Title: Born sick (but I love it)
Fandom: Supernatural RPF
Characters: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Rating: Mature
Length: 2,388 words
Content notes: Contains swearwords, sociopathic viewpoint character, graphic violence (with description of choking), arson/pyromania, implied murder, deeply unhealthy/abusive relationship, consent issues, controlling behaviour, references to involuntary psychiatric hospital admission, dark/disturbing themes
Author notes: I... am so sorry? I'm sure Jensen Ackles is a lovely man really, but I have very much not written him that way here. Please heed the content notes and proceed with caution. Also claimed for my 100 Fandoms challenge. Title from Hozier's Take me to church
Summary: He doesn't do this for Jared, but he thought Jared understood. Jared needs to understand

The grass was cool and damp under his bare feet; the tickle of the crushed blades a soothing offset to the chill that was creeping across his skin and the beautifully acrid sting that tinged every breath he took. Jensen rocked forward in his crouch, splaying one hand out against the grass to hold his balance. The fresh burst of coolness tingled against his palm and he curled his fingers down into the clammy earth, the dirt scratching against his skin as it buried itself under his fingernails.

It felt good. It felt invigorating.

It felt. Jensen liked it.

A fresh crash resonated across the lake and Jensen glanced up, his attention zeroing back in on the inferno still raging on the south shore. He was fast, quick enough to watch as the western wing of the hospital twisted and dropped, buckling in on itself like some fucked-up take on modern art, although Jensen didn’t figure anyone would want to pay him millions for this.

It didn’t matter; he hadn’t done it for anyone’s millions. He hadn’t done it for money at all.

It was probably past time to leave, but Jensen didn’t move. The light was fading fast now and the curl and flicker of the flames seemed to be becoming more vibrant and fierce with every passing moment. Against the dusky hue of the sky, they glittered with a golden sheen that Jensen found almost hypnotising. The rhythmic, red flash of the emergency trucks seemed pathetic by comparison; pale, faded and forgettable and Jensen wondered if the fire-fighters thought the same, if the mesmerising dance of the flames caught their minds and stilled their hands. It would make sense; it had been a while since the trucks had arrived and Jensen hadn’t seen any containment yet.

Then again, he hadn’t heard any screams for a while either.

A twig cracked, behind him and to his left and Jensen tensed, his muscles coiled tight even with his gaze still fixed on the far shore.

“It’s okay, Jen, it’s just me,” Jared’s voice was soft and low and Jensen felt it flow over him like a balm, soothing and calming. He glanced back over his shoulder and Jared shot him a shy smile. He was standing back; far enough away that Jensen couldn’t touch him without moving, shoulders hunched and hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. He looked achingly familiar and Jensen licked his lips unthinkingly. He didn’t miss the way that Jared’s eyes tracked the movement.

“You’re here,” His own voice sounded off; rusty with disuse, the words too big for his mouth, and he ran his tongue across his teeth experimentally, “It isn’t Tuesday. Why are you here?”

Jared’s eyes flicked away, just for a second, across the lake and Jensen felt his mouth curl into an unexpected smile. “The fire made the news,” Jared said slowly, “I didn’t think waiting for visitation was a good idea.”

Jensen nodded, his own gaze slipping back across the water. Jared was good like that; he got Jensen, he understood. He was smart enough to know to come, to find Jensen before it was time to leave, without Jensen ever having needed to say a word.

Not that he’d have left Jared behind anyway, but this was better. Easier.

“Jen? Is that...was I wrong?” Jared sounded hesitant, unsure, and Jensen looked back again, his eyes locking with Jared’s because, of course, Jared wasn’t watching the fire. Jared was watching Jensen.

It was a pattern. Jensen could set the world ablaze, would given half a chance, and Jared would twist his head, avert his eyes and fix his gaze on Jensen as though Jensen was some sort of shield that would distance him, protect him from the fire. Jensen didn’t think he understood, was almost certain that Jared had no idea how well the flames reached out to encompass him; black shadows stroking like fingertips across his cheekbones and red embers glittering like fire opals in his eyes. The fire took him, every single time, and it never failed to spark a different curl of fiery intensity at the base of Jensen’s belly.

“Watch with me,” he said.

Jared blinked. “I already am,” he said, slowly, “I’m right here, Jen”.

Jensen shook his head. “You’re not watching,” he said, and neither was he; he couldn’t be, because he saw Jared’s flinch, the minute, aborted movement that was over almost before it had begun, “C’mere.”

Jared shifted on his feet, “Don’t we...we can’t stay here, Jen.”

“They’re busy,” Jensen said, dismissively, “There’s still time. C’mere.”

He stared at Jared, his fingers tapping an impatient staccato against the grass and he felt triumph flare brief and bright in his chest as Jared took a hesitant step forward.

“Sit with me,” Jensen said.

Jared dropped to the ground, a line of heat against Jensen’s side that pushed back the chill surrounding him. Jared choked back something that sounded almost like a laugh, “Everything’s wet, Jen. How the fuck...” he trailed off uncertainly and Jensen smiled.

“Persistence,” he breathed, and he felt Jared shiver next to him, “Watch with me.”

Jared flinched again, this time close enough that Jensen could feel it, and Jensen watched as his eyes flicked over to the flames across the lake; watched the orange flare bright across Jared’s irises for a brief second before Jared looked back at him. Jensen felt something flicker, an itch under his skull that he couldn’t scratch, and he growled.

“Fucking look at it, Jared.”

“I am,” Jared protested, too quick and too high; his nerves bleeding into his voice and scraping raw across Jensen’s skin, “I did. I just...this is your thing, Jen, you know? Not mine.”

Jensen stared at him for a long moment, “So?”

Jared blinked, his brow furrowing; whatever response he’d been expecting from Jensen, that obviously hadn’t been it, “I... what do you mean, so?”

Jensen shrugged.

Jared huffed out a breath, scrubbing one hand restlessly through his hair, “Wow. Y’know, I forget sometimes, why we’re here, even despite the stuff that you do, and then you say something and it makes me think maybe they do understand a lot more than I give them credit for.”

Jensen stilled; a prickling at the base of his skull making him suddenly cautious, suddenly watchful, “Who?”

Jared paused, and Jensen could almost see him thinking; could see him pulling together the lie before he even opened his mouth, “Oh, nobody. Just, people. My folks and all.”

“Doctors?” Jensen spat the word out quickly, the consonants foul tasting on his tongue, and from the corner of his eye, he caught the flicker of movement as Jared swallowed.

“No,” Jared said; too quick, too high, too false, and Jensen felt that itch under his skull explode into a bright, agonising flare.

Jared was lying. To him. He thought Jared understood.

Jared needed to understand.

“Fucker,” Jensen snarled, and he flung himself at Jared, a flurry of blows and sharp, angry jabs that clearly caught Jared unawares and brought him down hard onto the grass with a thud that Jensen felt resonate through his own bones. He had Jared on his back, his weight settled over Jared’s hips, one hand tangled in his hair and his forearm digging in hard to the soft flesh of Jared’s throat. Jared gasped, the whining rasp of air trying to fight past an obstruction, and he clawed at Jensen’s arm with an insistence that Jensen was sure was born of desperation. His fingernails scoured against Jensen’s skin, a fire-bright burn that made Jensen’s head swim, and he pressed in harder, feeling soft flesh give under his elbow.

“Can’t… breathe,” Jared choked out, his eyes wide as he stared up pleadingly, and Jensen leaned in, twitching his free shoulder in an approximation of a shrug.

“Doctors lie,” he said, firmly. “I don’t like liars, Jared.”

Jared gaped at him, like a fish flopped out of water, with a strange click at the back of his throat. Jensen watched, fascinated despite himself, as Jared’s eyes clouded, his usual sharp focus smeared over with a glassy sheen. His fingers fell still against Jensen’s arm, the soft brush of skin on skin replacing the burn of nails and Jensen felt more than saw the way that his body relaxed, slumping back against the grass like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

Jared’s mouth fell open once more, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks and his lips tinged with blue, and Jensen’s fingers tightened involuntarily in Jared’s hair.

He didn’t like blue. Blue meant bad things. Blue was wrong.

He couldn’t have Jared be blue.

Jared’s chest heaved with a rattling spasm of a breath as Jensen rocked back onto his heels, and he took a deep, long inhale of his own to match. The acrid edge to the air was fading, more of a buzz than a burn in his throat, and Jensen glanced back over his shoulder. The blaze behind him was ebbing, although Jensen thought that had less to do with the machinations of the emergency responders and more to do with the passage of time. There were no jarring voids to the flickering flames, the type that Jensen had come to associate with interference, and the muted glow seemed more satisfyingly organic than interrupted.

As it should be. But that meant it was beyond time to leave.

“Jen?” Jared sounded dazed, but with an edge to his voice that Jensen hadn’t heard before, and he cut a look back to Jared curiously. Jared had one hand at his throat, rubbing haphazardly at the spot that Jensen could already see was going to bruise in a bright, brilliant purple. The movements were off, irregular and truncated, almost like Jared didn’t really have control of his fingers but was making his best effort anyway. Jared was watching him, his gaze clearer but more hooded, wariness replacing his usual caution, and it made something flare, hot and heavy, low in Jensen’s belly. His fingers twitched against his thighs, the cotton of his scrubs rough against the jagged edges of his fingernails, and Jared’s gaze skittered away from his to track the movement.

“What was that, Jen?” Jared asked, so quietly that Jensen had to strain to hear him.

Not that it was worth it. Jared knew better than to ask stupid questions. Jensen shrugged dismissively. “Time to go.”

“Fuck,” Jared whispered, his eyes slipping closed, and Jensen reached out without thinking. He cupped his hand around Jared’s jaw, and brushed his thumb across Jared’s bottom lip, chasing away the memory of blue. Jared’s skin was warm and dry, a little chapped, snagging against his touch, and Jensen retraced the movement, fascinated.

Jared blinked, molasses slow movement like his eyelashes were gummed together. “Jen,” he started.

Jensen kissed him.

It was the smart choice. Sometimes, Jared asked too many questions, the type that made Jensen’s skull itch and his head pound. Even if Jensen ignored him, he could be tenacious, like a dog with a bone that didn’t know when to quit. It was better that Jensen cut him off at the pass.

And he liked the feel of Jared’s mouth under his. Jared’s lips were warm and soft, yielding where they needed to be and firm where they didn’t and, once Jensen could manage to coax him to part them, with nips of his teeth and flicks of his tongue, his mouth was a furnace.

He was intoxicating, and Jensen could do this for hours. Except that they didn’t have time.

He tore his mouth away from Jared’s, pausing for long enough to catch his breath with their lips still touching, his air mingled with Jared’s. The light from the fire was all but gone, leaving Jared’s face shrouded in shadow. Beyond the glitter of his eyes in the moonlight, his expression was hidden, and Jensen kissed him again, hard and fast, before he pulled back.

“Time to go,” he said again. There was no reason to stay, not anymore, and he rolled back into a crouch, pausing long enough to catch hold of Jared’s wrists before he pushed himself to his feet, drawing Jared up with him.

Jared staggered once he had his feet under him, unsteady and unbalanced, and Jensen jerked on his wrist, impatience coursing through him. They didn’t have time for Jared to dither; Jensen had no intention of being caught again.

He wasn’t going back.

“Alright,” Jared said, more of a rasp to his voice than usual. “Alright, Jesus. I’m coming.”

“Where’s your car?” Jensen asked and Jared hesitated, just a fraction of a second, the space between breaths, but long enough for Jensen to notice, before he nodded east, toward the lakeside road that Jensen had always known was there but had never been allowed to explore.

“Over there.” Jensen hadn’t waited for the verbal confirmation, moving before Jared had spoken and tugging Jared with him. The grass was still wet, cold now under his feet, and he picked his route carelessly, favouring speed over caution. The burn in his soles as he stepped onto small rocks, sharp twigs and pebbles was invigorating, and Jensen drew a deep breath. The wind had shifted, for all that the breeze was still visibly dancing through the bushes and shrubs and his lungful of air was disappointingly fresh and clean.

Jared stumbled at his side, head down and blessedly quiet, compliant with Jensen’s fingers still tight around his wrist. It was too dark to see, but Jensen could feel his attention, his gaze burning like a brand against Jensen’s skin. He never once glanced out across the lake, even in the dark Jensen would have seen his head move, and Jensen wondered, not for the first time, how Jared could do that.

Jensen didn’t watch because he wanted to, although he did. He watched because he couldn’t look away.

“What?” Jensen asked, curiously, and Jared shook his head in a choppy and half-aborted motion.

“Nothing,” he said. Too quick and too false again, and Jensen narrowed his eyes, but there was no corresponding fury this time to the knowledge that Jared was lying to him. Again.

It didn’t matter. The important thing was that Jared wasn’t challenging him. He understood enough.

Jensen would have time for the rest later.