beanside | Fic: Upon My Liar's Chair (1/?) WIP

So, I think I've mentioned before that my writing fu has gone to shit lately. It's the whole chronic pain/changing meds thing, I think. Either way, I decided that if I'm to get my groove back on, it means that I should go back to the basics. To what I do best.

Pretty much anyone who has seen some of my older fics knows what that means. Time to inflict some damage!

So yes. Here's the result, schmoop, angst and some good old fashioned pain. Enjoy!

Title: Upon My Liar's Chair
Rating: Adult
Disclaimer: Thankfully, this didn't happen. I don't know them, I don't know what they do in their spare time, but I doubt it's any of this.
A/N: Much love to my wife for doing the quick once over.
Warning: Character injury, permanent disability.

All things considered, it was a given that eventually Jensen's luck on stunts would run out. Jared wasn't allowed to do half the stuff he was, but then again, he hadn't broken his hand twice.

It was a dirt simple stunt, too. Run through the graveyard and dive over a gravestone, land on the soft blue pad , and done. He'd done it a million times. Hell, he'd done it about five times already today. Maybe that was why he didn't notice the spot where the grass had worn, leaving
a tiny patch of slick mud.

Whatever it was, he hit it as he pushed off, his left foot sliding out crazily, and sending him tumbling gracelessly through the air. Jensen had just long enough to think,aw, hell, this is gonna hurt, and then, he was meeting the side of one of the tombstones hard enough to drive the air out of him.

His curse wasn't quite loud enough to mask the other sound, though.

A wet, thick-sounding crunch that made everyone on the set cringe. Then, pain roared up, flaring up his back, down his legs, and Jensen succumbed to the wave of blackness that reared over him.

****

"Cut! Reset. And someone powder Miss Blanchett's nose. The glare is blinding."

Cate spit several soft curses under her breath, and Jeff closed his eyes and prayed for the day to end soon. For a movie that had started out with an awesome script, and a great cast, this one had gone to the shitter fast. First, their leading lady had gotten preggers, and had to drop out. Then, the director had left. The idiot they had now was clueless, and had done rewrites on the script to make it "more snappy."

The rewrites had killed any chemistry or sense of fun the movie had. Add to that, they were filming in Mexico, during what the locals were saying was the hottest spring they'd seen in years. A hundred and five as of yesterday. All in all, he was just glad there was only another week of filming. He was, like the rest of the cast, looking forward to forgetting about this one.

"Mr. Morgan? Phone call for you," one of the PAs brought his cell phone to him. "It's a Mr. Padalecki. He said it's important."

Shit. For Jared to interrupt filming...he took the phone and put it to his ear. "Hey, Jare. What's going on?"

"Jeff. It's Jen," Jared said, voice thick.

Jeff felt his stomach drop out. "What happened?"

"He was filming, and he slipped, and fell on a tombstone, and...fuck. Jeff, he broke his back."

For a moment, his brain wouldn't comprehend the words, then the full horror hit him. "Oh Christ, Jare. Is he okay? I mean-"

"He's stable. They're taking him into surgery now. They won't know if he's-" Jared broke off and cleared his throat hard. "They'll know the extent of the damage in a few days. But it doesn't look great."

"Okay. I'll be there as soon as I can," Jeff said, stomach churning. He hung up and turned to the PA. "I need to go. Would you book me on the soonest flight to Vancouver?"

"Okay, people. Places," the director snapped. "If you'd like to join us, Jeffrey?"

"Next flight's the redeye at eleven," the PA whispered. "You're booked."

"Thanks, sweetheart." He walked back on set. "I have to leave at seven, and I'll be gone a couple of days," he announced.

The director sputtered. "Pardon? We have a film to shoot, Morgan."

"I know. I also know we're ahead of schedule, thanks to you cutting the break that was scheduled around Cinco De Mayo," Jeff said tightly. "I have to go to Vancouver. Tonight."

Cate came over, laying a hand on his arm. "Is everything okay?"

"A friend, a...close friend, was injured on set. I need-" Jeff shook his head, clenching his jaw against the torrent of words that tried to come out.

She nodded, gently squeezing his shoulder. "Okay. We're shutting down for a long weekend," she announced. "I feel faint, and I believe I have heat exhaustion."

The director made a snarling noise, and she glared at him regally. "It is Wednesday, and we were taking Friday anyway. So, deal. We'll catch up on Monday." Cate glanced at Jeff. "Assuming my heat exhaustion has improved." Lowering her voice, she smiled gently at Jeff. "Go see your friend. I'll deal with the little cunt."

Jeff hugged her, smothering a laugh on her shoulder. "Thank you."

The flight was long, and less than smooth. They ended up landing in Seattle as Vancouver was experiencing a hell of an electrical storm. Even with the bumpy ride, it gave Jeff plenty of time to imagine the worst. To think about Jensen laying in a hospital bed, paralyzed.

He'd been in love with Jensen for so long now that it was hard to remember when it had started. Probably during Dead Man's Blood, while he was strung out on caffeine and cold medicine, just trying to stay awake long enough to be badass.

The whole crew had been awesome, but Jensen was the one who'd bossed him around, made him rest, had the PA run to the deli for chicken soup and made him tea with honey.

Somewhere during the week, probably the Saturday night that his cough had gotten worse and his fever had spiked, he'd realized that he was falling for a costar again. With his track record, he'd decided it was better to ignore it. And he had, fairly effectively. He'd finished out his tenure on Supernatural, and gone on to get engaged, unengaged, engaged again, and finally thoroughly shredded in the tabloids when that didn't work out.
Apparently, he was both 'needy' and 'clingy.' Oh, wait. He was also 'mysoginistic' and a 'pig.'

He'd always thought of it as old-fashioned, but okay. It wasn't that he didn't think a woman could do anything she wanted--he knew damn well that they could. He'd just always been of the opinion that they shouldn't have to do it.

'Your mistake,' Zach had firmly told him, 'was trying to treat an opportunistic leech like a lady.'

Zach wasn't wrong.

He called Jared once they'd landed in Seattle.

"How's it going?"

"He's in recovery," Jared said voice scratchy. "They say it doesn't look as bad as they thought. He's still got some function below the waist. Y'know, bladder and all that."

"That's good, right?"

"It's awesome. He still can't feel his legs, but maybe when the swelling goes down."

"That's wonderful."

Jeff could hear Jared shifting, and his voice was a little less rough when he spoke again. "How's Mexico?"

"Hot as hell, sunny."

Lightning cracked overhead and he heard Jared chuckle. "Not for long, sounds like. We're getting poured on up here, too."

"I know. I'm about five miles from the Canadian border."

"I thought you were filming."

Jeff laughed dryly. "It's one of my boys. Of course I was gonna come. I'd be there if they hadn't diverted me to to Seattle."

Jared snorted. "You gonna tell him this time?"

"Tell him what?" Jeff felt his heart rate pick up, palms going instantly sweaty like a goddamn teenager.

"Oh for God's sake, Morgan. You're like a fucking twelve year old girl around him," Jared retorted.

"I-"

"Gotta go, dude. Doctor's coming out."

Jeff started to reply, but the line was already dead. Jaw set, he pressed harder on the accelerator.

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