SPN Kink Bingo 2019

Unconventional (Part I)

His laugh permeated your subconscious, and a tendril of recognition wandered its way through your weary daze. The first day of the con had wrapped no more than an hour ago. Karaoke, entertaining as ever, had sapped the last of your energy, but for whatever reason, you had struggled to fall asleep. Not even hotel infomercials or the endless stream of Tumblr had lulled you to sleep.

Oh, but that laugh. Though unmistakable despite its distance, you had to have imagined it, a lucid dream. Given the upcoming convention events, your subconscious mind must have conjured up ridiculous fantasies to placate your nerves. Come Sunday, you would meet him, really meet him and talk with him and, if you were lucky, get to know him a little. No wonder you subconsciously dreamt of him as you stared, unseeing, at the television.

But then he laughed again. Right outside your door.

Not a dream, then. But a simpler explanation existed; it had to be someone that sounded like him. Not like his laugh was exclusive to him. It might be to you, but plenty of people cackled at silly things like he did.

Except when he laughed, it never felt forced. His smile reached his eyes every time he laughed like that, and his body pitched as his shoulders shook. You had seen that laugh a thousand times, at so many cons and in so many gag reels. There was no mistaking it.

And then you heard it for the third time, though it echoed from further down the hall. Your single room was the last before the massive corner suite, and there it must be that he stayed.

You bolted upright, spine straight as you focused, and listened closer. Muffled sounds slipped through the wall of your room as bags thumped to the floor, other items dropped, and people bid one another good night.

Curiosity piqued, you hopped from the hotel bed, turned off the television, and shuffled to your door. More voices passed, but they sounded as if they headed in a different direction. When the soft thud and snict of the nearest door interrupted your concentration, you gripped the handle of yours, and, with a slow turn of the knob, pulled it aside.

There in the hallway stood Jared Padalecki, phone in hand and frozen mid-stride as he stared at you. No Jensen. No Clif. No other bodyguards. Just Jared. Alone.

Except for you. No anticipation had prepared you for him, as much as your imagination had tried the last few minutes. Your teeth clicked shut when Jared laughed through his nose, nothing like the cackling you had heard a moment earlier. No, that laugh sounded like pure amusement, as if he were used to people reacting to his presence like you had, mouth agape and eyes popping out of their heads.

The need to speak, to do something beyond standing there staring at him, surpassed your better judgment and so, you said, “Hey, Jared.”

Smooth. But, as terrible as it sounded, it worked. Jared smiled his charming smile as he slid his phone into his pocket and took a step closer. “Hey, there. Are you my neighbor for the weekend?”

With your wits gathered, your typical loquacious speech returned. “It appears that I am the lucky son of a bitch who gets to see you come and go in the halls of our hotel during this convention.”

Jared held out his hand with an approving frown. “Verbose. Is that normal, or are you nervous?”

“Y/N,” you started as you took his offered hand, yours dwarfed by his. “And it’s normal. I’m not known for mincing words. Some would call me turgid, even.”

“Hm,” he started as he looked you over and examined your hand in his. “I’m not seeing any fluid retention, Y/N. And I like verbose.”

The hallway had grown far too hot in a hurry. Your guffaw of a laugh drew another from Jared, and your voices sang a song you wished to hear every day for the rest of your life. But you had stopped him on his way out. His phone buzzed an incessant chirp in his pocket that distracted both of you.