FIC: Magician
Jul. 6th, 2010 02:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nilchanceTitle: Magician
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nilchance
Rating: Adult
Pairing: the Losers, kidfic
A/N: Jensen teaches Cougar to hold babies. This is a follow-up to Fool, though knowledge of that isn't necessary to read this. Grant is named after the Mythbuster, because Jolene said "hell no" to Angus after Macguyver.
It's just them on the back porch, Jensen and Cougar and Pooch's baby, cleaning up the remains of what was going to be an epic barbecue. It's late and Jensen's arm hurts and the baby is curled up against him, so Cougar does most of the cleaning up, as usual for him.
Jolene crashed out early, the new baby exhaustion carrying her back inside and onto the couch; Pooch joined her after a while, the two of them coiled schmoopily up together under the throw that Jensen's sister sent over as a present. Aisha didn't last long either, wary as a cat in a room full of Labrador puppies, though she did let the baby gnaw on her pinkie. Clay made it through another half of beer before he made his excuses and followed in Aisha's wake.
"Like any of us don't know he's getting laid," Jensen tells baby Grant. "How dumb do we look?"
Grant crosses his eyes.
"Yeah," Jensen says, "exactly. I mean, jeez."
Not so epic. Not so much a few victory beers. Roque is an open wound, though Jensen tries hard to babble enough for two people. Everybody is thinking of him, or the time they lost in Bolivia, or the 25 dead kids they left in that field. They're not thinking, hey, we're alive and there's a baby, isn't that kind of awesome? Isn't that worth a lot?
Jensen's arm really hurts, is what he's saying. He couldn't even have a beer what with the pain meds he's supposedly taking.
On cue, Cougar prowls past with his armful of empties. He drops them one by one in the trash, careful not to make enough noise to startle little Grant. Cougar seems to think the baby will implode if he starts sniffling. Once the bottles are gone, Cougar reaches into his pocket. Like magic, he produces two little white pills. Codeine.
"Busted," Jensen says to Grant.
Cougar smirks and touches one finger to his temple, like, I know your bullshit tricks by now.
Jensen starts to reach for the pills with the arm Aisha helpfully ventilated, but stops that pretty fast because: ow. When he tries to shift Grant to that side, it's stiff and sore enough that he's a little worried he might drop the kid the next time he flails. Plus getting kicked in the bullet wound by an uncoordinated week-old just seems like insult to injury.
Cougar seems to realize the same thing, because he reaches for Grant, then hesitates. It looks strange on him. He sets the pills down on the porch rail.
"Hold on," Jensen says, "put your arm out-- oh, for fuck's sake, he's not a football, c'mon--"
"I don't--"
They shuffle awkwardly for a few seconds, until Jensen uses his bad arm to grab Cougar by the wrist. It strikes him fast and low, how small Cougar actually is compared to the space he takes up in Jensen's head. Then he's molding Cougar's arms to fit the baby, and they pass Grant between them like a shared joint in jungle twilight.
"Watch his neck," Jensen says, "you got him? I'm letting go."
Cougar inhales, tense as a wire, then corrects himself. Jensen lets go and retrieves the pills; he tries not to think about them being warm from the hollow of Cougar's pocket. Cougar's hand looks strange, cupped around the vulnerable curve of Grant's neck instead of the stock of his rifle.
"Ah," Cougar murmurs to the baby, clear and startled. "Hola."
"There, see? He's not loaded." Leaning back against the rail, Jensen rubs above his wound. He can feel the edge of the tape peeling back. "Well, except for when he is."
Gentle, careful, Cougar swipes his thumb across Grant's cheek. Grant roots after it, like babies do, and latches fiercely onto Cougar's knuckle. The expression that crosses Cougar's face is something that Jensen should look away from, but he doesn't. He drinks it in greedily. It's got to last him for a while.
Author:
nilchanceRating: Adult
Pairing: the Losers, kidfic
A/N: Jensen teaches Cougar to hold babies. This is a follow-up to Fool, though knowledge of that isn't necessary to read this. Grant is named after the Mythbuster, because Jolene said "hell no" to Angus after Macguyver.
It's just them on the back porch, Jensen and Cougar and Pooch's baby, cleaning up the remains of what was going to be an epic barbecue. It's late and Jensen's arm hurts and the baby is curled up against him, so Cougar does most of the cleaning up, as usual for him.
Jolene crashed out early, the new baby exhaustion carrying her back inside and onto the couch; Pooch joined her after a while, the two of them coiled schmoopily up together under the throw that Jensen's sister sent over as a present. Aisha didn't last long either, wary as a cat in a room full of Labrador puppies, though she did let the baby gnaw on her pinkie. Clay made it through another half of beer before he made his excuses and followed in Aisha's wake.
"Like any of us don't know he's getting laid," Jensen tells baby Grant. "How dumb do we look?"
Grant crosses his eyes.
"Yeah," Jensen says, "exactly. I mean, jeez."
Not so epic. Not so much a few victory beers. Roque is an open wound, though Jensen tries hard to babble enough for two people. Everybody is thinking of him, or the time they lost in Bolivia, or the 25 dead kids they left in that field. They're not thinking, hey, we're alive and there's a baby, isn't that kind of awesome? Isn't that worth a lot?
Jensen's arm really hurts, is what he's saying. He couldn't even have a beer what with the pain meds he's supposedly taking.
On cue, Cougar prowls past with his armful of empties. He drops them one by one in the trash, careful not to make enough noise to startle little Grant. Cougar seems to think the baby will implode if he starts sniffling. Once the bottles are gone, Cougar reaches into his pocket. Like magic, he produces two little white pills. Codeine.
"Busted," Jensen says to Grant.
Cougar smirks and touches one finger to his temple, like, I know your bullshit tricks by now.
Jensen starts to reach for the pills with the arm Aisha helpfully ventilated, but stops that pretty fast because: ow. When he tries to shift Grant to that side, it's stiff and sore enough that he's a little worried he might drop the kid the next time he flails. Plus getting kicked in the bullet wound by an uncoordinated week-old just seems like insult to injury.
Cougar seems to realize the same thing, because he reaches for Grant, then hesitates. It looks strange on him. He sets the pills down on the porch rail.
"Hold on," Jensen says, "put your arm out-- oh, for fuck's sake, he's not a football, c'mon--"
"I don't--"
They shuffle awkwardly for a few seconds, until Jensen uses his bad arm to grab Cougar by the wrist. It strikes him fast and low, how small Cougar actually is compared to the space he takes up in Jensen's head. Then he's molding Cougar's arms to fit the baby, and they pass Grant between them like a shared joint in jungle twilight.
"Watch his neck," Jensen says, "you got him? I'm letting go."
Cougar inhales, tense as a wire, then corrects himself. Jensen lets go and retrieves the pills; he tries not to think about them being warm from the hollow of Cougar's pocket. Cougar's hand looks strange, cupped around the vulnerable curve of Grant's neck instead of the stock of his rifle.
"Ah," Cougar murmurs to the baby, clear and startled. "Hola."
"There, see? He's not loaded." Leaning back against the rail, Jensen rubs above his wound. He can feel the edge of the tape peeling back. "Well, except for when he is."
Gentle, careful, Cougar swipes his thumb across Grant's cheek. Grant roots after it, like babies do, and latches fiercely onto Cougar's knuckle. The expression that crosses Cougar's face is something that Jensen should look away from, but he doesn't. He drinks it in greedily. It's got to last him for a while.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-07-06 08:28 pm (UTC)This is somehow so small, and so utterly perfect <3
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Date: 2010-07-07 01:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-06 09:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-07 02:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-06 09:42 pm (UTC)(Also, named after a Mythbuster? AWESOME.)
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Date: 2010-07-07 02:10 pm (UTC)Thank you!
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Date: 2010-07-07 12:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-07 02:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-07 02:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-07 02:33 pm (UTC)Thank you!
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Date: 2010-07-07 07:33 am (UTC)Adorable!
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Date: 2010-07-07 06:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-07 08:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-07 06:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-07 10:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-07 06:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-08 10:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-23 08:10 am (UTC)That's just an amazing line. Props on your work all around, this hits my goopy buttons really hard.
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Date: 2010-08-18 03:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-21 04:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-20 11:13 am (UTC)