My Monster

Warnings: dark, slight gore, schmoop?

This was it. The grand gesture. Go big or go home.

Well, Jensen actually would love to go home, but he wanted to go home with Jared. Make a home with him. Together. Forever.

But Jared was difficult. So open about most things, but skittish and withdrawn when it came to sharing space. And for the longest time, Jensen hadn’t been able to figure out why.

They got along great. They shared enough common interests to talk about books and go to the movies together, and they had enough separate hobbies that they never ran out of thing to tell each other. The sex was amazing. Downright phenomenal.

They both liked dogs and didn’t want kids, they wanted to travel to the same places. There was no reason why it couldn’t work.

Except that Jared got evasive every time Jensen brought up maybe moving in together. And they had been dating for almost a year now. They’d done the weekend getaway, they’d said the I-love-you’s, they’d gone on a real vacation. They’d met each other’s friends and Jensen had taken Jared as his plus one to his company’s Christmas party.

Jared was so sweet and open, carried his heart on his sleeve really, and Jensen didn’t want to pressure him, but there was something that held Jared back. Something he didn’t want to share with Jensen. And they’d already had the painful conversation about Jared’s mom dying when he was young and his grandma raising him. They’d talked about past relationships, good and bad, they’d talked about life goals. Jared just finished the clinical year of his vet degree. And if their relationship could survive that, the long hours and the no time off, Jared having to get used to the animals he couldn’t save, well then they could survive anything. Now he was working at a big clinic, but someday, he’d love to have his own practice. Jensen worked in programming, he could find work anywhere. He’d go with Jared wherever he wanted. If Jared would only let him.

And then, two weeks ago, Jensen had figured it out.

It was like everything fell into place then, every piece of the puzzle. The universe had truly designed them to be together. Jensen didn’t believe in soulmates, not really, but Jared came really fucking close to being his.

Jensen had wondered how to broach the subject, hadn’t been sure, but Valentine’s day was coming up and Jared was a sucker for romantic gestures.

So here Jensen was. Box in his hands, trying not to sweat. This was a big deal, a big risk. But Jared was worth it.

It was the last piece of him he’d show Jared. And he hoped Jared would accept him. Sweet, nice, kind Jared. Too sweet for this life, really. Which is why the universe had sent him Jensen. To take care of him and protect him from all the ugliness.

Jensen smoothed down his dark button-down, refrained from dragging a hand through his freshly styled hair, drew another deep breath, and rang the doorbell.

Jared lived in a slightly rundown house at the edge of town that he had inherited from his grandma. He opened the door with a wide smile and greeted Jensen with a warm kiss.

He looked good in his dark, soft sweater, his hair still a little damp at the tips and curling up around his neck. He beamed when he saw the red box with the bow Jensen was holding. “A present? For me?”

“Of course. But maybe open it inside.”

Jared’s brows shot up. “Oh, is it a kinky thing?” He laughed, dimples popping in both cheeks..

Well. “Not like you think,” Jensen said.

Jared still practically bounced over to the couch and Jensen hurried to follow. Jared started tearing at the wrapping paper, but Jensen stilled his hand.

“Before you open this…”

Jared looked up at him with curious eyes. Everchanging blue, green, gray, and hazel, Jensen could drown himself in Jared’s eyes.

“I just… I know that you’re holding back. From us.”

Jared’s face fell.

George is the third roommate crammed into Sam Winchester’s very small dorm room. He arrived six weeks after the semester started when a temporary housing shortage made rooms that were meant to be doubles into triples, so now Sam has the bottom bunk and George the top (Everyone was afraid Sam was just too tall to take the top despite the fact that he was thin when he arrived and has only gotten thinner). Sam can hear the sound of paper tearing and then George’s low whistle.

“Ooo boy she’s got it bad,” George crows from above.

Nate, roommate number two, isn’t back yet from the party Student Life threw in the student center, decorated with hearts and streamers and promising lots of “Valentine’s Day fun.” Sam doesn’t mind Nate; he grew up sheltered and is managing to hang onto an impressive amount of naivete, and honestly Sam’s a little bit envious.

“Three cards,” George continues. His arm appears to Sam’s left, red and pink and glittery cards dangling from his fingers. George appears a second later, leaning over the side of the top bunk to grin at Sam.

“Wanna read ‘em?”

Sam shakes his head. “That’s okay. I doubt that Maria wanted you to show them around.”

George laughs, but the cards and his hand disappear. George’s smiling face remains.

“Oh that’s for sure, because there’s some R rated stuff in here at least,” George confides. “You sure you don’t wanna see?”

He waggles his eyebrows, and Sam is unexpectedly hit with a pang of loneliness and longing so strong it feels like someone punched him. Memories of someone else making that stupid face, waggling his stupid eyebrows…

George’s smile wavers.

“Oh shit, Sam, I’m sorry. You probably didn’t get any cards. Shit, I’m sorry man, that was insensitive.”

George’s face disappears; Sam can hear him rustling through the cards again, presumably re-reading Maria’s romantic declarations.

He tries not to think of Dean too often. It only makes his absence harder. But Valentine’s Day is sort of a weird thing with them, not that either of them would ever admit it. Sam still remembers Dean’s face the first time Sam shyly but proudly produced a pink construction paper heart from his backpack with DEAN meticulously scrawled in red crayon. He didn’t know exactly why his brother’s cheeks got so pink, but a second later Dean swooped him up for a hug and whispered “Thanks, Sammy, I love it.” He didn’t put it up on the fridge like Sam hoped he might, but Sam knew it was safe in Dean’s duffle because he saw it there more than once. For a very long time.


Edited 2020-02-04 02:38 am (UTC)

It was Valentine’s Day the last time Sam saw Dean. His lip quirked as he recalled Dean dubbing it ‘unattached drifter Christmas’.
You always were the worst kind of slut. He thought affectionately and then cut the thought off like it was a vamp head. He wasn’t going to think of Dean tonight. Or any night for that matter. When his father told him that he would basically be disowned if he went to college, he hadn’t expected Dean to speak up or protest. He’d had too many years of Dean being the ‘good son’, coming between him and John and trying to cool them off when the arguments got too heated.
But he’d never, ever, taken his side against John’s.
So yeah, he had not been surprised when Dean just watched as John cut him out of the family. He had also not been surprised when Dean called to see if he’d arrived okay in California. When he’d get a notification from Western Union to pick up some cash (come with some form of ID) he’d just huff in annoyance and pick up his student card.
His first Christmas was spent working at the local coffee shop which was surprisingly busy. Turned out lots of people had no one to spend the holidays with. The lack of at least a text from Dean had worried him.
Is he on a hunt?
Is he hurt?
He couldn’t stop the acid from churning in his gut, couldn’t help how he kept checking his phone, just in case he’d missed it vibrating against his thigh. He’d almost broken down and called Dean that night, just to make sure there was still someone at the end of the precarious thread that linked them.
Instead, he’d bought a bottle of whisky and gotten white girl wasted. He didn’t have much memory from the next two days but he hadn’t choked on his own vomit or gotten arrested for drunk and disorderly behavior so he counted it as a win.

Hello! sweetheartdean & I loved your prompt and had so much fun working on it. We did get a little bit drink on power and LJ comments would break our formatting, so please enjoy our fill on AO3. It is a mix of fic and art.

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https://archiveofourown.org/works/22681795

The envelope is waiting on Dean Smith’s desk when he gets back to his office after his three o’clock meeting. He opens it, scans the contents, and crumples it up viciously before hurling it at the trash can and missing.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” he mutters.

“You said the magic word.”

Dean whips around to see Sam Wesson striding into his office with far too much swagger for a man wearing a canary yellow polo.

Dean frowns at him. “Excuse me?”

“You said fucking,” Wesson responds once he’s close enough to Dean’s desk that the chances of someone overhearing are down to zero. “You should know that summons me.”

“So, you’re some kind of sex genie?” Dean asks with an amused huff, turning and sitting in his ergonomic chair.

Wesson shrugs, his broad shoulders testing the limits of the polo. “If you want me to be.”

That puts all sorts of ideas in Dean’s head. The two of them have been casually screwing since they teamed up to take down the ghost of old man Sandover. Most of the time, those events feel like a fever dream—Dean still can’t wrap his head around the idea that monsters are real—but being with Sam Wesson anchors him to reality.

“Who’d you get?” Wesson asks, pointing at the crumpled up letter near the bin when Dean stares at him blankly. “For your Secret Valentine?”

“Lisa from accounting,” Dean mutters. “I can’t believe they’re going through with this absurd idea. We’re adults, we don’t need to exchange Valentine’s like we’re back in third grade.” Seeing the grin on Sam’s face, Dean realizes his fellow ghost-fighter isn’t as annoyed with the idea of playing Cupid, and he wants to know why. “Who did you get?”

“I have Donna from security.”

“And you’re fine with all this?” Dean asks, waving his hand to encompass just how thoroughly fed up he is with the company’s idea of holiday fun. “Secretly sending cards to strangers?”

“Donna’s not a stranger,” Sam admits, “I talk to her all the time, and she’s pretty awesome. I think the whole idea is kind of cute. This way, no one feels left out.”

“I want to be left out. If you like it so much, you can have my assignment, too.”

Sam doesn’t take the bait, staring Dean down with his arms crossed and a grin on his face. He actually seems pleased with the company’s idea to have people bond over cheap candy and Hallmark sentiment. If Sandover really wanted their employees to bond, they should all team up to fight murderous ghosts. It worked wonders for the two of them.

Eventually, Dean gives up and changes the subject. “Are you still coming over tonight?”

Sam’s smile shifts into something indecent that has Dean rolling his chair forward to hide his lap under his desk. “Only if I don’t have to eat that rabbit food in your fridge.”

Dean pretends to think on it, when he’s really imagining all the other things Sam’s mouth will be doing later tonight.

“Deal.”

AN: Your prompt was two sentences long and I somehow managed to miss half of what you asked for. No one went to the wrong restaurant, I hope that's okay!!

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22503958

--

Slings and Arrows

There’s a large man sitting at Jensen’s table. Jensen doesn’t especially mind, because the aforementioned man is probably the hottest guy he’s ever seen in his entire life, but nevertheless, it bears stating. At some point between his salad being delivered and the bite Jensen just finished and looked up from, he apparently gained a dining partner.

Jensen sits back and blinks a few times, confused enough to consider that maybe he’s the one who is out of line, but no, he was here first and this guy definitely just sat down at some point and started talking.

The man is a public safety hazard, over-excited and animated, waving his arms around like he’s trying to catch a waiter off guard and knock a tray down. Jensen tries to follow what he’s saying, but the stranger is going at a million miles a minute. Honestly, it’s probably annoying, but Jensen has no complaints. The man looks loud, but to Jensen he's a muffled hum along with the rest of the conversation from the tables around them, and for all the nervous energy the man is putting out, it's kind of cute how his shaggy brown hair flops along with his movements. Jensen is perfectly content to stare until the dude has talked himself out.

After a few long seconds, the guy stops abruptly and stares at Jensen, looking anxious.

“I’m talking too much,” he says, or at least that’s Jensen’s best guess. Jensen nods, because he’s pretty confident the guy is in fact talking too much.

The doorbell rang, and Jensen dragged himself off the couch with a groan. It was probably Danneel coming to cheer him up. Never mind that it would just make him feel worse, knowing she had left her date with Genevieve to console her recently-dumped BFF.

He flung the door open, ready to tell her to just go away, when his thought processes came to a stop. He had to look up, past a set of broad shoulders in chef's whites to a smiling, dimpled face and twinkling blue-grey eyes.

"Hi!" the stranger at Jensen's door said. "I'm Jared. With Pada-chefs?"

Jensen blinked at him. "Pada-what?"

The smile slipped a little. "Pada-chefs. This is the Ackles residence, right?"

"Yes, it is, but…" Jensen trailed off as he realized what was going on. "Oh, shit."

The smile was barely there now. "Is there a problem?"

Jensen turned sideways and lightly banged his forehead against the doorframe. When he straightened up again, he put on the brightest smile he could manage. "I'm sorry. I was going to surprise my boyfriend with a Valentine's Day dinner, but he dumped me last week for his Crossfit trainer, and I forgot to cancel the reservation."

"Oh, man." Jared's face fell. "I'm so sorry. That really sucks."

"Yeah. So, um, I don't really need the dinner."

"Right." Jared hesitated and then said cautiously, "The thing is, it's not cancelable within twenty-four hours. Forty-eight for holidays, actually, but never mind."

Jensen sighed. "I'm not asking for my money back. I just…don't need it." He put a hand on the door, ready to close it.

Jared gestured at the van behind him, parked on Jensen's driveway. "Everything's prepped and ready to go. And you gotta eat, right?" He gave a hopeful smile.

Jensen thought for a moment. Then he reached up and scratched the back of his neck. "Beats a frozen pizza, I guess."

"Oh, I can definitely do better than that." Jared winked at him. "Just give me a minute to bring everything in."



Jensen held the door as Jared went back and forth between van and kitchen with a huge cooler, two picnic hampers with "Pada-chefs" emblazoned on the top, and a fairly large cake box. When he had everything in, Jared brushed his hands together and said, "All right, dinner will be ready in forty-five minutes. You can watch TV or read or whatever you want."

Jensen shuffled his feet on the carpet. "D'you mind if I watch?"

Jared hesitated, and Jensen hurried on with a wave of his hand, "No, it's fine, I don't need to. Just thought it might be interesting, but you probably you don't want me in your way."

"No, it's not that. Just…some people get a little protective when someone else is in their kitchen."

Jensen held up his hands. "I will sit on the barstool and not say a word."

"Well, you can say some words." Jared grinned at him.

Jensen felt a slow smile spreading across his face. "All right," he agreed, climbing up on one of the barstools on the dining room side of the kitchen counter.

As it turned out, he didn't have to say a lot. Jared was happy to answer all of Jensen's questions, like where the name Pada-chefs had come from, or why he was a personal chef, or what he most liked to cook. The first one was a play on his last name, which led into a long discussion about his family. The second one was because he'd gone to culinary school to make desserts, but then he didn't want the pressure of working as a pastry chef here in Los Angeles. That was when he told Jensen all about his sweet tooth and how Valentine's was his favorite holiday because of all of the candy.

"Truth be told," Jared said as he was firing up the broiler for the coffee-crusted steaks, "February 15 is really the best holiday."

"Because that's when all of the candy goes on sale?"

Jared beamed at him. "Exactly!"

It turned out Jared liked to cook pretty much anything, but being a Texas boy, steak and potatoes were his secret favorites. "Doesn't sound very sophisticated, though, so I try not to advertise it."

"I don't know, that looks pretty fancy," Jensen said, pointing at the thinly-sliced potatoes Jared was stacking on end into a casserole dish.

"They're called Hasselback potatoes. They get all crispy on top, but stay kind of soft on the bottom. You'll love them."

Jensen hesitated only a moment before saying, "I'm from Texas, too."