Chapter Text
Jared rarely pays attention to the musicians in the lobby. The hospital likes to bring in local acts to play Christmas music around the holidays to lighten everybody’s mood. It generally works better on the employees than it does the patients, because who wants to be in a mental hospital at Christmas? Jared supposed it makes the atmosphere a little less oppressive for the partial patients, who only come in for the day and get to sleep in their own beds at night, but he doubts it does much for the inpatients, only a few of whom get the privilege of leaving the locked ward to eat and therefore getting to see the musicians on their way to the cafeteria.
But one day, instead of the usual brass quintet or harpist, there’s a small jazz ensemble in the lobby. There’s a pianist, guitarist, drummer, and the handsomest guy Jared has ever seen placing what looks like a metal clarinet and a flute on stands while a saxophone hangs around his neck. He’s got green eyes with the longest, darkest lashes Jared has ever seen on a man, freckles dusting his cheeks and nose, and full petal-pink lips that seem to be made for activities a lot more lascivious than playing wind instruments. He’s joking and laughing with the other guys as they set up. Jared’s already late coming back from his break, and he’s got to go back right the fuck now, but he can’t wait to bring the Level 1s down for lunch.
The gorgeous guy catches Jared’s eye and grins, and Jared nearly drops his coffee. He smiles back, and the corners of the guy’s eyes crinkle up with mirth. He nods slightly and then turns back to his band mates.
God, Jared is so gone for this guy, and he doesn’t even know anything about him.
“Jared! There you are.” Kim’s voice cuts through the fog in Jared’s head. “Come on, you’re late. Fred’s waiting for you to cover his break.”
“Shit, yeah, I—sorry.” Jared hurries down the hall to the elevator. No time to take the stairs. He swipes his badge and the door opens. He takes the elevator up to the ward, and is immediately confronted by an annoyed Fred when the doors part.
“Where were you?” demands Fred.
“I’m sorry,” says Jared. “I’m back, you go ‘head.”
Fred pushes past him into the elevator. Jared nods and swipes his badge to get into the ward. Luckily, he’s just got office hours until lunch. He’s got some reports to catch up on, but he’s sure he won’t get much done. He’s already daydreaming about the sax player with the cocksucking lips and the freckles. He never knew he had a thing for freckles before.
Jared’s morning crawls along until he can get back down to the lobby to see the sax player. He takes the Level 1s down to the cafeteria with Felicia and when they get to the lobby, tells her, “I’ll catch up.”
The sax player is playing a jazz version of Deck the Halls on the gold clarinet-thing, which Jared realizes is a soprano sax when he hears it. It’s got a rich, smooth tone, sweet like candy, and Jared imagines it providing the soundtrack to some easy, languid lovemaking.
God, Jared needs a life. He doesn’t date much—his schedule of overnights and twelve-hour shifts doesn’t really allow for it—and it’s been a damn long time since he’s had anyone besides his right hand for company.
The sax player puts down the soprano sax and picks up a bigger one. This one has a deep, rich tone that Jared imagines is what the guy’s voice must sound like, honey-smooth and sexy as hell, murmuring dirty talk in Jared’s ear as they explore each other's bodies.
The song ends, and the guy puts down his sax. “Take five,” he says to his bandmates. “We’re The Joy of Sax, and we’ll be right back.”
There’s a smattering of applause, so Jared joins in with it. The sax player catches Jared’s eye again and inclines his head, inviting Jared to join him. Heart pounding, Jared steps forward.
The guy pulls something out of his pocket. “I’m Jensen,” he says, and hands over a card. “Call me. I wanna know what’s in that pretty head of yours.”
Jared’s cheeks burn. He looks down at the card. Jensen Ackles, Assistant Professor of Woodwinds, Lebanon Valley College, it says, and gives both a cell and an office number.
“I’m Jared,” whispers Jared. Gathering up his courage, he adds, “And I can’t wait to tell you.”
“What time does your shift end?”
Jared swallows hard. “Eight o’clock.”
“I’ve got a gig at the Hershey Lodge tonight,” Jensen replies. “Come by when you’re done. We’ll be in the lobby. I’ve got a room.”
“I’ll be there,” Jared murmurs, his mouth suddenly dry.
Jensen grins wickedly. “I’ll be waiting.”
Jared can’t wait till 8 o’clock.