Stockholm, 1973 6/?

[soncnica]

Title: Stockholm, 1973 6/?
Author: soncnica
Rating: I'll go with 'R'
Genre/pairing: Jared, Jensen (no pairing), AU
Characters: Jared, Jensen
Word count: cca. 2.835  this chapter
Summary: Jared is a serial killer. Jensen is his next victim. If your google-fu is awesome, googling the title of this fic will give you an idea how this fic will end. 
Warnings: Well Jared is a serial killer with a desire to see and make people bleed so... warnings? Dark!fic, knives, blood, drugs, kinda psycho Jared, no disfiguration for Jensen or anything like that, language. And NO CHARACTER DEATH... 
Disclaimer: I seriously only own the grammar/spelling mistakes. Everything else is not mine! NOT MINE!
A/N: My notes can be found in the story.

Oh man, oh man, this chapter was hard to write. I had to somehow get from point A to point D, without screwing up points B and C! And I still think I failed. Damnit. But I'm tired of messing with this chapter so… here it is.

-:-:-

"Your head okay?"

Jensen was mortified, simply mortified. Pissing his fuckin' pants? Fuck. What was he… five?

Even the 'I was forced to do it by a fuckin' psycho' wasn't making him feel any better about the whole thing.

His pants were wet. Wet. Wet all the way down his thighs and his ass and he could swear that his lower back was drowning in his piss too and fuck, but he could still hear some tiny drops fall into the bucket.

Plop.

Plop.

Plop.

And the smell in the room was just… disgusting; urine and heat and rust and dust and gasoline… but it was fading fast into the vast space, thank God.

"I asked you something."

But seriously, pissing himself? He could feel heat starting to spread up his chest, neck and taking a permanent home on his cheeks. Embarrassing.

It was embarrassing. Worse then embarrassing. He wanted the ground to open up and swallow him up, but he knows that's just wishful thinking.

"Jensen."

His dick felt like someone pulled a rope out of it and all he wanted to do was reach down and scratch it.

But yeah… he was a little tied up at the moment.

He was just happy that his head stopped hurting and the need to throw up vanished into thin air, because this… what just happened, with Jared's hand fuckingthere… touching him there in all places… he wanted to die.

He was practically naked, his pants wet from his own piss, his cheeks burning red from the utter humiliation, his legs and arms tied to the table and with the psycho touching the back of his head.

Touching.

Psycho.

His head.

He turned his head back towards Jared, dragging the short hair at his nape across Jared's palm and shuddered when he met the man's eyes. So intense. So fucking intense it made his chest hurt.

And the guy's lips were moving, forming words that he couldn't understand. Speaking something…

There was a rush of blood in his ears; he could hear it like you can hear a waterfall and he couldn't hear what was coming out of the man's mouth… there was just this whoooosssshhhhh sound in his ears and no other noise could penetrate that.

Lips moving.

Hand squeezing hair at his nape.

Focus.

Focus.

"Jensen?"

He breathed and blinked. Couldn't form words. Couldn't… he wanted to hide.

"How's your head?"

He licked his lips and whispered: "What do you care?" trying so hard to hide how much Jared has affected him. How he humiliated him. How he made him feel embarrassed beyond belief.

Show no weakness. Weakness can be exploited in the darkest of ways.

Show no weakness.

Suck it up.

Suck. it. up.

Then Jared's hand was gone and his head smashed into the table again. It hurt, but… his pride hurt more.

-:-:-

Then… then it was just him. Jared was gone from his sight. Gone under the table again and that never meant anything good. Every time Jared disappeared under the table, he came back up with something and bad shit happened.

Jensen was fidgeting on the table, his jeans soaking wet but thank you Lord that the smell was not so strong anymore otherwise the desire to throw up would come back.

And seriously… that would be the last drop. If he had to throw up with the psycho in the room.

He rather swallows the bile down or chokes on it.

It was hot in the room, which made the drying of his jeans a bit faster, but man, he itched. Itched in places he couldn't scratch and it was driving him crazy. He moved his ass some, getting rid of the itch there, but he couldn't do anything more then that.

And then Jared appeared.

With a shiny, silver knife. Thin and long.

Fuck…

-:-:-

"What are you…"

Jensen raised his head up as much as he could what with being tied down like he was and his eyes widened when he saw Jared start to run the knife up his pants, starting with the left side.

"You're probably uncomfortable and itching so…"

That's his explanation?

Jensen hit his head on the table. Hard. Possibly trying to knock himself unconscious but not really succeeding, because knocking himself out? Would probably be the worst thing he could possibly do.

Then he would be powerless. Helpless.

Oh wait.

He's that already.

Shit…

-:-:-

His pants were cut. His favorite jeans cut into pieces just like that.

"Lift your hips a bit."

He did. What's the point in arguing? Jared will get his way eventually.

"Alrighty then."

Jared said and dropped the torn jeans on the floor.

Jensen just sighed. It did feel kinda nice to have the wet jeans off; they were starting to stick to his skin and itch and get cold and dry and ew.

What the fuck is he thinking? Nice? He's naked. Okay, he still has his boxers on and if Jared takes those off, Jensen will… well, he doesn't know exactly what he'll do, but he'll do something.

Yeah…

He'll do something…

-:-:-

"Now let's do something about your head, man. Seriously, you banging it on the table like that will leave some damage and I don't want that."

Jensen was confused; the man cared about his well-being and yet wanted to cut him and bleed him and all kinds of other messed up things.

Maybe it's for the best if he tries to stop understanding Jared. You can't exactly understand a mad man. They think… differently and trying to understand their thought process can just make your head explode.

-:-:-

The light was so bright in his eyes, but he was getting used to it now and he suspected that Jared turned it down a little… it was bright, but not so bright that it would make him feel like his eyes were burning.

And there was still night outside. He couldn't tell the time, but if he'd have to guess, he'd say that morning was just around the corner.

He looked up at Jared, who was standing there, with his left arm across his chest supporting his right one and running his index finger over his bottom lip.

He was thinking.

Oh fuck… thinking never brought anything good either. What if he's thinking up ways to chop off his head? Or cut it off? Slow and painful and uh… shit.

But then he saw Jared grab hold of the bottom of his black T-shirt and pull it up over his head and folding it neatly.

"'m gonna put this behind your head, maybe it'll help. At least it'll be softer."

And as he did that, leaning over Jensen's eyes, his muscles tensing and relaxing… Jensen saw.

He saw something… right there… near Jared's heart. In the middle of the guy's chest.

Did he have the guts to ask? Maybe that will distract the guy… make him not hurt him for just a little while longer.

Yes.

Good thinking.

"What's that?" he nodded towards Jared's chest.

Jared looked at him. Fuck, but those eyes.

"What?"

"Umm, that… on your chest. There."

-:-:-

"This," Jared ran his finger softly over the scar and smiled, "I got shot here."

Huh?

"Shot?"

Jared could see where this was going. Distraction, huh Jensen? Ain't gonna work.

Not with me.

"Shot, ya know… with a gun?"

Jared watched that freckled face going from confused to angry.

"I know what shot means."

Jared snorted. Jensen might know what it means, but he doesn't know what it means. The pain, the shock, the burning, the body falling down on the floor and the mind going into darkness.

Jensen doesn't know.

-:-:-

Jared watched Jensen.

The man was sweating so much it seemed like there was rain falling right on top of him… his sweat reeked of fear and the snake in Jared was not gonna be stopped now.

This… this was it.

Even if he wanted to stop her… he wouldn't be able to. The snake would just jump out of his veins and attack and leave Jensen in a bloody mess.

Damn it, damn it, damn it… but Jensen doesn't deserve that.

He deserves better. To be treated better. To be painted with care.

The man in his boxers with freckled skin shining with sweat, little tremors running up and down his body, chest rising up and down in shallow, quick breaths, veins standing out on his neck… green eyes and spiky hair… he deserves better.

"Do you know what anosmia is?" Jared asked.

Anosmia? What? 's that like torture? 's that what Jared will do to him? What? No, no… no!

"Fuck no, no.." he started to shake his head, moving his arms and legs, trying to get away… even if he knew it was pointless… sometimes, you just have to try.

"Hey, calm down's not like a way of torture or something, man. Well in a way it is, but.. not really. So just relax, okay?"

Jensen was quiet.

"We can do 20 questions or somethin'..."

Was the man mocking him? Fuuuck… he'll be tortured and the man's mocking him? What the… screw him, screw him…

He can't do this anymore… the kindness and then rudeness and 's like Jared can't decide what he wants. Kind, rude, psycho, calm, mad, insane, demented…

Jensen's head was starting to hurt again.

"Screw you, screw fuckin' you!" he spit out, some of his spit hitting Jared directly on his cheek, sliding down around Jared's mole.

Out of no where, out of fucking no where, there was something shiny flashing through the air and embedding itself into the wood, right next to his left ear with a sharp noise that made him twitch. One inch to the right and he would've lost his ear. Jensen breathed fast for a few seconds, his hot breath fogging up the silver blade.

"I'm trying to be nice here!"

And then he just stopped breathing altogether, his eyes wide and going from the knife's blade next to his ear up to Jared's eyes so fuckin' close to his, to Jared's arm that was holding the knife's handle.

"Breathe, man."

His eyes were moving from the knife to Jared's eyes, to Jared's arm. Knife, eyes, arm.

Knife, eyes, arm.

His lungs hurt.

He probably pissed himself again.

His chest hurt.

"Breathe, Jensen or you'll pass out."

Pass out?

Sounds like a plan.

The problem was… he was too scared to pass out. Make himself that vulnerable?

He sucks, but he doesn't suck that bad.

So he pulled in a breath, expanding his chest as much as he could with Jared's body pressing down on him and that fuckin' belt across his chest.

"Good," Jared breathed out, "so where were we, before you pissed me off?"

For the life of him, Jensen couldn't remember, because gummy bear breath was in his nose again.

-:-:-

"Oh yeah," Jared's head was blocking the light and Jensen could see a drop of sweat linger on a loose lock of Jared's brown hair, and then falling down onto his chest… he could feel that drop of sweat hit his skin, tickling him "it's the abillity to not smell a goddamn thing."

In between breathing and trying not to pass out, he said: "What?"

"The anosmia.. it's a disease, illness whatever... some neurological shit, I don't know... whatever you wanna call it... where you can't smell shit. Literally."

They were silent for a while, not really sure how to continue this... and then Jensen swallowed, ignored the knife's blade so close to his ear and Jared's eyes so close to his and said: "You have it?"

"Hmm?"

"You have it?"

"Had it."

"You got cured?"

Keep him talking. Keep the crazy man taking.

"Cured?"

Jensen could see confusion on Jared's face transform into a smile… it was fuckin' weird.

"In a way, yeah. We can say I got cured."

The man was not talking. Fuck, fuck, fuck… not what? That blade was so close…

"Jensen…"

A flicker of hope went through Jensen's chest.

"When I was fourteen, right, I got shot. Right here," he rose up a little, never taking his hand from the knife's handle and ran the index finger of his left hand over the scar again, remembering what happened thirteen years ago, "the doctors said that I was lucky I survived. Man, I swear…" he smiled, "I had anosmia since I was born and then BAM!," Jensen flinched at the loud 'bam' "I get shot and when I wake up in the hospital, I could smell, ya know? The first thing that I smelled was blood and sweat and fear. How fucked up is that? I couldn't smell a goddamned thing for fourteen years and then when I could smell, I get hit with that."

"Yeah, yeah… fucked up."

But man it sure explains a lot.

"So in a way… getting shot was the best thing that ever happened to me."

Jensen blinked. He could understand. Or try to, anyway. But smelling… that was something just so… normal to him that he couldn't imagine not being able to smell.

Huh…

"And you know what else, man?"

Jensen resisted the urge to shake his head 'no'.

"When I fell on the floor, on that street, blood seeping out of the wound, people's faces all scared above me… I closed my eyes… and all I could see was darkness. Ya know? No light, nothing. Just… fuckin' darkness. As in pitch black, ya know? Pitch fuckin' black."

He pulled the knife out of the table suddenly and quickly dragged it just below Jensen's collar bone, not deep really… it won't even scar. The blade separated the skin like it was butter, blood needing some time to push through the shallow cut.

"Do you see darkness too? Huh, man? Do you? When you close your eyes, like you're doing now! What do you see? Tell me!"

Jensen saw darkness beneath his eyelids. He saw darkness even when his eyes were open. He felt pain and he saw darkness.

The world was dark.

"I se- see dark-, fuuck, darkness." He muttered, hissing, gasping for breath. The cut didn't hurt, not really, but it was done fast and it stung and made him wanna put his hand over it to sooth it and the hot blood spilling down his ribs to the table tickled.

Jared stopped smelling the blade; oh the aroma of blood mixed with sweat: "Told ya."

TBC…

CHAPTER 5 __II__ CHAPTER 7

Comments

[soncnica.livejournal.com]

yeah well like I said, fear does strange shit to one's mind... like you'd bite, someone would cry, then someone would pass out, and then someone would do something else... it probably all depends on ones psych...

yeah, babe... 's like I read a lot of these kinda fics and I never quite got what I wanted to... now I'm going all out what what I want.. :) LOL

no sympathy... no.... that would totally ruin the plot :) no sympathy for the devil :)

did you go..... get your kink!? *winks*

[soncnica.livejournal.com]

whee *huggles you* I went to get my kink too :)

mhm, exactly.... it just depends on what the situation is and what kinda person you are :)

and I just finished the LAST chapter so... I'll put that up soon, and then sadly I'm done with this story :)

and whooot.. it took me SOOO LONG to get through my head that... really, I should write what feels right to me and not what others want me to write...so... :) 'm writing everything from A to Z! :=) anything I want... whoot :) and I'm loving it :)