Silent Support by cleflink for gluedwithgold

[springflingmod.livejournal.com]

Title: Silent Support
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: G


There was no part of this situation that Jared wasn't entirely discomfited by.

"What can I get you?" asked the bartender, yelling a little to be heard over the band playing on the low stage. His expression as he took Jared in was more than a little dubious, which Jared couldn't blame him for. His collared shirt and tie weren't exactly the normal dress code here.

Hoping his embarrassed flush wasn't visible in the dim lighting, Jared held out the cue card that he'd prepared before coming over.

The bartender arched an eyebrow, as he took the card. His eyes skimmed the simple five words that Jared had written - I'm looking for Jensen Ackles - before coming back to Jared's face for several long, weighing moments.

Jared fought the urge to squirm. He wasn't really sure how a guy who barely came up to his shoulder managed to seem more intimidating than the human mountain at the door masquerading as a bouncer, but he couldn't deny that that gaze was making him decidedly nervous.

He steeled himself, half-expecting to get thrown out, but the bartender merely shrugged and jerked a thumb to his right. "Over there."

Jared glanced over at the lone figure the bartender was pointing to: slim, dark-haired and casually dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, Jensen Ackles looked impossibly young and ethereal under the strobing lights. His head was tapping his fingers on the table in time with the beat, his entire being focused on the music.

Nodding his thanks to the bartender, Jared started over towards Jensen. Although there was no way the man could have heard his approach over the music, that dark head turned immediately towards him, his eyes calm and almost colourless in the dim light.

Which was totally unnerving, and Jared had to concentrate harder than he really appreciated on not tripping over his own feet as he crossed the intervening distance.

"Hello," Jensen said, when he got close enough. "What can I do for you?"

Wordlessly, Jared held out another cue card. Jensen arched an elegant eyebrow, but took it without protest. His fingernails, Jared couldn't help but notice, were as black as his hair.

"Let's see now," Jensen said, squinting to read the words that had been so stark and embarrassing in Jared's office.

Mr. Ackles, the card said. I've been hit with a silence curse. I've been told you might be able to fix it.
Jared Padalecki

Jensen snorted. "Man, no one calls me 'mister'. Just Jensen is fine."


Which was all well and good, but not really what Jared cared about right now. He waited with as much patience as he could muster, fingering the blank cue cards in his pocket.

Jensen looked Jared up and down, and seemed to come to a decision. Picking up his glass, he drained it in one long, smooth swallow, then stood.

"Let's go to my office," he said, and Jared had no choice but to nod and fall into step. Jensen threaded like a dancer through the crowd and scattered tables, hair shining intermittently red and blue under the strobing lights.

The bartender eyed them narrowly as they went past, but Jensen waved an unconcerned hand in his direction that kept him from doing anything more than staring. None of this was making Jared any less uneasy.

His trepidation ratcheted up even further when Jensen pushed through a curtain that led to a staircase spiraling down into the basement. Apparently ignorant of Jared's nerves, Jensen led the way down, obviously trusting him to follow.

Which, unless Jared wanted to remain mute, which he most manifestly didn't, was a pretty safe bet.

There was a dingy, narrow hallway at the bottom of the stairs, lit by a motion sensor light that clicked on as Jensen reached the bottom step. He headed for the door on the left and spoke a quick unlocking charm.

"Just ignore the mess," he said, as he pushed the door open. He gestured for Jared to go ahead, and Jared did so, looking around curiously.

Given the clothes and the fact that his waiting room was a goth club, Jared had been expecting lots of velvet curtains and macabre candle holders. Instead, the room he was in reminded him a surprising amount of his own office, crammed full with papers and artefacts from his travels around the world. Granted, Jensen's office contained the more esoteric tools of the magic trade - scrying glasses, animal bones and what looked like an entire apothecary's worth of herbs and remedies in a huge curio cabinet - but it was a scholarly sort of clutter. On the wall, half-hidden behind a particularly insistent climbing woodbine, hung a framed diploma for the Magic Arts.

The door closed, blocking out the noise from the bar upstairs so completely that Jared staggered in the sudden silence.

Jensen turned towards him. "Sorry," he surprised Jared by saying. His smile was unexpectedly bashful as he added, "Gotta maintain my image, you know? People don't tend to believe witch doctors who don't look the part."

Under the stark lights, Jensen was older than Jared had realized, with fine lines spidering in the corners of his eyes. It was an unexpected relief.

"Right then," Jensen said. "Let's take a look at you."

He flicked the fingers of his right hand and muttered something under his breath. Jared nearly jumped out of his skin when a purple mist appeared right in front of him, almost like it had melted through him.

Jensen whistled. "That is old magic," he said, leaning in for a closer look at the mist. "What the hell were you messing with to get hit with something like this?"

Jared fumbled in his pocket. I was examining an Egyptian heart scarab at the museum his next card said.

"Cool," Jensen said, most of his attention still on the mist. "You work there, or just bad at not touching?"

Jared hesitated. He hadn't expected that question.

He was just about to use charades to ask for a pencil when Jensen glanced up at him.

"I can lip read," he said, as though that was a normal skill. Up close, his face was startlingly pretty; Jared wondered how he hadn't noticed earlier.

'I work there,' Jared mouthed obediently, because it was better than thinking about how Jensen was totally his type under the hair dye and nail polish. 'I'm an archeologist.'

Jensen grinned. "Like Indiana Jones?"

Jared made a face at him, and Jensen chuckled.

"Sorry, I couldn't resist." He gestured at the mist. "It certainly explains this, though. There's definitely a Mediterranean flavour to the spell work."

'Can you reverse it?' Jared asked nervously. Gen had promised that Jensen was the best curse breaker in the city, but that didn't mean he was equipped to deal with a death ritual from the New Kingdom.

"Of course," Jensen said easily. "Spells this old are pretty brittle to begin with, so they're even easier to break than the modern stuff. I can whip up a counter-curse tincture right now, if you're not busy."

Jared spread his hands. 'I'm all yours.'

"I like the sound of that. Sit down," Jensen said, waving at the desk chair. "This'll only take a minute."

Gingerly, Jared took a seat. Jensen started flitting back and forth across the room, collecting jars and sprigs of plants that Jared couldn't recognize by sight. Once he'd gathered everything he needed, he took up a bowl and pestle and started grinding the ingredients together. Jared watched curiously, not used to seeing witches at their craft.

"I can explain if you want," Jensen said. He paused in his work to offer Jared an understanding smile. "It makes a lot of people nervous."

Jared shook his head. He might be from the South, but he wasn't that superstitious.

"Suit yourself." Jensen busied himself with the spell crafting, and Jared settled for enjoying the view while he waited.

Perhaps five minutes later, Jensen had turned his collection of ingredients into a thick green paste. He picked up the bowl and crossed over to where Jared was sitting. "No, stay there. It'll be easier to reach with you sitting down."

Jared almost swallowed his tongue when Jensen knelt on the ground beside him, unselfconscious and graceful.

"Could you loosen your tie?" Jensen asked, tilting up to look at him in a decidedly distracting fashion. "I need to apply this to your neck."

Nodding, Jared yanked the knot in his tie loose and undid the top few buttons on his shirt. He felt his breath grow shallow as Jensen rose up on his knees and leaned in close.

"This is going to tingle," Jensen warned, dipping two fingers into the bowl and coating them with the tincture. "Just try not to move too much, okay?"

Before Jared could decide whether or not he was supposed to nod, Jensen was there, his face level with Jared's collarbone and his fingers spreading the tincture all over Jared's throat.

As promised, the tincture started tingling immediately, but Jared was more distracted by the feeling of Jensen's fingertips, calloused and gentle, dragging across sensitive skin. Jensen was muttering under his breath as he painted the tincture on Jared's neck, his expression intent.

Jared was feeling more than a little turned on by the time Jensen finally finished, setting the bowl aside and sitting back on his heels.

"That should about do it." Jensen looked up with a devastating smile. "Try saying something?"

"Do you want to go to dinner with me?" Jared blurted, and promptly flushed scarlet.

One of Jensen's eyebrows arched. "That's the first thing you thought of?" he asked, though he didn't sound upset. Quite the opposite, in fact.

It gave Jared enough courage to offer a smile of his own. "I figured it was a good idea to lead with the most important thing."

Jensen smirked. "I do like a man with priorities. When were you thinking?"

Whenever you want, was the obvious answer, but Jared didn't want to sound quite that desperate. "You busy now?"

That earned him a laugh. "Not even a little bit. Just let me wash my hands first."

Jared had never in his life been so happy to get cursed.