Fic: A Certain Kind Of Light

[library_j]

Another one for the RPS Incremental Movement 'verse, a little out of order.  I writes 'em the way the muse suggests, I'm afraid.  *shrugs*

 

Title:  A Certain Kind Of Light
Author:  jessebee 
Rating:  PG-13
Genre:  Schmoop, romance, RPS
Pairing:  Jared/Richard
Spoilers: Nah
Warnings:  RPS, total and complete disregard for the actual facts of anybody's actual life.
Disclaimer:  Absolutely nothing real is happening here.
Word Count:  ~700
Series:  Incremental Movement

Summary:  To those who know and love you, happiness is hard to hide.

 

Note:  For my schmoop_bingo, replacing the "Thanksgiving – meeting the parents" with "office/workplace party."  Takes place after Feels Like The First Time and before Shadowed.   morganoconner, I'm getting to the make-up fic, I swear I am!

 

 

 

#

 

"Well, fuck me sideways."

 

Misha's eyebrows shoot upward, doing that thing that they do.  "Sure, I'm in.  What's the occasion?" 

 

Jensen just nods over at Richard and Jared, who've come into the party late and are still most of the way across the room.  Considering how far they've just flown to get home, Jensen's pretty impressed that they've made it to this cast & crew holiday get-together at all.  But Jared had promised that he and Rich would be here.

 

Now Jensen thinks he knows why.

 

"Oh?  Ah-ah," Misha says in tones of enlightenment, followed by a mouthful of syllables in Russian, only one or two of which Jensen gets.

 

"Say what?"

 

"They're lovers," Misha translates.  "Or they're fucking, anyway.  Which means…."

 

"That you owe me, Collins.  Pay up," Jensen says, grinning.  Because Misha has about the best knack for reading people that Jensen's ever encountered, so if Misha sees it too….

 

"A bet I am happy to lose, for once," Misha grumbles, all for show, fishing a bill out of his wallet and handing it over.  "I'm glad Rich's let him in, even if it is too soon for my retirement fund.  Jared'll be good for him."

 

"He is pretty persistent," Jensen agrees, tucking the twenty away.  He takes a pull of his beer, a smile still tugging at his mouth. 

 

They look good, his two coworkers – a little tired, but tanned and relaxed.  Jared is his normally exuberant self, all smiles and hands – not that hyperactive puppy persona he wears for the public, but rather the way he always is with his friends and the crew – but he's standing closer to Richard than usual. 

 

Richard, though – he's where it's really showing. 

 

"He's been unlocked," Misha says, close to Jensen's ear.  "Door's not completely open yet, but I think Jared's got the right key."

 

Jensen snorts.  "Very Zen of you, dude," because Misha's one of the few people he knows who can spout shit like that and make it work. 

 

Whatever Misha's response might have been is lost as Jared catches sight of Jensen and hollers his name across the room.  Moments later Jensen's wrapped up in his best friend's long arms and getting hugged like Jared hasn't seen him in two years rather than two weeks.  Jensen makes it a point to give back as good as he gets.

 

"So much to tell you, man," Jared mumbles in Jensen's ear before he pulls back.

 

"Good?" Jensen asks, playing dumb for all he's worth.

 

"Real good."  Jared's grin practically blinds him before Jared turns to subject Misha to a round of the same treatment.

 

"Hey, Jensen," Richard says, appearing from around Jared's back, and holds out his hand.

 

Fuck that.

 

Jensen grabs and pulls, tugging Richard into a hug, because anybody who lights Jared up like that is worth a crapload more than just a handshake, in Jensen's book.  So he lets the embrace go on a second or so too long for "just friends," and finishes with a backslap of manliness before he lets go.

 

Richard looks surprised but pleased, one eyebrow arched inquiringly.  "Well, hel-lo there, big boy.  How well do I know you, again?" 

 

And Jensen laughs because that there?  Is the old Richard, the smart, witty guy they'd had so much fun with on those first shoots, the one who'd flirt with anything that moved.  The one who'd become a good friend.  The one who'd half-vanished, gone closed and quiet in the wake of all the shit and tragedy of the past year.

 

Misha's right – Jared is good for him.

 

And speaking of Misha, here he is, slinging an arm around Richard's shoulders and swinging him around, their heads close together.  Jared's arm reappears around Jensen's shoulders as well, and Jensen cocks an eyebrow at him.  "So," he says.  "Something you wanna to tell me?" and cuts his eyes over at Richard and Misha.

 

Jared's jaw drops a little, then he ducks his head.  "Uhm, maybe not.  Damn.  That obvious?"

 

"Only to me.  And, y'know, Misha."

 

"Damn," Jared says again.  "Jen…."

 

"Hey."  Jensen pokes him in the chest with the beer bottle.  "You happy, Jare?"

 

Jared's eyes come back to Jensen's, and they're bright in a way Jensen's never seen on him before.  "Yeah.  I really am."

 

"Then that's what really matters, dumbass."

 

This time, the hug practically breaks Jensen's ribs.