Alright so while writing this, I realized how little I know
about the Rangers (I’m a Devils girl sorry). I mean I know key players, but
yeahhhh… Anyway! So anon I hope I did Jimmy justice! And I hope you all like
it! Let me know what you think!
Anon request: Can you do a jimmy vesey imagine where you two
meet at a charity event
shifted uncomfortably in the dress you were wearing. You weren’t really quite
sure how you ended up at the New York Rangers Casino Night.
A/N:For @swarleybradbury. Happy [late x9 days] birthday, my dear! – DeanCasJimmy, hs!au, 2k. (I blame dumplingdean and stormstiel for parts of this.)
Castiel wraps his hands around the steering wheel and presses firmly on the brake before shifting the Novak’s old Chevy pick-up truck into neutral. He feels the truck rock gently forward before it rolls back into place.
“Put it- in- neutral-” Jimmy grunts from behind the vehicle where he’s got palms pressed against the cool metal of the tailgate.
“It's in neutral, you asshole,” Castiel hisses out the window. He jumps out of the truck, cringing at the loud squeak the door makes as he opens it, and cuts through the darkness to join his brother.
“On three,” Jimmy says quietly. Castiel nods.
“One- two- three-”
They push against the truck, their feet scrambling for purchase in the dirt that makes up their driveway, and offer each other satisfied smirks as it begins to roll forward; the crunch of gravel and dirt under the heavy wheels of the vehicle slicing through the silence of the night.
“He better be ready,” Jimmy huffs out as they push.
Castiel bumps his brother’s shoulder, “He’s always ready.”
They get the vehicle half way down the block, far enough away that their older brothers won’t hear the engine turn over, before jumping in and starting up the truck.
As they drive Jimmy rolls his window down, Castiel steering them towards where Dean agreed to meet them, and sticks his hand outside, spanning his fingers wide, letting the air slide through them as they drive.
Castiel turns the radio on, something twangy and redundant that the twins wrinkle their nose at, but don’t bother to change, and shifts in his seat, pressing his back against the worn leather of the truck and stealing a quick glance at his brother.
Jimmy offers him a wide smile.
When they arrive at the corner the other teen is already standing there, his silhouette barely visible in the inky darkness around them. As their headlights slide across him the twins can see the backpack Dean has slung over one shoulder and the anxious shuffling of his feet as he waits.
They pull up next to him and Jimmy throws the passenger’s side door open.
Dean tosses his backpack into the bed of the truck and lifts himself into the cab. He stops briefly to straddle Jimmy’s legs and pull him in for a quick, sloppy kiss, before plopping down between the twins.
An arm comes up to hook around Castiel’s neck and Dean pulls him in for a kiss too, and then Castiel is throwing the truck into gear and they’re on their way.
The Kansas summer is thick, air pressing against them from all sides as they cut through the dusty roads that trail through the farm town where the Novaks own most of the land. On either side of them is deep indigo skies - pin pricked with stars - and endless rows of corn and wheat.
They’re far enough out of town now, sprawling farm houses nothing but faint outlines in the rearview mirror, that Dean can crank the radio and after a minute of fiddling with the tuner he does so, AC/DC filling the cab, vibrating through the boy’s bones and making Dean smile. He sings along unceremoniously, air guitar wailing, and the twins grin at each other over his bent head because Dean is certainly a rare breed, one the twins are lucky to have.
Castiel guides the truck to one of the Novak’s fields that hasn’t been tilled yet and swings the vehicle out in the middle of it, turning the keys in the ignition until only the radio remains on.
They climb out of the cab and into the bed, sprawling out on the blanket Jimmy brought along and dumping the spoils out of Dean’s backpack; a six pack of beer - stolen from the fridge - and some weed he begged off of Aaron Bass in sixth period English class. Aaron was always giving marijuana away for cheap.
“Is your dad gonna hunt you down for the beer?” Jimmy asks as he cracks one open and tips his head back to take a swig.
Dean shrugs. “He was passed out on the couch when I left. I doubt he’ll be up for awhile; he was pretty drunk.”
“Will Sam be alright alone with him?” The question comes from Castiel who’s digging through Dean’s back pack for a lighter. The twins are well aware of John’s temper when he’s drunk, and Castiel wonders if Dean should have stayed home tonight.
“He’s spending the night at Brady’s. They’re going to some museum tomorrow; the nerds.” Dean hands Castiel a lighter, pulled from his pocket, and Castiel lights the joint dangling between his lips.
“So you don’t have anyone to get back to,” Jimmy states, a wicked grin pulling at his lips.
Dean shakes his head. “Nope.”
Jimmy settles against the back of the truck, pressing his back against the bed and his head against the back window, and spreads his legs wide as Dean climbs between them to sit. His back rests against Jimmy’s chest, and Jimmy drapes an arm around Dean’s waist.
Castiel lays the opposite direction, resting his feet on a wheel well and pillowing his head on Jimmy’s thigh. He feels Dean’s fingers thread through his hair and he smiles, loose and happy, letting a stream of smoke leave his mouth, watching as it dissipates into the open sky.
“You can see forever from here,” Dean comments as he tugs the joint from between Castiel’s fingers and puts it to his lips. There’s plenty of weed to go around, two joints for each of them in fact, but sharing Castiel’s is more appealing than lighting up his own.
Jimmy nods, draining the rest of his beer and reaching for another. It’s something he’s always loved about living in the country; no matter which direction you’re facing, the countryside rambles on in front of you, going for days without stopping for breath. He’s certain if eternity were tangible, it would look like the Kansas countryside.
“It makes me feel like a star,” Castiel admits. The joint is back between his lips now and he puffs on it heartily, welcoming the calm that’s slowly ebbing its way into his system. He won’t get high off of just one joint, but it takes the edge off nicely.
“Are you high already?” Jimmy asks, snickering in his brother’s direction. Castiel tends to blab about stars when he’s smoked too much.
“I’m serious, J.” Castiel protests, “The stars are nothing against the sky; nothing but a ball of burning light, breaking up its darkness. Without the stars the sky would continue being. That’s how I feel about this place.”
“But Cas you love the stars,” Dean points out, scratching lightly at Castiel’s scalp.
Castiel smiles and pushes into the touch. “I do.”
The night swells out before them, constellations shining above their heads in the otherwise opaque sky, and they can all feel their limbs loosening, their sense of being slipping, the longer they drink and smoke.
Castiel holds up a dwindling joint, its edges glowing orange. “It’s almost gone do you want the last of it?” he asks Dean.
“I’m too buzzed to hold it,” Dean answers. His cheeks are ruddy, barely visible in the silvery light of the moon and his smile is lopsided. His belly is warm from the two beers he’s consumed, and Jimmy is soft behind him with one hand up Dean’s shirt, rubbing idly along his belly, and the other tapping along to the beat on Dean’s bicep.
Castiel smiles and shakes his head, sitting up and working himself between his brother’s legs, settling in front of Dean. He takes a long pull on the joint and leans in expectantly.
When Dean looks at him, Castiel seals their mouths together and allows the smoke to flow freely between them.
Dean hums around Castiel’s mouth.
“Well now I feel left out,” Jimmy says, a fake pout marring his features when Castiel pulls away.
Dean twists his head, his lips sealed tight around the smoke still in his mouth, and Jimmy smiles, dipping to close his mouth over Dean’s. There isn’t much left, but he greedily accepts what he can.
As Jimmy and Dean kiss, their tongues flirting with each other’s mouths, Castiel moves down Dean’s body, pushing the other teen’s t-shirt up until it bunches up under his armpits, and pressing a soft kiss against Dean’s sternum. His skin is warm against Castiel’s lips and he can feel a slight shiver run through Dean’s body as his kisses trail across Dean’s chest and down his abdomen.
“Did you know,” Castiel begins, laving at Dean’s belly button with his tongue, “the closest star to Earth is approximately 4.2 light years away? They call it Proxima Centauri.”
“Here we go,” Jimmy mutters against Dean’s lips. Dean smiles.
“Its orbital period may be greater than 500,000 years and its average density is nearly 40 times larger than the sun’s.”
Dean chuckles. “Yeah, baby, we know.”
Castiel looks up to find Dean and Jimmy smiling at him all soft and amused. “Assholes,” he mutters.
“Adorable assholes,” Dean corrects.
Castiel shakes his head and sighs long-sufferingly. “Unfortunately.”
Jimmy reaches out and ruffles Castiel’s hair before pulling him in for a kiss. “Let’s go,” he says, “you can talk about stars all you want when we get home.”
“I’m not ready to leave,” Dean garbles around a yawn. The twins laugh at him and Castiel begins cleaning up their empties. Some time along the course of the night they made it through the whole six pack and four joints.
“I can’t drive like this,” Castiel says when they climb out of the back of the truck. His legs feel wobbly and his brain definitely isn’t firing on all cylinders. He’s not entirely drunk, but he doesn’t trust himself either.
Jimmy shrugs. “It’s only a few miles,” he says, shouldering Dean’s back pack and wrapping an arm around his brother’s shoulders, “we can walk.”
Castiel lets out a laugh as he pockets the keys to the Chevy. “Michael is going to kill us in the morning when he finds the truck gone.” The thought makes him smirk. Pissing off their older brothers is something Castiel and Jimmy actively try to do.
“I don’t wanna go home,” Dean admits as they stumble along the dark, dusty road that brought them to the field. He’s sandwiched between the twins, his shoulders bumping theirs with every step.
“I just assumed you’d be sleeping at our house,” Castiel offers, coloring his tone innocent.
Dean wraps an arm around Castiel’s neck and pulls him in, kissing his temple. “I like you, Novak.”
“Did you hear that, J? He likes me.”
“Only because you’re pretty,” Jimmy quips.
They make their way home, the crops on either side of them swaying in the light breeze, and wobble up the drive way some time later.
Early morning creeps into the twins’ bedroom as the three of them traipse through the door, shushing each other and bumping into walls. They’re too tired to bother with pajamas and once the door to the bedroom swings closed their clothes are on the floor and they’re climbing into the twins’ queen sized bed.
It’s a tangle of limbs as they work themselves under the sheets, Castiel wiggling his way in-between Jimmy and Dean, and Dean laughs, pulling the older twin close to his chest.
“Pushy little bumblebee,” he mutters as Jimmy sidles up behind Castiel and drapes an arm over Castiel’s waist.
“Mmmmm,” Castiel hums, his eyelids already drooping. “If I do recall, Winchester, you were in the middle last time.”
“It was definitely you, Cas,” Jimmy corrects.
“Your turn next time,” Cas mumbles.
Jimmy catches Dean’s gaze over his brother’s shoulder and Dean winks at him, slow and sleepy. Jimmy smiles and the room falls still as the three of them drift off into a heavy, easy sleep.
Jim must admit, from the amount of alcohol in his system, he’s having trouble walking and looking straight. The world is fuzzy and has the tendency to wobble until he’s gone straight into Bones, who doesn’t look nearly as drunk as he should, after those shots he downed with Jim.
“Bones,” Jim slurs the next time he stumbles into Bones. Bones just ends up rolling his eyes and winding an arm around his waist to make sure Jim didn’t brain himself on some unfortunate rock.
Jim pouts a little, completely forgetting what he was going to say with the feel of Bones warm arm around his waist. He’s so mean, Jim thinks childishly, staring up at Bones who is wearing a truly atrociousness pirates outfit; Jim couldn’t get him to dress up as anything else so Jim had compromised on his own outfit and had conspired with Gaila, pinching her torn skirt and a slutty blouse.
He must admit, he is feeling a little breezy around the cock area.
But then, then he sees how gorgeous Bones looks, with his three corner hat sitting at a jaunty angle, highlighting his sharp cheekbones and dark eyes, thin lips that Jim knows taste spectacular. He can feel the warmth of Bones’ body beneath his own and god, how he loves this man.
“You give me a boner, Bones,” He can’t help but giggle, because it’s true in more ways than one.
He drunkenly appreciates how long-suffering Bones appears as he says; “I coulda told you that, kiddo,”
“Noooooo, you don't understand,” Jim whines, and he purposefully leans more into Bones hard chest, arm thrown wide across it so as to grip the opposite lapel of Bones incredibly attractive coat.
Bones grumbles, murmuring frustrated noises that Jim can’t quite understand right now but Jim notices how hard Bones rolls his eyes and vaguely wonders if it’s actually medically possible to roll your eyes so much and so hard that they fall out of your skull. If anyone could do that, it’d be Bones.
“What don’t I understand?” He snaps and Jim can’t help the snigger that escapes him because Bones has gone all Southern, accent lazy and drawling and it kind of makes Jim want to press Bones to the floor and ride that cock of his for all he’s worth. Maybe he’ll get to that when they get back.
“You give me a boner, but not like, a penis boner,” He blurts and then giggles at how a red blush blooms onto Bones cheeks. Jim reaches out to poke Bones face and accidentally ends up getting his ear and snickers drunkenly at how Bones playfully snaps his teeth at his hand.
“What other kind of boner is there, you dumb brat?”
“You give me a boner Bones, but a boner in my heart,"
"Oh god here we go,” Bones rumbles beneath his breath and Jim doesn’t even pretend to act like he heard that.
“You give me a heart boner-,” He says, resting his cheek on Bones deliciously broad shoulder.
“Oh my god, don’t you fucking dare, don’t you fucking dare you infant-,”
“You give me-” Jim pauses for dramatic effect and licks at the hand Bones tries to slap over his mouth. “An affection erection,”
“I swear to fucking god, I will leave you here if you ever say that again,”
"No, and don’t you ever say the words affection erection again if you ever want to get laid,”
Jim drunkenly wonders if Bones means that.
(By the hand that Bones has up Jim’s skirt later that night, he does’t mean it)
Jimmy pouted. slipping on the floor and falling to his knees. He stayed there as he hiccuped. “Ooookay… I didn’t want to… make you… not comfffy… like a broken couch.”
Smokes still just beamed. “They aren’t falling apart! See! They are still in one piece. An’ that… that is just… amazin’. How can ya not be happy about that?” He laughed, shaking a finger at Jimmy on the floor. “Oooh you. Such a trickster.”
Fox yanked his hand away from her, pressing it against his chest and wincing. “Aaah I’m sorry! Its not you… its… its me. Its me. I have to- I have to wash my hands. I could give you a virus! 12… yes… oh your name?” He started spelling it out as he made his way to the sink, stepping over Jimmy on the floor. “-e-a-r-n.” He sighed, washing his hands again. “It does have 12.. Its still really loud in here.”
“Whats wrong with bein’ loud? Bein’ loud is fun! Be loud! Be fun!” Smokes grinned, grabbing Fox by the shoulders and gently shaking him.
“No! Please! I don’t want to.”
*She smiles at Jimmy* Thank you. That’s very nice of you. You’ve got a nasty case of the hiccups though. Maybe a glass of water would help?
*She frowned harder at Smokes, becoming angrier and angrier at him* Just because they aren’t falling apart physically doesn’t mean that they aren’t on the inside! I’m not happy because they aren’t happy! Just because you’re happy doesn’t mean they are!
*She sighs softly at Fox* It’s fine, there’s no need to apologize. I’m not going to get a virus. You’re okay. I know it’s loud, do you want to go to another room that’s quieter? I wouldn’t blame you. *She winces when Smokes grabs Fox. She smacks Smokes on the shoulder* Hey! He doesn’t want to! He’s happy with quiet.
Jimmy nodded his head and hiccuped again. “Yeeaaaaaah… a drink would be… goooood…” He smiled dreamly, leaning against her legs.
Smokes didn’t seem to understand that someone could be upset with him, or it just didn’t bother him. “Everything is honky dorey! Fox here just isn’t smiling enough.” He grinned, slipping his fingers into Fox’s mouth and lifting his lips at the corners.
Fox immediately panicked, ripping his hands from the sink and attempting to pull his brother’s finger’s out of his mouth. He would have to brush his teeth and shower a million times now.
Emily had heard something about Fox, and not being the sort of person to take others word had came to visit. She winced a bit at the fighting that she heard, and could only imagine that no one was enjoying the tension considering Fox had holed up for now.
“Hey Jimmy, I wanted to check in. You doing alright?” Emily looked halfway a mess. Her bright red hair strewn all over the place, not wearing any makeup and in a older t-shirt and baggy pants “I didn’t want to visit last night when I got the message.”
Jimmy pouted. “Not… not really… Fox locked himself in his room… he hasn’t come out in like 4 days… Smokes is getting really angry.” He explained as he started to undo the chain of the door. “He won’t talk to us… he just sorta… sulks…”
He sighed, pushing the door open and letting her inside. “Its not like him… not like him at all… he usually makes jokes and stuff, even when he’s sad… he’s never done this before…” He mumbled nervously, raising sad eyes as Smokes continued to pound on the door.
“I’m givin’ ya to the count of 3 Fox…then I’m ripping this door off its hinges. 1!…. 2!…”