#get him to the con

[arazialotis]

Get Him to the Con - Part 4

Pairing: Jensen × Reader

Word Count: About 7000

Summary: The reader stumbles into Jensen at her favorite bar, a very drunk Jensen. She soon realizes Jensen was booked for a con this weekend and has to be eight hours from town in only two.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Warnings: Language

I intend no hate or ill wishes to him or his family. This is purely just for writing and wasting my time as hobby. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

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“Ramble on. And now’s the time, the time is now to sing my song!” Jensen belted out from the passenger seat.

You hummed along, not as confident to share your untrained voice or speculative lyrical knowledge. However, you had no problem fabricating your own rhythms to fit Zeppelin’s complexity as you tapped along on the steering wheel. You had since stopped for a quick lunch, refueled, and switched seats as I-80 started to stretch into a straight line bordered by cornfields. Since then, you had made it through the first, and now we're nearing the end of Zeppelin's second album. Though you had a short attention span, and generally, the random shuffle on your playlists jumped from Broadway hits to Witch House, you were determined to make it to the end of album four. Haters would say it was the obvious choice and overrated, but screw them and their elitist attitude; it was still your favorite.

The car was beginning to lose that new car scent. Of course, it wasn't a new car, and the rental company used some variant of Febreze to cover up previous use. The pine tree air freshener didn't last long, either. Jensen prevented you from a littering offense just before you were about to throw it out the window by stuffing it in the glove compartment and tossing it at your first stop. With the sun beating down, opened snacks, and drinks in the console, it was beginning to feel like a well-loved family car.

After a few hours had gone by, this fantastical adventure was settling into reality. However, you were still unsure what prompted such an idea from Jensen. It had only been three months since Tennessee, and though he assured you that he was in a much better place now, you suspected the loneliness he talked of still haunted him. Part of you had hoped there might be something more than him wanting to cement the friendship you had built over the past few months. There was obvious and natural chemistry, yet you doubted its existence or that the feeling was reciprocated, thinking perhaps your previous admiration of him falsely conjured it. Jensen’s voice broke the spell of your spiraling thoughts.

"Two Girls and a Cupcake.” He chuckled as he read a billboard.

You couldn’t help but snort. “You're making that up. There's no way that's real."

"Dude, I just saw the sign." He pointed back. "I'm not sharp enough to make up a pun that good."

"What exit?" You challenged, barely believing him.

"A left at this one." He recited confidently.

You pinched your lips together in a smile and pressed down on the gas, hoping to pass a string of cars before the exit, to call his bluff, or end up with a cupcake. A win-win either way. Jensen grabbed the "oh shit" handle from the unexpected burst of speed.

Four miles down the road, surrounded by nothing but fields and an occasional decrepit barn, there were certainly no cupcakes to be seen.

"Just admit it," you said. "You were thinking about porn."

"How many times do I gotta swear it was real?" He defended. "Maybe I read the exit wrong. Wait, what is that?"

A little one-horse town seemingly popped out of the middle of nowhere solely for his benefit. He pointed ahead to a pink abomination growing ever closer.

"Ha! Told ya!" He gloated as you pulled in.

"Oh, we have to get a picture with that guy." You grinned at the overly tacky pink sasquatch.

"After cupcakes," Jensen demanded, already halfway out the door.

You chuckled and got out as well, taking your time stretching. Jensen showed no chivalry in waiting for you and was already in the shop receiving the rundown on best sellers and personal favorites by the time you joined him. He was leaned over, peering into the display, closely analyzing each flavor and acknowledging the shopkeeper now and then with an uh-huh.

"Okay, okay." He straightened and finally decided. "They all sound amazing, but I think I'm sold on the chocolate creme pie."

He glanced at you for your reaction, and you had to look away to keep from bursting out with laughter from the horrible innuendo.

"And for you, sweetheart?" The shopkeeper asked as they packaged up Jensen's.

"Oh, um. Surprise me, dealer's choice." You couldn't possibly settle on one with such fun and unique flavors.

"How spontaneous of you." Jensen teased, and you responded in kind by sticking out your tongue.

The shopkeeper thanked you on your way out. In a single bite, Jensen devoured half the cupcake. He rolled his eyes and leaned back.

You chuckled. "That bad, eh?"

“Yes, so bad that I better take yours off your hands.” He said and lunged for you.

You squealed and shielded your cupcake. “I will be the judge, thank you very much.”

He chuckled and let you be in peace as you dug in.

“Oh, yeah.” You concluded. “I’m stopping here on the way back. Hey! Where are you going?” You chastised him as he opened the car door.

“Denver?” He questioned, but it came together once you pointed back to the sasquatch. “Oh, you were serious? I will, but only for a bite.” His tongue peeked out between his teeth in a grin.

You contemplated. “How big a bite are we talking?” This was a very debatable matter as he had finished his in three bites only.

He pinched his fingers together, indicating the tiniest amount.

“Picture first.” You demanded.

“Alright. Alright.” He gave in and got his phone out. “Bring it in.”

You embraced the pink behemoth on each side, smiling at the camera. He took a couple, and on the third, you simultaneously kissed the creature on the cheek. Jensen looked through the photos.

“Oh, that's a keeper.” He remarked and forwarded them to you.

You laughed as you viewed them. “Adorable.”

“Aren’t I?” He teased.

You playfully slapped his shoulder. “Bigfoot, not you.”

He rubbed his shoulder in jest. “Shoot. If I had known Jared was your type, I would have invited him along.”

“Jared is not my type.” It slipped out before your brain caught up with your mouth.

You blushed, wondering if it came out harsher than intended or, even more so, if it implied something else to Jensen. There had always been teasing and banter that bordered on the edge of flirting. And the first road trip didn’t count in which Jensen had his drunk goggles on and lower standards as he shamelessly tried to pick you up, but since then, it had just been a friendship. The same mental dialogue from earlier repeated, ending with a spiraling mantra to not get your hopes up.

Jensen swallowed a lump in his throat. “He’ll be devastated knowing he’s been passed up. Out of curiosity, what is your type?”

Your heart thudded in your chest. What did that mean? Was he fishing for something in particular, or did he generally want to know? You. You’re my type. Your mind shouted at him as if it could reach him telepathically. Someone who is kind, and smart, and funny, and thoughtful, and passionate… the list went on. It wasn't that Jared wasn't any of those things, but there was something different about Jensen that had always spoken to you. Thankfully, a filter had reappeared since your last slip.

You cleared your throat, realizing too much time had passed without an answer, and you held out your cupcake. “As promised.”

He took it, his eyes never leaving yours, as if he was deeply contemplating your lack of response. That was until he took a bite and broke the concentration. He leaned his head back.

“God, how is that even better than the first one?” He shook his head in disbelief and went in for another bite.

“Hey! We said one!” You took it back from him after a brief playful struggle. “Now, let’s get this show on the road before your personal trainer puts a bounty on my head.”

“To hell with them, and self-control, and balance,” Jensen stated before heading back in and ordering a half dozen more for the road.

****

"I spy," Jensen drew out the words. "Something yellow."

"I swear to God, if it's corn again, I will turn this car around." You threatened.

Had one not been privy to the playful banter all day, they may have mistaken your threat as serious. Only three cupcakes remained in the backseat and were in danger of not surviving until night. Just as the trip started to drag, thus prompting the license plate game (in which you had fifteen states down already) and I Spy to emerge, the fourth album came on, bringing a rejuvenating spirit. Your levees broke, as they say, and any embarrassment from singing in front of Jensen vanished as you both sang out the opener Black Dog. Though the inhibitions only lasted so long. As Robert Plant’s voice made love to the microphone and John Paul Jone's fingers sweetly strummed the riff, your mind was transported to a seedy, sweaty motel room where you worked the man seated next to you with as much rhythm and passion. Jensen pulled you out as he grabbed your hand in tune with the lyrics. He let go, continuing to jam, unaware you had turned three shades darker as if through the touch, your thoughts could transfer to him. You wrung the steering wheel in a tight grip trying to think of anything but your body against his.

Despite the music, Jensen seemed determined to hold onto and win this game of I Spy. The problem was the options were limited to gray pavement, green grass, blue sky, or yellow corn. Granted, you could have both been more creative, but other things were taking precedence in your minds.

Jensen chuckled. “It’s not corn.”

“Is it the sun?” You bemoaned.

“Nope.”

“The lines on the road.” It was the only other thing it could possibly be. You hadn’t passed any signs recently, there was one other car on the road, but that was blue, and nothing inside the car looked yellow from your vantage point.

“Wrong again.” He said smugly.

“I give up. You win.” You easily gave up knowing Stairway to Heaven was playing next.

“It’s the corn’s husks.” He divulged.

“That is cheating.” Had you not been driving, you would have shoved him.

“Might I remind you,” He said, marking a tally. You bit back a smile and shook your head, knowing he was keeping score only to provoke you further. “When you said white, it wasn’t the clouds, it was specifically a jet trail, and I let it slide.”

“It’s completely a separate thing!” You argued. “Created by completely different methods and substances. Corn and corn husks are the same entity.”

“Okay, well, next time you have something with corn, I will make sure to replace it with husks, and then we will see how you feel.” He threatened.

You had lost, and you knew it.

“Shut up.” That was all you had to say, and in ending the conversation, you turned up the stereo for one of the most legendary songs in all of rock n’ roll.

“Despite the epicness of all that has come before,” Jensen stated as a few more songs passed to the slower acoustic melody of Going to California. “This is one of my favorites. Definitely in the top five.”

Lost in thought, he placed his hand on yours atop the gear stick, his thumb lazily stroking over your knuckles. Your heart stopped, toes curled, as you contained a scream internally. This wasn’t happening.

“You know, we should just skip over Denver and keep heading to Cali.” He thought aloud.

You gripped the steering wheel with your free hand, attempting to string together any semblance of comprehendible words. “Is that what you want?”

He sighed. “Of course, it’s what I want. What I should do is something entirely different.”

His hand left yours, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he meant something more than simply bailing on the convention.

“Like corn and corn husks.” You couldn’t help yourself.

He rolled his eyes in your direction, delightfully unamused, as if he wanted to give you something to really smirk about.

“I mean, if you need me to stage a kidnapping,” You proposed with false sincerity. “Out of the goodness of my heart, I would do that for you.”

He softly chuckled. “How kind of you.”

“So long as you promise not to press any charges.” You added.

“And miss the opportunity to see you in handcuffs,” Holy shit. He said it out loud. It just poured out like he was as inebriated as the night you first met. He desperately stumbled to fix it. “It would be hilarious. Just truly, the peak of comedy. And the mug shot after a week in a car and shitty motels. Oh, man.” He turned to look out the window and hide the blush that had crept into his cheeks, praying you didn’t catch on to where his mind initially went.

It worked. Yes, your thoughts went there briefly, but to you, it was obviously not what he intended. “It is on my bucket list to spend at least one night in jail.”

That shocked him out of his embarrassment. “Should I be concerned?”

You licked your lips, pondering. “Like, not for something nefarious. Maybe for protesting, embodying the Robin Hood persona, overdue library books, all those Limewire downloads coming back to haunt me, something like that.”

“Limewire? How dare you.” He teased. “Priacy is the biggest threat to my industry.” He pulled up his phone. “I’m calling the feds right now. Had I known…”

“Oh, no need; they already know. They deemed the six months I was grounded for destroying two family computers as time served.” Though the feds had not been involved, and other aspects exaggerated, you recalled how infuriated your parents had been. “And here I thought you would have run a background check.”

“Hey Siri,” He talked into his phone. “Remind me next time I decide to go ‘cross country with the nice girl I met at a bar three months ago to run a background check.”

“Alright.” The automated voice replied. “When do you want to be reminded?”

“Ah…. well, driving route 66 to the Vegas convention might be fun, so give or take five months.” He responded.

“Okay. In five months, you will be reminded the next time you decide to go ‘cross country with the nice girl you met at a bar three months ago to run a background check.” The monotone voice concluded.

Perhaps out of the stir-craziness of being stuck in a car and on the road for so many hours, you both erupted with laughter.

A while longer, and you were close to reaching your limit. The car was close to needing gas again, the thought of dinner was haunting your stomach, and your legs were pleading to be stretched. The problem was, there was nothing out here. You were somewhere between Des Moines and Omaha. Siri had outlived her usefulness as cell service was shotty at best. Even if there was food or shelter nearby, she wouldn’t be able to tell you. Zeppelin had fulfilled their purpose, and you had rescinded the music rule, letting Jensen shuffle through radio channels, as streaming was no longer available anyways.

Finally, a billboard popped up in the distance, signifying a spot of life. As Jensen changed the station, the words came into view just as a guitar strummed the opening of an unmistakable song. The universe could not have manifested a more perfect unison. Asia’s Heat of the Moment and an advertisement for Iowa’s most mysterious spot collided. Both of you were dumbfounded.

“It’s fucking fate.” You finally managed a whisper.

“No. Nope. Absolutely not.” Jensen was not having it. “That is how people get murdered.”

“It’s not even Tuesday.” You snapped. “And I need to get out of this goddamn car.”

“Do you want to end up a cold open for Supernatural? Cause this is how you do it.” He argued back.

You weren’t having it. You needed the break and fresh air. Ignoring his protests, you made your way for the exit.

“Look.” You pointed to the sign listing things nearby. “There’s a restaurant and motel nearby as well.”

“If we switched and got back on the highway, I could get us Omaha tonight. We’re not that far.” He reasoned.

“And we could drive straight through to Denver.” You argued back, turning down the country road, fields of corn still surrounding you. “And here I thought you were supposed to be the spontaneous one.”

“I know what you’re trying to do.” He deduced. “It’s not going to work.”

“You are welcome to stay in the car and scout out the town.” You offered. “But don’t think for a second I will tell you what the mystery is. That’s for paying customers only.”

“Do you recall the classic cinematic plot line where cannibals lure unsuspecting tourists to their town with, I don’t know, world-famous apple pie or a mystery spot where physics are defied? And just as the couple has a great time and is leaving the town, one of the locals strings out spikes on the road that pops all the tires; thus, an ensuing bloodsoaked gorefest follows.” He rambled.

“I can’t say I do.” You feigned. “Aside from a few one-offs, Psycho, The Shining, Silence of the Lambs (speaking of cannibals), horror isn’t my thing. So this should be an enlightening experience.” You looked over at him. “Don’t worry, Jensen, I’ll protect you.” The reassuring pat on his thigh sold it.

Now as you pulled up to the lot, it was you who was having second guesses. Whatever this place was now, it was undoubtedly a repurposed carnival funhouse. From the purple paint, the neon trim, and the huge sadistic alien head that loomed over the entrance. Signs were scattered everywhere, bright yellow advertising the astonishments that waited inside. Aside from your car, a rusted-out maroon Corsica was for sale that probably hadn’t been moved since the early 90s.

Though the car was at a stop, the engine still ran as you analyzed the site before you. Jensen’s smugness grew the more he sensed your hesitation.

“No one’s going to call you a coward if you turn around.” He goaded.

You glared at him, biting the inside of your cheek, and switched the engine off.

“I’m not scared.” You assured him. “It’s probably just a mirror maze that leads to pieces of a broken weather balloon they are pawning off as a spaceship.”

By all means, he seemed to convey with the wave of his hand, be my guest. Flustered, you got out of the car but immediately relished your choice. You stretched and breathed in the fresh air, delighted to no longer be in motion. With a rejuvenated determination that this mystery would be life-altering and reveal the darkest kept secrets in all of Iowa, you made your way up the rickety metal stairs and through the doors.

Jensen audibly sighed while running his hands through his hair, giving it a few minutes for you to turn back around. When you didn’t, he finally gave in.

“Fine.” He conceded to no one other than himself. “Let’s get this over with.”

The doors chimed above him as he entered the stale lobby, whose furnishings and carpet were clearly taken from a closing Blockbuster. The decor was in complete shambles, from botched taxidermy to cheap plasma ball lamps. Of course, it wouldn’t be complete without the t-shirts and shot glasses proclaiming the survival of the mystery spot. A black curtain separated the lobby or ‘free museum’ from the rest of the attraction.

You beamed as Jensen found his way in. “Make that two tickets.” You clarified with reversed peace sign and handed payment to the cashier, a teenager so young it was questionable if they were even legally allowed to work or if this was a family affair they were forcibly roped into after school.

With not a shred of enthusiasm, the teen mumbled their way through a scripted spiel. “What you are about to experience has baffled scientists, confused archaeologists, and astonished physicists. Your purchase today has granted you access to a select group of individuals who hold the key to enlightenment. Prepare to be amazed and….”

Jensen caught off the monotone dialogue with the wave of his hand. “We get it, kid, thanks.”

They looked relieved to have been granted permission to stop. “It’s behind the curtain. Follow the arrows.”

They popped a plexiglass case open and flipped a large breaker, causing a loud pop as the building came to life. The sound of motors whirring spun in the distance, and the foundations seemed to rock from the sudden change. Dust scattered through the air from high-up shelves and door frames.

Once you caught your balance, Jensen mumbled, “The only mystery to be solved is how this building is still in one piece.”

You laughed and stepped from the light of the lobby into darkness. The black lights above illuminated the neon carpet pieces and painted edgings of the walls. Sure enough, a bright green arrow made from duck tape pointed you forward. Like children discovering laser tag for the first time, you looked at each other's outfits to see what pieces of clothing were affected by the black lights. You jolted as Taylor Swift blasted over the speakers, then abruptly stopped. Clearly, the teen had the wrong playlist up and running. After a moment, Taylor had been replaced with sounds, cycling through blowing wind, rain, and thunder. A crow cawed, and a voice cackled. A violin softly cried out notes barely audible with the competing ambiance. A fear crept in that you had accidentally signed up for a haunted house and not a mystery spot. You took a step back and bumped into Jensen’s solid frame.

He chuckled slightly and grabbed your shoulders, pushing you forward, one hesitant step at a time. “Oh, there is no turning back now. You’ve just crossed over into the twilight zone.” He said before humming out the theme song’s notes.

“You didn’t even want to do this.” You hissed back at him, still resisting him, as you came up to the first corner, ready for something to pop out at you. The moment he would relinquish forcing you forward, you'd be ready to turn and run out of there, or at the very least make him go first.

“I did try to warn you. Call it just desserts.” He whispered in your ear.

“Bastard.” You aimlessly swatted behind you.

You rounded the corner and sighed with relief as nothing came jumping, dropping, or rushing toward you. Simply another green arrow leading ahead where your reflections bounced off the walls.

“See.” He soothed. “Nothing to be afraid of, just a mirror maze, as you predicted."

You sighed a breath and stepped forward without his prompting.

"Jesus!" He shouted as something flew across the hall.

Simultaneously, you forcefully backed into him. Jensen wrapped his arms protectively around you and took a few cautious steps back. The thing stopped swinging, and as your eyes adjusted to see it in the dark, laughter consumed you both. It was a tattered pinata in the form of a UFO. A piece of gray tissue paper floated to the floor from a growing patch of plain cardboard underneath.

“You were so fucking scared.” Jensen placed his hand over his torso, trying to catch his breath.

“So!” You said defensively. “You were just as scared.”

“Oh, no. Not at all.” He lied with enough conviction; he convinced himself as well. “I didn’t want you to feel embarrassed.”

“Sure.” You rolled your eyes, not buying it for a second. “Then I implore you to lead the way,” You gestured forward with your outstretched hand. “Oh, brave one.”

He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck as if he was getting into character. “Fine.” He agreed. “I got this.” His voice seemed to deepen, and he reached out his hand to you. “You coming, sweetheart?”

The asshole dared to seal it with a wink. And despite yourself, a blush warmed your cheeks, and your toes curled momentarily, but your shyness did not stop you from taking his hand in yours.

As Jensen led the way, he let out a general warning to anyone in the nearby vicinity. “If anyone is running around or jumping out in a green suit, I will not be held liable for when they get punched square in the face.”

You snickered. “I don’t think they have the budget for scare actors, Jensen.”

You came up to the first wall. The mirrors distorted the way forward. One was smudged with fingerprints which made it obvious the wrong path, but for the others, Jensen reached out his free hand and felt the way forward.

It was a short maze, yet you still managed to run face-first into one mirror. After the maze came another jump scare. Both of you held your breath and squinted your eyes as if not wanting to tip the other off it had gotten you, yet the grip on each other’s hands tightened, giving it away. This led to the next section; a room filled with punching bags made to look like rockets that you had to squirm through. It smelled of sweaty socks and Cheetos. You mastered the slanted room, where you had to walk on an angle to traverse, and featured an old aquarium filled with green algae with the shadowed, mysterious blob floating inside.

You both paused at the ladder, plunging into a pool-sized ball pit. Moons, planets, and glow-in-the-dark stars decorated the ceiling above. Foam UFO saucers and blow-up alien dolls accompanied the balls in the pit. There was no way to walk around or over it; the only way was through. And you thought the stench from the punching bags was bad. But you had made it this far. You weren’t going to give up now.

Jensen forwent the ladder and jumped straight. You took the more delicate approach, sliding in inch-by-inch as if trying to adjust to cold water. Once you were finally in the pit, the balls came up to your waist. There were probably rogue toddlers lost in here that haunted the place and bit unsuspecting tourists’ ankles.

“This is disgusting,” Jensen complained, wading through with his arms raised as if to reduce the spread of bacteria. “I swear to god, if I step on a diaper, I’m suing.”

“I’m taking the longest, hottest shower tonight.” You agreed, stating that you needed to be disinfected.

He turned back to look at you. His eyes almost glowed as they raked over you.

“To burn my skin off.” You clarified.

Jensen opened his mouth, but then he swallowed and held his breath. He was channeling too much of Dean to make it through this hellhole, and he couldn’t trust what words would come out. Besides, he had already let several comments slide today, and that was when he wasn’t competing with his other half.

“Stop gaping and get a move on,” You threw two balls at him, which he caught with ease. “Or should I remind you what you are currently festering in?”

But then you saw the balls in his hand, and you spit out a laugh, nearly doubling over, but thankfully stopped yourself from going fully under. They were both blue.

He held back his laughter, but only for a second, as he said, “Very mature,” and then chucked them back at you before making a mad dash to escape the pit of disgust.

It just made you laugh even harder at how ridiculous he looked, failing to gain any speed or traction. After a painstakingly long ‘swim,’ you both made it out. After spending a full day in the car, you thought it would have been impossible to feel more grimy. The ball pit had proved you wrong.

As you wiped yourself down and readjusted your clothing, you came up on a bridge through a dark tunnel. The tunnel was lit with blue lights and neon streaks of pink and green. As Jensen crossed the threshold, the tunnel spun in a vortex, and he stumbled. You knew it was going to be a problem.

You took a step forward, and your ankle gave out, and nausea crept in.

“Wait, Jensen, please.” You complained and reached out to him.

He could sense the change in your tone and wasn’t going to give you shit about it. “Come here.”

You took another step forward and grabbed the railing for dear life as your knees buckled. You tensed and shook your head no. There was a greenish look to you, but he couldn’t tell if it was only because of the lights. Jensen came to you slowly and leaned against the rail, struggling himself.

“Put your head down and hold on to me. It’ll be over quickly.” He assured.

You buried your face between his shoulder blades, and despite the day, he smelled amazing, like cedar with a hint of rosemary. Jensen took it one step at a time, feeling the effect too, but eventually, he got you both to the other side. You both took a deep breath at the end.

“You feeling okay?” He rested his hand on your shoulder and took you in, searching for any lasting effects.

“Yeah. Thank you.” You softly said, slightly embarrassed. “I hate those things. Had I known we would have had to cross the seven circles of hell to get to whatever this mystery is, I would have reconsidered.”

He patted the back of your head, relieved to have your snarkiness back. “You’re not admitting I was right, are you?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “Never.”

In this room, spotlights highlighted text and pictures featuring crop circles and a crash site from the darkness. And in the middle of the room was an opaque silver box with a viewing hole where blue light shone.

“Alright, let’s see what all this was about.” Jensen was the first to peer in. “Oh, you are not going to believe this, Scully.” He stepped aside so you could take a look.

“You are definitely the Scully of this situation. I want to believe.” You corrected.

You stepped back and pinched your lips together, containing a smile.

“Was it worth it?” He asked.

“Every penny.”

****

Though you were ready for dinner, you both agreed finding a hotel and cleaning up was the higher priority. Cell service was still abysmal, so with directions from the mystery spot employee, down a ways and a few turns later, you found the motel that was advertised on the highway sign.

The single-level motel had white siding, green shutters, and a matching green roof. Porch swings hung between every room. A courtyard decorated with mosaic tiles, flowering bushes, and patio furniture suited for a French cafe separated the motel from the parking lot. The property sat on the edge of a lake where trees and shrubs secluded this alcove from the fields around it. A fire pit and kayaks were in the green grass that bordered the water.

“This is actually really nice.” Jensen sighed with delight.

After checking in, showering, and changing, the last thing you wanted to do was get back in the car. Ordering pizza and letting your feet soak in the lake off the dock was the only thing on your mind. Yet the hostess who checked you in raved about a nearby bar visitors had to check out. It wasn’t that far, there was plenty of daylight left, and they featured some local craft beer Jensen was eager to try.

The hostess had failed to mention that this was not only a bar; it was a line-dancing bar. The wooden frame was decorated to the brim with antique farmhouse equipment, country attire, awards, and pictures of dance leagues that had won competitions throughout the year. It was almost as if Cracker Barrel and Dave & Busters’ had a love child. It was packed to the brim with locals dancing and drinking. Your table overlooked the center stage, and somehow they all could interpret the caller shouting out dance moves over music featuring Brooks & Dunn, The Village People, and Alan Jackson.

Though it was loud, it was a great setting for people-watching, and after a full day of conversation, your brain was thankful for the distraction. After the cupcake debacle, Jensen opted for a salad though the cheeseburger was calling his name. He also had a small flight of the local craft brews, his favorite being a wheat ale featuring orange peels and cardamom. There was also a crushable IPA, but other than those two, you agreed the others were just meh.

“You going to give the dance floor a spin after food?” Jensen asked, moving around the food on his plate.

You laughed. “Oh no, I have two left feet and am prone to injuries. Though if you are looking for a partner, there is a girl at the bar who has been strongly admiring the back of your head for a solid fifteen minutes. Don’t look!” But as he did, you reached over and grabbed one of the beers he showed no interest in.

“Ah, she is not my type.” He looked back, playfully scowling at you momentarily as he realized part of his flight was missing.

“And what is your type?” You asked as you sipped on it.

“A question which you never answered,” He pointed out. “Don’t think I forgot.”

“Having a type is so limiting.” You concluded and threw your napkin over your unfinished food.

“I’ll give you mine if you give me yours.” He goaded.

You leaned back, considering. “I think some of the most important things are someone I can laugh with, but also someone who can deep dive into serious conversation, whether that is personal or academic. Someone who shows interest in my hobbies and passions and someone who pushes me to explore ones I hadn’t considered. It’s way more about the natural chemistry than physical appearance.”

“Indulge me anyways,” He requested. “I’m sure you had a checklist at one point.”

“Of course. What kind of person doesn’t create a checklist at some point in their life?” You asked and he snickered. “Let’s see… I have to go back to middle school… plays guitar was high up on the list, has a car, green eyes, freckles.” You cleared your throat and quickly added. “Dark, long, curly hair, loves animals, has that lower abdomen V thing.” You signaled with your hands, and Jensen laughed. “Shut up.”

“Those are actually very hard to get and maintain.” He commented.

“You asked for the list; I gave you the list.” You defended. When he didn’t say anything further, you questioned, “What about you? It’s your turn.”

“I agree with you. Compatibility and the relationship part matter more than the physical attraction. It’s hard to get out of that mindset sometimes, being in an industry where that is such an important aspect to the point where it sets unrealistic standards. But at the end of the day, when I am looking for someone to settle down with, I expect to get old, wrinkly, gray, and saggy. I’d much rather do that with someone I share a deep friendship with rather than some chick it barely works with but is on the runway now, and we’re together partially because we look good in pictures together.” He ranted.

“While I appreciate and respect that answer, you are totally copping out.” You challenge.

“Ah.” He groaned. “Humor is up there, someone who will laugh with me. Someone who is kind but can also dish it out. Someone who is a good listener but is also open with me. Mutual trust.”

“Again, all lovely, mature traits. Where is your middle school diary?” You prodded, biting your lip.

“Fine, fine. Must love dogs, could ride a horse bareback, drove a Jeep Wrangler, would want to go surfing together, gets along with my friends, and looks like Kelly Kapowski from Saved by the Bell. Satisfied?”

You smiled widely. “Very much so.”

He stood up, “Wipe that shit-eating grin off your face and come dance with me.”

He held out his hand to you, and this time you did not hesitate or push back. Spending time with the man was the highlight of your life. You’d follow him anywhere and take every opportunity that came your way.

Jensen led you to the dance floor, and as the group reset for a new song, you slid into the back of the line. The floor was filled with old and young alike. This one little place brought the whole community together. Some wore cowboy hats and boots, others in casual wear, and a few of the older women dressed up for an evening out.

As the announcer set up and called instructions for the next song that you wouldn’t have understood even if the ancient sound system didn’t muffle it, you leaned over to Jensen.

“You better not say something cliche like ‘follow my lead’ or something.” You warned.

“Oh, hell no.” He agreed. “You are completely on your own, and it is going to be hilarious.”

You were tempted to resort to teasing violence when the music started, and you both stared at each other in disbelief as others in the crowd cheered with anticipation. You weren’t sure how or why, but Fate did have her hand in this day somehow.

“I hate this fucking song.” You muttered. “You can’t line dance to this song.”

“You can line dance to any song. Especially our song.” He smiled.

“Don’t…” You held out a finger.

But the speaker began the count “5, 6, 7, 8” as Neil Diamond began to sing about his sweet Caroline.

In a panicked flurry, you watched the others in front of you and tried to mirror their steps. The terms being called out, such as walk, sugarfoot, and rock-recover, had no meaning to you. Jensen picked it up easily, adding a certain air of swagger to just the basic moves. It seemed once you had a pattern down, they changed it on you. You bumped into Jensen and then the person next to you. Realizing you were not going to master the steps anytime soon, Jensen grabbed you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist, and swayed with you, generally keeping up with the direction of the room but lost in your own little world.

After another round of drinks increasing your confidence, five more songs where you became somewhat familiar with the caller’s instructions, and plenty of laughter from stepping on each other’s feet, you finally called it a night and headed back to the motel.

Taking advantage of the last rays of daylight before the sun set over the horizon, you lazily sat on the porch swing. The haunting and lonely call of a loon echoed over the lake. With your nose in a book, you gently push back and forth with one foot.

“Watch ya reading?” Jensen asked as you felt the weight of the bench shift as he sat down next to you.

Literally, men always picked the worse part of books to interrupt. Nearing the end of the chapter, you turned so he could see the cover but that you could continue reading.

He sounded out the title “Remarkably Bright Creatures” and then asked, “Is it any good?”

You slipped the postcard you used as a bookmark back into the book and set it down. “It’s so cute. This octopus named Marcellus is helping this older woman solve the murder of her son. Think A Man Called Ove meets Finding Nemo meets Poirot.”

He softly chuckled. “I really only know Finding Nemo, but that sounds like quite the combination.”

You looked out over the lake and saw a large family, or perhaps even two, who started up the fire pit and began roasting marshmallows for smores.

“You wanna get cozy by the fire?” You nodded in their direction.

“Nah. Probably turn on a game or something.” He rubbed the back of his neck and then settled his arm on the back of the bench, grazing your shoulder. “I just came to check on you before I turn in for the night.”

His soft green eyes caught the last bits of sun before it finally set, and the sky was left a hue of pink and purple. The porch lights flickered on. A kid screamed with excitement as a game of tag ensued near the water's edge.

“So,” You started. “First day of the road trip. Success?”

“Way better than I could have hoped for.” He beamed.

“Mystery spot and all?” You reminded him.

Mystery spot and all.” He confirmed.

“What’s on the agenda for tomorrow?” You asked.

He scoffed. “Agenda? Wherever the road takes us.”

You nodded. “I can live with that. So long as we have a few adventures like today. You truly had fun?” A bit of insecurity was bubbling up.

“Y/N.” He called your name softly.

His gaze danced between your eyes and lips. That sensation of him wrestling between what he should and shouldn’t do struck you again as it had several times already today. Your eyes flickered to his lips, and your heart thudded against your chest. He had the slightest scar just above the cupid's bow. His hand wove through your hair as he leaned in. His lips were soft and gentle against yours, his eyelashes brushed against your skin, and still, your soul ascending with his to another plane of existence. It lasted mere seconds. When he pulled away, the loon cried out in the distance.

“Good night, Y/N. See ya tomorrow.”

And just like that, he got up and left for his room while you sat paralyzed, heart fluttering inside your chest.

---

Part 5

[dizzybizz]

KAEYA BIRTHDAY ??? ?? i love you mr alberich sir i love you oh so so so much.

uh dialogue for this one but more legible under the cut (and a messy ragbros page)

Klee: Kaeya! Come down here! Kaeya: Oh? heh. What is it, Spark Knight?

Klee: Happy Birthday! It is today? Right? I even double-checked with Albedo and everything but I don't know... Klee: It's a Calla Lily! You like those, right? Kaeya: I certainly do! Thank y- Klee: Oh. Klee: OK OK OK- Kaeya: Hm? Klee: Kaeya you have to promise to not tell Master Jean about this one! Kaeya: You can count on me to keep my lips sealed.

Klee: OK! Close your eyes- eye- and hold out your hands! Kaeya: Mhm! Klee: OK! You can open them! TA-DA~!

Klee: I made a bomb for you! It even has an eyepatch! He can look after you when I'm somewhere else. Take good care of him! Oh yeah- He explodes if you- Kaeya?

Kaeya: Thank you Klee! Thank you very much! Klee: You're VERY welcome Kaeya!

a lil ragbros too.... kaeya and his red siblings amirite (bursts into tears).. also i am so obsessed with chibi diluc saying "bring em in..."

[milkbreadtoast]

idk how i want to draw him yet and not ready to make a srs attempt but here's a bad kdj phone doodle lol🚶🏻

[thewiglesswonder]

Taking another shot at Animated Knock Out. I feel like it’d be fun if he were to interact with Team Prime for a while, before going full-time Con.

[krysmcscience]

Saw this post and couldn't resist because,

1.) @tesscourtes' human!Bill is a lil cutie-patootie menace that I very badly wanted to draw, and,

2.) I have a - M I G H T Y - N E E D - for any version of human!Bill to find any way he possibly can to annoy Ford a whole lot :D

Also, 3.) I like to headcanon that Bill's knowledge in The Sciences is mostly limited to 'Ways I Can Make A Really Cool Doomsday Portal', and everything else he knows is just a slapdash mix of the stuff he remembers from whatever schooling he went through on Euclydia, a whole awful lot of lucky guesses (which he WILL gaslight you about if you tell him he's wrong), and - naturally - conning all the rest of the answers he needs out of any more educated saps who are unfortunate enough to be around him at the time (answers which he will then proceed to take credit for), so as far as I'm concerned, this "outfit" is perfect for him.

Ignore the shitty backgrounds, I am sick to death of doing backgrounds, I just want to draw goofy shenanigans, okay???

[melonalemonade]

what the fuck?

[spocks-kaathyra]

garak at stsf :))

[lyoneve]

The new crew member on Hornigold’s ship gets real flirty when he drinks and Izzy has finally stopped pretending to be annoyed by it

Young!edizzy anyone? 👀

[nerdy-hyperfixations]

My mom (and my sister) said that both baby Stan and Ford are adorable but Ford is cuter and she likes him better and I think my heart is shattered.

This post is dedicated to my favorite kid Stanley panels:

My mom didn’t even like him when I showed the one where he murders those two kids 😭😭😭 that’s the best part!!!

[theinfinitedivides]

did not know it was physically possible for Eliot to make himself look even smaller and non-threatening until he showed up in that gym for the con and turned up the 'well i don't know if i should say this my boss might be mad' dial to absolutely astronomical damage

[arazialotis]

Get Him to the Con - Part 3

Pairing: Jensen × Reader

Word Count: About 3800

Summary: The reader stumbles into Jensen at her favorite bar, a very drunk Jensen. She soon realizes Jensen was booked for a con this weekend and has to be eight hours from town in only two.

Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: Language

I intend no hate or ill wishes to him or his family. This is purely just for writing and wasting my time as hobby. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

The night crept up on you faster than you knew, and you would either have to kick him out or call off work tomorrow. But how could you help it? There was an empty pizza box to your right and a Bowie record spinning on the entertainment stand. Both of you sat on the floor. Jensen backed up against the couch and you against the chair, your feet barely nudging against one another. You were dangerously close to playing footsie like a giddy middle schooler. If this night never ended, it would still be too soon.

“Okay, okay.” He settled a chuckle, completely oblivious to the time. “What did you want to be when you grew up?”

You scoffed. “Easy. A paleontologist.”

“Really?” He popped an eyebrow, surprised.

“Truly. Second grade. Everyone was a princess, an animal, or a ghost; I went as Alan Grant.” Jensen’s confusion was clear. “Jurassic Park!” You exclaimed.

He scoffed. “No.”

“Swear to God.” You put your hand to your heart.

Jensen threw back with laughter. “Man, I need pictures of that.”

“I’m sure my mom has them in a scrapbook somewhere.” You swirled the remaining beer in the glass before yawning.

Jensen looked at his watch. “Oh shit. I’m sorry.” He stood up. “I didn’t mean to keep you so late.”

Your heart sank, but you got up to match his stance. “Oh please, no. It was worth every minute. Like I said before, truly a dream come true.” You met his eyes and blushed, breaking away again. “Um, do you have a place to stay? I have a guest room that could be made up….”

He cut you off. “No, that’s okay. I have a room booked at the Marriott downtown.”

“Right, of course.” You tried to hide your foolishness. “That’s a really nice place. If you have time in the morning, check out the waffle place across the street. Will not disappoint. Do you need a ride?” You offered.

“No, I’ve kept you long enough. I’ll get a cab or uber this time.” He lightly chuckled. He blushed and looked down at his hand, fiddling with his thumbs. “I’d, uh, like to stay in touch, if that’s okay with you?”

“Yeah, yeah. That’d be,” You tried to contain your composure and settled on a word. “Cool.”

“Awesome.” His smile beamed. “Let’s do this again sometime.”

*** Three Months Later ***

Jensen stayed true to his word. The two of you occasionally chatted on the phone but mostly texted. Afraid to take advantage or worse, afraid to come off as annoying, you mainly waited for him to initiate the conversation. But every time you saw his name come across your screen, your heart raced and fluttered, and you couldn’t deny you longed to see him again.

Your phone chimed, and your toes curled with excitement seeing his message. ‘You free to talk.’

You stepped away from your desk, popping your head up above the cubicle wall, and looked both ways for lurking supervisors. You shot him back a quick ‘yes’ before sneaking away to find an empty office. His call came through as soon as you shut the door behind you.

Your heart fluttered. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Y/N. Hey, morning. Or is it afternoon? I can never keep track of the time difference.” He mumbled as you chuckled. “Anyways, how are you?”

“Oh, pretty much the same. Waiting for that clock to strike five so I can get outta here.”

“Right? My day’s just begun, and it’s already dragging.” His voice matched your sentiment.

“You filming?” You asked.

He yawned. “Yeah, eventually. In costume and makeup, but apparently, there is a lighting issue, so just running over some lines until it gets sorted out.”

“Hopefully, they figure it out soon, so you don’t have to pull another all-nighter this week.”

He scoffed. “Man, I hope not.” There was a brief silence. “So, I was thinking….” He paused.

“Yes?” You urged him to continue.

“Well.” He sighed, almost as if he was afraid to continue. “I have a proposition.” Silence again.

“What?” You tensed with anticipation. “What is it?”

“Okay, this might be totally crazy, and I understand if you can’t cause its last minute. But I was, uh, thinking, what if we redid our trip?” Jensen nervously stumbled through the proposal.

Your mind froze, unable to comprehend. “Uh… trip?”

“Yeah. You know, like the road trip to the convention. But we’ll plan it out this time, and I’ll be sober.” He softly laughed. “There’s one in Denver just over two weeks.”

You had trouble finding the words. “You want to drive together. To Denver?”

“Yeah!” He exclaimed. “I just got my schedule and have a few days off beforehand and was thinking it would be fun to redo our adventure but where I actually remember most of it.”

“You want to go on a road trip? To Denver? With me?” You couldn’t believe it. He had to have lost a bet.

He mistook your confusion for disinterest. “Yeah. I mean, if you can’t get off work or don’t want to, I understand….”

“No!” You interrupted. “I… I’m just a little shocked, but I’d love to!”

Jensen softly chuckled. “Awesome. I will be out to pick you up next Thursday. That way, we can split the journey into two nights and arrive by Saturday evening.”

You were still breathless, trying to comprehend this reality. “Yeah, okay. How can I help plan?”

“Hmm.” He thought about it for a second. “How about you handle the snacks and get a good playlist or podcast going, and I’ll have the rest taken care of.”

After the call, you held your phone to your heart, not entirely believing your reality, trying to piece together what would have prompted such an outlandish suggestion from him. Regardless of the questions swimming in your head, it would be impossible to focus on anything other than next Thursday.

Jensen ended the call with a beaming smile on his face. He had been dying to see you again and couldn't think of a better way to get to know you more. Over the phone was one thing, and you stayed friends, but perhaps this trip together could further the relationship and open up the possibility of something more. He sat down from his pacing, waiting for the lighting issue to resolve itself.

His co-star was not as enthused. As soon as the call ended, he abruptly dropped the script he was pretending to read as he shamelessly eavesdropped. He leaned over the side of his chair.

"Are you out of your mind?" Jared said in a low whisper.

Jensen brushed his knuckles against his lips, lost in thought, before realizing Jared had asked him a question. "What?" Only then did the words process, and he understood what had been said.

"She's a fan." Jared shifted, hoping to keep this conversation as private as possible for Jensen's sake.

"She's a friend." Jensen corrected.

Jared could barely keep from rolling his eyes. "Someone you've known for less than three months and only have met twice." He attempted to make his friend see reason. "And one of those times doesn't even count because you were blackout drunk."

Jensen's eyes narrowed. "I remember what happened." Most of it, he added only in his thoughts.

"That doesn't change the fact that you don't know anything about her." He said through gritted teeth. Jared was attempting to remain calm, to let his frustration not show, yet the very person he was trying to look out for was making that difficult.

"I know a lot about her. I know that she is loyal. I know she is selfless for not only saving my ass but the entire convention and asking for nothing in return. I know that she is honest. I know she has never once taken advantage of me or my status. Though she very well could have. Hell, I think she goes out of her way to ensure she doesn't." He paused. "Most importantly, I know how I feel about her."

Jared leaned back and scoffed. "How you feel about her?" His eyebrows raised. The inflection in his voice conveyed everything he thought about such a ridiculous notion.

"Don't look at me like that," Jensen said.

"Like what? I'm not…." Jared started.

"Like a condescending asshole. I know what I'm doing."

"I don't think you do; you've been spiraling downward ever since Elena. I thought things were finally starting to look up. That is until you lost all sense of rationality…."

Jensen stood up and threw the unreviewed script in the chair. He was close to finished with this conversation. "I hit rock bottom three months ago, and Y/N pulled me out. I'm finally feeling like myself again after everything Elena put me through. Y/N's a big part of that. I know… I know you're just trying to look out for me, but once you meet her in Denver, I know you'll come around."

Jared crossed his arms, unconvinced. "If she takes one out of Stephen King's playbook and Misery's your ass, I'm not coming to save you."

Jensen's mouth hung in a horrified expression. "Thank you so much for putting that in my head."

He turned to leave, hopeful of getting an update on the lighting situation and if they'd be out before 3 AM this time.

"Was it enough to kick some sense into you?" Jared called with a smile.

Jensen shook his head but didn't look back, pressing forward. "Not in the slightest."

***

Once Thursday rolled around, you quickly learned that Jensen did not have the rest of the details taken care of. Late morning rolled, and he had texted you he was on his way from the car rental. You waited anxiously on the brick stoop with your suitcase and a snack basket ready to go. He soon pulled up your drive in the newest model Chevy Impala, painted black, of course. He stepped out of the car, sunglasses already in place, and flashed you a wide grin. You tried your best not to be starstruck, but you couldn’t quite come to terms with the fact that this was happening. Sure, you talked occasionally, but it wasn’t like the two of you were on best friend/traveling buddy status.

“This is insane.” You muttered under your breath before matching his cheery expression.

“Y/N!” He exclaimed your name with arms open wide.

You met his embrace and squealed when he picked you up and spun you around.

“Ah! It has been too long.” You remarked once back on your feet. “How are you?” You squeezed his shoulders and then grew embarrassed from the contact. You withdrew your hands immediately and smoothed down your shirt.

“So much better now, you have no idea. A long weekend with nothing but driving is exactly what I need.” He beamed. “You good? You look good.” Jensen smirked.

You nervously laughed. “I’ve been good, but I'm glad you called; I've needed a break myself. Looks like you upgraded?” You pointed towards the Impala.

“Oh, not at all.” Jensen feigned heartbreak. “Nothing will ever be as good as baby, but the studio would never let me take her, so this is the second-best.”

“Well, I, for one, will appreciate the Bluetooth connection and modern AC.” You teased.

“That’s fair.” He agreed with your analyses. “Though I still think it’d be fun to get a ‘67 out on the road someday. Got everything you need?” He gestured towards the suitcase.

“And more. I’m a chronic over-packer. Never know what situation will arise or when you might need fifteen pairs of underwear for a long weekend.” You blushed when he chuckled. “Let’s get this show on the road before I divulge any more embarrassing tidbits.”

Jensen went for your suitcase. “I’d very much like to hear more embarrassing tidbits.”

You followed along with the snacks in tow as he brought your luggage to the trunk. “Seeing as we have a few days together, I’m sure you will be privy to several.”

As he put the suitcase in the trunk, you stuffed the snacks in the back seat within easy-reaching distance.

“Whose taking first shift?” You asked. “I’m happy to drive; you’ve probably been traveling quite a bit already.”

He swung around to the front. “I still got plenty of energy in me.” He flipped the keys once in his hand before settling in and starting the engine.

You slid into the passenger seat and got adjusted. “In that case, I’ll navigate.”

He put the car in gear, braced his arm on the passenger seat to get a good view out the window despite the rearview camera, and backed out of the driveway. You took a deep breath and tried to focus on anything but the flexing arm so close to you. Loose bits of gravel crunched underneath the weight of the tires.

“Just gotta head west, I assume.” He said once out on the road.

“Roughly, I guess.” When he didn’t elaborate further, you attempted to clarify. “Is there a hotel address for our first stop I can plug in?”

“Oh, not at all.”

He lifted his hand off the top of the steering wheel to check his speed as your heart beat a little faster, trying to understand what he meant.

“Thought it would be fun to do things the Winchester way.” He looked at you and grinned brightly.

“The.. . the Winchester way?” You tried to envision Sam and Dean driving down the road but came up blank, feeling like you missed out on an inside joke or something.

“Yeah, just driving ‘til we reach our destination and figuring out details along the way.” He explained. “Course with us; if we see something we want to stop at, we’ll stop, and maybe once we are ready for dinner, we can find a local motel or something. An old school single-level building, doors straight out to the parking lot, no vacancy signs.”

Your eyes went wide with panic, but you tried to contain it. “So just to confirm, when you said you’d figure out the details, the plan was to have no plan.”

“Yeah, I mean, I got the flight here and the car, but I was thinking how fun it would be for some spontaneity. See where the road takes us. And uh, based on what happens, I could channel the experience for some character inspiration.” After pulling up the ramp onto the highway, he looked you up and down, and realization dawned on him. “Oh god. You hate it, don’t you?”

“No. It’s great,” Your voice cracked. “If you’re into bed bugs and Norman Bates.” You mumbled the last part, but he still caught it.

Jensen chuckled. “If you hate it that much. We should have no trouble reaching Des Moines today. You can call and reserve us a spot at a Hilton or something.”

You took a long breath in. “No. It’ll be fine.” You weren’t sure if you were convincing him or yourself. “Spontaneity, as you said. I can be spontaneous.”

He bit his lip. “Are you sure about that?” He teased.

You shot him a deadpan look as has he changed lanes to pass a semi. “Driving strangers to Tennessee on a whim. Not spontaneous at all.”

He raised a free hand in surrender. “Fair. Fair.” He agreed.

After a few moments, you broke the silence. “So what are we listening to?”

“Oh, I don’t care. You pick.” He offered.

You smiled, setting up the Bluetooth. “That is not the Winchester way.” He glanced at you, confused. “Driver..”

It hit him, and he joined you in saying, “Picks the music, shotgun shuts their cakehole.”

“Uhhh…” He racked his brain. “TV Girl.” He finally settled on a band.

You brought it up on Spotify, starting with their first album. And let the music settle in. “Interesting. Not what I expected.”

“And what were you expecting? Despite mine and Dean’s persona, it's not country and rock n’ roll 24/7.”

“Blasphemy.” You interjected.

Jensen chuckled. “I change up my listening patterns quite a bit to help stay sane. But don’t look so distraught; plenty of Zeppelin will come.”

You passed the time with ease, conversing with things like books, shows, hobbies, work, and family. Though you were glad Jensen was in a better place than when you first journeyed with him, you could tell this time around he had a better filter in terms of disclosing too much personal information or continuous flirting.

“So, uh, what did you tell your friends and family about this trip?” Subtly Jensen was hoping you’d divulge what you’ve shared about him to those closest to you.

“That I got the spontaneous urge to go hiking.”

Jensen shook his head, pressing his lips together containing a grin, knowing you were still salty about his earlier comment. “Were they shocked 'cause that’s so unlike you?” He teased.

You nudged him with your elbow, and the car swerved slightly in response, but he only chuckled.

��They were excited that I was braving out on an adventure on my own, trying new things, and hopeful that a handsome man would save me when I inevitably twist my ankle miles into the trek.” You defended, trying to morph their initial concern and worry into something positive. “Sometimes it is hard being single when everyone around has their somebody.”

He nodded his agreement and understanding.

“Sometimes it makes life more exciting too.” You added, knowing you would never have stumbled across this opportunity if you had been tied down.

Jensen wrung the steering wheel in his hand, lost in his thoughts. It seemed everyone around him had already found their someone, while he jumped from one relationship to the next. He thought he had found the one with Elena, but as soon as that dick with bigger star power swept her up, he quickly realized she was using him to get ahead and make a name for herself.

He cleared his throat, breaking the thought. “So you didn’t tell them you were already traveling with a handsome guy who will be sure to save you if anything should arise?”

“No, no, no. That would have brought about way too many questions.” You were horrified at the thought of explaining it all to them and breaking Jensen’s privacy.

“Do they know about us at all?” He asked, and you gulped, the phrasing as if you were in a relationship.

You stretched out the words, uncomfortable with how many truths you had skirted around them. “They know there’s a guy I occasionally talk to, but nothing serious or details or anything like that.”

Jensen huffed out a laugh. “Just so you are aware, that could quickly change if we are spotted together. I try to keep a private life, but it's not always guaranteed. You might want to consider if they’ll take it better finding out from Instagram or directly from you. Coming from you would also give you a chance to dispel potential rumors or gossip.”

“Yeah.” You thoughtfully considered. “I guess being spotted together is such a slight chance, and if it did happen, it would just give us more time before I turn into another leech asking you for favors cause this person will want an autograph, and this person will want a meet you.” You raised your hands and shook them, exasperated. “Ah! This dynamic between us sucks.”

“Hey,” It was his turn to nudge you. Not teasingly but meant as encouragement. “It’s not that bad, I promise. It’s part of the job that I’m used to. And leech? That’s a pretty harsh word. I think I’d recognized if you were a leech by now.”

You laughed defeatedly. “Leech was one of the kinder words you used to describe everyone around you last time we were in a car together. And you were inclined to be more honest in that conversation.”

He sighed and thought about it as he passed another string of cars. The yellow fields around you broke way into a dense forest and then back again.

“I was in a bad place, Y/N.” As if driven by instinct, he reached over, about to nestle his hand on your thigh but caught himself. He placed it on the gear stick instead. “I don’t know what I told you or what you already know, but I had recently been dumped. I thought Elena was the one. Even went out looking at rings once. But she told me she wanted to be in the movies and that I didn’t have the talent or status to get her there. And so she found someone else who did. That, combined with The Family Business, conventions, and everything else, I let the stress win. I’m in a much better place now and would never think that of you.”

Though you were grateful he was being open with you, you still found it hard to buy. “Your rational mind says that, but in your subconscious….” A loud gurgle cut you off.

Jensen laughed as another rumble, even louder than the last, practically echoed through the car. He was relieved that the serious tone had been interrupted.

“Good to know. You get hangry.” He concluded.

“You have to be angry to be hangry.” You corrected.

“Well, hangry is a lot easier than combining hungry and despairingly pessimistic.” He joked.

“I’m not that hungry.” You tried to defend until your stomach betrayed you again.

He tried and failed to hold in another chuckle. “Well, I am. So let’s put all those snacks you brought to use.”

You caved easily. “Fine. What do you want?”

You turned around in your seat to start fishing.

“Whatever you're having. Just to tide us over until we can find a decent spot for lunch.”

“Fuck.” You cursed. The basket had slid to the driver’s side at some point during the trip. “Hold on a second.”

You unbuckled, causing an annoying beeping to start sounding as you crawled over the console, half of you in the back, and your ass, unbeknownst to you, at an optimal angle for Jensen’s viewing. As you reached for the basket and sorted through the choices, Jensen did his best to keep his eyes on the road. He failed when he caught a glance in the rearview mirror and automatically turned over his shoulder for a better view.

Quickly he snapped his attention back to the road, then looked up as if there was a god in heaven that could deliver him. He licked his bottom lip and pressed them together, unsure if he wanted to be saved.

Shuffling, you returned up and clicked the seatbelt into place.

“Sorry about that.” You said, completely unaware of his dilemma. “Cheezits or granola bar?”

His mind was still elsewhere. “Yeah, um, sure.”

“Course there’s more back there those don’t satisfy.” You offered, your mood already lightened with food in hand.

“No, no.” He objected. “A granola bar sounds great.”

You unwrapped the top half and handed it to him.

“Thanks.” He said before taking another slide glance at you.

His heart pounded against his chest, like a caged bird flapping its wings. He chuckled to himself once more before taking a bite. A blood-sucking parasite was the farthest thing from his mind when thinking about you, subconscious or otherwise. He desperately hoped he had the strength not to fuck this up. TV Girl was still playing in the background. The track Every Stupid Actress came on, and despite the chill vibes, he loathed the lyrics.

"It's time for Zeppelin." He announced.

"Finally!" You exclaimed, shifting focus from snacks to changing tracks.

---

Part 4

[wraithlafitte]

misha’s good idea show literally had me crying by the end 🥹 like i thought i was gonna be ok to meet him tmrw bc i haven’t gotten starstruck at all yet and i’ve met a few of the actors in the vendors room?? but now i’m thinking about how his mental health journey parallels mine and how his dedication to finding beauty in everything has made ME do that which has subsequently made me far far happier….

one of the last things he talked about was standing in his driveway and looking out on the valley on a beautiful summer day and thinking, “what a lucky life.” and brother i SOBBED

[they-hermes]

heres an old comic i semi abandoned bc i got frustrated on, but the idea was what if mesothulas, freak that he is, modeled ostaros’s face after prowl. since he is the muse. and also the horrors of fatherhood and seeing yourself, a terrible person, onto ur weird son who literally is the most innocent being ever since he has no conscience yet to do right or wrong.

for the missing dialogue imagine mesothulas gushing over his baby and prowl going huh this guys weird af.

[cybertron-smash-or-pass]

TFA Blitzwing

[mysteriouslybluepirate]

It's a comedy show. It's a comedy show. It's a comedy show. It's a comedy show. It's a comedy show. It's a comedy show. It's a comedy show.

[syn0vial]

i love expanded universe bitty!boba bc he's like, "i will take vengeance on my father's enemies, i will become a ruthless and unstoppable killer at all costs!!"

and then someone is even remotely nice to him and he's like, "...well i can't NOT be nice back 🥺 that's just how it works!"