In the shadowplay by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
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Apr. 15th, 2014 10:00 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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spn_springflingTitle: In the shadowplay
Pairing: J2
Rating: pg-13
Any warnings: off-screen violence
The city is dark, and every shadow is Jared's to command. He's gone before the first police siren can even begin to cry. His car speeds silently down the still slumbering streets, out of the city, towards the derelict observatory at the edge of his estate. And the darkness rides alongside him.
Jared has grown up in the glare of media attention that's present at his every public appearance. He's been caught by the flash of photography at charity balls and in seedy, late-night indiscretions with supermodels and Hollywood starlets. But he belongs with the darkness. He belongs in the darkness.
There's blood on his gauntleted fists. His grip on the wheel is tight. There's only a shadow in his chest where his heart should be.
Jensen is waiting for him in the observatory. How he knew Jared was on his way back is a mystery. He's the very best of servants: he anticipates Jared's needs, he's there when Jared needs him and he's elsewhere when Jared doesn't. He's waiting on the spiral steps, wearing his black suit and tie, and he doesn't approach the car until Jared opens the door and climbs out. Jared discards his gauntlets at once, tossing them to the ground instead of passing them to Jensen; he doesn't want to see Jensen's face when he discovers the blood on them.
"Good evening, sir," says Jensen. He uses the same politely non-judgmental tone to greet him as when Jared returns to the mansion with an entourage of drunk high-society friends. His father served Jared's parents, and he serves Jared with the same silent, unwavering loyalty. Jensen serves the Shadowman just as loyally.
Jared allows Jensen to strip him of his body armor. He gazes straight ahead, eyes fixed on the dated astronomical charts pinned to the wall, as Jensen unbuckles and unzips. Jensen makes no sound of surprise or dismay at the sight of Jared's wounds: the tiny black bruises where bullets made impact, the shallow cut along his arm. Doesn't even hesitate when he discovers the big burn on Jared's ribs where The Demon held him down and branded him, screaming with laughter all the while.
"I made your apologies to your guests," Jensen says instead. "Ms Cortese hosted the gala in your place. She says she'll call you tomorrow."
Jared doesn't respond. He's not thinking of social occasions, or what the gossip pages will make of his absence. He's thinking about the froth of bloody bubbles on The Demon's mouth, his small grunting breaths as he tried to breathe with a broken nose, and the glorious hot ache of Jared's fist as he punched him into so much pulverized meat.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Jared showers back at his mansion. He turns on every light in the bathroom, and he stands in the stark brilliance beneath the downpour of steaming hot water. He braces his hands against the tile and bows his head. The water drips from the tendrils of his hair and courses over the naked contours of his muscle. His burned ribs flare hotter even than the water. Blood trickles from the cut on his arm and disappears like red ink down the plughole. He concentrates on the duller, lesser pain in his hands.
The door opens and Jared knows without looking that Jensen has entered the room. He stays beneath the water, and moments later, Jensen leaves again.
Much later, when Jared turns off the water and steps, dripping, from the shower, there are fresh towels waiting for him. He considers them with blank disinterest. He can't be bothered to dry himself; such minor acts of self-care seem offensively worthless. So he ignores the towels and walks to his bedroom. Jensen's in there, setting a mug and a glass of water and pills by the side of his bed. Naked, Jared waits in the doorway for him to finish. If Jensen is surprised to see him there, he doesn't show it. Nor does he make any comment on Jared's nakedness.
"I've taken the liberty of pushing back your ten o'clock appointment with the floral designer for next month's auction so that you can sleep later if you wish. I hope that's acceptable."
Jensen waits again for Jared to show some sign of acknowledgement, but instead, Jared says, "I nearly murdered The Demon tonight. I nearly killed him." Jared bites his lip hard. "I'm not supposed to kill people." It sounds so plaintive to his own ears.
Jensen says nothing. He waits. And Jared can't stop talking.
"It's like, all the shadows out there I can control but..." Jared raises an uncertain hand to his temple. Desperation is rising suddenly and it's threatening to overwhelm him. "There are shadows in me too, and I can't... I can't." His chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath. "I was going to murder him. I wanted to. I don't even know why I stopped."
Slowly and silently, Jensen crosses to Jared. He reaches up, takes Jared's face between his hands and looks him right in the eyes. The intensity in Jensen's face makes Jared's chest hurt.
"Because that's not who you are," says Jensen simply.
Then he pulls Jared closer and lays a kiss on his forehead.
The moment is brief. Jensen steps away so quickly that the only sign he was there at all is the wet patches on his white shirt where he pressed against Jared's naked body. His skin shows pink and smooth through the translucence of his damp shirt. Jared's body flushes with blood once more as he heart begins to beat again. He becomes conscious of the smell of hot chocolate from the mug Jensen placed by his bed, sweet and warming.
"Go to bed, sir, and sleep," says Jensen as he heads to the door. "I'll leave the light on for you."
Jared thinks of the clear light in Jensen's eyes when he looked at him, and knows he will.
Pairing: J2
Rating: pg-13
Any warnings: off-screen violence
The city is dark, and every shadow is Jared's to command. He's gone before the first police siren can even begin to cry. His car speeds silently down the still slumbering streets, out of the city, towards the derelict observatory at the edge of his estate. And the darkness rides alongside him.
Jared has grown up in the glare of media attention that's present at his every public appearance. He's been caught by the flash of photography at charity balls and in seedy, late-night indiscretions with supermodels and Hollywood starlets. But he belongs with the darkness. He belongs in the darkness.
There's blood on his gauntleted fists. His grip on the wheel is tight. There's only a shadow in his chest where his heart should be.
Jensen is waiting for him in the observatory. How he knew Jared was on his way back is a mystery. He's the very best of servants: he anticipates Jared's needs, he's there when Jared needs him and he's elsewhere when Jared doesn't. He's waiting on the spiral steps, wearing his black suit and tie, and he doesn't approach the car until Jared opens the door and climbs out. Jared discards his gauntlets at once, tossing them to the ground instead of passing them to Jensen; he doesn't want to see Jensen's face when he discovers the blood on them.
"Good evening, sir," says Jensen. He uses the same politely non-judgmental tone to greet him as when Jared returns to the mansion with an entourage of drunk high-society friends. His father served Jared's parents, and he serves Jared with the same silent, unwavering loyalty. Jensen serves the Shadowman just as loyally.
Jared allows Jensen to strip him of his body armor. He gazes straight ahead, eyes fixed on the dated astronomical charts pinned to the wall, as Jensen unbuckles and unzips. Jensen makes no sound of surprise or dismay at the sight of Jared's wounds: the tiny black bruises where bullets made impact, the shallow cut along his arm. Doesn't even hesitate when he discovers the big burn on Jared's ribs where The Demon held him down and branded him, screaming with laughter all the while.
"I made your apologies to your guests," Jensen says instead. "Ms Cortese hosted the gala in your place. She says she'll call you tomorrow."
Jared doesn't respond. He's not thinking of social occasions, or what the gossip pages will make of his absence. He's thinking about the froth of bloody bubbles on The Demon's mouth, his small grunting breaths as he tried to breathe with a broken nose, and the glorious hot ache of Jared's fist as he punched him into so much pulverized meat.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Jared showers back at his mansion. He turns on every light in the bathroom, and he stands in the stark brilliance beneath the downpour of steaming hot water. He braces his hands against the tile and bows his head. The water drips from the tendrils of his hair and courses over the naked contours of his muscle. His burned ribs flare hotter even than the water. Blood trickles from the cut on his arm and disappears like red ink down the plughole. He concentrates on the duller, lesser pain in his hands.
The door opens and Jared knows without looking that Jensen has entered the room. He stays beneath the water, and moments later, Jensen leaves again.
Much later, when Jared turns off the water and steps, dripping, from the shower, there are fresh towels waiting for him. He considers them with blank disinterest. He can't be bothered to dry himself; such minor acts of self-care seem offensively worthless. So he ignores the towels and walks to his bedroom. Jensen's in there, setting a mug and a glass of water and pills by the side of his bed. Naked, Jared waits in the doorway for him to finish. If Jensen is surprised to see him there, he doesn't show it. Nor does he make any comment on Jared's nakedness.
"I've taken the liberty of pushing back your ten o'clock appointment with the floral designer for next month's auction so that you can sleep later if you wish. I hope that's acceptable."
Jensen waits again for Jared to show some sign of acknowledgement, but instead, Jared says, "I nearly murdered The Demon tonight. I nearly killed him." Jared bites his lip hard. "I'm not supposed to kill people." It sounds so plaintive to his own ears.
Jensen says nothing. He waits. And Jared can't stop talking.
"It's like, all the shadows out there I can control but..." Jared raises an uncertain hand to his temple. Desperation is rising suddenly and it's threatening to overwhelm him. "There are shadows in me too, and I can't... I can't." His chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath. "I was going to murder him. I wanted to. I don't even know why I stopped."
Slowly and silently, Jensen crosses to Jared. He reaches up, takes Jared's face between his hands and looks him right in the eyes. The intensity in Jensen's face makes Jared's chest hurt.
"Because that's not who you are," says Jensen simply.
Then he pulls Jared closer and lays a kiss on his forehead.
The moment is brief. Jensen steps away so quickly that the only sign he was there at all is the wet patches on his white shirt where he pressed against Jared's naked body. His skin shows pink and smooth through the translucence of his damp shirt. Jared's body flushes with blood once more as he heart begins to beat again. He becomes conscious of the smell of hot chocolate from the mug Jensen placed by his bed, sweet and warming.
"Go to bed, sir, and sleep," says Jensen as he heads to the door. "I'll leave the light on for you."
Jared thinks of the clear light in Jensen's eyes when he looked at him, and knows he will.
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Date: 2014-04-16 12:55 pm (UTC)I loved the how you played with the Batman/Alfred dynamics here and I loved how it read like everything was coloured in shades of black and white and the bright red of blood. Such striking imagery.
I'm torn, because I really would love to read more of this and yet it reads so powerfully as a solitary piece.
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