CHAPTER ONE
Waking up sore from a bumpy couch is not exactly pleasant, thought Tyler. He lazily opened his eyes and saw his computer running and the leftover pizza box still on the coffee table. The computer was still running with web pages popped up from the screen, all of them having to do with his latest addiction. He knew it was just best to just close the laptop for he knows himself. He has zero to no tolerance when it comes to his passions this one included. As the laptop closed, he stretched his sore parts and decided to go to a bed. He begrudgingly got off the warm but uncomfortable couch to freshen up and sleep in something a bit more suitable.
This week's Supernatural episodes were exactly as he depicted them, hilarious and tense. The show was basically his life in a nut shell since he wasn't exactly a social butterfly. I mean sure, he has friends but they aren't exactly physically here…more like connected through the love of the Internet. Supernatural gifs, Tumblr, and favorite YouTubers are mostly what they're discussing when they aren't busy fangirling (or fanboying for Tyler's case). He then freshens up by brushing his teeth, washing his face, and any other hygienic routine needed for people to be "presentable." As he enters the room and snuggle inside the sheets of his bed he begins pondering on the important thing in life. Am I happy? Is my life fulfilling? And of course, the ever pressing question that every fangirl – fanboy- faces when one's hobby is to be enthralled by the television show. Is Destiel's relationship real? Are they more than friends? Those were the answers that worry him the most.
Before he went into shock, a crash was heard from down the stairs. Immediately sensing danger, he ran down the stairs failing to realize that he still had the chocolate bar-covered onsie that he refused to get rid of. Damn it, he thought. This should be interesting, he thought when he looked down at himself, finally realizing the ridiculousness of the situation. "Can I be any more embarrassing?" he muttered to himself. Walking cautiously down the stairs, he made an immediate right to the kitchen. (He was probably worried more about the leftover pizza. He actually wanted to eat that tomorrow.) He was right now in the middle of the kitchen and sure enough broken glass was located on the floor, in front of the door of the pantry. Confusion was etched on his face and as soon as he leaned forward, the pantry door opened revealing a disheveled man with whipped cream on the corner of his mouth. Before Tyler could shriek his blood-curdling, embarrassing girl screams, the whipped cream guy already had his mouth covered and pulled him into the pantry.
I'm seriously getting raped in my pantry, he thought. This is a new low. "Be quiet please. Shhh…" the attacker said patronizingly and slowly removed his hand from his mouth. The lights were then switched on revealing to Tyler the attacker. Before he could punch him or do anything physically harming to himself or the attacker, he got a look at the attacker. And that look, was all that it took to realize that he wasn't an attacker.
Shocked like no other, he tried to come up with a series of questions as to what the hell he was doing here and many others but instead of words coming out, the slow opening and closing of his mouth was all that he could do. "Jeeenseeen…" he wheezed. He then took a very needed gasp for air because embarrassingly enough he forgot how to breathe. After taking a series of necessary deep breaths, he asked the two most pressing questions that he could think of. "Why do you have whipped cream on your face? What are you doing here?" he breathed for he apparently forgot how to talk as well. Get it together Tyler.
"Well for the first question is easy. Hungry," he said unashamedly. He wasn't even looking in Tyler's direction as he answered, his eyes were gazing at every direction as if there was something he needed to be searching for. "Second one, a bit more complicated. You might have a really annoyed demon ruining your house" he said to him, eyes still searching. "We're going to try to get out. You can do that right?" he asked finally looking to Tyler questioningly. He was slightly annoyed by the fact that he was questioning his skills. He took two and a half years of taekwondo thank you. But as soon as Jensen looked down at his outfit that realization came in. Right, the onsie.
"Ten seconds we leave," Jensen said quietly. "Here's a gun and a knife. Try not to kill me," he said to Tyler patronizingly enough. Breaking glass was heard again and Tyler was now extremely terrified. He wanted a pep talk or something before they left, because he had absolutely no fucking clue as to what was happening at the moment. But of course, time ran up and he was soon pushed out of the warm safe pantry into the kitchen. Looking to his left he discovered a floating plate right above the sink. Before he knew it, the plate lunged directly at him and he quickly ducked, the plate narrowly missing his face. Nope, can't just "sleep in." I have to go ahead and do something weird, Tyler thought.
As soon as he recovered from the near plate attack a strong arm grabbed a hold of his wrist. "Let's go," Jensen quickly said pulling Tyler along to escape the kitchen. I need to stop putting mushrooms in my pizza because right now this shit is weird, he thought as he tried to escape the flying plates. He looked back longingly, praying that this was all a joke. But of course it wasn't as when they left the apartment stairs a huge boom was heard. A fire started consuming everything that was in its way. Shit he thought, leaving everything he ever loved in the flames.