![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
Please play with me?
I've seen this from a couple of people on my f-list and it's been a LONG time since I did a prompt meme, so!
1. Choose ANY story off my Master Fic List.
b. Give me a prompt (word, song lyrics, event, etc).
iii. PROFIT.
Go?
Filled Prompts
1. Choose ANY story off my Master Fic List.
b. Give me a prompt (word, song lyrics, event, etc).
iii. PROFIT.
Go?
Filled Prompts
no subject
---
If it wasn't for the no pets policy, Jared would totally live at work.
He trudged down the hallways with his duffel bag over one shoulder, feeling like someone had been beating him with sticks all day. Still, it could have been worse. He'd face planted into his bed after his instructor had released him, napped for a couple of hours then got up and took a shower that felt divine on tired muscles. Beth had stuffed him full of risotto when he'd staggered into the cafeteria wearing his best 'I'm pathetic - love me!' face and Jared had every intention of going back for some cherry pie once he'd got the rest of his chores out of the way.
Which, in this case, meant doing some laundry so he didn't have to show up to work tomorrow in just his boxer shorts. It wouldn't have been the first time, but Jared did try to be at least sort of professional most of the time.
"Hey, Jim," he said as he walked past the man's desk. "How're things?"
Jim took one look at him and rolled his eyes. "We do have a dress code, Padalecki."
"What?" Jared glanced down at his dirt-encrusted jeans, stocking feet and complete lack of shirt. "I've got my security badge on. And there's a gun down the back of my pants."
"Ready for anything, huh?" Jim said dryly.
Jared grinned. "Of course."
"Is that really the kind of bullshit they're teaching you upstairs?"
"Among other things." Jared hoisted his bag higher and waved a hand. "Gotta go. See you for the game on Thursday?"
"Only if you promise to wear a shirt."
"Does that mean pants are optional?"
Jim buried his head in his hands and Jared hurried down the hall before Jim could throw something at him. He swiped his security card to get into the laundry room and stepped into the smell of warm fabric and citrus.
The room wasn't empty. A guy Jared didn't know was leaning against the washing machine, legs crossed at the ankles and his nose buried in a book. He was about Jared's size, with dark shaggy hair and a seriously impressive work-out regime.
"Hi," Jared said and the guy looked up.
"Hey," he greeted, with a movie star smile. "Sorry to keep you waiting."
Jared grinned back. "No worries. I think I've more than earned the right to stand around doing nothing."
The guy tilted his head, eying the scattering of bruises all over Jared's torso with an understanding little smile. "Field training?"
"How'd you guess?" Jared dropped his duffel bag on the counter with a groan. "I'm starting to think the army would have been the easier option."
"Not as much fun, though."
"Gotta agree with you there, man."
The guy returned to his book and an easy silence fell over the room, broken only by the rumble of the washing machine and the flip of pages. Jared amused himself by sorting through the mass of dirty laundry he'd scavenged from his room upstairs. There were enough dress shirts in there to make him look like the uninspired code monkey he was supposed to be, though the severe wear and tear (emphasis on the tear) on them was a little more suspect. The rest of it was mostly jeans and t shirts which somehow managed to be in even worse shape. Jared made a mental note to go clothes shopping this weekend. Again.
Eventually, the washing machine stopped and the guy put aside his book to pull out his sopping wet laundry. He had the same mix of business and casual that Jared did, as well as a truly staggering amount of chaotically green fabric that made both of Jared's eyebrows raise.
"That is a lot of green," he noted innocently.
The guy looked amused. "My favourite colour." He finished dumping his clothes in the basket, then picked it up and started towards the door.
"You're not using the dryer?" Jared couldn't help but ask.
The guy looked amused. "It's not so good for spandex." He dropped Jared a wink. "See you again soon, Jared."
Jared grinned widely. "Oh I'll just bet, Mr. Superhero. And maybe when my boss introduces me to my new partner you'll tell me your name."
"Maybe. Wouldn't want to ruin the surprise." The guy headed for the door, throwing an easy, "Later", over his shoulder as he went.
Left alone in the room, aching, tired and stuck with at least two loads of laundry, Jared couldn't help but laugh in sheer delight. His job was awesome.
no subject
Jared made a mental note to go clothes shopping this weekend. Again.
The superhero business is kinda rough on clothes, isn't it? Even when one isn't actually a superhero. ;)
Thank you!
no subject
To avoid raising suspicion (or accusations of being a clotheshorse), Jared usually buys, like, five of the same shirt when he goes shopping. Much less hassle.
You're welcome! Thank you for the prompt! ^_^
no subject
lol, oh, jared
no subject
*hearts*
no subject
no subject