[Ficbit] The Losers // Like The Wicked Witch of the East With Steel-Toed Shoes

[spindizzy]

This is the one I was talking about the other day, the one where I wrote it and was like "... Fuck, this is way too close to the canon example of Jensen scaring everyone half to death," and decided that doing the working-forwards-and-back to turn it into a proper fic might not be worth the effort. Although I'm pretty fond of that title so MAYBE I WILL.

(I feel like I've gone a bit overboard on Jensen being a chatterbox and if I do actually turn this into proper fic I will fix that.)

And I've discovered em-dashes! I have no idea what they're for or when I should use them, but I can remember the keyboard combo for them (alt+0151, my dad would be so proud, he tried to teach me these back when we first got a computer), and heyheyrenay keeps fixing my hyphens in their favour so I AM TRYING TO LEARN.

... Also Baco, is The Losers a fandom that you're in? Because I found MISSION FIC with PINING and VIOLENCE and people shouting "I love you!" across a warehouse in a totally platonic manner and I feel like this is relevant to your interests.

The Losers // Like The Wicked Witch of the East With Steel-Toed Shoes
G | 1227 words | Clay, Cougar, Jensen, Pooch, maybe implied Cougar/Jensen if you are really fucking squinting | No spoilers | So Jensen was maybe a little bit late getting back to base, but they had dropped a building on him.

It wasn't exactly the warm welcome he was expecting. Clay was breaking down their gear, guns being packed into boxes that Pooch was loading into a van — they always packed the guns first, then torched anything incriminating, they had priorities. Cougar was on the fire escape, rifle braced on the railing to watch for trouble, and god knows where Aisha was. Probably lying in wait somewhere with more knives than she should be able to hide, just waiting to gut him for being late. It was why he'd peeled into the yard of the warehouse blasting Killer Queen as loud as the crappy car stereo would go, windows down, a little auditory aid to make sure everyone realised it was him and pulled Aisha off him before he got too maimed. He hadn't expected everyone to be packing, but he was late, anything could have happened.

Jensen killed the engine, the radio dying with a squawk. Clay and Pooch were staring at him. Pooch still had a box in his hands, but he looked like he's forgotten about it. Like he was just going to stare at Jensen until the dust and sand settled. Jensen managed about ten seconds under that scrutiny before he blurted out "What? You think I couldn't steal a car if I had to? I mean, I know I'm no Pooch, but I'm still pretty good — or is it the car?" It was a rustbucket of a Pinto, sure, but it was the best he could manage.

Pooch was very slowly putting the box down in the van, and Clay was putting his gun back down on the table. Jensen had no idea if that's a good sign or a bad sign, so he just kept talking.

"I mean, I know it's not a canary yellow stretch hummer, that was like the find of the century man, no one could match that, but come on, Pooch gets all the luck with —"

"Jensen," Clay said. "Get out of the damn car."

So Jensen did, jerking on the door handle and kicking the door till it opened — it was seriously a rustbucket, he'd been surprised the radio even worked — then he paused. Raised his hands before he got out of the car. Kept them in the air the whole time, even when he had to hop a little to get his bandaged leg out. No one was pointing a gun at him, sure, but he wasn't completely sure he wasn't the only one breathing, so he wasn't taking any chances.

Seriously, he'd expected a warmer welcome than this.

No one moved for long minutes after Jensen was on his feet - and he'd had to do a quick shuffle to get his balance, driving hadn't helped his leg any. Jensen looked up at the fire escape, hoping Cougar could maybe shed some light on the situation, but there was no help there. Cougar had actually tilted his hat back out of his face and was staring at Jensen with his mouth open. He looked -

Pooch grabbed Jensen by the shoulders, shook him just a little. "They dropped a building on you!"

"They missed?" Jensen offered, hands still in the air, although he was starting to relax a little now it was looking a bit less like he was going to get shot. "I mean, not by much, that was definitely a little closer than I like my death-defying escapes to be, but I'm not stupid enough to sit around and watch a roof come down on me - okay that time in Monaco didn't count, my leg was broken, we can stop holding that against me any time —"

Clay was laughing. Both hands braced against the table, head down, laughing. Pooch turned away from Jensen, one hand still on his shoulder, but he was laughing too. "Damn," he said quietly, then squeezed Jensen's shoulder. "You son of a bitch, oh my god."

Footsteps were clanging on the fire escape, and when Jensen looked over, Cougar was clattering down them like the building was on fire. He didn't even bother with the last turn of the stairs, he just jumped over the railing and landed in a crouch. He left his rifle on the ground when he stood up.

Shit.

"Cougar? You okay?"

Cougar's hat was tilted down over his face, but the way he was storming across the yard suggested that nope, okay was not on the agenda today. Pooch backed out of the way quickly -- traitor -- and Jensen would have followed him if he could move faster than a hobble. He didn't have time to do much though, because Cougar took the last couple of steps at speed -- and flung his arms around Jensen.

Huh.

That... Wasn't what he'd expected to happen.

The hug was tight and desperate, and Jensen had absolutely no idea what to do. He lowered his hands, and very gently patted Cougar on the back. One of them was shaking, and he didn't have a damn clue which one. He just knew that it was pulling him off balance and they had about two seconds before he hit the deck and probably took Cougar down with them.

"Aw, Cougs --"

Cougar let go immediately, stepping back out of reach and rubbing his hands against his jeans. He looked away from Jensen, the hat shading his face, but there might have been a quick sniff from that direction. Jensen leaned back against the car.

"So... You all thought that I seriously just sat there and let a building fall on my head? Is that what I'm hearing?"

"No, we thought you got shot by Kryon while you tried to get out of an exploding building, Christ Jensen." Pooch rubbed his hands over his face. Now Jensen was looking at him, he was looking a bit shell-shocked too. "We were gonna head to the next safe house and try to figure out where we had to bust you out of, and god knows how long that was gonna take us when our tech guy was the one we needed to find."

"Hey, I can go back if you want, we can find out?" Jensen said. He propped his elbows against the roof of the car, hoping it looked more like he was striking a pose than actually about to fall over. That wouldn't have done his rep any good. "I mean, it would suck, but I could totally do that. Like high-explosive hide and seek."

"No," Cougar said. His voice was rough around the edges, even around that one word. He took a deep breath, tilted his hat down a little more firmly.

"We might not have a choice." Clay said. "Without the hard drives, the mission's a bust, and if we have to go back to the site to find them --"

"Wow, you're right, that really would suck," Jensen said brightly. "Sure would be convenient if I was smart enough to grab those on my way out, right?"

Everyone was staring at him again. He unzipped his tac-vest and pulled out the plastic-wrapped bundle he'd stashed there. He laid it out on the roof of the car and unfolded the plastic like he was doing a magic trick, and look! It was like Jensen actually had some Special Forces training, who knew.