Werewolves in Groznyy, 1/1
May. 21st, 2010 04:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gilascaveTitle: Werewolves in Groznyy
Author: james
Pairing: Jensen/Cougar, Jensen/Clay implied (heck, Jensen/everyone implied)
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 1800
Disclaimer: not mine, no profit made
Notes: for LosersFest 2010, prompt "Werewolves AU." Also, I totally made up the math. Thanks to embroiderama for the beta.
Summary: There are werewolves in the world. It's just another day in the life of a Loser.
Before the Losers were sent to Groznyy -- clandestine, unofficial, don't ask don't tell don't get fucking caught -- they were fucking hard to kill.
After Groznyy, it was nearly impossible.
~~~
Jensen rolled onto his side on the cot, groaning at the heat and glad that he didn't have any work to do. Right now it was the Colonel and his not-so-diplomatic negotiating skills to get them some information they needed: like the fucking address of the man they were supposed to be meeting. 26.6% of the world's population was connected to the internet, which meant that there was a 38.59% chance that any given person they came across would know someone else who was connected.
Which should have meant that in a given day, Jensen could find somebody online who knew where the fuck Albert Fleischmann was. After five days, Jensen had yet to find that 38.59th percentile, so the Colonel had finally growled his way out of the warehouse, dragging Roque and Pooch along with him to do that thing they liked to call 'talking to people.'
Jensen called it wetwork, but for some reason the Colonel never found that funny. He didn't care; it meant he got to hang around a miserably hot warehouse without even work to entertain him -- which meant he got to let Cougar entertain him.
Judging by Cougar's scent, he wasn't too thrilled about the prospect at the moment. Jensen let his head fall sideways so he could give Cougar a grin, eager and encouraging. "Come on, you know you wanna." He waggled his eyebrows invitingly.
Cougar snorted once, not even rolling his eyes. Jensen took that as permission -- a lack of denial, which was the same thing in Jensen's book -- and pushed himself off the cot and onto his hands and knees, second-guessing only for a moment whether he had the energy in this heat to do anything like stand up. Or maybe he could lie down on the concrete floor, and oh Hell yes, that was more like it. His bare torso on the slightly-less-hot floor felt like ice water.
"Never did I ever--" Jensen began, and flinched only slightly when a boot landed near his head. "Did I eat ice cream out of a woman's navel."
There was silence, and Jensen looked over at Cougar to see if silent meant assent. Cougar's hat was pulled down over his eyes and he looked for all the world like he was asleep, or vigorously ignoring Jensen. But Jensen could smell his amusement, so he stuck his tongue out and snaked his way closer, keeping as much skin in contact with the cool floor as possible.
"Never did I ever shoot my teammate for being a jerk," Jensen said, and Cougar lifted his head slightly, running one finger along the sight of his rifle. "I said 'jerk,' not 'a hyper-active annoying little fuck'," Jensen clarified. After a second, Cougar's grip relaxed.
There was a hint of a smile on Cougar's lips as he lowered his head again, letting his hat shield his face.
As if that mattered. As if Jensen couldn't read him simply by being in the same room as him. As if they couldn't read each other like books, now, and hadn't that pissed off Pooch when they realized they knew for a fact he was always bluffing at poker -- and knew for a fact that the Colonel never was.
They'd given up poker for games of chance, because after the second round of poker they'd agreed it just wasn't fun if you didn't even stand a chance of winning.
Jensen crawled a bit closer, then flipped over to let the cool sink into his back. For a second he tensed, a thin wire of fear running through his bones. But it was only Cougar here and he was perfectly safe.
For certain definitions of safe, anyhow. There was that time Cougar had handcuffed him to the jeep and duct-taped his mouth; the rest of the team had been grateful for the silence. Half an hour later he'd whined his way into getting released, but he'd been on kitchen duty for a month in exchange.
But the cool floor felt awesome on his back, so Jensen stayed right where he was; Cougar's scent drifted on the air and Jensen felt reassured and safe.
"Never have I ever let someone eat sushi off my ass," Jensen said, and another boot went sailing through the air to land by his ear.
Before he could offer another thing he'd never done, Jensen heard the sound of an engine. It was the van Pooch had stolen -- borrowed -- and Jensen turned his head towards the doors, counting off seconds before the van appeared.
"19," he said.
"22," came Cougar's reply, and the smug satisfaction was clear in his tone. Jensen just flipped him off and stayed where he was as the van rolled to a halt. He watched as the Colonel, Roque, and Pooch climbed out.
The Colonel caught sight of him and Jensen smelled the amusement and curiosity wafting over the satisfaction of a job completed. They'd found what they'd been looking for, Jensen guessed, from the quiet excitement he could smell coming from Roque.
Jensen stayed where he was as the Colonel walked up to him; the sensation of cool on his back overcome by the hardening of his dick as the Colonel regarded him.
There was a laugh, then, "Waiting for me?" the Colonel asked, an easy grin on his face.
"The concrete feels good," Jensen explained. His back was growing less cool as the floor beneath him warmed from his body, but he made no effort to move. Not with his Alpha standing right there, looking down at him like he might want to eat him -- in a happy, sweaty-making way.
Jensen whimpered involuntarily as the Colonel made no move, either towards or away. "We found what we're after," the Colonel said, and waved towards the makeshift desk where Jensen's laptop was sitting. "Work now, play later."
"I like play now, play later," Jensen said, but he rolled onto his hands and knees and stood up, heading back to work.
He wasn't surprised at the sharp slap on his ass right before he got out of the Colonel's reach, and he grinned over his shoulder, waggling his eyebrows in invitation.
The Colonel just growled, amused and friendly, and Jensen shivered as he sat down at his desk. As he opened the laptop he caught a whiff of something else, and he looked over at Cougar. The sniper hadn't moved an inch, hadn't even raised his head to watch the others arrive.
But the Colonel walked over to him and paused, laid one hand briefly on Cougar's shoulder. He leaned down and whispered -- so soft even Jensen couldn't hear from only thirty yards away. But the Colonel glanced back at him with a smile, and after a moment Cougar lifted his head and met Jensen's eyes. There was no worry in them, so Jensen immediately turned back to his computer.
Jensen freely admitted he would do anything the Colonel told him to, up to and including bend over and let himself get fucked. It wasn't just that he enjoyed a good fucking, but the Colonel was in charge -- had been before, and doubly so now. The Colonel had always respected that while Jensen's instincts belonged to him, his heart had always been solely Cougar's domain. It had led to some frightening moments as their new reality sank in, with Cougar coming close to leaving the pack and taking Jensen with him.
But the team had stuck together, and they'd hammered out the boundaries and rules of their existence. Boiled down, it meant that as much as Jensen rolled over for the Colonel, let him know how willing he could be, the Colonel never asked for more from Jensen than Cougar was willing to give.
From Jensen's point of view it meant he could do whatever the Hell he wanted, as long as he didn't annoy any of his teammates to the point of shooting him.
Harder than it sounded, but so far, doable. It helped that he could tell for certain, now, when Cougar was actually laughing at him and not being mysteriously unreadable.
As he typed away, diving into the world he understood better than the scents he still found astounding in their clarity, he felt a shift in the air, subtle as it crept up behind him. Fingers ghosted on the back of his neck long after he smelled Cougar coming, and he leaned back against them as he began to match the data they'd been given with the person they sought.
The touch vanished and Cougar's scent fell away -- never once did Jensen hear footsteps, though Pooch swore he could hear their sniper, now, and took to teasing him about it whenever he had the chance. Jensen felt it unfair; Cougar and Pooch still had better hearing, Cougar still had better eyesight. Roque had the better sense of smell and Jensen -- well, he was still the cutest and the smartest, even if those things hadn't changed when the rest of them had.
"I've got him," Jensen announced, two minutes later. He smelled the excitement of the hunt swelling in his pack, and smelled the pride from the Colonel and from Cougar.
Jensen preened, and closed down his laptop to join the team to go gather up one Albert Fleischmann.
Just another day in the life of a Loser.
~~~
They surrounded her, standing in a loose circle. Aisha didn't show fear; her scent was anger and determination and deception. Whatever she wanted, she was lying to them; wanted to use them as her weapon and sacrificial lamb. She didn't know what they were, didn't know they could smell right through her words.
That was all right. As the Colonel stepped up to her, the others knew he'd made his choice. After this, she could use them as she wished -- but for the pack's purpose and not whatever vendetta she harbored. It might be that her vendetta would become theirs; it mattered little to them at the moment.
The Colonel smiled at her, charming and seductive; they all heard the soft growl in the back of his throat. Then he moved, swift and sure, biting her on the shoulder.
She hit him hard, a spike of fear but not giving it voice and the pack howled in appreciation of the strength of their newest member.
Author: james
Pairing: Jensen/Cougar, Jensen/Clay implied (heck, Jensen/everyone implied)
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 1800
Disclaimer: not mine, no profit made
Notes: for LosersFest 2010, prompt "Werewolves AU." Also, I totally made up the math. Thanks to embroiderama for the beta.
Summary: There are werewolves in the world. It's just another day in the life of a Loser.
Before the Losers were sent to Groznyy -- clandestine, unofficial, don't ask don't tell don't get fucking caught -- they were fucking hard to kill.
After Groznyy, it was nearly impossible.
~~~
Jensen rolled onto his side on the cot, groaning at the heat and glad that he didn't have any work to do. Right now it was the Colonel and his not-so-diplomatic negotiating skills to get them some information they needed: like the fucking address of the man they were supposed to be meeting. 26.6% of the world's population was connected to the internet, which meant that there was a 38.59% chance that any given person they came across would know someone else who was connected.
Which should have meant that in a given day, Jensen could find somebody online who knew where the fuck Albert Fleischmann was. After five days, Jensen had yet to find that 38.59th percentile, so the Colonel had finally growled his way out of the warehouse, dragging Roque and Pooch along with him to do that thing they liked to call 'talking to people.'
Jensen called it wetwork, but for some reason the Colonel never found that funny. He didn't care; it meant he got to hang around a miserably hot warehouse without even work to entertain him -- which meant he got to let Cougar entertain him.
Judging by Cougar's scent, he wasn't too thrilled about the prospect at the moment. Jensen let his head fall sideways so he could give Cougar a grin, eager and encouraging. "Come on, you know you wanna." He waggled his eyebrows invitingly.
Cougar snorted once, not even rolling his eyes. Jensen took that as permission -- a lack of denial, which was the same thing in Jensen's book -- and pushed himself off the cot and onto his hands and knees, second-guessing only for a moment whether he had the energy in this heat to do anything like stand up. Or maybe he could lie down on the concrete floor, and oh Hell yes, that was more like it. His bare torso on the slightly-less-hot floor felt like ice water.
"Never did I ever--" Jensen began, and flinched only slightly when a boot landed near his head. "Did I eat ice cream out of a woman's navel."
There was silence, and Jensen looked over at Cougar to see if silent meant assent. Cougar's hat was pulled down over his eyes and he looked for all the world like he was asleep, or vigorously ignoring Jensen. But Jensen could smell his amusement, so he stuck his tongue out and snaked his way closer, keeping as much skin in contact with the cool floor as possible.
"Never did I ever shoot my teammate for being a jerk," Jensen said, and Cougar lifted his head slightly, running one finger along the sight of his rifle. "I said 'jerk,' not 'a hyper-active annoying little fuck'," Jensen clarified. After a second, Cougar's grip relaxed.
There was a hint of a smile on Cougar's lips as he lowered his head again, letting his hat shield his face.
As if that mattered. As if Jensen couldn't read him simply by being in the same room as him. As if they couldn't read each other like books, now, and hadn't that pissed off Pooch when they realized they knew for a fact he was always bluffing at poker -- and knew for a fact that the Colonel never was.
They'd given up poker for games of chance, because after the second round of poker they'd agreed it just wasn't fun if you didn't even stand a chance of winning.
Jensen crawled a bit closer, then flipped over to let the cool sink into his back. For a second he tensed, a thin wire of fear running through his bones. But it was only Cougar here and he was perfectly safe.
For certain definitions of safe, anyhow. There was that time Cougar had handcuffed him to the jeep and duct-taped his mouth; the rest of the team had been grateful for the silence. Half an hour later he'd whined his way into getting released, but he'd been on kitchen duty for a month in exchange.
But the cool floor felt awesome on his back, so Jensen stayed right where he was; Cougar's scent drifted on the air and Jensen felt reassured and safe.
"Never have I ever let someone eat sushi off my ass," Jensen said, and another boot went sailing through the air to land by his ear.
Before he could offer another thing he'd never done, Jensen heard the sound of an engine. It was the van Pooch had stolen -- borrowed -- and Jensen turned his head towards the doors, counting off seconds before the van appeared.
"19," he said.
"22," came Cougar's reply, and the smug satisfaction was clear in his tone. Jensen just flipped him off and stayed where he was as the van rolled to a halt. He watched as the Colonel, Roque, and Pooch climbed out.
The Colonel caught sight of him and Jensen smelled the amusement and curiosity wafting over the satisfaction of a job completed. They'd found what they'd been looking for, Jensen guessed, from the quiet excitement he could smell coming from Roque.
Jensen stayed where he was as the Colonel walked up to him; the sensation of cool on his back overcome by the hardening of his dick as the Colonel regarded him.
There was a laugh, then, "Waiting for me?" the Colonel asked, an easy grin on his face.
"The concrete feels good," Jensen explained. His back was growing less cool as the floor beneath him warmed from his body, but he made no effort to move. Not with his Alpha standing right there, looking down at him like he might want to eat him -- in a happy, sweaty-making way.
Jensen whimpered involuntarily as the Colonel made no move, either towards or away. "We found what we're after," the Colonel said, and waved towards the makeshift desk where Jensen's laptop was sitting. "Work now, play later."
"I like play now, play later," Jensen said, but he rolled onto his hands and knees and stood up, heading back to work.
He wasn't surprised at the sharp slap on his ass right before he got out of the Colonel's reach, and he grinned over his shoulder, waggling his eyebrows in invitation.
The Colonel just growled, amused and friendly, and Jensen shivered as he sat down at his desk. As he opened the laptop he caught a whiff of something else, and he looked over at Cougar. The sniper hadn't moved an inch, hadn't even raised his head to watch the others arrive.
But the Colonel walked over to him and paused, laid one hand briefly on Cougar's shoulder. He leaned down and whispered -- so soft even Jensen couldn't hear from only thirty yards away. But the Colonel glanced back at him with a smile, and after a moment Cougar lifted his head and met Jensen's eyes. There was no worry in them, so Jensen immediately turned back to his computer.
Jensen freely admitted he would do anything the Colonel told him to, up to and including bend over and let himself get fucked. It wasn't just that he enjoyed a good fucking, but the Colonel was in charge -- had been before, and doubly so now. The Colonel had always respected that while Jensen's instincts belonged to him, his heart had always been solely Cougar's domain. It had led to some frightening moments as their new reality sank in, with Cougar coming close to leaving the pack and taking Jensen with him.
But the team had stuck together, and they'd hammered out the boundaries and rules of their existence. Boiled down, it meant that as much as Jensen rolled over for the Colonel, let him know how willing he could be, the Colonel never asked for more from Jensen than Cougar was willing to give.
From Jensen's point of view it meant he could do whatever the Hell he wanted, as long as he didn't annoy any of his teammates to the point of shooting him.
Harder than it sounded, but so far, doable. It helped that he could tell for certain, now, when Cougar was actually laughing at him and not being mysteriously unreadable.
As he typed away, diving into the world he understood better than the scents he still found astounding in their clarity, he felt a shift in the air, subtle as it crept up behind him. Fingers ghosted on the back of his neck long after he smelled Cougar coming, and he leaned back against them as he began to match the data they'd been given with the person they sought.
The touch vanished and Cougar's scent fell away -- never once did Jensen hear footsteps, though Pooch swore he could hear their sniper, now, and took to teasing him about it whenever he had the chance. Jensen felt it unfair; Cougar and Pooch still had better hearing, Cougar still had better eyesight. Roque had the better sense of smell and Jensen -- well, he was still the cutest and the smartest, even if those things hadn't changed when the rest of them had.
"I've got him," Jensen announced, two minutes later. He smelled the excitement of the hunt swelling in his pack, and smelled the pride from the Colonel and from Cougar.
Jensen preened, and closed down his laptop to join the team to go gather up one Albert Fleischmann.
Just another day in the life of a Loser.
~~~
They surrounded her, standing in a loose circle. Aisha didn't show fear; her scent was anger and determination and deception. Whatever she wanted, she was lying to them; wanted to use them as her weapon and sacrificial lamb. She didn't know what they were, didn't know they could smell right through her words.
That was all right. As the Colonel stepped up to her, the others knew he'd made his choice. After this, she could use them as she wished -- but for the pack's purpose and not whatever vendetta she harbored. It might be that her vendetta would become theirs; it mattered little to them at the moment.
The Colonel smiled at her, charming and seductive; they all heard the soft growl in the back of his throat. Then he moved, swift and sure, biting her on the shoulder.
She hit him hard, a spike of fear but not giving it voice and the pack howled in appreciation of the strength of their newest member.
The Losers as werewolves
Date: 2022-10-19 03:59 am (UTC)