spn_springfling | Various methods of escape by hybridshade for <user site="livejo

springflingmod.livejournal.com posting in

Title: Various methods of escape
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: R
Any warnings: buddy cop!AU, some swearing, some violence

"Well. This is another fine mess you've gotten us into."

"Me? Oh, that's rich coming from you."

"You say that as if I'm the one running us headlong through the door named Peril every five minutes—"

"And you say that as if you aren't fucking trained for it—"

"My training was not provided with the intention that I'd be staring down imminent-fucking-death every goddamn day. My training was given so that I might avoid the very scenarios you keep dragging me into!"

"Those scenarios are what gets the job done!"

"And I suppose you think it's worth it at the cost of my anxiety and sleep disturbance and developing PTSD and all the therapy I'm gonna need to get over it, huh? For fuck's sake, Jensen. Ain't nothing wrong with putting your dick away for once and doing a little old-school groundwork, like we're supposed to do, therefore avoiding the oh-so-pleasant exchanges of bullets we keep coming into contact with. And by 'dick' I mean 'gun', if that wasn't clear."

There was silence at the other end of Jared's sentence, and he looked over toward his partner as he took a long, calming breath of his own. No one could rile him up the way that Jensen could. No one had ever gotten under his skin so swiftly and so completely. It drove him fucking nuts. And yet, for all that they did end up in more than their fair share of shoot outs (by a considerable margin according to the stats he'd looked up) there wasn't anyone Jared would rather have at his six.

Jensen sat opposite him for now, both of them on the dusty wooden floor and striped with the rays of the afternoon sun filtering through the shutters. Jensen's eyes were shut, his head arched back – he might almost have looked relaxed if it weren't for his clenched jaw and the raised vein pulsing out the side of his neck. It was why Jared considered them somewhat even, that he got under Jensen's skin just as much as he did Jared's. Until he'd figured that out, all he'd really felt when standing next to Jensen in a professional sense was inadequate. Sure, Jared was broad-shouldered and solid with muscle through the chest and arms, and sure he was pretty handy with a gun or with his fists when the situation called for it, but Jensen was the star student. He was the hero Navy SEAL-turned-cop with the heavily redacted black ops record and more fancy skills than Xena. When things got sticky, nine times out of ten it was Jensen that saved them. In the beginning Jared had been left feeling both envious and woefully lacking, but as time went on and he realised that with just a little well-timed cynicism he could get the guy to crack as easy as anyone, Jared was able to let the rest roll straight off his back. Not to mention that whatever insanity Jensen had had to go through to procure said fancy skills? Not even nearly worth it.

"Man, I'm hungry."

"Seriously, Jared, when are you not hungry?"

"I want pizza. With extra pepperoni…and extra cheese."

"Shut your pie hole. I'm trying to concentrate over here."

"You mean pizza hole. Pie comes later. So for dessert it's a pie hole. But if we're talking dessert dessert, then it's a different kind of hole altogether—"

"Christ. It's no wonder we get ourselves into these shitty situations when you run your mouth like that. Pisses people off, y'know?"

"My mouth may be responsible for many things but this ain't one of them."

"I beg to differ. Your mouth is plenty responsible."

Jared felt a smirk curl around his lips and couldn't even bring himself to feel bad about it. Jensen just made it too easy sometimes.

"You're not wrong. But are we still talking about the fact that we've been tied up and left to die in some abandoned building in the middle of nowhere, or was that a little throwback to a couple of nights ago? Because me and my mouth take full responsibility for that."

And for all that he tried to look annoyed about it, Jared could pinpoint almost the exact moment when Jensen latched on to the memory and the tendrils of arousal began to seep into his gaze. Jensen was more an open book to him than he would ever deign to let on. And Jensen knew it, too.

"Motherfucker," Jensen hissed under his breath.

"Such a pity you're all the way over there…"

"Gimme a sec, dammit."

The words struck a chord and Jared suddenly let the teasing drop. He started to notice the tension in Jensen's upper body, the slight back-and-forthing of his shoulders, and yes, that impermeable blankness that came over his face when he was concentrating hard. Jared was about to question him on it when he smelled the blood.

"Jensen? The fuck, man?"

"You wanna get out of here don't you?"

"Yeah, but preferably not if you're gonna have to sacrifice your hands over it! I like your scars, don't get me wrong, but you've got enough of them already. Don't be greedy."

"Well, too bad 'cause—"

Jensen's teeth clenched and his body jerked, his arms suddenly springing free from where they'd been tied around the wooden post at his back. Jared didn't know how he'd cut through the zip tie, whether there'd been a jagged nail or something stuck in the wood, but Jensen's wrists looked like a ripped up mess, rivulets of blood dripping down his hands.

"Motherfucker," Jared echoed.

There came the cracking of stiff knees as Jensen got to his feet, immediately heading into another room somewhere. He barely even acknowledged Jared as he did so, too deep 'in the zone'. He got that way sometimes when he had a specific goal in mind, usually one that involved lots of weapons and/or violence and/or taking down the enemy ass first, but Jared had learnt just to wait it out. And as expected Jensen was back before long, a gun tucked behind his belt and a couple of torn up rags wrapped around his wrists. He still had that air of focus about him, but this time he smirked as he came close, staring Jared down as he got to the floor and straddled Jared's thighs in one motion.

"Something on your mind?"

Jensen made a show of pretending to think. "You know, it's not every day I've got you at my mercy like this. And when have you ever kept your hands to yourself? Maybe I should tie you up more often…"

The kiss that followed was relentless. Jensen kissed much like he did everything else – with full attention, determination, and a near-violence that was borderline too-much. But Jared wouldn't have it any other way now. Just like he'd had to get used to Jensen when he'd first been dumped in his team, Jared had gotten used to his intensity. Sure it could be scary at times, and occasionally he had to make himself take a step back, just to take a breath, and Jensen understood that. But Jared liked it because it was honest and raw. The way Jensen invaded his mouth, combed over every part of Jared's body with his hands, it had Jared's cock impossibly hard in his jeans, and likely his own wrists were now bleeding from how vigorously he was pulling on the zip tie.

"Fuck, man, you're a fucking health hazard. Gonna kill me."

"Yeah? Gonna die if I put my hand on your dick, Jay?"

"Jesus. You start heading down south right now and it's game over."

Jensen had just started to slip his belt free when they both froze.

Irritated though he might have been, Jensen hadn't been wrong when he'd said they were both trained for this. And a moment later the creaking sounded again. Boots on wood. Proof that someone else was in the building, but instinctively they'd both already known it.

Neither of them moved. They didn't even have to speak. Jensen smoothly reached around to cut Jared's wrists free with a small pocket knife he kept hidden in his pants, and he made a point of shielding Jared as they got ready.

"Well, well, what have we—"

Jensen moved so quickly Jared nearly didn't see it. All he heard was the shots followed by the sound of bodies dropping. They got to their feet and started heading out, Jared ignoring the discomfort in his groin as he kept to Jensen's back, picking up one of their captor's guns for himself. Jensen took care of another half dozen men before they finally reached the outside world again, but Jared was the one that heard the click first, bodily grabbing Jensen and hurling them both out of the way just as the building started going up behind them. The blast knocked them to the ground, Jared feeling the air rush from his lungs as he landed. That was really gonna hurt later.

He closed his eyes and focused on keeping his breaths shallow, but his rhythm was interrupted by a second pressure on his chest.

Jared looked up to find a familiar face, blackened and singed around the edges.

"My hero."

"If this is an apology," Jared wheezed, "I accept."

Jensen's lips twisted in confusion. "An apology for what?"

"For getting me into this mess in the first place. My whiplash and bruised ribs are all your fault. And I'll be sending you the dry cleaning bill, just a heads up."

"You're a son of a bitch, Padalecki. Good thing I like you."

"Good thing I save you and your overqualified ass from exploding buildings, you mean."

"Yeah, that part's not bad either, I guess."