Hook(ed)

[soncnica]

Title: Hook(ed)
Author: soncnica
Rating: R
Genre/Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Wordcount: cca. 10.400 words
Summary: Jensen got hook(ed) in more ways than he ever imagined when he crashed his neighbor's party. And it felt so good. So good.
Warnings: steampunk AU, a hook deliberately through someone's skin (idk how to warn for that LOL), mention of: needle play, het and sounding, dirty talk (more like 'planting ideas, hoping they'll grow' … is that dirty talk? heh), hurt!comfort, hurt!Jensen, off screen death of a minor character (grief and loss), pain and blood, non-con that turns into consensual (could also say coercion/persuasion?!), implied future dom/sub relationship (probably not-sexual), coming untouched, voyeurism (kinda), language, no permanent damage, not a death fic
Disclaimer: I seriously only own the grammar/spelling mistakes. Everything else is NOT MINE! ALL IS FICTION.
A/N: Just for the record, I HATE NEEDLES *yikes*, but then the show started to use so many injections I was feeling physically sick, BUT … then something happened. I was like, BUT, BUT, BUT if Sam and Dean aren't scared than I can be not scared too, darnit. And when I went to the doctor to get my migraines checked out and stuff, the doc took a blood sample and she was like: you're all cool today and I just grinned, because hello, if Sam and Dean can do it, I CAN TOO, DARNIT! And well, needles aren't that scary, not really. So I went a bit further and wrote this. THIS IS NOT hooks in skin and so on, this is more like '''''''went fishing and the person with me didn't know how to throw the fishhook right'''''' kinda thingy LOL

The knock on the door, even if he'd been expecting it all day and fearing it, still all but catapulted him off of the couch, where he'd been sitting on since that morning. For hours, watching mindless TV shows on how colored steam was the way of the future and how coal was going to run out soon and then the planet would collapse into itself and doom would be inevitable.

Seriously … there was so much coal under the planet's surface, the Earth was suffocating in it. And the show about how the flying boats were leaking black water all over and dirtying up the cities. Seriously, what a load of crap, the cities were dirty with or without that; covered with a layer of coal dust that only rain ever half-washed off.

Oh and let's not forget the three hour special on Hook and 'em all being praised like Einstein and Picasso and Houdini and hundred other crazy and smart people all put together. Seriously, Jensen didn't know what all the appeal was about. The documentary was interesting, he had to give it that, full of very vivid footage and very up close and personal interviews with the people who were Hook, but really, to Jensen they were just people who liked to play with iron and steel and metal. Well, play was a bad choice of a word, more like … control it, make the material submit to them, making it surrender, just give in to their mind and their body; fingers, legs, mouth, hell even eyelids.

It was kinda like magic; curving, bending, twisting, flexing, coiling, shaping metal with one's mind and body parts. The documentary did make him wonder how that would be like, how it would feel like to … reshape something using only his mind and his hands. He only did it using fire and a lot of heavy tools, because one doesn't just bend steel using his forefinger.

He wished he wasn't on forced leave, because the TV was crap to rule all crap and being alone with his thoughts – why couldn't anyone see how bad that was? He wanted to be back working, back to the Iron And Spring Steel Plant, bending and curving and heating up iron to make things out of it. He loved creating, working with his hands and sweating in all that heat that ruled the factory. His work station had a beautiful view on the nearby hills, all covered with the steam that rose up from the city, only their bare peaks looking out.

He missed and wanted to hear fire burning, machines humming, hammers hitting metal to force it into something, anything, whatever the higher ups ordered that day. He loved the sight of bright white glow of the iron sticks that he could then shape into whatever he needed.

He wanted all of that to distract him from his thoughts, his mind.

But no. He was on a forced vacation, because he was quote danger to everyone and we don't want you to burn anyone or behead anyone or stick anything into anyone end quote.

Fuck it then.

But he missed his work and the view and the sound of all those trains below his working station; whistling, and blowing steam that sometimes blocked the window and made it all wet and grimy.

Fuck. He looked to the window of his apartment and saw it be just as grimy and wet. Fuck.

He stepped to the door, cringing at the knocking and the banging and the obscenities that were being hissed at him through the wood.

"Well, thank you for opening the door, thought I'd have to knock 'em down, man."

Chris. Chris with his dark blue coat that smelled of smoke and a top hat that he threw onto the desk by the door. The man was … a friend, a saint more like it, because he was putting up with Jensen's mood swings and his depression and his moments of sadness and moments of happiness and never forced him to stop.

"Sorry, I was just … uh, nothing, just, come in, man. Where's Kathy?"

"She had to work, sorry. They just brought in a shipment of the newest state of the art, her words not mine, flying and driving goggles and she has to log 'em all in."

"Oh, well … uhh … okay."

Poor Kathy, she'd be doing that for days, but as the owner of her DriveFly shop, and being obsessive-compulsive about every little thing, she never trusted any of her employees to do it for her. Which drove Chris crazy, but Jensen was sure that Kathy more than made up for it with giving Chris discounts on various goggles, telescopes and periscopes. At least that was what Jensen liked to think, because he didn't really want to think about other ways Kathy made up for her absence to Chris.

"What the hell's that noise?"

"Ah, 's just my neighbor having a party or something, I don't know."

He'd been hearing loud music; drums and guitars and bursts of laughter all day long, but he didn't mind. Not really; it was nice hearing life happen all around him, he just didn't want to … step into that life, be in it, live it. Not yet.

So, he just turned the volume on his TV higher and watched how a member of Hook talked about how he could 'hear' steel in his mind, whispering to him into what shape it wanted to be bent.

Cuckoo.

"Dude, we should crash."

Wait, what?

"What?"

"Crash, we should totally do it."

"Umm, no."

"Come on, why not?"

"Umm, because I don't wanna." Jensen tried to talk very slowly, as if Chris was a child with mental issues and blocked ears.

"Come on, man. Free booze, willing chicks, come on."

"Umm, no. Let's just stay. Order some pizza, I have a six pack in the fridge."

"Yeah, but you don't have drunk, willing chicks here. Come on, man."

"Dude, I talked to my neighbor like two times since he moved here. We're not friends."

"That's why it's called crashing a party. We'll come to the party of someone we don't know and weren't invited to. Jeez, dude, lighten up."

"I don't know. Let's just play some games, get drunk and pass out on the couch."

"Jensen, man," Chris shook his head, untamed blond hair flying everywhere, which was the reason Chris loved that top hat, "listen, I know that since Lea you've been..."

"Don't say her name, don't ... please, just ... she..."

"Jensen, hey, listen, I know it hurts and it'll hurt for a long time, but she's gone, Jensen, hey look at me, listen ... she's gone and she's never coming back, but you're here and you need to start livin' again."

"She's dead, of course she's never coming back and I know that, I'm just ... I'm not ready to ... people, they wanna talk and chat and I'm just not ... ready, you know? Not yet."

"Jensen, you can't lock yourself in here, these four walls, they'll eat you alive, man. It ain't healthy and it's been goin' on for too long."

"'s only been six months." He whispered and sat down on the couch, looking at the turned off TV. He just wanted to curl up and watch stupid things on TV again. Wanted to watch steel and iron twist under someone's glare. He didn't want to be twisted under anyone's glare, because he was steel that couldn't, wouldn't surrender.

"That's five months too long. Jensen, Lea, she'd want you to go on with your life, right? Live it, right? Meet people? Go out?"

Jensen looked down, his sneakers looking mighty interesting all of a sudden and nodded. Yeah, Lea would want him to live his life to the fullest.

"Yeah, yeah she would."

"Okay then, so this is the perfect opportunity to do just that. We'll crash the party, it's the door right next to yours, so you won't be going far and there'll be people there that you don't know and don't know you, so they won't mention ... Lea ... and you can just mingle. Or get drunk I don't care. Just ... come on, man."

Jensen thought about it, because really, what would be the worst that could happen? Even if he'd get stinky drunk, he was maybe five - kinda long - strides away from his own apartment and if anyone'd tell him that he was an 'intruder' then he'd just apologize and leave.

"Okay, fine. Let's go."

He was a weak, weak man, he folded easier than the damn shirts do when he folds 'em straight out of the drying machine.

He sighed and got up from the couch. This was it then; his first foray into the world outside in six months.

He could do this, even if closing the door and locking them felt as if he was going to pass out.

"Come on."

"Yeah, just a sec." he placed the key into a slot - right next to the door handle - that was designed and built into the wall for just this purpose. He was the only one who had the code that would unlatch the spring and spit out his key. It was all safe and tidy like that, never having to worry about whether or not he'd lose the key during the day.

"Okay let's go."

-:-

The hallway was dim, illuminated by three light bulbs that were still in some decent working order, while the rest sixteen or so were just dimly glowing and flickering, not much life in them at all anymore. There was a big, full wall window on his right and twenty doors down on his left was the elevator.

Living in an apartment building forty stories high, one definitely needed an elevator, even though this one was out of order probably twenty-nine days of a month.

He sighed and turned left, following Chris who had a hitch in his step, as if he was too giddy to walk properly. The man already looked half-way plastered and they hadn't even gotten to the party yet.

Jensen rolled his eyes; where did he pick these people up, these friends of his? Chris and Steve and Dani and Kathy ... they were all a bit on the nuts scale of things, but ... they'd all been there when Lea ... when she ... died. She died and it was okay to say so. Because dying was a thing that happened. To all. Lea just ... died sooner than wanted and needed and anticipated.

The hallway was narrow, probably only nine feet from one wall to the other and lined with brown doors. It smelled of cat piss, coal and rust ... like the damn railroad. Most of the time it made Jensen gag but there were times – few and far between – that it made him feel safe too.

The door to the apartment from where muted music could be heard and the bass line rocked the floor beneath his feet and people could be heard talking and laughing and bottles or glasses clinking, was really only a few strides away from his own. Sometimes when he was either in the bathroom or his bedroom, he could hear his neighbor if the guy was talking on the phone, or could hear the guy's TV if it was turned on too loud, sometimes he could even hear the guy snore at night. Probably only when the guy was drunk, otherwise he couldn't hear any noises at all.

His neighbor. He was going to crash his neighbor's party. Well … 'kay then. He didn't know the guy's name, not really, something starting with the letter J - Jed, Joseph, Jerry, Jamie, Jared. Jared?

Jared sounded about right.

The door was unlocked, of course, why lock it if guests might show up at any time and Chris grinned at him when he turned the knob and pushed.

The music and the smell of various alcoholic drinks, perfume and cologne hit Jensen like a steam train. He coughed, taking some small, shallow breaths to get his lungs and nose accustomed to the smells. He couldn't do anything for his ears though.

"Smells … and loud." he muttered, making Chris roll his eyes, pushing him into the room and closing the door behind them.

Jensen knew that he was standing there by the closed door looking like an idiot, who didn't know how to operate a door, but he didn't really know what to do with himself. He didn't know these people, didn't know ... Jared ... didn't know how to handle himself when crashing a party, Lea ... she, she always took care of these things, she was the one who made him feel comfortable anywhere and in any situation and he missed her. So damn much.

"Jensen!"

He flinched at the harshness of the tone and looked into Chris' eyes.

"'m okay." he looked around the room, his eyes moving over the heads of people occupying the room. Red hair, black hair, blond hair, green hair, pink hair, brown hair; goggles and normal glasses pushed up to the top of some people's heads, pony tails and mohawks, neatly cut hair and greasy hair. So many various people, so many ways of them seeing him, watching him, assessing him, putting him into their folders of who he just might be. He was not like them; not with his dirty brown hair spiked up with gel, his green shirt and sweat pants. He looked like he didn't belong, and some women looked at him from heels to head, turned up their noses and returned to the chat he obviously disturbed just by being in the room.

"Their loss, right?"

Chris patted him on the shoulder and Jensen nodded. It was nobody's loss, really. He didn't go for women in corsets or lacy tank tops or bustles, he didn't go for women with metal plates in their noses or ears or tongues.

He went for Lea. She'd been perfect. She'd been just like him and together they hadn't really belonged anywhere but up in the sky. He and Lea and his flying balloon, way up in the sky.

He shook his head, trying to get his thoughts back to the here and now. He hadn't seen his balloon since Lea died, but Dani assured him that it was being well taken care of in the hangars outside the city. He didn't know if he ever wanted to fly again. Why would he, when there was no one to share the sky with.

The sky would wait, the sky had always been there and always would be and right now, he was in a place, an unfamiliar place that he needed to get a feel for. He got lost so many times in his head and he couldn't afford to get lost here too. It could be dangerous, these people weren't his friends, who knew him and would always bring him home no matter what, no, these people were strangers who didn't know him from a lemon in their tequila shot.

He looked to his left and his eyes first stopped on a floor to ceiling closet and then on a bed – California King – holy shit. He and Lea had talked about getting a bed like that, but they loved to squeeze and cuddle so there was really no point in buying something that big.

And by the way he could actually see it all, even over the heads of the people, he knew that the guy's bedroom was standing on a raised podium with three steps to climb to get up there and fall onto that bed.

He quickly turned his head to the right, wondering what the guy did with that side, but his eyes stopped in front of him, where he could only see the top four shelves of a closet. They were full of books … books everywhere and some statues of … people? He couldn't really tell, not from this far away, but books, those he could see clearly. There were some binoculars on display too, some smallish telescopes and decorative boxes that held who knew what. They were small, like jewelry cases, but he doubted his neighbor wore jewelry.

The music changed into something with a piano, cymbals and a flute and he rocked on his heels, feeling the flute sneak its way into his veins.

He looked down at the floor and rubbed his forehead … Lea'd played the flute.

Fuck.

He looked back up and to the right, seeing a floor to ceiling window; a huge thing looking out into the night. There was a table in front of it, with four chairs lining the long wooden plank. He could see a fridge, but no counters or a stove … probably hiding behind the fridge. The kitchen area was raised up on a podium too.

But he was standing, apparently, in the living room, with a couch and a coffee table and a big screen TV attached to the wall in front of the couch. There were some more shelves behind the couch, also full of books. If the night would go sour, he would at least be able to grab a book and go read it in some corner or ... something, because he wouldn't leave Chris alone here.

That could be dangerous in so many ways and Kathy would probably break his neck.

It was a studio apartment, open space, no walls anywhere, all the rooms in one long space, only the bathroom was a separate room. He knew this apartment, knew it well, because after Lea died, he wanted to move in here.

This apartment, was so unlike his. This here was open, bright - the sunlight illuminating the whole space, sunbeams penetrating every nook and cranny - inviting, spacious - big windows, big living room, big kitchen, big bedroom –and held no memories and no smell and no … he still found Lea's hair on the couch pillows, found her lipstick under the bed, found her hairband under the fridge when he'd moved it. His place was small and crammed with all kinda things that were making him nauseated, anxious, depressed and lonely. When he'd had Lea, it was the best apartment one could have, but now … it was too tiny, walls closing in every day, every night squeezing air out of his lungs.

This apartment was clean. Unused.

But no can do, as it was too expensive and with his salary he would've been able to afford it, umm, never.

He'd never have this; he was doomed to live in that crappy hole and exist with a head full of memories.

Fuck.

He rubbed his eyes, making himself listen to the music that had once again changed into something with a saxophone.

Saxophone he could do, flute was a problem and probably always would be.

"Dude, two o'clock." Jensen turned to where Chris nudged him and saw a girl with long black, wavy hair wearing a black and red corset that displayed her breasts as if they were put on an altar for anyone to see and touch and lick. A desire flashed through him to touch those full, meaty breasts, play with those barely concealed nipples, suck them in his mouth and … no.

No.

No, he couldn't. That was the uniform of FlyGirls; women who flew passenger balloons across the Atlantic and she was way out of his league.

He turned away, when the girl winked at him and raised her half full glass in a salute.

A man collided with his shoulder, tipped his brown-red checkered hat in apology and walked towards the couch.

Holy sweet steam, the man had had a small hook embedded in his left cheek. Holy, holy hell.

Jensen turned to Chris to see if Chris saw that as well, but the man's mouth was practically salivating while watching the coffee table full of liquor bottles.

Jensen sighed. Fine.

"Wanna go get a drink?"

"Thought you were glued to the spot, man. Yeah, come on."

Jensen tried not to think about how the light was dim in the apartment, completely suitable for a party … or an orgy.

"Wow, cool." Chris said and tapped Jensen's chest with his hand, giving him a grin while already half way from the door to the couch, that had some people sitting on and talking. Jensen could see there were some big bottles of clear liquid on the table, some bottles of beer and some bottles of something yellowish, but he knew that to Chris the color of whatever he'd consume wouldn't matter, as long as it hit and hit hard.

Booze.

Yeah, sure. He could do booze. Alcohol was always welcomed in his life.

-:-

He sighed, slumped his shoulders and started to follow Chris towards the middle of the living room, all but swimming in the crowd that was pushing him left and right, like waves in the ocean. They were all dancing - more like grinding together and he didn't even wanna think about how many orgasms this room had already seen tonight. There were also people standing in groups, circles, talking and moving their hands and, and people.

He hated people. Hated to touch them, hated to have to elbow his way to something, hated to smell them, hated to pull them apart, hated to apologize when he stepped on someone's toes ... he hated people. How Lea had ever put up with him ... he still didn't know and never would.

He was halfway to the couch where he could see a spot open up just big enough for his ass to fit and not get up until Chris would be ready to leave, when the people started to move into the other direction, making a wall of breathing, moving, damn strong men and women, pushing him with them. He wanted to break free, go to the damn couch and sit down and glare daggers at Chris but he couldn't break the wall. And the more he tried to explain to people that he really needed to go and sit down the more people were telling him that he didn't want to miss the highlight of the party, that he soooo should see this, dude, you sooooo need to see this, dude.

He didn't really wanna see anything, he just wanted to sit down and give out vibes of fucking leave me alone.

But he couldn't resist the wall of people or he'd get hurt, so he clenched his jaw tight, gritted his teeth, turned around and walked with them until he stopped a few feet before the steps leading up to the podium where the bed was.

He was front and center, with who knew how many people blocking his escape and when he looked up he got a nice view of … his neighbor.

And another guy.

If this was some sort of a ritualistic torture slash slaughter thingy he would scream and run, call the cops and move out of this damn building in the span of half an hour. Fifteen minutes - he had nothing to pack anyway.

His neighbor, Jared, was naked from his waist up, sweat glistering on his skin, on his abs and pecks, his nipples looking as if someone had been sucking on them for the last hour or three. His hair was long(ish), but he had them tucked behind his ears, only a few bangs falling over his forehead. He was wearing white pants and had bare feet and the look in his eyes when he watched the guy in front of him was … almost animalistic. Jensen was waiting for Jared to growl or something, because it sure looked like the man was capable of that.

The guy who stood in front of Jared had bright blond hair and was smaller than Jared, although who wouldn't be, Jared was a freaking giant, he loomed over the guy, like a ... predator. A bird of prey who just saw a tiny, little mouse trying to scamper to freedom.

Jensen's mouth went dry. What. The. Actual. Fuck?

Then Jared walked around the blond, turning the guy around as he went, showing the guy's back to the crowd and Jensen thought that he just might puke.

There were hooks in the guy's back. Hooks. Hooks in the more meaty sides along his spine and … what the … fucking?

Jensen breathing hitched and he swallowed down the bile raising up his throat, because there was some blood and there were hooks and the guy's eyes, when Jared turned him around again, were ... glazed over with pleasure? Fucking hell, fucking hell, what the …

Jensen tried to turn around and make for the door, run to his apartment and never ever come back out, because this was just sick.

Who the hell puts hooks into someone's skin? Who the fuck lets someone put hooks into one's skin?

Jensen felt lightheaded and he really, really wished it would be from the booze, which he had none yet, but once this freak show would end he'd drink that whole six pack in his fridge and die of alcohol poisoning.

His eyes widened when he saw Jared step in front of the guy and hold up another hook - it wasn't a big one, or a thick one, or a long one, just a tiny hook, something Jensen could use in his closet to hang up a shirt ... but the tip was sharp, needle like.

Jensen was mesmerized when Jared kneeled and pushed the tip through the side of the guy's belly button - getting the bend of the hook to lie inside the navel - the steel sliding in and then poking out on the other side like everything was just dandy.

Jensen hissed. He didn't mean to, but holy hell it was just nasty, even though the guy was panting and his pants were tented with a wet patch the size of a lake, Jensen just couldn't stop himself from hissing. He hurt for the guy, even if the guy didn't really look as if he was in any kinda pain at all.

Holy smoke.

His hiss made Jared turn away from the blond, who was swaying on his feet, the only thing holding him from collapsing on the floor was Jared's hand holding his hip.

Jared's eyes narrowed, calculating, soft and strong all at the same time and Jensen couldn't look away. Not up not down, left or right, just stared right back, watching a drop of sweat run slowly down Jared's left temple.

Jensen thought that this was not good. Not good. Abort, abort, run like hell, lock the door and plan his escape. Now!

Then the music changed; something with a piccolo and a piano and a bit of saxophone and Jared's smile was as soft as the piccolo's sound.

Jensen couldn't look away when Jared turned back to the guy and whispered 'you did so good, Chad, so good, so good. Why don't you go to Leana, she'll take care of you now'. Jared's voice sounded … proud.

God.

The guy, Chad, nodded and stumbled into the wall of people who were all watching the show, murmuring and gasping and groaning at the sight of Chad barely walking in a straight line, the hooks in his back and the one in his navel, shining in the light and moving with his muscles.

Jensen watched Chad get swept away, getting lost among the sea of people, some of them guiding him towards the couch probably, but Jensen couldn't see that, because a shadow fell over him, making him look at the front.

He came face to chin with Jared.

Uh-oh.

CHAPTER 2