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stephanometraTitle: Sometimes Words Have Two Meanings
Pairing: Jensen/Chris
Rating: PG13
Summary: In which Chris owes Jensen. Maybe.
Warnings: None!
Notes: Another Stairway Verse ficlet. Another tie-in to It Makes Me Wonder. Another phone conversation (although Chris is not as mouthy as Steve, sadly). THREE-PEAT, LOL. 450 words.
***
Jensen dials Chris as soon as he's back in his suite, says, "You owe me, asshole," as soon as Chris picks up.
"Fuck what?" Chris says, voice breathy and thick with sleep.
Shit. "...You were sleeping."
"Well, I'm awake now." He yawns, and Jensen can just see the catlike stretch that goes with it.
"I'm really sorry, man, I figured it wasn't that late." The game was over at 9:30, and even with Jensen driving them back—Jared can never resist Mike's beer selection, and he wasn't good for much after the game besides cuddling with Sandy in the backseat of her rental car and verbally abusing Jensen for driving like an old man—they were home by 10, which means it's only 1 in Florida. Not late at all, not really.
"Fuckin' 5 A.M. call. Stupid dawn scenes on stupid crime shows."
Which means that Chris probably went to bed at 9 and was planning on getting up at 3. "Sorry," Jensen says again. "Go back to sleep, I'll call you tomorrow."
"Nope, first you gotta tell me why you called."
And man, Jensen feels like a jerk. "It's nothing, seriously."
"Bullshit, Jen. Now why do I owe you, exactly?"
"Well." He sighs, feels like a stupid jerk, and also possibly like the thirteen-year-old girl he always accuses Jared of being. "You weren't here."
"That's what happens when I've got a job in Miami," Chris replies wryly.
"Which means that you were conveniently unable to watch Steve practically molesting Rosenbaum in public for three hours tonight."
"I hear there was a game or something going on. Prob'ly coulda watched that instead."
"Dude, it's hockey." Jensen pauses. "There wasn't even a fight, it was terrible. And Kristin's kid sister was practically crawling into my lap the whole time, you have any idea how awkward that was?"
"Is she hot, at least?"
"Don't start with me, Kane."
"Hey, you're the one who woke me up." Chris yawns again, loud like he's trying to prove a point, and Jensen rolls his eyes. "So what is it I'm owing you, again?"
"Public gropage. Lots of it, at the first reasonable opportunity."
Chris laughs. "Come on, Jen, we both know you don't actually want me to feel you up in public."
"...I might."
"No, you don't." His tone gentles a little. "You could have just said you missed me, y'know."
Jensen exhales slowly. "I missed you. Always do."
"I love you too, you big idiot. Now fuck off, I'm going back to sleep."
He snorts. "Easy to see why they call you a lyrical genius."
"I'm a rock star, man; they'd call me that anyway."
"Yeah, sure they would."
"Night, Jensen."
"Goodnight, Chris." Smiling, he snaps shut his phone.
***
Eventually I'm going to run out of lyrics. WHAT WILL I DO THEN.
Pairing: Jensen/Chris
Rating: PG13
Summary: In which Chris owes Jensen. Maybe.
Warnings: None!
Notes: Another Stairway Verse ficlet. Another tie-in to It Makes Me Wonder. Another phone conversation (although Chris is not as mouthy as Steve, sadly). THREE-PEAT, LOL. 450 words.
Jensen dials Chris as soon as he's back in his suite, says, "You owe me, asshole," as soon as Chris picks up.
"Fuck what?" Chris says, voice breathy and thick with sleep.
Shit. "...You were sleeping."
"Well, I'm awake now." He yawns, and Jensen can just see the catlike stretch that goes with it.
"I'm really sorry, man, I figured it wasn't that late." The game was over at 9:30, and even with Jensen driving them back—Jared can never resist Mike's beer selection, and he wasn't good for much after the game besides cuddling with Sandy in the backseat of her rental car and verbally abusing Jensen for driving like an old man—they were home by 10, which means it's only 1 in Florida. Not late at all, not really.
"Fuckin' 5 A.M. call. Stupid dawn scenes on stupid crime shows."
Which means that Chris probably went to bed at 9 and was planning on getting up at 3. "Sorry," Jensen says again. "Go back to sleep, I'll call you tomorrow."
"Nope, first you gotta tell me why you called."
And man, Jensen feels like a jerk. "It's nothing, seriously."
"Bullshit, Jen. Now why do I owe you, exactly?"
"Well." He sighs, feels like a stupid jerk, and also possibly like the thirteen-year-old girl he always accuses Jared of being. "You weren't here."
"That's what happens when I've got a job in Miami," Chris replies wryly.
"Which means that you were conveniently unable to watch Steve practically molesting Rosenbaum in public for three hours tonight."
"I hear there was a game or something going on. Prob'ly coulda watched that instead."
"Dude, it's hockey." Jensen pauses. "There wasn't even a fight, it was terrible. And Kristin's kid sister was practically crawling into my lap the whole time, you have any idea how awkward that was?"
"Is she hot, at least?"
"Don't start with me, Kane."
"Hey, you're the one who woke me up." Chris yawns again, loud like he's trying to prove a point, and Jensen rolls his eyes. "So what is it I'm owing you, again?"
"Public gropage. Lots of it, at the first reasonable opportunity."
Chris laughs. "Come on, Jen, we both know you don't actually want me to feel you up in public."
"...I might."
"No, you don't." His tone gentles a little. "You could have just said you missed me, y'know."
Jensen exhales slowly. "I missed you. Always do."
"I love you too, you big idiot. Now fuck off, I'm going back to sleep."
He snorts. "Easy to see why they call you a lyrical genius."
"I'm a rock star, man; they'd call me that anyway."
"Yeah, sure they would."
"Night, Jensen."
"Goodnight, Chris." Smiling, he snaps shut his phone.
