely lessen or fade away, it completely vanished, leaving his hand tingling, as if it was full of light. Which was a stupid thing to be thinking, how could something feel like light? But that was the closest description Jensen could find. Tentatively, he wiggled his fingers and they moved freely, as if the accident had never happened.
He wanted to ask Jared what he’d done, but Jared’s lips were now moving inexorably up his bare arm, and all the fine hairs on his body were standing on end. They weren’t the only parts of him that were taking an interest in the proceedings. His cock was definitely perking up under Jared’s ministrations, and rational thought was rapidly becoming impossible.
“What…” Jensen was going to ask what Jared had done, but Jared reached his lips at the same moment Jensen opened his mouth. All sense and breath was pushed back into him as Jared’s hot tongue slipped inside, sliding round his own tongue and silencing him. Jared’s firm body was pushing Jensen down into the mattress, and both Jensen’s hands came up to pull Jared even closer, all memory of knife wounds and mysterious healing forgotten. Their cocks slid together and Jensen’s eyes slammed shut. He moaned into Jared’s mouth, prompting Jared to attack Jensen with renewed vigour.
The tingling in his hand was spreading throughout Jensen’s entire body, and he gradually became aware of something soft yet warm stroking his skin everywhere he and Jared weren’t touching. He wriggled slightly, lifting his buttocks off the bed and was rewarded with a low groan from Jared, followed by a strange sensation like someone slipping an eiderdown underneath his back. His eyes flew open to see Jared leaning over him, but behind and around Jared arched two impossible soft black wings. It was these incredible appendages that were wrapped around them both, and Jensen now recognised the feel underneath him as being feathers.
He shuddered as a wave of uncontrollable desire washed through him at the thought that he was being held up and caressed by Jared’s wings. He thought vaguely that perhaps he should have been terrified by this development, but instead he’d never felt more aroused, or more safe. When Jared shifted so he could reach a hand down between their bodies and his fingers found their way between Jensen’s legs, he’d never spread so wantonly or rapidly before in his life. Jared took some time to roll Jensen’s heavy balls between those fingers before moving teasingly down his perineum to his twitching hole.
Jared took a brief break from kissing Jensen to whisper in his ear.
“One big advantage of being an angel, I can create lube with a single thought,” Jared said as he pushed one very slick finger deep inside Jensen, who had no words with which to reply, having lost the ability to verbalise right after Jared said ‘angel’. A second finger quickly followed, then a third, and Jensen appreciated that Jared wasn’t wasting any time here, as he was desperate to be fucked.
“C’m on, Jared,” Jensen tried not to whine, but man, he was needy and this was no time for pride. “Please, just…”
Jared flexed his wings, lifting Jensen completely off the mattress, and Jensen almost lost it right there, with only three fingers inside him and no touch on his cock. Then Jared’s fingers were gone and his cockhead was pushing at Jensen’s hole, and instead of thrusting, Jared flexed his wings again, driving Jensen down onto Jared’s cock.
Jensen cried out, overloaded with sensation. He could feel every feather pressing into his back, Jared’s arms tight around him, Jared’s huge cock splitting every atom in his body until Jensen went nuclear in an explosion of light.
He swam slowly back into consciousness being peppered with tiny kisses on his nose, chest, stomach, even on his flaccid cock which twitched manfully, trying to go for round two. He opened his eyes to Jared’s smile.
“So what, you’re my guardian angel or something?”
“Yup,” Jared affirmed, laughing at Jensen’s shudder when his pink sinful tongue flicked out and licked some of the come off Jensen’s happy trail.
Jensen’s head fell back and he realised he was still cocooned inside a cage made from Jared’s wings. They made a ridiculously comfy pillow. Jensen grinned sleepily.
“Okay then. I can live with that.”
spn_masquerade fills - both for the same promptFirst the fic, then the art.
Title: Accidents will happen [on AO3]
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Words: ~4100
Warnings: written in a rush and it's a bit of an unbeta'd mess. Bonus Felicia.
Summary/Prompt: Jared is a guardian angel moonlighting as a handy man, Jensen is a very accident prone human. Zaniness ensues. Cue schmoop and various times Jensen has his life saved by the handyman he is secretly crushing on. Prefer top Jared if it gets to that.
Jensen was the first to admit it – he was a class one klutz. But surely even he couldn’t be this unlucky for the second time this week. Okay, maybe with his record he shouldn’t have tried to change the living room light bulb standing on a chair, but he’d just reached the denouement, the climactic moment when Clara discovers that Harry’s been cheating on her for years with her best friend Laura, and Jensen had been on a roll. The words were flowing onto the page almost faster than he could write and then phutt! The crappy light had blown and he needed to see, dammit!
With hindsight, maybe he should have moved his desk into the bedroom, or even just grabbed his notebook and sat on the toilet seat to finish off the scene, instead of dragging his too-low chair into the middle of the room, and overstretching himself while trying to remove the offending dead bulb on tiptoes. He felt the chair wobble even as his fingers closed around the still-hot glass, the net result being a crushed bulb, lacerated fingers and a feeling of déjà vu as the chair tipped over, spilling him headfirst into the edge of the desk before hitting the floor. He really hadn’t wanted his famous last words to be oh no, not again, but we don’t always get what we want in this life, do we?
Fortunately, Jensen didn’t die so he had time to come up with some better last words, though, as his long-suffering literary agent and good friend Felicia pointed out when he came to in his hospital bed, it wasn’t for want of trying.
“Seriously, Jensen, this is the second time you’ve injured yourself this week! Though I have to admit this one beats dropping your iPad on your foot or knocking your coffee over and scalding your groin. Three stitches in your pinky finger and a grade one concussion, well done, you,” she said, leaving Jensen wincing at the exasperation in her voice. He had to imagine the accompanying look on her sharp pixie-face, because he was currently seeing at least double, if not triple Felicias, and it was making him dizzy. “Why on earth didn’t you call me, or better yet, the handyman? It’s his job to fix stuff on the estate, after all. That’s what we pay him for.”
That riled Jensen into opening his eyes and defending himself. “You know I can’t call Old Bob,” he protested, trying not to sound whiny. “He hates me! Ever since the boiler incident…”
“Bob Singer retired last month, silly,” Felicia said, rolling her eyes. Jensen was almost too distracted by seeing six sets of eyes moving in unison in some sort of ocular wave to latch onto the importance of Felicia’s next snippet of information. “There’s a new guy started and he’s just your type too – tall, dark and handsome. Hell, if he had the right equipment I’d have him fixing my everything, every day.”
If Jensen hadn’t been overtaken by an inconveniently timed wave of nausea, he might have been curious enough to file that interesting snippet of information away for future reference. Unfortunately, somewhere in the process of him chucking up his guts and Felicia’s major panic, he completely forgot about the new guy.
Which meant when he arrived home with bandaged finger and aching head, he realised the light bulb still hadn’t been changed. He was contemplating the bloodstain on the carpet and wondering if he had a taller chair to stand on, when there was a diffident tap on the door.
Jensen opened it without looking through the spyhole (Felicia would have had words to say about that, gated community or no), so he was totally taken by surprise by the apparition in front of him. It was a guy – a very tall, stunningly gorgeous guy, to be precise. Jensen wasn’t exactly short, but this long-haired, broad-chested specimen of manhood had Jensen cricking his neck to meet a disorientating chameleon gaze.
“Ms Day at Munchkin Manor said you needed a light fitting?”
Jensen winced internally, as he always did on hearing someone use the stupid naming system the developers had saddled the homeowners with when they built the Emerald City gated estate. Naming all the houses and streets after any and everything Oz related was idiosyncratic at best, but tipped over into plain idiotic when Jensen had a headache and was in dire need of a caffeine fix. Mostly he did his best to forget his own house was called Whimsie. What was wrong with giving houses numbers any way? At least he hadn’t bought Fuddlecumjig, or Winkie, or god forbid Dicksie Land. It was bad enough being ‘that gay writer’ without living in a house named after a penis.
He was brought back from his reverie by a large hand waving in front of his face.
“Um, Mr Ackles? Are you okay?” Tall Dark and Handsome had a little furrow in his magnificently heavy brow, and crinkles of concern at the corners of his slanted eyes. “I can come back another time if this is not convenient for you. Felicia—I mean Ms Day—said you’d just come out of hospital.”
“No!” Jensen absolutely did not squeak at the thought of this vision of virility disappearing so soon. He coughed and moderated his tone in an attempt to sound nonchalant. “Please, come in, I’ll show you what needs doing.”
The guy held out a large hand, still smiling. Jensen took it, mesmerised by the way his own hand was engulfed. It was an unusual feeling. Jensen was not a small guy; he was used to being the engulfer, not the engulfee.
“Name’s Jared, by the way. Padalecki. I’m the new maintenance factotum handyperson. Or something. Can’t remember exactly what it said on the job description; apparently they were trying to be politically correct.”
Jensen thought he could have been forgiven for forgetting to stop shaking of Jared's hand while the guy was talking - but come on, he did talk a LOT. When Jensen finally realised Jared's hand was getting a bit sweaty in his grip, he let go in a hurry. A glimpse in the hall mirror as he escorted Jared into his house confirmed that Jensen was blushing like a girl, so it was unlikely his attempted nonchalance was working.
Jensen had forgotten about the blood on the carpet. What with that and the papers all over the floor where he’d knocked over his desk when he’d head-butted it, made his living room looked like a crime scene. He rushed to tidy up some of the mess, mumbling excuses, but when he turned around with an armful of loose-leaf notes, Jared was already standing on a stepladder, unscrewing the remains of the offending bulb. Which was weird, because Jensen didn’t remember Jared carrying anything, let alone anything as large as a ladder. He was quickly distracted from that mystery by the sight of Jared’s buttocks flexing under his appealingly low-slung jeans as he reached up, and especially by the trickle of sweat that was running down the groove of Jared’s spine. Which brought Jensen to another issue that had been bothering him since he’d opened his front door.
“Shouldn’t you be wearing a shirt?” Jensen blurted out. Jared turned, holding the dead bulb in one hand, and looked down at his bare chest. Which, Jensen couldn’t help noticing, was beautifully sculpted and only enhanced by the sprinkling of chest hair and the glistening sweat. Jensen swallowed, wishing he hadn’t spoken. If he’d thought the back view was distracting, the front was mesmerising.
“A shirt? Oh, yeah, maybe I should,” Jared said, tilting his head in a considering manner. Then he shrugged. “But I find clothing a little constricting.”
Jensen blinked. For a moment, when Jared shrugged his shoulders, Jensen had thought he’d seen something large and shadowy moving in the air behind Jared’s back. He glanced outside but the sun was shining brightly and the trees were still, there was no sign of any dark clouds or wind. How weird. Jared handing him the old bulb snapped him out of his musings.
“Oh, right. Thanks,” he burbled, then frowned. Get a grip, Ackles, you’re behaving like a moonstruck calf, whatever that is. “Look, uh, can I get you a drink? Coffee? Beer?” That’s better, almost smooth. Jared had produced a fresh light bulb out of nowhere, and was stretching up again to fit it, but he threw Jensen a blinding grin from over one tanned shoulder.
“Coffee would be wonderful, thank you.”
Jensen fled to the kitchen before he could be tempted to start licking the sweat off Jared’s back. Sadly, the coffee machine was empty, so Jensen opened the top cupboard to get a new pack, in his distraction forgetting that he hadn’t yet fixed the door. He’d broken its hinges two weeks ago when he’d slipped on some spilt milk while hanging onto the cupboard. In what felt like slow motion, he felt the door come away in his hand and fall inexorably towards his already injured head.
Except Jared got there first. Somehow the big guy had come up behind Jensen quiet as a cat, and caught the door before it impacted on anything fragile, like Jensen’s face.
“Looks like you have a few more repairs that need doing, Mr Ackles,” Jared said cheerfully as he put the broken door down and handed Jensen the pack of coffee he’d been after.
Jensen was blushing again, so he made busy with the coffee machine while Jared replaced the broken hinges and refitted the door. Jensen was feeling so flustered, he didn’t think to wonder how Jared just happened to have the right hinges in his pocket (or wherever), or in fact, where Jared had been hiding that large screwdriver he was using…
The scent of fresh coffee filled the kitchen and Jensen closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. Man, he really needed this.
“Should I leave you two alone?” Jared’s voice was full of amusement, but thankfully he didn’t follow through on his suggestion, instead reached across Jensen to pull down two mugs. He set them on the counter and waited for Jensen to pour. It was a strangely domestic scene, one that Jensen could get used to. Oh shit. He was falling for the handyman, wasn’t he? He was going to kill every member of the Emerald City committee for employing someone who fit every one of Jensen’s wet dreams. How was he supposed to get any work done now, when his mind’s eye was full of broad shoulders, mischievously sparkling eyes and stupidly messy hair?
Over the next couple of weeks, Jensen would swear he went out of his way to avoid the new factotum, hardly setting foot outside his front door in an attempt to get two more chapters done, but somehow Jared seemed to pop up wherever Jensen went, like some sort of giant, friendly, hairy ghost.
Like the time he went into town to get some groceries, and Jared turned up just in time to divert an inattentive Jensen from crashing his cart into a stack of tinned soup. Jensen saw the look of relief on the floor manager’s face and flushed defensively. He wasn’t that bad – okay, he might have tripped over that display of Coors Light last month causing a flood of beer over the shop floor, and there was the time he’d taken an apple from an artfully balanced pyramid of fruit and been buried under a colourful avalanche of produce, but the store was well known for putting excessively elaborate displays of groceries in unexpected places.
Then there was the time Jensen was book signing at Morton’s bookstore. There wasn’t a huge queue, but the fans wanting his signature on his books made up for their small numbers with their enthusiasm. Jensen couldn’t help responding, but he did have a bad habit of waving his arms around when he got excited. Luckily Jared caught the coffee mug before the sweep of a hand meant Jensen sprayed the over-milky liquid over everyone.
“Um, hello?” Jensen said, trying to cover his surprise and failing. “I didn’t know you were much of a reader,” he added, then clapped a hand over his mouth. “Oh my god, I’m sorry, that came out wrong!”
Jared didn’t appear to take offense, just gave Jensen one of those blithe, toothy grins that melted Jensen’s insides. Jared waved a paperback in Jensen’s face. “I’m broadening my horizons,” he said in explanation when he saw Jensen’s raised eyebrows.
“The Devil Wears Prada? I definitely would not have had you down as a chick-lit fan.”
“Chick-lit? Is that what this is? I was just curious – I mean, I had no idea the Devil was into fashion, but I suppose it makes sense when you think about it. I mean, fashion is all about the surface, dressing things up so they appear pretty on the outside, all the while covering up what lies beneath…”
Jared’s rather charming ramble was interrupted by a throat clearing noise from a short middle-aged woman who’d been waiting patiently in line for Jensen’s scrawl, whose patience had evidently run out. Apologising, Jensen started signing again, and when he next looked up, Jared had vanished.
“He was adorable,” the last remaining fan observed, and Jensen wanted to know how she knew who he was looking for. “Is he your boyfriend?”
“What? No!”
“Pity,” she said, as she took her book, “you two would make a very cute couple.”
Jensen was left sitting in his chair open-mouthed, as the fan, whose name he’d instantly forgotten the moment he’d written it, walked away.
The following evening Jensen nearly severed a tendon in his left hand while chopping zucchini, and his main concern as he dropped the bloody knife into the sink was that Jared didn’t show. For some reason, Jensen had it in his head that Jared was always somewhere nearby, like some sort of non-crazy stalker, so he was stupidly disappointed Jared didn’t jump out from behind a curtain to help him out in his time of need. He managed to wrap a tea towel round the gaping wound, tying it as tight as he could with one good hand and his teeth, before dialling Felicia on his cell phone.
“Um, Felicia,” he said, fighting off twin and contradictory urges to both throw up and faint.
“What have you done now, Jen? No, don’t tell, me, I’ll come right over with the first aid kit.”
By the time Felicia arrived, Jensen was woozy as hell and his hand wouldn’t stop bleeding. Felicia took one look at his white face and bundled him into the car. She made the drive to the hospital in record time, and waited patiently while Jensen’s amateur slasher-movie injury was irrigated and stitched. She drove him home with pockets full of painkillers and antibiotics and an admonition “to try not to cut anything else off while I’ve got my back turned, okay?”
She stood looking at his sorry ass as he crawled into bed and awkwardly pulled up the covers with this good hand.
“Shall I stay over?” she asked, her tone concerned even while her arms akimbo stance told Jensen he was still in the dog house. He shook his head, ready to wallow in misery for as long as he could stay awake against the pull of the painkillers, and she rolled her eyes before she turned to leave.
Heavy duty painkillers always knocked Jensen right out, so he slept like the dead, only waking when a shaft of sunlight started burning his face. Disgruntled and still groggy with the drugs, Jensen rolled over to put his back to the light and nearly startled out of his skin when his nose brushed against something warm that was breathing mint in his face. His eyes flew open, tried and failed to focus on the blurry pink and brown object in front of him. That was suddenly split by a gleam of white that some slightly less befuddled part of his brain recognised instantly.
“Shit, Jared! What’re you doin’ in my bed?”
Jared, because of course it was he, came into focus as he moved back slightly, and propped himself up on one elbow. His long brown hair was delightfully tousled, and Jensen was not a tiny bit resentful that he managed to look so attractive having just woken up. Even his breath smelled good. How was that fair?
“I came to apologise,” Jared said, his eyes taking on a bluer tone that spoke of remorse. Jensen allowed satisfaction to wash over him before realising he had no idea what Jared was talking about.
“Wait, what are you apologising for?”
“For not being here last night. I had been summoned by the Dominion Choir, and I was not allowed to return until late last night, and then it was already too late to prevent it, and Felicia had taken you to hospital.”
Jensen grasped at the only part of this that seemed comprehensible. His hand had started throbbing in time with his heartbeat, and he didn’t know whether he needed painkillers or caffeine more urgently. He certainly needed to pee pretty damn soon.
“You’re in a choir? I didn’t know you sang.”
“No, no,” Jared said, frowning. “The choirs oversee our work, make sure we are conforming to all the rules. I’m not in favour at the moment, broken too many regulations…”
Jensen didn’t like to see Jared upset, but he was struggling to understand what was going on here.
“Choirs oversee maintenance guys? What, like health and safety stuff? No, wait, that doesn’t make much sense.” Another thought struck him as he gradually became more alert, “Hang on a minute, how did you get into my house?”
Jared hung his head so his hair fell across his face, obscuring it from Jensen’s view.
“There aren’t many locks in this world that can keep me from your side, Jensen.”
Jensen knew that statement should have had him running for the hills – or at very least to his phone to call 911, but somehow instead, he felt comforted. He did, however, still really need to pee.
He half expected to find Jared gone when he came back from a hurried bathroom visit – a pee, wash and quick teeth-brushing, just in case – but the handyman was still there, stretched out on Jensen’s sheets like an offering on an altar. Even without his glasses on, Jared looked beautiful. Blurry, but beautiful. Jensen gulped when he approached the bed and realised Jared was completely naked. His cock twitched violently inside his sleep pants and he juddered to a halt, not knowing what to do next.
Jared lay on his back, one leg bent and his magnificent cock standing to attention, all but begging Jensen to take action. It was an invitation Jensen couldn’t resist, and he crawled onto the bed into the welcoming V of Jared’s long legs. Forgetting his injury, he put his left hand down and yelped with pain. Jared swiftly pulled him down and rolled him onto his back.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jared murmured, “Let me see.”
Jensen reluctantly allowed Jared to take hold of his bandaged hand, wincing as the motion exacerbated the pain. Even the sight of Jared’s long hard cock sliding up his stomach where the other man was straddling Jensen’s thighs wasn’t sufficient a distraction from the throbbing. Jared was being gentle, but Jensen was still full of trepidation as Jared’s long fingers hovered over his stitched up palm. Jared stared into Jensen’s eyes, full of earnest appeal.
“Can I kiss it better?” Jared said, and Jensen found himself nodding, all will power sucked out of him by the tawny gold in Jared’s eyes.
Jared leant over Jensen’s upturned palm and breathed over the bandages. That was when something strange happened. All the pain stopped. It didn’t merely lessen or fade away, it completely vanished, leaving his hand tingling, as if it was full of light. Which was a stupid thing to be thinking, how could something feel like light? But that was the closest description Jensen could find. Tentatively, he wiggled his fingers and they moved freely, as if the accident had never happened.
He wanted to ask Jared what he’d done, but Jared’s lips were now moving inexorably up his bare arm, and all the fine hairs on his body were standing on end. They weren’t the only parts of him that were taking an interest in the proceedings. His cock was definitely perking up under Jared’s ministrations, and rational thought was rapidly becoming impossible.
“What…” Jensen was going to ask what Jared had done, but Jared reached his lips at the same moment Jensen opened his mouth. All sense and breath was pushed back into him as Jared’s hot tongue slipped inside, sliding round his own tongue and silencing him. Jared’s firm body was pushing Jensen down into the mattress, and both Jensen’s hands came up to pull Jared even closer, all memory of knife wounds and mysterious healing forgotten. Their cocks slid together and Jensen’s eyes slammed shut. He moaned into Jared’s mouth, prompting Jared to attack Jensen with renewed vigour.
The tingling in his hand was spreading throughout Jensen’s entire body, and he gradually became aware of something soft yet warm stroking his skin everywhere he and Jared weren’t touching. He wriggled slightly, lifting his buttocks off the bed and was rewarded with a low groan from Jared, followed by a strange sensation like someone slipping an eiderdown underneath his back. His eyes flew open to see Jared leaning over him, but behind and around Jared arched two impossible soft black wings. It was these incredible appendages that were wrapped around them both, and Jensen now recognised the feel underneath him as being feathers.
He shuddered as a wave of uncontrollable desire washed through him at the thought that he was being held up and caressed by Jared’s wings. He thought vaguely that perhaps he should have been terrified by this development, but instead he’d never felt more aroused, or more safe. When Jared shifted so he could reach a hand down between their bodies and his fingers found their way between Jensen’s legs, he’d never spread so wantonly or rapidly before in his life. Jared took some time to roll Jensen’s heavy balls between those fingers before moving teasingly down his perineum to his twitching hole.
Jared took a brief break from kissing Jensen to whisper in his ear.
“One big advantage of being an angel, I can create lube with a single thought,” Jared said as he pushed one very slick finger deep inside Jensen, who had no words with which to reply, having lost the ability to verbalise right after Jared said ‘angel’. A second finger quickly followed, then a third, and Jensen appreciated that Jared wasn’t wasting any time here, as he was desperate to be fucked.
“C’m on, Jared,” Jensen tried not to whine, but man, he was needy and this was no time for pride. “Please, just…”
Jared flexed his wings, lifting Jensen completely off the mattress, and Jensen almost lost it right there, with only three fingers inside him and no touch on his cock. Then Jared’s fingers were gone and his cockhead was pushing at Jensen’s hole, and instead of thrusting, Jared flexed his wings again, driving Jensen down onto Jared’s cock.
Jensen cried out, overloaded with sensation. He could feel every feather pressing into his back, Jared’s arms tight around him, Jared’s huge cock splitting every atom in his body until Jensen went nuclear in an explosion of light.
He swam slowly back into consciousness being peppered with tiny kisses on his nose, chest, stomach, even on his flaccid cock which twitched manfully, trying to go for round two. He opened his eyes to Jared’s smile.
“So what, you’re my guardian angel or something?”
“Yup,” Jared affirmed, laughing at Jensen’s shudder when his pink sinful tongue flicked out and licked some of the come off Jensen’s happy trail.
Jensen’s head fell back and he realised he was still cocooned inside a cage made from Jared’s wings. They made a ridiculously comfy pillow. Jensen grinned sleepily.
“Okay then. I can live with that.”
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Date: 2016-03-27 01:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-27 01:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-27 05:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-27 05:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-27 01:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-27 02:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-27 02:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-27 05:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-27 05:10 pm (UTC)Also, clumsy!Jensen is very much a thing that I love :D
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Date: 2016-03-27 05:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-27 10:08 pm (UTC)This is both filled with schmoop and wonderfully hot, thanks for sharing
xxx
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Date: 2016-03-28 08:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-04-02 11:59 am (UTC)Grumpy Jensen, clumsy Jensen and coffee loving Jensen are all favourites of mine
xxx
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Date: 2016-03-27 10:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-28 08:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-28 12:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-28 08:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-28 05:33 pm (UTC)Oh, and the art!!! I love shirtless handyman!Jared and that he leaves a trail of feathers wherever he goes. :D
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Date: 2016-03-28 06:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-29 12:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-29 06:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-29 12:20 pm (UTC)And yes, zap angelic shirtless Jared over here when you're finished with him - if you ever finish with him!
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Date: 2016-03-29 10:30 pm (UTC)