Debut - OTA

[tech_geek]

Boredom and Jake Jensen didn't mix well. Kinda like nitrogen triiodide and an unsteady hand--Big fucking boom. As a kid it had gotten him into a lot of trouble. As an adult? Pretty much the exact same thing. Boredom was what had made his eight-year-old self build a parabolic antenna/radio out of kitchen appliances to contact aliens with, his ten-year-old self dig up his backyard in search of dinosaur bones, and his sixteen-year-old-self hack the FBI database. Boredom was what had deconstructed a missile just to see what made it tick, had changed Cougar’s records to say he’d had all his training at a secret Jedi stronghold, and had taken apart a General’s car for the spare parts needed to make a high-powered laser death ray. And that was just to name a few things.

Jensen was someone who always needed to be doing something, so it didn’t take much for boredom to kick in. All it took was a spare minute or two where he was alone with nothing to do. He’d get twitchy, restless. The ideas would start coming and then one of them would stick. It would nag and tempt. He’d know it wasn’t something he should be doing. He’d know the idea could get him into trouble, but the lure of it, the promise of figuring out how something worked, of creating something, of taking something broken and making it whole again, of accomplishing something instead of being such a monumental fuck-up would be too much to say no to. So he wouldn’t.

Unfortunately, right now, Jensen was at work. Most days it wasn’t so bad. The coffee shop usually had a steady flow of customers, so it was difficult to get well and truly bored. But today was a slow day. Maybe it was the weather, the rain was coming down so hard it looked like a sheet of water, or maybe it was just shit luck. He supposed he shouldn’t complain. Of all the places he could be, London wasn’t the worst. He could have ended up ass-deep in the Hindu Kush without an internet connection--Now that would have sucked.

Comments

[tech_geek]

Ooookay, so this was weird. So, not only had the only guy who could ID him walked into, of all the fucking cafes in London, the one he was working in, but that guy was also going under a fake name. It was enough to send every paranoid, conspiracy theorist bell he had ringing. Fuck. He was so screwed. Dude could do his journalist thing and the whole world would know they weren’t dead. It’d bring Max down on them hard and fast.

Clay would probably tell him to kill the guy. Too big a threat, they needed to avenge those kids, get their lives back... The usual. But, he was so not on board with executing a fucking innocent. Also, Clay was fucking crazy. Maybe he could convince the guy that the bullshit the media had printed was just that.

“Jensen,” Jensen replied. “McClane. We must! America is such a small place, right? I mean, everyone just knows everyone there. Kidding. Ah, yeah. Yeah, we do know one another.”

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Jesus, it was good to see that this guy wasn't dead. They hadn't known each other well, only worked together for a week, but it still felt like a punch in the gut to hear he'd died. The relief showed in the small smile he gave him.

"Glad to see you're doing alright, man." It was innocuous enough, just sounded like a couple guys catching up, but it was the best he could do here. "How's your family?" By which he meant, was anyone else alive? He hoped the best for all of them, but he knew Pooch had a family somewhere, even if he hadn't been given details. Fuck, he hoped he was fine.

[tech_geek]

For a second, Jensen was confused, because he was pretty sure he’d never mentioned his sister or his niece. He was usually careful about letting that kind of information to get out, even if it would be getting out to cute reporters who fought to take down assholes like Blanchard.

And then it clicked.

“Ah, same old, same old,” Jensen answered. “Kicking butt, taking names, getting into trouble.” Which was...more or less accurate really, even if it was the Waiting Game right now. Plus, how did you casually drop that Roque had betrayed them all and ended up dead into a conversation Oh, well, good ol’ Grammy Knives is no longer with us. No, no, it’s okay. It was her time to go really. “What about yours?”

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"Good, good, I'm glad to hear it." He may have thought Clay was a dick and a half, but he still glad he was alright.

His own was more difficult, and he couldn't begin to think of a way to explain this while being subtle. He sighed deeply,but the exhale sent him into a coughing fit, the sound rattling as he clinched his eyes shut against the pain the sharp movements shot through him .

He calmed down down after a moment, flipping open his water bottle and taking small sips. When he got back to normal, he said, voice till a little rough. "Shit, sorry. Family's fine. I'm the one who's in bad shape."

[tech_geek]

Jensen looked concerned at the painful, coughing fit. He started to reach out, but thought better of it. “I’m sorry, man.”

Even without Shaun nearly heaving up a lung onto the table, it was pretty obvious shit was not okay. The cane, how even just talking left him breathless, the fake name, talking in fucking code... Something had happened and whatever it was it likely came down to one thing--Shaun must have stuck his journo nose somewhere it wasn’t wanted. Dude had been a fucking bulldog when it came to a story.

Jensen glanced at the clock, hesitated a moment, and then offered, “My apartment isn’t too far from here. I’m off in two hours if you want to catch up.”

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Shaun hesitated. Because, well, this was some fucking coincidence, and he trusted Jensen about as much as he was willing to trust anyone right now, but he wasn't exactly comfortable either. It wouldn't surprise him to find out he was after something. Opposite of surprise, really.

But then, he was also really fucking lonely.

"Sure," he said finally, giving him a little grin. "That sounds good. I'm going to be writing for a while, so just let me know when you're done?"

George would yell at him later. But it's not like he had to tell him anything.

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“Sure,” Jensen agreed with a nod. He hoped he wasn’t making a mistake. “Talk to you later.” Turning away, he went back behind the counter. His gaze immediately landed on the back of Shaun’s head. Fuck. He really hoped he wasn’t making a mistake.

The two hours went by slowly. With customers few and far between because of the rain and the talk with Shaun waiting, time was fucking dragging. The end of his shift finally did come though and Jensen immediately started untying the strings of his apron. “Alright, Wendy, I’m out of here. See you tomorrow.”

Jensen grabbed his jacket and baseball cap from the back room and came back out, making his way over to Shaun’s table. “Ready?”

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Shaun, having kept an eye on the time, had already saved his work and packed up his things a few minutes ago. "Sure," he said, tossing Jensen a little smile, nervous, because two hours had left his brain with a lot of time to tell him everything he was doing wrong. If he were one of his employees,he would have shouted at them, but that's what was nice about being the boss.

It took him a few long omens to get himself up, his bag on his back, and cane ready to go. "I'm not very fast, He warned, avoiding Jensen's gaze. "Just a warning."

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“Don’t worry about it,” Jensen assured Shaun. “It’s fine.” He opened the door for him and then followed him outside.

Jensen stopped under the alcove. It was still raining, though not as hard as it had been earlier. The shit of rain was more of a pissed off waterfall right now. “We can grab a cab if that’d be better.” He was a Grade-A asshole for asking Shaun to walk somewhere in this. “Or at least let me carry your bag?”

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Shaun gripped his bag a little tighter. He could appreciate the gesture for what it probably was, common niceness, but it was a great way to get his hands on it if Jensen's ideas were less than good. Cab might not be the best idea either.

Which, it probably should say something to him that he was willing to go home with a guy alone but wouldn't let him carry his shit. Yeah, George was going to kick his ass.

"I'll be fine," he said, flashing a grin. "Only a little ways, right?"

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“Yeah,” Jensen confirmed, pointing to their right before shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “To the end of the block and around the corner.”

Jensen stepped out from under the alcove. Rain pattered on the brim of his baseball cap, started to soak its way through his jacker. He started down the sidewalk, making sure to keep his pace at something Shaun would be able to keep up with easily.

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Shaun could tell that Jensen was going slow for him, and while it was mildly embarrassing, he appreciated it. The walk was hard, even moreso in the rain, but he didn't make a sound, did his best not to show what was hurting him. He did a pretty good, too, only the occasional wince of pain.

It didn't mean he didn't sigh in relief when they got in to Jensen's building. "Mind if I borrow a towel, when we get up there?" he asked. He wasn't completely soaked, but it was a near thing.

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“Nah, I figured I’d just let you drip everywhere until the hyperthermia set in,” Jensen replied, they dryness of his tone contrasted sharply by an ear-to-ear smart-ass grin.

Digging out his keys, Jensen opened the door and held it, waiting for Shaun to go first before following him into the hallway. It was dimly lit and leaned just short of being decrepit with the well-worn look of something that was old and falling apart, but being taken care of. He led Shaun down it a short ways, “Look out for that stack of newspapers,” and eventually stopped in front of another door. Unlocking it, he pushed it open.

“Welcome to my humble abode.”

The kitchen lay just beyond the door. The table was small and round, its uneven legs made steady by a thick book. A set of mismatched chairs sat around it. The appliances were varying degrees of old, though the majority looked like they had seen their glory days in the 70s. To the left was the bedroom/living room. A television sat on a small stand across from a battered, black sofa and tucked in the corner was a scratched up computer desk. The laptop that sat on it looked relatively new and was hooked up to a second monitor that was old, but in decent condition. A mattress on the floor served as a bed. Beyond the bedroom/living room was the bathroom.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll grab you a towel.”

[letsblowitup]

"Thanks." Shaun gripped his cane tight as he moved to the dining room table, sore, but not wanting to drip on his couch. He glanced around, rubbing the back of his neck- it wasn't completely unlike his, in that temporary and furnished from scratch from thrift stores sort of way. It looked comfortable though, and he smiled at the computer set up, remembering how Jensen had treated his laptop like his baby when they were on mission.

[tech_geek]

Jensen came back from the bathroom carrying a towel. His hat and jacket were gone, hair and clothing damp from where the rain had soaked through. “That’s comfortable?” he asked with a laugh and then gestured for Shaun to come over. “Come on, dude, sit on the couch.” He dropped down onto the couch himself, draping the towel over a knee, and bent over to untie his Chucks.

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"I didn't want to drip on your shit," Shaun said, laughing through a groan as he pulled himself up again, limping over without his cane to the couch. He collapsed down with a cough, snagging the towel and starting to dry his hair, hanging it around his neck as he wiggled out of his jacket. "Thanks."

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“No problem.” Jensen dropped his sneakers, his socks stuffed into them, on the floor beside the couch. He sank back into his seat with a sigh and then looked over at Shaun, grinning at him, “So, you ready to stop looking like I’m going to garrote you?”

[letsblowitup]

Shaun laughed, a real, hard laugh that had him ought just a little at the end. "Dude, I'm sorry, but this is just. This is way too much of a fucking coincidence, okay? I have a few self preservation instincts, whatever my sister says."

Finally relaxing, a weight feeling lifted now that they acknowledged that elephant, he sagged back into the couch. Surprisingly comfy, for all that it looked like a piece of shit, but wasn't that always the way? "So, you're not dead. Did you hear that I'm supposed to be dead?" He hoped not. It sucked to hear that someone you were friendly with kicked it.

[tech_geek]

Okay, that was too fucking weird and now Jensen was the suspicious one. Running into Shaun had been weird enough of a coincidence to begin with, but Shaun was a good guy and everything else pointed to him being on the up and up, so he’d let that weirdness slide. But this was just fucking beyond. On the other hand, oh, look, we’re both fake dead! Let’s eat s’mores and bond over it! would be a shit cover story.
 
“I haven’t heard much of anything, given that I’ve been dead and all.” A crooked grin, “Kinda disconnects you from reality. Sorry to hear it though.” ‘Cause he was if it was true. “What happened?”

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"I had the dumbass idea to be a reporter," Shaun said with a laugh.

He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at it, and when he spoke again, his voice was serious. "We stumbled into a whole pile of shit. We got closed to cover a candidate for senate? It was supposed to be fucking simple, boost our fucking resumes." He paused, thinking over what he could say, what was safe. Or, well, safe enough. "We stumbled into a fucking conspiracy. You remember I told you about Buffy? She really is dead, becuase they fucking killed her." He spat the words out, her name still felt bitter in his mouth, both for her betrayal, and the fact that he couldn't even hate her for it. He wanted to hate her,but instead, all he could think of that despite everything, she hadn't deserved this.

He scrubbed hand over his face and shrugged, sighing. "They poisoned me. Shot me with a dart full of tetrodotoxin. With my reputation for dumbassery, I guess no one would question if I went eating a fucking puffer fish." He huffed out a laugh, and shrugged. "But that's why I'm all fucked up."

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Jensen’s eyebrows jumped. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but it definitely hadn’t been that. How many fucking conspiracies were there? “Holy shit, dude. Holy. Shit.” He shook his head and the corner of his mouth tugged with a smile. “I want to say I’m surprised you found your way into some serious shit, but, well, you’re you and only someone who can make that vein in Clay’s neck pop can find their way into serious shit like that.”

“I’m sorry, man. I’m sorry about, Buffy, and,” Jensen gestured at Shaun, “everything. Shit. Are you alright?”

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"Yeah,just peachy," he said, laughing, because sarcasm made everything so much less uncomfortable. This was way too fucking candid of a conversation to have sober. Or ever. "Uh, thanks? And yeah, I guess. Just...pissed I'm too sad to be pissed, I guess. She was working for them. I mean, granted, she thought they were just the opposition, and not the goddamn Devil's taint incarnet, but, you know. Backstabbing is backstabbing, I guess."

He let out a cough, wincing at the pain it brought, and furrowed his brow. "Unless you meant me, which, yeah, I'm fine, dude. Nothing a little time and physical therapy can't solve."

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“I meant both.” Jensen waved a hand to indict allll of Shaun, “Your general state of alrightness.” He pushed himself up to go get Shaun a glass of water to help with that cough and shook his head, chuckling quietly in amusement, “Devil’s taint incarnate.”
 
Jensen’s heart hurt for Shaun. The dude had been dragged through hell and back more than once over. He’d been betrayed by people he’d trusted, lost someone he cared about, and nearly died himself in a way that left him hurting every second of every fucking day. The poor dude could not catch a break and he didn’t deserve that. Grabbing a bottle water from the fridge, he glanced over his shoulder at Shaun, “You hungry?”

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Shaun grinned when Jensen laughed at his little nickname. "You liked that, huh? I've been told I have a gift with words."

He considered for a moment, then nodding. "Yeah, man, some food sounds great. If it's not too much trouble."

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Jensen grabbed the Chinese menu off the fridge, bringing it over with the bottled water. “How does Chinese sound?” he asked and offered both the menu and the drink out to Shaun. “We can do pizza if you’re not feeling Chinese.”