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beansideTitle: 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. Sweet Charity fic, for avid_slacker.
Warning: Character injury, permanent disability.
Jeff rinsed out the mug, trying to ignore the way his hands were shaking. Jesus. That had been harder than he'd expected. Hell, he'd half thought Jensen would be calling the cops on him. Wouldn't have blamed him.
He heard the rustles and bitten off noises that said that Jensen was transferring into the wheelchair, and everything he had wanted to help. Wanted to make it right.
He couldn't. He couldn't give Jensen what he wanted. Couldn't make it right.
And now, he'd pretty much destroyed a friendship he valued.
“Way to go, Morgan,” he muttered under his breath.
A sharp thump made him jump and he glanced over to see Jensen on the floor looking confused.
“You need help?” Jeff asked, even though he knew the answer.
“Fuck you. I'll need your help when hell freezes over,” Jensen spat.
Jeff nodded slightly. “Okay. Let me know if you change your mind. I'm making pasta.” He had planned on making steaks, but Bisou was getting every damn one of them, instead of the one small one he'd put aside for her.
When he thought of what he could have come home to... It would be a long time before he stopped imagining Jensen's face bloated and blue from drowning.
It wouldn't be the first time he'd seen a friendship end that way. He couldn't do it again. Couldn't handle the waste, the loss.
Jeff wasn't stupid. He was at an age where you started having to say goodbye to more friends than hello. But not Jensen. God, please not Jen.
Jensen finally fumbled himself up into his wheelchair and Jeff breathed a silent sigh of relief.
It wasn't a shock when Jensen didn't come out for dinner, but it still hurt. He ate silently, watching Bisou bolt the steaks down, possibly without chewing. You'd think he never fed the girl.
He left a plate of pasta on the hall table outside of Jen's bedroom on his way to bed. The next morning, the empty plate sat there.
He felt absurdly better until he noticed Bisou's red mustache. Well, that explained why the plate was so clean.
On a rational level Jeff knew that it wasn't him Jensen was pissed at. He was pissed at himself, and at life, and at the doctors, and at everything. Jeff was just an easy target.
And okay, he'd overreacted. A lot. He wasn't going to really keep Jensen's pills. But he'd be damned if he'd apologize for being afraid.
It didn't help. He felt raw this morning, like he was minutes from climbing out of his skin. The thought of never having the old closeness with Jen again—even if it wasn't everything he wanted, it was still one of the best friendships he had, outside of the softball team. He wanted Jensen to smile again, to call him 'dead daddy.'
He wanted to turn back the clock. Instead, he was going to make coffee.
The red note on the fridge caught his attention as he fumbled the coffeemaker on. “Doctor, 10:00.”
Fuck. A quick glance at the clock told him it was almost nine.
This should be fun.
He tapped lightly on Jensen's door, and it swung inward. Bisou immediately jumped on the bed, licking Jensen's face happily as he flailed. “Morning,” Jeff said softly.
The glare that one word got him could have flayed skin and muscle from bone.
Jeff threw open the curtains and glanced back at Jensen. “Doctor appointment's in an hour. Get a move on,” he said, voice level.
Jensen winced, and threw his arm over his face. “Close the curtains,” he whispered, turning his head to avoid Bisou's tongue.
Ah, booze and pills. You could always count on that combo to turn into a hell of a hangover, Jeff thought. “Move it,” he said firmly, possibly a little louder than necessary.
“Unnngh. Shh.”
“I'm going to go put on breakfast. If you're not up and out in five minutes, I'll be back,” Jeff said, voice firm.
It actually took five minutes and forty seconds. Jeff was finishing the omlette when he heard the floorboard creak as Jensen came out. “Coffee's on the table for you.”
“Thanks,” Jensen said softly, voice still hoarse.
“No problem. Eggs?”
“Um. Yes. Please?”
Jeff let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. Okay, Jen was probably still pissed, but at least he was being civil. He sat the plate in front of Jensen, giving him a slight smile. “Don't forget, company's coming tonight at six.”
Jensen's eyes went frosty, and Jeff winced inwardly. Yup. He was definitely still pissed. “Would you like to put my coffee in a sippy cup, too?”
“Sure. I'll pick one up while you're at the doc.”
Jensen stared at him for a long moment. Probably trying to decide whether he was serious, Jeff thought. Then, he caught the twitch of Jensen's mouth that he quickly hid behind his coffee mug.
Grinning, Jeff went back to the stove to fix his own breakfast.
The trip to the doctors was mostly uneventful, aside from Jensen's growling when Jeff tried to open his car door for him. He seemed particularly pissy about his inability to get his own damn wheelchair out of the backseat.
“You should talk to the doc about one of those vans with the ramp,” Jeff said softly. “Then, you could just rev right up into it.”
Jensen nodded tightly.
“Maybe you could find one with racing stripes, look like a cool soccer mom,” Jeff continued.
Jensen nodded again, but at least this time, there was an uncertain smile touching his lips.
Deciding to quit while he was ahead, Jeff shut up and drove. The silence wasn't quite comfortable, but at least it wasn't totally hostile.
Finally, he was leaving Jensen at the doctors office and heading over to the grocery store for some extra food for the semi-party tonight. Then, maybe he'd go for a walk on the sea wall to get his equilibrium back.
“Hey, Jeff!”
Jeff glanced over at the outdoor cafe, not horribly shocked to see Jared and Sandy sitting there with the dogs. It was that kind of day.
“Hey,” he said weakly, walking over to rumple Harley and Sadie's ears.
“How're things going?” Jared asked, giving Jeff the sincere look.
He wouldn't crack, he wouldn't--
“I found him passed out in the hot tub yesterday.”
Damn Jared's puppydog eyes. So much for not cracking.
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. Sweet Charity fic, for avid_slacker.
Warning: Character injury, permanent disability.
Jeff rinsed out the mug, trying to ignore the way his hands were shaking. Jesus. That had been harder than he'd expected. Hell, he'd half thought Jensen would be calling the cops on him. Wouldn't have blamed him.
He heard the rustles and bitten off noises that said that Jensen was transferring into the wheelchair, and everything he had wanted to help. Wanted to make it right.
He couldn't. He couldn't give Jensen what he wanted. Couldn't make it right.
And now, he'd pretty much destroyed a friendship he valued.
“Way to go, Morgan,” he muttered under his breath.
A sharp thump made him jump and he glanced over to see Jensen on the floor looking confused.
“You need help?” Jeff asked, even though he knew the answer.
“Fuck you. I'll need your help when hell freezes over,” Jensen spat.
Jeff nodded slightly. “Okay. Let me know if you change your mind. I'm making pasta.” He had planned on making steaks, but Bisou was getting every damn one of them, instead of the one small one he'd put aside for her.
When he thought of what he could have come home to... It would be a long time before he stopped imagining Jensen's face bloated and blue from drowning.
It wouldn't be the first time he'd seen a friendship end that way. He couldn't do it again. Couldn't handle the waste, the loss.
Jeff wasn't stupid. He was at an age where you started having to say goodbye to more friends than hello. But not Jensen. God, please not Jen.
Jensen finally fumbled himself up into his wheelchair and Jeff breathed a silent sigh of relief.
It wasn't a shock when Jensen didn't come out for dinner, but it still hurt. He ate silently, watching Bisou bolt the steaks down, possibly without chewing. You'd think he never fed the girl.
He left a plate of pasta on the hall table outside of Jen's bedroom on his way to bed. The next morning, the empty plate sat there.
He felt absurdly better until he noticed Bisou's red mustache. Well, that explained why the plate was so clean.
On a rational level Jeff knew that it wasn't him Jensen was pissed at. He was pissed at himself, and at life, and at the doctors, and at everything. Jeff was just an easy target.
And okay, he'd overreacted. A lot. He wasn't going to really keep Jensen's pills. But he'd be damned if he'd apologize for being afraid.
It didn't help. He felt raw this morning, like he was minutes from climbing out of his skin. The thought of never having the old closeness with Jen again—even if it wasn't everything he wanted, it was still one of the best friendships he had, outside of the softball team. He wanted Jensen to smile again, to call him 'dead daddy.'
He wanted to turn back the clock. Instead, he was going to make coffee.
The red note on the fridge caught his attention as he fumbled the coffeemaker on. “Doctor, 10:00.”
Fuck. A quick glance at the clock told him it was almost nine.
This should be fun.
He tapped lightly on Jensen's door, and it swung inward. Bisou immediately jumped on the bed, licking Jensen's face happily as he flailed. “Morning,” Jeff said softly.
The glare that one word got him could have flayed skin and muscle from bone.
Jeff threw open the curtains and glanced back at Jensen. “Doctor appointment's in an hour. Get a move on,” he said, voice level.
Jensen winced, and threw his arm over his face. “Close the curtains,” he whispered, turning his head to avoid Bisou's tongue.
Ah, booze and pills. You could always count on that combo to turn into a hell of a hangover, Jeff thought. “Move it,” he said firmly, possibly a little louder than necessary.
“Unnngh. Shh.”
“I'm going to go put on breakfast. If you're not up and out in five minutes, I'll be back,” Jeff said, voice firm.
It actually took five minutes and forty seconds. Jeff was finishing the omlette when he heard the floorboard creak as Jensen came out. “Coffee's on the table for you.”
“Thanks,” Jensen said softly, voice still hoarse.
“No problem. Eggs?”
“Um. Yes. Please?”
Jeff let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. Okay, Jen was probably still pissed, but at least he was being civil. He sat the plate in front of Jensen, giving him a slight smile. “Don't forget, company's coming tonight at six.”
Jensen's eyes went frosty, and Jeff winced inwardly. Yup. He was definitely still pissed. “Would you like to put my coffee in a sippy cup, too?”
“Sure. I'll pick one up while you're at the doc.”
Jensen stared at him for a long moment. Probably trying to decide whether he was serious, Jeff thought. Then, he caught the twitch of Jensen's mouth that he quickly hid behind his coffee mug.
Grinning, Jeff went back to the stove to fix his own breakfast.
The trip to the doctors was mostly uneventful, aside from Jensen's growling when Jeff tried to open his car door for him. He seemed particularly pissy about his inability to get his own damn wheelchair out of the backseat.
“You should talk to the doc about one of those vans with the ramp,” Jeff said softly. “Then, you could just rev right up into it.”
Jensen nodded tightly.
“Maybe you could find one with racing stripes, look like a cool soccer mom,” Jeff continued.
Jensen nodded again, but at least this time, there was an uncertain smile touching his lips.
Deciding to quit while he was ahead, Jeff shut up and drove. The silence wasn't quite comfortable, but at least it wasn't totally hostile.
Finally, he was leaving Jensen at the doctors office and heading over to the grocery store for some extra food for the semi-party tonight. Then, maybe he'd go for a walk on the sea wall to get his equilibrium back.
“Hey, Jeff!”
Jeff glanced over at the outdoor cafe, not horribly shocked to see Jared and Sandy sitting there with the dogs. It was that kind of day.
“Hey,” he said weakly, walking over to rumple Harley and Sadie's ears.
“How're things going?” Jared asked, giving Jeff the sincere look.
He wouldn't crack, he wouldn't--
“I found him passed out in the hot tub yesterday.”
Damn Jared's puppydog eyes. So much for not cracking.
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Date: 2008-04-29 06:07 pm (UTC)Thank you!