Varying degrees of crazy
Aug. 16th, 2010 09:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maratonistaTitle: Varying degrees of crazy
Pairing: Cougar/Jensen
Rating: R
Summary: To be fair to Jensen, he did look suitably repentant. And he apologized. Oh boy, did he apologize…
Disclaimer: Not mine, borrowed!
Warnings: Violence, strong language and schmoop.
Notes: Part of the Belonging Series.
Cougar was ‘this’ close to killing someone when Jensen stormed through the door, bruised as fuck, and wearing the mother of all pissed expressions.
“I’ve had a really bad fucking day.” He announced when Pooch tripped over himself to check he was okay. “On the Crap-o-meter, it’s about a nine point five, so before anyone asks; yes, I am okay; no, I don’t want to fucking talk about it though I imagine Clay will be an asshole and order me to later; yes, he is dead; no, the body isn’t about to be found any time soon; also, someone better fucking find me pizza. And Orange Soda.”
He then grabbed Cougar none too gently by the collar of his shirt and dragged him out of the room.
It was probably the first time Cougar had ever been reduced to silence out of shock, and not a mulish desire to keep himself to himself.
Jensen kicked Roque off the top of the ‘do not anger’ ladder.
Roque might be a scary motherfucker, but at least you knew when he wanted to cut your head off.
Jensen sorta hit you with it from behind.
Clay did order him to debrief later, when Jensen was showered and didn’t have tiny pieces of whateverthefuck in his hair.
Pooch obligingly found food, likely from a fear that Jensen might spout horns and/or errupt and kill them all.
Jensen had just about cooled his temper enough to talk them through the events of the night. Every time he reached a point where Cougar (or Clay/Pooch/Roque – it varied) felt the need to growl and start plotting intricate revenge schemes, he shot them a look so deeply seeped in annoyance that they all backed down.
They’d never talk about it.
Because seriously? Jensen? As scary as a motherfucking kitten. Who wants to love you forever and play with your socks.
Only this time? Somehow not.
Cougar didn’t really understand why Jensen acted that way. The kid had been abducted, drugged and possibly tortured, had the threat of rape dangling over his head like a motherfucking pendulum.
And he was acting like some asshole had keyscored his Porche.
If they took away the whys and focused only on the nows, it was actually really fucking hot.
Apparently Cougar had a thing for angry kittens.
When they next fucked, they fucked hard.
That was kind of sureal for them. A salute to the good old days, back before they both took a nose dive, and Jensen’s ass was Cougar’s to fuck as hard as he fucking pleased.
Jensen squirmed and bucked and bit. Actually fucking bit.
Then grinned up at Cougar, mouth bloody and eyes just the right side of crazy, and swatted Cougar’s hat clean off his head.
Cougar fucked him unconscious.
The kid should have fucking known better.
“Bring me pancakes, bitch.”
Apparently Jensen did know better. Boy was spending too long with Roque: he was becoming a manipulative little shit.
His beard grew back, and the vile fucking shirts made a return. When they fucked, he looked like Cougar’s Jensen, and when they curled up together afterwards, Cougar traced his thumb over the stubble.
Jensen’s crazy was put into perspective by Clay’s reckless cock.
Even when Jensen was goading Cougar into sex, hacking into satellites wearing only Cougar’s hat and a smug expression, or breaking people’s fists with his face, he had never actually put a bomb in the trunk of Cougar's car. Or shot him.
It was nice to know Cougar wasn’t the only one on the team who fucked people on the wrong side of batshit.
Then came a really fucked up job in Alaska.
Cougar held his hand to his leg and scowled at Jensen. “You shot me.” He wasn’t about to pout, he really wasn’t, but fuck, he had enjoyed the moral superiority he had held over Clay, even if it was Jensen who provided it.
To be fair to Jensen, he did look suitably repentant. And he apologized. Oh boy, did he apologize…
Cougar and Clay were on a beer run, and it was a small, small fucking world.
They were in El Salvador when they walked, quite by accident, into Lee. Very much alive.
Lee was smart, and fast, and made a tactical retreat before Clay and Cougar could blink past the knowledge that Jensen had fucking lied to them.
They caught up with him on the edge of town, and Cougar put a bullet in both his knees.
He knew he was violent. He knew he could be cruel.
Right then all that mattered was that he got the rage out of his system before his instinct took over from his brain, and he put another of those bullets right between Jensen's lying eyes.
Pairing: Cougar/Jensen
Rating: R
Summary: To be fair to Jensen, he did look suitably repentant. And he apologized. Oh boy, did he apologize…
Disclaimer: Not mine, borrowed!
Warnings: Violence, strong language and schmoop.
Notes: Part of the Belonging Series.
Cougar was ‘this’ close to killing someone when Jensen stormed through the door, bruised as fuck, and wearing the mother of all pissed expressions.
“I’ve had a really bad fucking day.” He announced when Pooch tripped over himself to check he was okay. “On the Crap-o-meter, it’s about a nine point five, so before anyone asks; yes, I am okay; no, I don’t want to fucking talk about it though I imagine Clay will be an asshole and order me to later; yes, he is dead; no, the body isn’t about to be found any time soon; also, someone better fucking find me pizza. And Orange Soda.”
He then grabbed Cougar none too gently by the collar of his shirt and dragged him out of the room.
It was probably the first time Cougar had ever been reduced to silence out of shock, and not a mulish desire to keep himself to himself.
Jensen kicked Roque off the top of the ‘do not anger’ ladder.
Roque might be a scary motherfucker, but at least you knew when he wanted to cut your head off.
Jensen sorta hit you with it from behind.
Clay did order him to debrief later, when Jensen was showered and didn’t have tiny pieces of whateverthefuck in his hair.
Pooch obligingly found food, likely from a fear that Jensen might spout horns and/or errupt and kill them all.
Jensen had just about cooled his temper enough to talk them through the events of the night. Every time he reached a point where Cougar (or Clay/Pooch/Roque – it varied) felt the need to growl and start plotting intricate revenge schemes, he shot them a look so deeply seeped in annoyance that they all backed down.
They’d never talk about it.
Because seriously? Jensen? As scary as a motherfucking kitten. Who wants to love you forever and play with your socks.
Only this time? Somehow not.
Cougar didn’t really understand why Jensen acted that way. The kid had been abducted, drugged and possibly tortured, had the threat of rape dangling over his head like a motherfucking pendulum.
And he was acting like some asshole had keyscored his Porche.
If they took away the whys and focused only on the nows, it was actually really fucking hot.
Apparently Cougar had a thing for angry kittens.
When they next fucked, they fucked hard.
That was kind of sureal for them. A salute to the good old days, back before they both took a nose dive, and Jensen’s ass was Cougar’s to fuck as hard as he fucking pleased.
Jensen squirmed and bucked and bit. Actually fucking bit.
Then grinned up at Cougar, mouth bloody and eyes just the right side of crazy, and swatted Cougar’s hat clean off his head.
Cougar fucked him unconscious.
The kid should have fucking known better.
“Bring me pancakes, bitch.”
Apparently Jensen did know better. Boy was spending too long with Roque: he was becoming a manipulative little shit.
His beard grew back, and the vile fucking shirts made a return. When they fucked, he looked like Cougar’s Jensen, and when they curled up together afterwards, Cougar traced his thumb over the stubble.
Jensen’s crazy was put into perspective by Clay’s reckless cock.
Even when Jensen was goading Cougar into sex, hacking into satellites wearing only Cougar’s hat and a smug expression, or breaking people’s fists with his face, he had never actually put a bomb in the trunk of Cougar's car. Or shot him.
It was nice to know Cougar wasn’t the only one on the team who fucked people on the wrong side of batshit.
Then came a really fucked up job in Alaska.
Cougar held his hand to his leg and scowled at Jensen. “You shot me.” He wasn’t about to pout, he really wasn’t, but fuck, he had enjoyed the moral superiority he had held over Clay, even if it was Jensen who provided it.
To be fair to Jensen, he did look suitably repentant. And he apologized. Oh boy, did he apologize…
Cougar and Clay were on a beer run, and it was a small, small fucking world.
They were in El Salvador when they walked, quite by accident, into Lee. Very much alive.
Lee was smart, and fast, and made a tactical retreat before Clay and Cougar could blink past the knowledge that Jensen had fucking lied to them.
They caught up with him on the edge of town, and Cougar put a bullet in both his knees.
He knew he was violent. He knew he could be cruel.
Right then all that mattered was that he got the rage out of his system before his instinct took over from his brain, and he put another of those bullets right between Jensen's lying eyes.