write what you know, eh
Nov. 3rd, 2010 12:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
whitereflectionSort of not feeling well, so indulging myself with a short bit of under-the-weather Jared and J2 h/c.
***
Day 3 11/3/10 11:11-11:57
(not superhero au)
His throat burns, feels swollen, and his head is solid and leaking all at the same time. His eyes are dry and raw every time he blinks, and Jared wants to whine every time he rubs them. He lets himself alternatively cough and sniffle because there's no one in the house to hear him--well, except the dogs, and even they're stretched out asleep on their beds in the living room, unaware their human isn't at his best.
Sagging back in the overstuffed leather chair, Jared allows the script for the next day to slip from his hand and flop in a noisy rattle of paper to the floor. He's stupidly tired--weak-tired--and he's been useless today. He skipped his run that morning, only going out enough for the dogs to get a bit of a walk, and couldn't motivate himself to do even the lightest of his weights. When Harley and Sadie needed to go out, he didn't play with them, just sagged against the doorframe and watched as they did their thing.
At work he'd felt dull, muted, sort of less like Jared and more like someone half-heartedly, half-assedly pretending to be Jared. He'd put his all into Sam--there was no way he'd half-heart or half-ass that--but there just wasn't anything leftover after. And as soon as they'd been done with him, he'd gone home, instead of staying to watch Jensen finish.
He sinks even further into the chair, like he's boneless and just wants to disappear down into the cushions, his eyes closing. He feels like so much crap, and he just...just needs to rest, for just a moment.
Jared jerks to alertness to a sound in the house a moment later, except the lights are on and the windows are dark instead of late afternoon, sun-setting dim. He rubs at his eyes, wincing, rubs away the cold stickness of drool down the right side of his chin, and then there's his favorite mug hovering in the periphery of his vision.
Jensen squeezes his shoulder lightly, hand moving to run through Jared's hair, though Jared knows the other man's actually trying to ninja-stealthy feel his forehead. Jensen was never a very good ninja.
He accepts the proffered mug with a croaky, "Thanks," tries not to moan at the feeling of warm drink against his throat. It's green tea, sweet with honey and tangy with lemon. And then there's pills held out to him as well, cold medicine he notes, not just aspirin, and he accepts those as well, leaning his head wearily against Jensen's hand that's gone back to resting reassuringly on his shoulder.
"You should be in bed," Jensen murmurs, hand giving another squeeze.
"Just meant to rest my eyes a sec." Jared gestures with the mug carefully. His consonants are dulled and rounded with congestion. "Will after this."
Patting his shoulder, Jensen leans down to pick up Jared's dropped script, sets it on the endtable. "I'll lay down with you. I'm beat."
The gentle warmth in Jared's chest isn't just from the tea. Reaching out, Jared grasps Jensen's hand as he starts to move away, presses a kiss against his palm, murmurs three words against Jensen's warm, smooth skin. Jensen leans down and kisses the top of his head, his answering whisper teasing at Jared's hair, then moves away into the kitchen.
Jared sips at his tea to the sounds of quiet puttering from the other room, the patio door opening, and Jensen calling the dogs in. He can already feel cool sheets on his flushed skin, can already feel himself sinking down into the soft mattresses and pillows while draping himself over the firmness of Jensen, can already feel Jensen's arms holding him until he sleeps again.
He feels like crap. But Jensen's there, and that always makes his mind, heart, and soul feel better; his body will eventually follow suit.
(646)
***
***
Day 3 11/3/10 11:11-11:57
(not superhero au)
His throat burns, feels swollen, and his head is solid and leaking all at the same time. His eyes are dry and raw every time he blinks, and Jared wants to whine every time he rubs them. He lets himself alternatively cough and sniffle because there's no one in the house to hear him--well, except the dogs, and even they're stretched out asleep on their beds in the living room, unaware their human isn't at his best.
Sagging back in the overstuffed leather chair, Jared allows the script for the next day to slip from his hand and flop in a noisy rattle of paper to the floor. He's stupidly tired--weak-tired--and he's been useless today. He skipped his run that morning, only going out enough for the dogs to get a bit of a walk, and couldn't motivate himself to do even the lightest of his weights. When Harley and Sadie needed to go out, he didn't play with them, just sagged against the doorframe and watched as they did their thing.
At work he'd felt dull, muted, sort of less like Jared and more like someone half-heartedly, half-assedly pretending to be Jared. He'd put his all into Sam--there was no way he'd half-heart or half-ass that--but there just wasn't anything leftover after. And as soon as they'd been done with him, he'd gone home, instead of staying to watch Jensen finish.
He sinks even further into the chair, like he's boneless and just wants to disappear down into the cushions, his eyes closing. He feels like so much crap, and he just...just needs to rest, for just a moment.
Jared jerks to alertness to a sound in the house a moment later, except the lights are on and the windows are dark instead of late afternoon, sun-setting dim. He rubs at his eyes, wincing, rubs away the cold stickness of drool down the right side of his chin, and then there's his favorite mug hovering in the periphery of his vision.
Jensen squeezes his shoulder lightly, hand moving to run through Jared's hair, though Jared knows the other man's actually trying to ninja-stealthy feel his forehead. Jensen was never a very good ninja.
He accepts the proffered mug with a croaky, "Thanks," tries not to moan at the feeling of warm drink against his throat. It's green tea, sweet with honey and tangy with lemon. And then there's pills held out to him as well, cold medicine he notes, not just aspirin, and he accepts those as well, leaning his head wearily against Jensen's hand that's gone back to resting reassuringly on his shoulder.
"You should be in bed," Jensen murmurs, hand giving another squeeze.
"Just meant to rest my eyes a sec." Jared gestures with the mug carefully. His consonants are dulled and rounded with congestion. "Will after this."
Patting his shoulder, Jensen leans down to pick up Jared's dropped script, sets it on the endtable. "I'll lay down with you. I'm beat."
The gentle warmth in Jared's chest isn't just from the tea. Reaching out, Jared grasps Jensen's hand as he starts to move away, presses a kiss against his palm, murmurs three words against Jensen's warm, smooth skin. Jensen leans down and kisses the top of his head, his answering whisper teasing at Jared's hair, then moves away into the kitchen.
Jared sips at his tea to the sounds of quiet puttering from the other room, the patio door opening, and Jensen calling the dogs in. He can already feel cool sheets on his flushed skin, can already feel himself sinking down into the soft mattresses and pillows while draping himself over the firmness of Jensen, can already feel Jensen's arms holding him until he sleeps again.
He feels like crap. But Jensen's there, and that always makes his mind, heart, and soul feel better; his body will eventually follow suit.
(646)
***
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2010-11-03 06:30 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-11-03 08:21 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-11-03 06:46 pm (UTC)Love the last sentence.
And congrats for your 646! :)
(no subject)
Date: 2010-11-03 08:27 pm (UTC)And way to go, to you, too \o/ You've been really rocking the word counts, very, very awesome. The challenge will definitely come when we hit a bad day, and have to remind ourselves that just a small amount like 150 (or 100 for me) is still okay. I may have to remind myself that tomorrow, when there's a ton of stuff that needs to be done all day. :x
(no subject)
Date: 2010-11-03 09:03 pm (UTC)Thank you. That's what I've written in the night. I wanted to go on during the day (don't we all), but I was cleaning, ironing, then babysitting a hyper baby for about one and a half hour and now I'm drained.
Yeah, we will have to kick each other's ass then, I guess. So, good luck for tomorrow! :)
(no subject)
Date: 2010-11-05 02:27 pm (UTC)This was lovely. <3
(no subject)
Date: 2010-11-10 10:25 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-11-06 03:00 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-11-10 10:25 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-16 05:39 am (UTC)