Oct. 7th, 2013 05:35 pm
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[personal profile] ingenius
see day one for other details.
words: 994

Sometimes, Jared’s sources turn out to be on the twitchy side. This is alright because Jared likes to think he’s a calm soothing sort of person. Usually, all he has to do is say hello and smile and people start relaxing around him.

This guy, on the other hand, is still hugging himself and watching the ice-cubes in his drink suspiciously. Jared’s tempted to check his arms for track marks, because he likes reliable sources, but he’s sort of scraping the bottom of the barrel here and can’t really be too picky.

Something big is happening, a shipment, a deal, Jared isn’t sure. He knows just enough to be sure it’s going to be huge and involve some pretty powerful people—just the type Jared likes to pull down and ruin—but not enough to put all the details like where and when and who together. Suspiciously enough all of Jared’s usual sources are either missing or hiding from him, so he’s had to slum it down to meeting with scrawny little kids

“Do you want another drink?” He asks. He kid gives him an incredulous look.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“Not really no. I’m trying to get you into an agreeable mood so you’ll tell me what I want to know.”

The kid looks up at him through his lashes. “That’s awfully honest,” he concedes. Jared hopes he isn’t being flirted with. “I’m gonna be in big trouble if this get back to me. I’m only talking to you ‘cause that arsehole detective is making me.”

“I could buy you lunch?” Jared offers.

“Yeah, okay.”

Two burgers and a lot of fries later the kid—Ian—finally starts being useful.

“There’s this big shipment coming in next week. Ship’s supposed to dock middle of the night. They’ve been planning it for months, setting up the work rosters so only their guys are working and even the police are turning a blind eye cause half of them are getting paid off and the other half are too shit scared to say anything or too dumb to notice.”

“Who’s the shipment for”

Ian shrugged. “Don’t know. Just that they’re going to be there to make the exchange. Cash or whatever for the shipment. Don’t know the rest.”

It’s a lot of information. A lot of good information and Jared’s pretty sure he wouldn’t have spent his first few years out of school deciding between concert tickets and groceries ‘cause leads for good stories were this easy to come by. He’s suspicious, of course, but he also happens to trust detective ABC. The man hasn’t been anything but kind to Jared since he started in [name-of-fictional-city] five years ago.

He pats Ian on the back and leaves him at the bar, even gives him a little speech about going home and getting clean and staying away from dangerous people. The kid’s too young to be of any use to the type of people he’s involved with, but he’s pretty enough that Jared doesn’t have to think too hard about what it is they might keep him around for.


We’re playing at the bar on Wilson.
You better be here by 11.

Jared’s halfway through replying with a curt fuck you, I need sleep when suddenly there are big hands grabbing him and pulling him into a decidedly dark creepy alley and slamming him up again the wall.

“What the fuck,” Jared hissed. His head was probably bleeding.

“Jared Padalecki,” someone says low raspy voice that sets Jared’s nerves on fire and just enough hint of a familiar accent to make heat pool in his belly. Jared actually stops fighting for a moment and that’s a mistake because it lets the thugs turn him around and slam him back against the bricks hard enough to rattle him. Jared tries to pull free again—he’s big guy—but these guys are just as big; big shoulders under expensive suits, with thick necks and grips hard enough that they’re going to be leaving bruises.

“You’ve got horrible manners,” Jared says dryly.

There’s a chuckle and a figure steps out of the shadows, cigarette dangling casually in one hand, lips twisted up in amusement.

Jared’s first thought is a distracted pretty.

“I need to ask you a few questions,” Pretty says pleasantly.

Jared blinks a little stupidly. “Huh?” And yeah, it might sound a little dumb but Jared’s pretty sure he didn’t deserve the knee to the gut it got him.

“None of that now,” Pretty scolds and one of the thug’s grunts. Pretty smiles and holds up a copy of the morning paper with Jared’s article on it. “You’ve been getting into my clubs and upsetting a few important people. I need to know how you’re doing it, and then I need you to stop,” he purrs, standing so close Jared can see his freckles and smell his cologne. “Who’s your source, Jared?”

Jared hopes he doesn’t say anything stupid like Wow, you’re really pretty. Are you sure you’re a bad guy? Cause I’d really like to take you home and lick your freckles, because he’s straight—despite the indiscretions he gets up to when he’s drunk—and a reporter who specialises in taking down big bad men. He’s just gotta keep that in mind.

Jared sighs dramatically though the pain and smiles. “I really can’t tell you,” he says and this time he’s ready for the knee and doubles over in pain.

“Jared,” Pretty sighs and Jared hates the way his name rolls off the guys tongue with such ease—such intimacy. “I really don’t want to hurt you,” But I’m going to if you make me.

Jared looks up, grinning, “You say the sweetest things, Pretty,” and there’s just a moment for him to enjoy the shock on Pretty’s face before he’s kicking in one thug’s knee and twisting out from under the other one and running away in the confusion.


Okay, so you might notice I changed the characters around.
I think I need to put up pictures. I never put up pictures.
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