![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
Desperate Times - 44
Chapter 43 here.
Title: Desperate Times (44/?)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Jensen/Jared, Jensen/OMCs, AU, Non-con, Dub-con, MPREG
A/N: Cast of this story available here.
Additional Warnings For This and Upcoming Chapters for those that want them – Reading these may, in my opinion, spoil your enjoyment of the story: (Highlight to read) Extreme medical practices, acts of terrorism, violence - murder and CHARACTER DEATH (I only kill original characters.) Oh, and I believe in happy endings!
A/N: Not a particularly long chapter, but with these words this story now tops 100,000 words.
Jensen leant heavily against the side of the shower, forearms resting on the tiles while the water pressure – what little there was of it – massaged the tension from his neck, his shoulders.
He ached almost constantly now. His legs felt heavy and his back sometimes protested all attempts to sit, to stand, to lie down, to walk …
By Jeff’s reckoning he still had six weeks before they could consider delivering the babies safely and still give the smallest, his son, they knew it was a boy now, a fighting chance of pulling through. He owed him that.
It was a mistake to close his eyes though because, even standing up, he felt himself drifting, falling asleep.
He was so tired, but he’d never live it down, never fight his way out of the swathes of cotton his family insisted on keeping him wrapped in, if he was found unconscious in the shower. Fuck, they might even stop him from using the bathroom on his own and that would be …
…unthinkable.
He thought about his mother and expected a resurgence of anger – but it didn’t come. He just didn’t have the energy for it.
She’d given him a slight reprieve – it was amazing what a couple of days of Joseph and his dad giving her a hard time could do – but, as he got larger, and obviously found it more of a struggle to move round, she’d fallen back into Momzilla mode. She issued orders and spoke about him – Jensen’s looking thirsty, get him a drink, help him to a chair. Jensen needs his rest, don’t you think it’s time he went to bed. Jensen needs to watch his weight, where are his vitamins?
It honestly didn’t matter to her if he was in the same room. And since she’d discovered the babies had become energetic she was always touching him, trying to catch a kick or a punch.
Hell, she’d even started talking names and making plans for what came after. Where they’d all live – together – and look after the children – together.
Jensen listened, nodded when she expected him to and avoided saying what was on his mind.
He could cope.
There was pleasure to be gained from Donna’s enthusiastic zeal, after all.
It’d been hard seeing the light, the life, desert her when things had gone to hell. She’d been reduced to the shell of the woman who’d raised him, a muted echo of the woman who’d taught him how to walk – twice – and celebrated his every accomplishment with a fervent pride.
She was passionate about living again now and, even if she was driving him up the wall, he could put up with it – most of the time – because … well, because he had Jared.
Thank God - assuming He was up there - he had Jared.
Maybe things were just more tolerable now because he wasn’t one against the world. True to his word Jared had stepped in when things got too much, when things got too volatile
Jensen smiled into the cataract of water.
Jared had braved the wrath of Donna Ackles. Surely, greater love hath no man…
Love.
Jared really did love him and Jensen couldn’t be certain he was worthy of it. He desperately wanted to be but, in all honesty, what had he ever done to earn it? Jared had sacrificed so much, he was a fucking fugitive for Christ’s sake, and Jensen had repaid him with complaints and anger, with bitchiness and depression …
He was pulled from his musings and thrust back into the world of the more than barely conscious by the serenade of air rattling through the pipe work and the clatter and bang of loose joints and strained welding. Jensen knew it was his cue to bring his shower to an end. Either the hot water would suddenly turn frigid or the flow would cease altogether, he wanted to be out of the way in case the former occurred.
He opened his eyes, blinked the world back into focus, fully intending to turn the flow of water off but what he saw brought him to his knees instead.
The water wasn’t cold but he started shivering anyway.
The shivering gave way to shudders as he curled his back over his stomach, wrapped his arms round his legs and rested his chin on the valley created by his knees.
He let his mind retreat a little, hide in a place where this wasn’t happening, but it wandered aimlessly. Transported him back to a church, a small but eager congregation, numbing pain and the wail of sirens.
He took a deep breath and watched the water run from between his feet before it spiraled down the inadequate drain.
When had he started bleeding?
Nothing hurt, the babies were still moving. He could still feel them.
It wasn’t like last time …
He almost called for help.
Almost.
Six weeks, that’s what Jeff said.
Six weeks.
They needed six weeks or they wouldn’t make it. If he told Jeff he’d probably want to take them now, take them before they were ready.
They’d die – he’d lose them. They were relying on him and he couldn’t do it again, couldn’t go through that, couldn’t let them down.
He wouldn’t.
He regained control and the panic ebbed.
There wasn’t much blood, not much at all. Not really. It might just stop on its own and he’d have been freaking out over nothing.
There wasn’t any pain - there’d been so much last time.
He clung to the differences. There wasn’t any pain and they were still moving.
Everything was alright.
They were alright.
He pushed himself to his feet, slowly, letting the wall take his weight as he unfolded numb limbs.
No pain, just the familiar ache in his muscles, his joints.
If this was serious he’d know it.
He’d know it.
He could do this. He could hold out and the babies would be fine.
Perfect, beautiful, alive babies.
Everything would be fine and, and if it wasn’t then Jared would look after them, make sure they were alright.
Jared would…
Jared!
Jared loved him.
Could he really do this and leave Jared to pick up the pieces?
Instead of the water, his blood ran cold.
Jared looked at layout of the room and tried to work out where the cribs would go. There was no doubt in his mind that Jensen would insist the babies sleep in here with them – no way he’d put them into a room on their own, at least not at first – but try as he might he really couldn’t work out where the cribs would best be situated.
They couldn’t go by the window because there was a very definite draught coming through the old wooden frame. They couldn’t go on Jensen’s side of the bed because the door got in the way and they’d be constantly knocked and jostled as their daddy fought his way past.
Jared frowned as he sat on the bed attempting to work out the layout in his head. He never was any good at spatial problems in school. Maybe what he needed to do was put the cribs together and move them physically into the room. Work it out that way. It was certainly something to consider.
Jensen, when he walked into the room fresh from the shower, looked dead on his feet.
Jared knew that Jensen didn’t sleep well, that the shifting weight of the babies on nerves and muscles meant he could rarely find a position that was comfortable for more than a few minutes at a time.
“You look exhausted.”
Jensen looked at him, startled, as if he’d been unaware of Jared’s quiet presence. Maybe he hadn’t been. “Sorry?”
Jared smiled softly, tilted his head to the side and was grateful to see the small smile his lover returned. “I said you look tired. I know it’s early but you could do with going to bed.”
Jensen nodded and shrugged off the robe, set it to rest on the hook on the back of the door.
Jared stared at Jensen, frowned, wondered whether the man was cold. Once the robe was gone he could see the sweats hanging low on his hips. If they were being used to provide the declaration that there was ‘no sex’ to be had, they wouldn’t have been more effective if the words had been stenciled across the front. Jared shook his head. It wasn’t as if they’d had sex recently. Hell, it had to be at least a week since they’d done more than kiss and jerk each other off. Jared hated the idea of there being any kind of barrier between them.
Jensen must’ve noticed the look. His voice was small, apologetic. “I’m cold.”
Jared didn’t comment. When Jensen crawled into bed Jared curled up round him, wrapped him up in his arms determined to warm him up.
Next
Title: Desperate Times (44/?)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Jensen/Jared, Jensen/OMCs, AU, Non-con, Dub-con, MPREG
A/N: Cast of this story available here.
Additional Warnings For This and Upcoming Chapters for those that want them – Reading these may, in my opinion, spoil your enjoyment of the story: (Highlight to read) Extreme medical practices, acts of terrorism, violence - murder and CHARACTER DEATH (I only kill original characters.) Oh, and I believe in happy endings!
A/N: Not a particularly long chapter, but with these words this story now tops 100,000 words.
Jensen leant heavily against the side of the shower, forearms resting on the tiles while the water pressure – what little there was of it – massaged the tension from his neck, his shoulders.
He ached almost constantly now. His legs felt heavy and his back sometimes protested all attempts to sit, to stand, to lie down, to walk …
By Jeff’s reckoning he still had six weeks before they could consider delivering the babies safely and still give the smallest, his son, they knew it was a boy now, a fighting chance of pulling through. He owed him that.
It was a mistake to close his eyes though because, even standing up, he felt himself drifting, falling asleep.
He was so tired, but he’d never live it down, never fight his way out of the swathes of cotton his family insisted on keeping him wrapped in, if he was found unconscious in the shower. Fuck, they might even stop him from using the bathroom on his own and that would be …
…unthinkable.
He thought about his mother and expected a resurgence of anger – but it didn’t come. He just didn’t have the energy for it.
She’d given him a slight reprieve – it was amazing what a couple of days of Joseph and his dad giving her a hard time could do – but, as he got larger, and obviously found it more of a struggle to move round, she’d fallen back into Momzilla mode. She issued orders and spoke about him – Jensen’s looking thirsty, get him a drink, help him to a chair. Jensen needs his rest, don’t you think it’s time he went to bed. Jensen needs to watch his weight, where are his vitamins?
It honestly didn’t matter to her if he was in the same room. And since she’d discovered the babies had become energetic she was always touching him, trying to catch a kick or a punch.
Hell, she’d even started talking names and making plans for what came after. Where they’d all live – together – and look after the children – together.
Jensen listened, nodded when she expected him to and avoided saying what was on his mind.
He could cope.
There was pleasure to be gained from Donna’s enthusiastic zeal, after all.
It’d been hard seeing the light, the life, desert her when things had gone to hell. She’d been reduced to the shell of the woman who’d raised him, a muted echo of the woman who’d taught him how to walk – twice – and celebrated his every accomplishment with a fervent pride.
She was passionate about living again now and, even if she was driving him up the wall, he could put up with it – most of the time – because … well, because he had Jared.
Thank God - assuming He was up there - he had Jared.
Maybe things were just more tolerable now because he wasn’t one against the world. True to his word Jared had stepped in when things got too much, when things got too volatile
Jensen smiled into the cataract of water.
Jared had braved the wrath of Donna Ackles. Surely, greater love hath no man…
Love.
Jared really did love him and Jensen couldn’t be certain he was worthy of it. He desperately wanted to be but, in all honesty, what had he ever done to earn it? Jared had sacrificed so much, he was a fucking fugitive for Christ’s sake, and Jensen had repaid him with complaints and anger, with bitchiness and depression …
He was pulled from his musings and thrust back into the world of the more than barely conscious by the serenade of air rattling through the pipe work and the clatter and bang of loose joints and strained welding. Jensen knew it was his cue to bring his shower to an end. Either the hot water would suddenly turn frigid or the flow would cease altogether, he wanted to be out of the way in case the former occurred.
He opened his eyes, blinked the world back into focus, fully intending to turn the flow of water off but what he saw brought him to his knees instead.
The water wasn’t cold but he started shivering anyway.
The shivering gave way to shudders as he curled his back over his stomach, wrapped his arms round his legs and rested his chin on the valley created by his knees.
He let his mind retreat a little, hide in a place where this wasn’t happening, but it wandered aimlessly. Transported him back to a church, a small but eager congregation, numbing pain and the wail of sirens.
He took a deep breath and watched the water run from between his feet before it spiraled down the inadequate drain.
When had he started bleeding?
Nothing hurt, the babies were still moving. He could still feel them.
It wasn’t like last time …
He almost called for help.
Almost.
Six weeks, that’s what Jeff said.
Six weeks.
They needed six weeks or they wouldn’t make it. If he told Jeff he’d probably want to take them now, take them before they were ready.
They’d die – he’d lose them. They were relying on him and he couldn’t do it again, couldn’t go through that, couldn’t let them down.
He wouldn’t.
He regained control and the panic ebbed.
There wasn’t much blood, not much at all. Not really. It might just stop on its own and he’d have been freaking out over nothing.
There wasn’t any pain - there’d been so much last time.
He clung to the differences. There wasn’t any pain and they were still moving.
Everything was alright.
They were alright.
He pushed himself to his feet, slowly, letting the wall take his weight as he unfolded numb limbs.
No pain, just the familiar ache in his muscles, his joints.
If this was serious he’d know it.
He’d know it.
He could do this. He could hold out and the babies would be fine.
Perfect, beautiful, alive babies.
Everything would be fine and, and if it wasn’t then Jared would look after them, make sure they were alright.
Jared would…
Jared!
Jared loved him.
Could he really do this and leave Jared to pick up the pieces?
Instead of the water, his blood ran cold.
Jared looked at layout of the room and tried to work out where the cribs would go. There was no doubt in his mind that Jensen would insist the babies sleep in here with them – no way he’d put them into a room on their own, at least not at first – but try as he might he really couldn’t work out where the cribs would best be situated.
They couldn’t go by the window because there was a very definite draught coming through the old wooden frame. They couldn’t go on Jensen’s side of the bed because the door got in the way and they’d be constantly knocked and jostled as their daddy fought his way past.
Jared frowned as he sat on the bed attempting to work out the layout in his head. He never was any good at spatial problems in school. Maybe what he needed to do was put the cribs together and move them physically into the room. Work it out that way. It was certainly something to consider.
Jensen, when he walked into the room fresh from the shower, looked dead on his feet.
Jared knew that Jensen didn’t sleep well, that the shifting weight of the babies on nerves and muscles meant he could rarely find a position that was comfortable for more than a few minutes at a time.
“You look exhausted.”
Jensen looked at him, startled, as if he’d been unaware of Jared’s quiet presence. Maybe he hadn’t been. “Sorry?”
Jared smiled softly, tilted his head to the side and was grateful to see the small smile his lover returned. “I said you look tired. I know it’s early but you could do with going to bed.”
Jensen nodded and shrugged off the robe, set it to rest on the hook on the back of the door.
Jared stared at Jensen, frowned, wondered whether the man was cold. Once the robe was gone he could see the sweats hanging low on his hips. If they were being used to provide the declaration that there was ‘no sex’ to be had, they wouldn’t have been more effective if the words had been stenciled across the front. Jared shook his head. It wasn’t as if they’d had sex recently. Hell, it had to be at least a week since they’d done more than kiss and jerk each other off. Jared hated the idea of there being any kind of barrier between them.
Jensen must’ve noticed the look. His voice was small, apologetic. “I’m cold.”
Jared didn’t comment. When Jensen crawled into bed Jared curled up round him, wrapped him up in his arms determined to warm him up.
Next
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Page 1 of 2