This story had actually been in the works for a bit, as part of the Incremental Movement 'verse, but the ending just wasn't happening. Then, abruptly, it did. :) So I'm going ahead and posting it, since if I don't I'll just fart around with it forever. Set a little earlier in the 'verse. Jared/Richard PRS, of course. :)
Title: Reaching For Warmth
Genre: Schmangst, schmoop, romance, RPS
Spoilers: Don't I wish
Warnings: RPS, total and utter disregard for real-life relationships
Disclaimer: Don't know 'em, never met 'em, nothing you see here is real
Word Count: ~1200
Summary: Jared makes a discovery, and an offer.
Note: For my schmoop_bingo, the square wot reads "perfume/cologne." Part of the Incremental Movement 'verse, and sits chronologically between Sharp With The Sweet and Sunlit. OMG, I think this gives me a second vertical bingo, even. Whoa. That any of this 'verse got written at all – never mind this much of it – is pretty much down to morganoconner, because she has been nothing but awesome throughout it all.
He was their kind-of-sort-of-an-archangel now.
He'd died, the writers had decided – in a rather magnificent display of retconning – because only dead could he have been able to pull Sam free, navigate the dichotomy of body and soul and Grace and damned that the younger
Now, almost halfway through the season, Gabriel was finally finding out both this and also why he was, though alive, a shadow of his former self.
Resurrected he was, but bound to the soul he'd rescued. Not Fallen, not that, but wing-clipped and shackled to Earth just the same, his former refuge now his prison until the wages of his flight from Heaven had been deemed paid.
Predictably, the former Trickster wasn't dealing gracefully with the situation.
Jared watched from off-camera, Jensen at his elbow, as Richard and Misha hammered it out. Gabriel was demanding, shouting, finally pleading with Castiel for assistance the other angel couldn't give, for answers he didn't have. It was breaking Jared's heart and Castiel's too, Jared watching as sorrow played delicately across Misha's face in response to the anguish in Richard's. Gabriel had stopped caring millennia ago, or he'd convinced himself that he had – the greatest trick of all – until Dean had cracked him open there in Season Five. Now in Season Six he was paying the price, because in Supernatural only rarely did a good deed ever go unpunished.
"I have no more answers than these," Castiel said, his regret sincere and visible – a more human angel now, changed by his time on Earth.
One beat, two, three – Gabriel's eyes squeezed closed. He turned and took two steps and grabbed for the table behind him, his head going down and his knuckles going white.
Jared inhaled shallowly, got the grassy edge of Jensen's cologne, the hot smell of the lights.
Castiel took a single step forward, hand rising as if he would touch Gabriel's shoulder…and falling back against his side as he stopped, and looked down at the floor.
Misha inhaled noisily, tilted his head back onto his shoulders and exhaled, long and hard.
Somebody in the crew whistled softly, and that broke the tableau. Applause scattered in from the perimeter of the set and Jared joined in because that? Had been a hell of a scene.
Richard still hadn't moved, and Jared took a step forward, wanting –
Misha beat him to it.
Misha stepped in close and put his arm around Richard's shoulders, whispering something.
Whatever it was, it worked, because Richard snorted, then chuckled, the set of his shoulders relaxing. He elbowed Misha in the ribs and Misha squawked, loud and showy, and Richard's head came up to reveal a half-smile.
Jared – wanted in on that.
But Misha was there, so close. Misha had made Richard smile and laugh, and Richard's laughter hadn't been heard enough lately.
He's everywhere you wanna be.
"So what was all that?"
"All what?" Richard said around his cup of coffee. Steam from the hot liquid formed shapes in the cool air.
"You and Misha giggling there after that last scene." Jared poked a finger against the arm not holding the cup. They sat close together on the warehouse stairs, around the corner and down the hall from where Jensen and Misha were shooting, out of the way of the bustle. The tiny space between them was threaded with Richard's cologne, that wonderful spicy thing that made Jared want to just press his face into Richard's neck and inhale. And maybe bite.
One expressive eyebrow arched. "Angel business."
"Ha, ha. Ri-ight." Jared poked him again because friends shared, right? And they were a little bit more than friends now, weren't they? He'd kissed the man a couple of times now, that had to count for something. "C'mon, what was it?"
Richard eyed him sideways, looking eerily Trickster-like for a moment. "Careful, I think your jealousy is showing there, Jaybird."
"I'm not," Jared started – and stopped. Because that was –
…oh dear god.
Oh dear god.
"Uhm." Jared swallowed. "Maybe?"
He – didn't know even what to do with this, really, hell, he was the king of inappropriate touching anyway, how did he get off getting irritable over somebody else –
A finger lodged under his chin and turned his head. "You are," Richard said, and those tiger-gold eyes were warm and surprised. Well, why not? Jared certainly was. "I think I'm flattered."
"He made you laugh," Jared mumbled, and immediately wanted to sink under the stairs.
"But I'm not kissing him. Even if he asks." Richard smiled crookedly at him and okay, now, that was more than Jared could reasonably be expected to resist.
Richard's smile tasted like coffee and himself and Jared wanted every bit of it. Richard had started it the other times and Jared would wait, he would, but how was he gonna resist the feel of Richard's leg pressed against his in their tiny hiding place? Resist the smell of the man, spice and orange and a hint of leather, the scent that Jared dreamed about, for God's sake, and underneath there was Richard himself, warm and male.
Richard hadn't started the kiss this time, Jared had. But Richard was letting him. Richard was making no move to stop.
Richard was kissing him back.
Richard's hair was a little stiff, sticky with product when Jared's fingers slid into it and shit, makeup was going to shoot him. But Richard himself didn't protest, only made a low sound in his throat, one that went straight to Jared's groin and shit, wardrobe was gonna shoot him too because he was gonna have trouble with Sam's jeans when he stood up.
He didn't care.
God, he had to care. He was fine with trumpeting this to the world, but was Richard? Hell, did Richard even think that there was a "this"?
Jared fought to make himself break it off before Sam's jeans really did become an issue, and leaned his forehead against Richard's, and breathed. God damn but the man smelled good, all sweet spicy bay-rum beneath the makeup and Jared wanted to snuggle in close and never ever let go. He wanted to lick all those inches of skin he'd never seen.
He wanted to eat the man alive.
He settled for breathing. Hard.
"Come on vacation with me," he blurted, out of the blue.
Richard stilled. "What?" He sounded a little out of breath, and it made something primitive in Jared's chest purr in response.
"Over the break," Jared said, the plan forming even as he spoke. "Get out of
Someplace really warm where I can smell you. Where I'll have to see some of those inches of skin….
Richard pulled back and the cool air of the warehouse rushed between them, breaking the spell. "Don't you usually go see family?"
"Sometimes I go to
Silence, broken only by their breathing and then a distant call of "Cut!"
A slow smile spread over Richard's sharp face. "Warm sounds good, then."