Runaway – Ch 15

Pairing: Jared x Reader
Warnings: Underage Drinking 
Tags: flirt flirt flirtyness, so much drinking, tension y’all
WC: 3.3k

Masterlist

Jensen’s room was about halfway up the height of the hotel, and it had a cute little balconette with a lovely view of the river and out over the countryside. A bright flash brought Y/N/N back from her thoughts to the present; turning, she saw Jared there with a Polaroid camera, clearly having just taken a picture of her leaning against the tail of the balcony. 

“What was that for?” Y/N/N laughed. 

“It’s Jen’s,” Jared shrugged, pulling the photo from the slot at the front of the camera. 

“I didn’t know you took pictures,” Y/N/N turned to Jensen curiously. He shrugged too.

“It started for work, gave the columns a more “intimate” feel, y’know,” his sarcastic air quotes around ‘intimate’ were obvious. “But I actually really like ‘em. I’ve got a load of this dufus saved in a shoebox in case I ever need to blackmail him,” Jensen grinned, punching Jared on the arm. 

“Can I see it?” Y/N/N pointed to the little photo, but Jared shook his head. 

“Gotta let it develop properly, don’t want to spoil it.” Jared set the camera on the table and tucked the photo into his shirt pocket. “Besides, it’s time to get down to business!” Clapping his hands, he threw open the mini fridge to display the evening’s entertainment. 

“Oh my god! Did you rob a liquor store?” Y/N/N laughed, staring between the men in astonishment. There were so many bottles of alcohol and juice and soda it was a wonder they’d even been able to shut the tiny refrigerator in the first place.

“What can we get for you, Miss Y/N,” Jared bowed deeply, affecting a poncy accent that was meant to be English but most definitely wasn’t. 

“How about something that tastes nothing like wine,” Y/N/N laughed, plopping herself down on the end of the un-slept-in bed. 

“One Long Island Iced Tea coming right up,” Jensen clapped, pulling the requisite ingredients out of the fridge. 

“Dude, if you start her with those she’ll be passed out in an hour,” Jared protested, but Jensen just laughed. 

“Stop acting like a chaperone an’ get us some ice from that machine down the hall.” Jensen threw the empty bucket towards Jared, who caught it clumsily against his chest. 

Y/N/N turned the TV on to some music channel while Jensen made her drink, which he passed over to her as soon as Jared returned with the ice. They both watched with bated breath as she took a careful sip, considering the taste on her tongue. 

“This is nice,” she confirmed with a little jiggle of her head. “Can’t really taste the alcohol.” 

“Those are the best kind,” Jensen nodded. 

“Those are the kind you need to be careful with,” Jared pointed to the glass for emphasis, not quite ducking away fast enough to avoid the playful swing Jensen took at his head. 

“Seriously, lighten up man,” Jensen rolled his eyes. He grabbed the tequila and poured some straight into glass, pressing it against Jared’s chest. “Drink up.” 

“That’s way more than a shot,” Jared protested meekly, eyeing the clear liquor with distaste, and already knowing his objection was pointless. 

“You’re a big boy, Jay. Drink.” Jensen didn’t bother pouring a glass for himself, but lifted the bottle to his lips and downed a measure or so. He gave Jared a pointed look, shaming the actor into knocking back his own drink. 

Y/N/N sat on the bed, mildly observing the exchange as she sipped her drink. It really didn’t taste like much alcohol was in it at all. If the addition of alcohol wasn’t going to make something taste different, what was the point of having it at all? 

As the night wore on, Y/N/N began to understand the fuss about drinking; the bed she was sitting on felt softer, her skin felt softer too, she noticed when she went to the bathroom and checked her hair in the mirror. Upon brushing a stray tendril back into its place, her fingers skimmed over her forehead and it felt different than she remembered. It felt like velvet, almost, but the smooth side when you brushed it along its grain, rather than against its natural inclination. 

“Mr. Padalecki, Mr. Jensen, feel my face!” Y/N/N burst out of the door, wild with excitement. The men stared at her, bemused but kindly so. 

“Think she’s drunk yet?” Jared muttered to Jensen under his breath, and his friend cracked a smile. 

“Y/N/N, touch your nose!” he called from his position, lounging across his bed with a glass of whiskey dangling from one hand, swirling dangerously in its imbalance. She didn’t know why Jensen wanted her to, but she listened to the instruction, gently tapping her nose with an index finger. 

“Now with your other hand,” Jared cut in, taking a drink from his own whiskey. Y/N/N quickly obeyed, switching hands and tapping her finger to the tip of her nose, except she missed a bit and the finger slid off the slope of the appendage, coming away with some of her lipstick smeared on the tip. She looked down at her hand in confusion, unsure how she’d missed her nose. It was an easy target, it’s not like it ever moved. Jared and Jensen’s laughter brought her attention back to the room around her.

“Yeah, I’d say she’s drunk,” Jared giggled, not unaffected himself. Downing straight tequila to start off the evening was a quick way to that finish line. 

“Am I?” Y/N/N wondered aloud. “Is this what it feels like?” 

“Judging by the fact you just asked us to feel your face, I’m gonna go with ‘yes’,” Jensen chuckled under his breath. 

“Oh yeah! Feel my face,” Y/N/N’s eyes lit up brightly at the reminder, sending both her chaperones into fits of laughter that most outside observers would call giggles, though they would deny that if ever pressed on the point. She bound towards them, jumping on the nearest bed, which held Jensen, and craned her neck so her face was presented proudly before her, like a llama in a petting zoo. 

Fighting to contain his laughter, Jensen reached out and poked at the squidgy mound of her cheek, knocking her off balance and toppling her to the mattress, but that didn’t faze her one bit. 

“Feel my face,” she beamed up at Jared, now sprawled over the bed, head hanging over the side so her hair spilled down towards the floor. 

Jared reached across the divide between the beds and gently ran the backs of two of his long fingers over her skin, from forehead to cheek, tracing the curve of her brow. His eyes settled on her lips, which were hanging open in a giddy grin, though oddly stretched due to her being upside down. He hadn’t seen such carefree joy since… he didn’t want to think about how long it had been. 

Without warning, Y/N/N spun herself off the bed in a twirl of hair and skirts and bedsheets, and somehow miraculously wound up standing the right way up at the end of it. The only tell-tale sign of her drunken incoordination was the brief moment she took, blinking at the blank wall before she smiled widely again and asked for another drink. 

“Sure, whaddya want?” Jared hauled himself off the bed, assuming the bartender’s role. 

“Can I try that?” Y/N/N pointed to the whiskey glass Jared was still holding. 

“Y’sure?” he asked skeptically. “S’pretty strong stuff.” 

“Least lemme try it,” she rolled her eyes and snatched the glass from his outstretched hand. Maintaining eye contact the entire time she lifted it to her lips and took a taste, which she immediately regretted. The whiskey burned, tasting like ash in her mouth, or at least what she imagined ash must taste like. It tasted how burnt toast smelled – biting and inescapable. 

Jared tried not to laugh but the sound sputtered through his lips anyway. 

“Here, try it like this,” he offered when he’d caught his breath, pouring a strong measure of whiskey into a clean glass and filling the rest of it to the brim with ice and ginger ale. Y/N/N accepted the new drink cautiously, but was quickly delighted with it, her appreciative hums clashing with Jensen’s groaning protests that Jared had ruined a perfectly good single malt whiskey with all the unnecessary extras. 

“The kid’s an alcohol virgin, give ‘er time to warm up to the single malts,” Jared waved off Jensen’s complaints, pouring himself some more whiskey – neat – and topping off Jensen’s while he was at it. 

“Not a virgin anymo-ore,” Y/N/N sang happily, waving her whiskey ginger in the air in celebration before taking another healthy sip. “Well, this kind of virgin, anyways,” she added as an afterthought to herself. Except then she realised that it hadn’t been to herself, because she had indeed spoken the words aloud – the looks of shock and embarrassment on Jared and Jensen’s faces testified to that. 

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that,” she squeaked, hiccupping a little in her panic. “Fuck! I said fuck!” Y/N/N clapped a hand over her mouth, aghast at her own profanity. 

Jensen nearly keeled over laughing, his face crimson from the lack of air. Jared wasn’t doing much better, trying to hide his amusement behind his whiskey glass, which was nowhere near wide enough to disguise his broad smile. 

“I think I can let you off this once, Miss Y/N,” Jared was trying for a stern voice but he didn’t think he was succeeding, “but see it doesn’t happen again, hm?” 

“Of course, I’m so sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to offend y–” Y/N/N’s stammered apologies were interrupted by Jared bursting into laughter, unable to contain it any longer. After a moment’s consideration Y/N/N understood what had happened, and pouted dramatically at her boss. 

“That was mean,” she said pointedly. She wanted to storm away but there was nowhere to go, unless she planned to spend the rest of the night in the bathroom. Then she remembered the existence of the balcony, and without a word made her way through the glass doors to the small outcrop. Her forearms rested against the rails, drink suspended precariously over the edge of the railing, swaying from her fingertips. 

The river glinted under the lights from the restaurants and hotels that lined its banks, the moon reflected disjointedly in its currents. The back parking lot of the hotel was below, outlined with shrubs and little trees. The lights were only on in the sections people were walking through, shutting off automatically when they were no longer needed. Y/N/N didn’t like the dark places – she had never liked the dark – it always felt like someone could be watching her, just out of sight. She knew it was silly, a childhood fear born of one too many Stranger Danger videos at elementary school, but even now, high up on her balcony where no one could reach her, the dark quadrants of the parking lot still made her uneasy. 

Shaking herself from the paranoia, Y/N/N sighed heavily and brought her glass to her lips for another drink. After a moment of drinking her lips met with ice and no more fizz. She looked down in confusion. 

“Aw, damn,” she lamented upon seeing the cup empty of drink. 

“Oh speak again, bright angel,” a coarse voice rose out of the darkness. 

Y/N/N jumped, the ice in her glass rattling violently as she searched around her for the source of the words. Upon seeing a man two balconies down from her own window, she relaxed a little. At least the strange voice hadn’t been a ghost or some kidnapper from the parking lot. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” the man apologised, with a little cough, moving into the ring of light coming from his room. The end of his cigarette glowed in the haze of smoke he exhaled. 

“S’fine,” Y/N/N called, raising her hand briefly in a gesture of forgiveness. 

A flash of light sparked behind her and Y/N/N jumped again, spinning towards the open doors that now framed a grinning Jared, the Polaroid camera held aloft again. 

“What are you doing?”

“Taking the ‘after’ shot,” he explained, plucking the print from its dispenser. “I had one from before you were drunk, now I have one after.” 

“You can’t tell I’m drunk from the back of my head,” Y/N/N scoffed. 

Another flash of light went off before she had even registered that Jared had raised the camera again. 

“No, but the smudged lipstick might give it away,” he smirked, collecting the second photograph and tucking them both in his pocket. 

“I smudged my lipstick?!” Y/N/N gasped, quickly turning towards her reflection in the window with the intention of removing the offending smear, but the glass was too textured for her to see herself clearly. 

“I gotcha, c’mere,” Jared laughed, pulling her in front of him by her wrist and quickly dispensing of the wayward makeup. “All better,” he smiled down at her. Y/N/N felt his words brush across the skin of her lips, where his fingers had been the barest second ago. 

“Thanks,” she cleared her throat, stepping back awkwardly. 

Finding that she desperately needed something to do with her limbs, Y/N/N let them carry her toward the table boasting the alcohol and poured herself another drink. Even though there was still music playing in the background, the room seemed oppressively silent. 

“So…” Y/N/N grasped in her mind for anything she could say. “Can I see the first one, then?” 

“Huh?” 

“The first picture,” she clarified, turning back to Jared. 

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Jared groped his chest, looking for the pocket, then extracted the first photo he’d taken of Y/N/N on the balcony at the start of the evening. 

It was more of a silhouette, her body outlined artistically against the streaming colours of the sunset. It felt very vintage, and Y/N/N was surprised to find she actually really liked the photograph. It was rare she felt that way about a photo of herself. 

Jensen emerged from the bathroom then, coming over to the pair and plucking the photo from Y/N/N’s fingers. She hadn’t even noticed that Jensen had been absent from the room this whole time. 

“Very nice,” he gave the snapshot an approving nod, handing it back to Jared, who deposited it back in his pocket. “You look like a movie star, kiddo.” 

“Hey! There’s an idea,” Jared pointed at Jensen in acknowledgment of a point well made. Y/N/N scoffed. 

“Yeah, right. You’re forgetting there’s an actual movie star in the room,” Y/N/N giggled, still flattered by the idea, however ridiculous it was. 

“Pshh, he wishes,” Jensen ribbed, winking at Y/N/N when his back was turned to Jared. 

“You could be a movie star if you wanted. I even know a couple people in the business, if you want me to put in a good word,” Jared offered conspiratorially, though his whispers carried easily through the room. 

Y/N/N was sure the snort she’d just made while she laughed would disqualify her from any considerations for stardom. 

“C’mon, it’s easy,” Jared prodded, taking a large sip to finish off his whiskey and then setting down the glass. “All we do is read lines, remember ‘em, and then say ‘em again later.” He explained the tenets of his job as if he was describing how to finger paint. 

“Yeah, but then comes the acting part,” Y/N/N reminded him with a roll of her eyes and draining the slightly alcoholic tasting melted ice from her glass. Jensen reached over and grabbed it from her, pouring in more whiskey while he refilled his own glass. 

“Shit, we need more ice,” he realised aloud, but Jared was already speaking over him. 

“You could totally be an actress,” Jared insisted. “Here, I’ll show you.” 

He dug around in his pockets for a moment before he realised his phone was on the bed and grabbed it. Pulling up his emails, he opened a script rewrite that had come through earlier that afternoon. Jared handed the phone to Y/N/N clumsily, pressing the little device into her hands with far more exuberance than was warranted. 

“Read the lines,” he insisted, waving his hands encouragingly. 

Y/N/N looked down at the phone, eyes frantically scanning over the words, which took longer to come into focus than usual, thanks to her alcohol consumption. 

“Love like that doesn’t really exist,” she read brokenly from the screen, glancing back at Jared with a laugh threatening to burst out of her chest at any second, but his eyes were so expectant and imploring Y/N/N felt bad stopping only six words into the page. She looked back down at the page and continued: “Men like you don’t really exist.” 

“Well, someone better call you a psychiatrist, seein’ as you’re spending all day talkin’ to imaginary folk,” Jared recited Chance’s lines from memory, slipping noticeably deeper into his Texan accent. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Chance. I meant it,” Y/N/N read slightly less broken then her first lines. 

“Yeah but say it like you mean it,” Jared directed, striding closer to her. “Think of the last thing you really felt. Like deeply felt, then say it like you’re sayin’ that,” he explained, passion radiating through him, its vigour most definitely augmented in correlation with his blood alcohol content. 

“Don’t be ridiculous Chance,” Y/N/N scoffed, trying the line again. “I meant it.” She reached for that feeling that Jared was describing – that aching existence – the something inside her that made her feel more than anything else she could remember. 

“And I meant it,” Jared spoke willfully, stepping even closer, so the tips of their toes met on the mottled hotel carpet. “I meant it when I said it yesterday, I’ll mean it when I say it next week. I mean it now.” 

He took a breath, bringing his hand up to Y/N/N’s face to brush away a hair she didn’t think was actually there for him to adjust. She looked back to the phone, scanned for the next line and  gulped hard when she saw it, looking back up to Jared with wide, fearful eyes. 

“I don’t know how to believe that,” Y/N/N whispered, voice catching in her throat and hitching with unintentional artistry through the phrase. She saw Jared smile, but wasn’t sure if it was part of his character or not. 

“Gi’ me the chance to make you believe,” Jared pleaded earnestly, and Y/N/N found herself nodding, wrapped up in the genuine desperation in Jared’s eyes. His cheek twitched in the ghost of a smile, chest heaving between them and meeting with Y/N/N’s, which jittered every time she reminded herself to breathe. 

Y/N/N blinked, looking down at the phone in case a new line had magically appeared in the script, but she knew that was impossible. It was just the small, italicised stage direction next. 

They kiss. 

Eyes locked on hers, and hand still in her hair, Jared leaned down. 

“Got the ice!” Jensen announced, swinging back into the room jubilantly.

The pair sprang apart, Jared lunging for his empty glass and pouring a sizeable glug that he proceeded to drink half of very quickly. 

Y/N/N grabbed for her own glass and ambushed Jensen and the ice bucket, as if she’d been eagerly waiting for his return, instead of blissfully unaware of his departure. 

Jensen tactfully didn’t mention that he’d opened the door a solid few seconds before he’d said anything to alert Jared and Y/N/N to his presence.