spoiler alert!

of who can act like they care less | NC-17 | dean/cas.

2011-04-14T03:16:41Z

[of who can act like they care less.]
dean/cas, nc-17, 8,000+ words, unbeta'ed.
The point being, Castiel is always arguing with him over every little thing and it’s both ruining their semi-professional working relationship and driving him fucking crazy.

a/n: this has been sitting on my computer a while, i wanted to get rid of it before show starts back again on Friday. I started parts of it like way before 'Caged Heat' then finished it after 'Like A Virgin' so everything else aired after that is like neglected. whatever. pretty much i just wrote this for my own entertainment and wanted to make them stop fighting and start fucking. tralala.

---

The thing about working with your Ex is this: You have to see them every single day. On top of that, you have to be civil to each other and all that other workplace cooperation crap. Y'know so no one gets their asses fired.

Except, when you’re a hunter and your Ex is an angel of the lord and working together means trying to stop the world from coming to a literal end, the consequences of being uncooperative are pretty much imminent death and impending doom. Suffice to say, things get a little tenser than what would be considered normal under the circumstances.

Or so Dean assumes from what television has taught him.

Also, he’s not exactly comfortable grouping Castiel as an ‘Ex’ considering what little relationship they had was considerably less relationship-y and mostly involved nakedness.

The point being, Castiel is always arguing with him over every little thing and it’s both ruining their semi-professional working relationship and driving him fucking crazy.

--

It doesn’t exactly start after Sam gets his soul back, but that’s when Dean starts noticing it.

He’s still fuming that Cas spilled the damn beans to Sammy about his brief intermission as a soulless, puppy-killing, dick, several days later.

“I can not fucking believe you!” Dean shouts the next time he sees him.

Cas stands by the door, limbs hanging awkward at his sides, his expression unreadable.

“He had the right to know. You were not going to inform him,” Cas answers dryly.

“Do you not understand anything, you childish, self righteous, dick? If Sam remembers,” he pauses to catch a breath, “If Sam starts poking around, starts playing Nancy Drew lookin’ for clues about his time in the cage, he’s gonna be left a comatose, drooling vegetable!”

“I do not understand how lying to him was going to protect him from that. If anything, I did Sam a favor telling him what you wouldn’t.”

“You didn’t do anything but go behind my back just to piss me off! I should tear you a new one Cas, I really fucking should,” Dean breathes heavily feeling the adrenaline and anger course through him.

Cas steps forward, into Dean’s space, “I had nothing but Sam’s best intentions in mind and you should not ever think otherwise.”

Dean can see the very slight tells of Castiel’s anger, the downward curve of his mouth, the slow burn of righteous fury behind his borrowed eyes at Dean’s distrust.

He swallows, about to make another argument, but Cas beats him to it, says harsh, powerful, demanding, “And you forget Dean, that I stitched you back together with my very own grace, and I can unmake you just as easily. So do not threaten me if you do not mean it.”

Dean’s breathing heavily, simultaneously furious, frightened, and maybe a little turned on.

For a minute Dean’s pretty sure this is going to end in some pretty epic one-last-time-in-the-sack-angry-sexy-time type scenario.

He wonders if Castiel is going to hit him, kiss him, something, anything, but then the subject of their argument clambers in through the door, greasy paper take-out bag in hand, and Castiel is gone.

“Uh…” Sam says, “Did I interrupt something?”

Dean takes a moment to fully comprehend before shaking his head, putting a lid on his anger.

“N’aww Sammy,” he pastes on a grin, ”now, tell me you got pie.”

--

A witch with a hate-on for Sam dating back to the time he was a walking, talking, dick in a bad haircut, casts a curse on him in Columbus. Dean laughs for about half a day before, reluctantly, calling for Castiel.

“You called me from the battlefield for this?” Castiel frowns deeply, the second he arrives.

“Well, if you were so busy why the hell did you even show up?” Dean snaps.

“Your tone implied it was a matter of urgency.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean gestures towards the bed, pointing at Sam without further explanation.

“Contrary to your belief, there are things bigger than you Winchesters and your endless pit of problems.” Castiel argues back, tone even.

“Guys,” Sam tries, voice high pitched and whiney, because he’s an actual girl.

God that will never not be funny.

“Not now Sam!” both Dean and Castiel bark, not bothering to look away from each other.

“Okay, I’ll just continue not having a dick over here in silence…”

“And that’s different from any other day how?”

Castiel huffs, “I do not have time for this bickering.”

It takes three seconds for Samantha to become plain old Sam again, fully operating dude parts and all, and another two seconds for Cas to fly away without saying goodbye.

And all Dean can think is, hell, if I had a nickel for every time that happens.

--

Some arguments are petty.

Dean cranks the volume on the radio up to full blast, silently fuming.

Sam watches from the passenger seat with an amused smirk to rival his soulless counter part.

Castiel looks out the window in the backseat. The music plays for several seconds before Castiel flicks his wrist and it shuts off.

Dean violently reaches forward and turns it back on, nearly swerving into oncoming traffic as he looks back into the rearview.

“Why are you even here?” he complains.

Sam laughs.

Castiel switches the music off once again.

It's gonna be a long drive.

--

The three of them are in a diner in Tucson, grabbing a bite after a successful hunt. Dean isn’t sure how Cas managed to score shore leave, all he knows is he’s tired, his back aches, he’s covered in grave dirt, smells like dead ass, and really wants a fucking double bacon cheeseburger with extra onions, fuck you very much.

He doesn’t want to make small talk.

But apparently Samantha and Cas do, because all Dean can hear is them gabbing on and on in the background. And whatever fine, he can tune it out, because the waitress is placing his food in front of him and Dean’s rubbing his hands together greedily. He assumes their conversation goes something like this:

Blah, what sort of hair product do you use? Blah blah heaven is delightful this time of year, blah.

“Dean?” Castiel asks hesitantly. Like he’s expecting something, an answer to a question Dean wasn’t listening to in the first place, an opinion, a witty retort, something.

Dean blinks for a quick second, then plucks the tomato off his burger and tosses it onto Sam’s plate.

“Dude, I don’t even know, and frankly, I also kinda don’t care - just pass the ketchup,” he says palm out, waiting, popping a fry into his mouth with his free hand.

For a moment Cas looks like he might actually cry, and then Dean might have had to feel bad, but instead Cas opts for glaring at him angrily because apparently his very existence offends him these days.

“Not everything is about you Dean,” Cas says scornfully and disappears, and okay Dean’s a little confused. But maybe he should have been paying attention instead of being an asshole, he admits to himself.

“Dean,” Sam hisses, somehow managing to fit ‘what the hell is wrong with you?‘ and ‘you’re such an idiot’ and ‘be a little more sensitive, you asshole’ into one syllable.

Conveniently he does not explain what in the hell just happened.

“What?” Dean shrugs, “If Cas has got his panties in a wad, that’s his problem not mine,” he stretches across the table top to grab the red plastic squeeze bottle, “Besides, how hard is it to pass the freaking ketchup?”

“Dude,” Sam shakes his head, “I’ve got a feeling this is so not about ketchup.”

Dean frowns and throws a fry at him.

The bitchface he gets in return doesn’t help him feel any less like a dick.

--

“What the hell is going on with you and Cas?” Sam asks, all concern and curious freakin’ doe eyes in a motel room in Spokane.

Dean stops midway through peeling off his slimy ass shirt and gives Sam the stink eye.

“Nothing,” he denies, underlying tone clearly translating into ‘shut the hell up Samantha.’

To be quite honest, Dean’s not even entirely sure what’s going on with him and Cas. Why they can’t stop picking at each other. It’s slightly unsettling.

“Well,” says Sam, “you’re acting like a divorced couple arguing over who gets to keep the house in The Hamptons.”

“We are not!” Dean snaps back sharp and quick – maybe a little too quickly because Sam smirks. The little shit thinks he’s real fucking clever.

Dean flips him off and tosses his ghost slimed t-shirt back in his face, chuckling at the disgusted sound he gets in return as he heads into the bathroom for a shower. He frowns as soon as he shuts the door. Like hell he’s going to let Sam know that yeah, okay, fine, he’s sort of kinda right.

But he’s not going to discuss his and Castiel’s relationship status with Sammy ever. Never going to casually say over foofy cappuccinos, ‘So me and Cas were sort of boning each other and then after everything the dick got a promotion and went and fucked off back to heaven without any sort of closure at all and then I didn’t hear from him for an entire year. It sort of sucked.’

Dean turns on the shower and turns back to stare at his reflection in the chipped mirror over the ugly yellow sink. For a moment, now that he’s got Sam - the real, whole, Sam – back, he really lets the past year sink in. All the anger, the resentment, the feeling of being trapped in a life he couldn’t lead. Lisa and Ben and missing Sammy and not letting himself think about Castiel, trying not to miss him too.

He strips and climbs under the spray, letting his mind go blank, trying to think about anything but Cas.

It doesn’t work anymore.

Fuck.

--

They’re in Portland dealing with a pack of Daevas. Currently, Dean’s getting his ass handed to him by some possessed, skinny-jeaned-scarf-wearing, hipster kid, buying Sam some time to find the stupid altar the bitch is using to control the things and destroy it.

The kid slams him into the wall –again- (and Jesus where the hell is this scrawny Bambi legged undergrad getting all this strength anyways?) when Cas shows up with a gust of hot air.

“Why am I always having to rescue you?” Castiel sighs and slams the kid into the opposite wall.

Hah, Dean thinks, hurts don’t it?

Also, he resents Cas’ implication that he’s some sort of damsel in distress, the dick.

He pushes himself up, supporting his probably dislocated shoulder against his side.

“Uh yeah, I don’t recall calling for the feathered cavalry,” snarks Dean.

Castiel punches the demon kid in the face as it runs at him viciously and Dean winces because, damn, that probably would have caved the guy’s head in if Cas wasn’t restraining himself or using 45% angel power or whatever. Dean can only sympathize for so long however, because that’s when a dark shadow casts itself along the floor and Dean can feel a sharpness clawing at his back, tearing through his jacket as he jerks away.

“If I had left you to die at the hands of an amateur low ranking demon and it’s pets, I would have never heard the end of it,” Cas manages as he hefts the kid up, presses a palm to his forehead and burns the evil right out of him, banishing the daevas out of the room in a blinding white light.

“Pfft, I can hold my own,” Dean says lamely afterwards, as Cas steps forward and touches a hand to his sore shoulder, healing him, palm fitting along the mark he left there and it tingles even through Dean’s clothing.

“Dean,” Sam runs into the room, panic on his face, heaving for breath. Dean can see him visibly calm when he looks and sees Dean all right, sees Castiel standing beside him.

“I was worried I didn’t destroy the altar in time,” he explains, “Good thing Cas showed.”

In which Dean responds with an eye roll that actually physically hurts, “Yes let’s all thank fuck for Castiel! Who only shows up when he needs something for some super secret stealth mission for the angel brigade, or God forbid, I try to die!”

Whatever, maybe in some fucked up way, he just admitted that he misses Castiel with Sam standing right there. But he doesn’t care. Because the bastard surely must not miss him enough to hang around long enough to go grab a beer.

“I have left my duties, my command, to others coming here to help you Dean Winchester. I have no obligations or ulterior motives for being here,” Castiel grits out and, as per usual, he disappears before Dean can even think of a reply.

“Dude, this is getting ridiculous, sort out your issues,” Sam bitches as they make their way outside, as they pack the guns and supplies back into the trunk.

Dean ignores him, “Pass me the sawed-off will you?”

Sam hands it to him, but not without a heavy, melodramatic sigh. Girl.

“Dean. Before Cas burned the demon out of that poor kid, he gave him a broken nose.” Sam says, like it explains everything.

Dean shrugs, “Maybe he should have thought of that before choosing to wear scarves as a fashion statement.” He closes the trunk and moves to get behind the wheel, needing to get out of there, needing a goddamn beer or three.

“Dean,” Sam tries again, pulling out the good ol’ sharing and caring eyes, “I know you guys were,” he pauses, “you know, sort of together – Before. I’m not stupid.”

Dean goes wide-eyed. Every fiber of his body tenses into denial mode. He honestly thought Sam had no clue and had intended to keep it that way.

Sam walks to the passenger door, says staring at Dean from across the roof of the Impala, “I mean, there was a war going on, and you know, getting comfort where you can and everything I get it. I just never thought – with the way you’re acting now – well, I just never thought it was actually anything this serious. If I'd known - Well if I'd known I'd have never told you to go to Lisa.”

Forget the beer. Dean needs whiskey. Or tequila. Mostly he just needs to be drunk right the fuck now.

“No. We are not talking about this,” the creak and slam of his door punctuating his resolve to never have this conversation.

He jabs the keys into the ignition and her engine roars up, Sam folding himself into his seat as Dean starts to drive off.

Into the stifling silence Sam says earnestly, almost quiet, “Just talk to him man. He’s going through a lot.”

And that is just freakin’ peachy, Sam and Cas apparently talk about their feelings and personal issues and their goddamn freaking relationships behind Dean’s back while they braid each others hair and sing freakin’ Taylor Swift songs.

Wow. Excellent. Fucking perfect.

Dean cranks up Enter Sandman and hopes Sam takes the hint about shutting the hell up. Sometimes, very rarely, Dean misses Douchey-Sans-a-Soul Sam.

Right now?

Definitely one of those times.

It takes him until the end of Wherever I May Roam to calm down and decide that yeah, him and Cas?

They probably do need to talk.

--

Sam’s asleep when Dean sneaks out into the motel parking lot. He tugs his jacket up close, collar tight against the cold as he walks out towards where the Impala is parked. He needs a safe place to do this, talking about feelings. Pfft.

He lets out a deep breath against the twisting nerves in his gut and calls out for him. Closes his eyes and thinks Cas. Except when he cracks an eye open, Castiel isn’t there.

“Cas,” Dean shouts, looking up at the overcast night sky, “c’mon you feathery ass I know you can hear me!”

Castiel appears not two feet away, announcing himself with a long drawn out sigh – a habit he must have picked up from being BFF’s with Sam.

“What?”

“People usually say ‘hello’ when they first see each other Cas, I thought we talked about that.”

“Hello. Now what do you want?” Cas says impatiently.

It pains Dean a little that Cas thinks Dean only calls for him when he needs something, although yeah, okay, he hasn’t really done anything recently to disprove that particular behavior.

“Nothing – I,” Dean swallows, “I wanted to talk.”

“Talk?” Cas tilts his head, curious, an action that never failed to make Dean feel a warm rush of affection for him before. That still does if he’s honest with himself.

“Yeah, talk. I am capable of having a conversation every now and again y'know?”

Castiel gives him a disbelieving look.

“What about?” he asks.

“About this,” Dean gestures in between them, “us. Man, we’ve got to stop getting at each others throats, there’s got to be a way we can, I don’t know, be civil towards each other?”

“I am being civil Dean, you are the one that is always difficult.” Cas says, toneless.

Dean rolls his eyes, “Whatever, can we just, put everything behind us and drop the angry ex girlfriend act now?”

“I have never been your girlfriend Dean,” answers Cas, ever the literal bastard.

“Yeah, believe me, I know that,” Dean says sarcastic, “Look come on, I think we just, I don’t know, need closure so we can move on from whatever it was we were doing last year and-“

“Closure?”

“Yeah, because you up and left and we never formally ended our mutually benefit-y friendship, granted I was sort of a train wreck at the time, but whatever. Now come on, just cowboy up and say you’re sorry,” Dean makes a c’mon, hit me with your best shot, gesture and awaits an apology.

Of course, Castiel is a stubborn prick.

“I will not apologize, there is nothing to apologize for. You needed space and time to heal and had no intentions of denying your brother’s last wish. I respected that.”

Oh. Lisa. That’s what this is about. Cas is jealous.

“Christ Cas, you ever think that if you had maybe stuck around, I wouldn’t have went to Lisa? I had no one.”

“You would have only resented me for coming back from the dead when Sam could not.”

“What? I wouldn’t’ve,” Dean says quickly, even though yeah, that probably would have happened and then they’d be even more fucked up than they are now - in an even bigger mess.

“It does not matter what would or could have happened. Heaven called and I answered. You went to Lisa Braeden and you were safe. It was for the best.”

“It was not for the fucking best Cas! I was miserable and I never wanted you to leave!” he shouts and it’s like a fucking punch in the goddamn gut. It knocks the wind out of him, catches him off guard, like this isn’t something he’s known in the back of his mind ever since.

It’s the most honest he’s been with himself in years, and hell, may as well go for broke right?

But Cas, the bastard, just keeps on staring at him - doesn’t blink, doesn’t even move. He seems unfuckingchanged with Dean’s admission, and that’s the real kicker here. Spend a little time being hot shit upstairs and it’s back to square fucking one emotionally. An unfeeling dick with wings.

Dean turns his back, scrubs a hand down his face.

“What would you have had me do, Dean?” Cas says finally, voice careful and even, “I was needed.”

“Fuck them, I needed you!” Dean counters, the words like a fistfight, blows sharp and painful. Telling the truth the only way he knows how.

They share a look for a long moment before Dean breaks the silence.

“I needed you to stay,” he says again with less bite, more desperation; a poorly healed wound reopens and bleeds slowly.

He doesn’t hear Cas’ footfalls, too preoccupied with his own heavy breathing, with the buzzing silence punctuating his fucking feeling coated admonishment. A hand grabs his shoulder, a familiar yet slightly awkward and unpracticed gesture, a touch that lingers too long to not mean something.

And fuck his confusing ass life, he leans back into it.

“Dean,” Cas says, voice close and low and Dean can feel the rumble of it travel along his spine. He closes his eyes and for a second, the briefest of seconds, he’s positive one of them will give in.

“Dean,” Cas repeats, fingers tripping over skin, unsure where they touch at his neck, and Dean gathers up all the anger that’s been building, that he’s been storing inside, and brushes him off in the cadence. His shoulders rolling violently as he whips around to face Castiel, to sneer at him.

“After Sam,” he starts and restarts remembering how he promised himself to never say – to think – Sam and died in the same sentence ever again.

“You left,” Dean finishes harshly, tone radiating resentment; cutting past the layers of skin and muscle, straight down to the bare and vulnerable bone underneath. And the thing is, to Dean, that is the worst possible offence, the unbreakable rule: You don’t leave family behind.

He doesn’t say it again, but it’s written in the tense line of his shoulders, in the relentless, spitting fight of him, ‘you left me and I needed you the most’.

Castiel stares back at him for several beats, big blue eyes giving nothing away. Which is why Dean’s thrown for a mother fucking loop when Cas fists his jacket and pushes him back, back, until his hip collides with the hood of the Impala.

He sees anger flash across Cas’ face and for a second he’s sure Cas is going to Fight Club his insolent ass into a couple of broken ribs and a bruised face like he did once before, but instead, kisses him; a hard press of cool lips.

Before Dean can even think of shifting gears from fighting into fucking, Cas is pulling away. His brow furrowed in that familiar shade of annoyance before the air around them shifts and displaces and Castiel is gone.

In the aftermath, Dean is left reeling, confused and alone in the parking lot.

“Goddamnit,” he says, but there is no one around to listen.

--

The next time he sees Castiel is in Topeka nearly three weeks later.

Since Sam’s ditched the Robo Cop routine, he’s picked up that old nasty habit of being a nerd. Loosely translated: Sammy’s at the library geeking it up old school and Dean will never admit how much that tugs at his heartstrings.

The point being, they aren’t on a hunt so Dean is alone in the motel, sharing his down time with the creature comforts: Pizza, a six-pack, and a roll of quarters for the magic fingers. It isn’t long until Cas whammies himself unannounced into Dean’s personal space.

“Cas what in the hell-?” Dean starts but is interrupted.

“If you had wanted me to stay, why did you not ask that of me?” Cas says, no pussyfooting around.

And Dean’s flabbergasted, because honestly, he’d pretty much buried that little conversation underneath layers upon layers of freshly fertilized denial.

While he searches the recesses of his mind for something inoffensive to say, he notices it: The slump to Castiel’s shoulders, the downtrodden, completely assfucked beyond belief expression. He is as weary and rundown as Dean used to look on any given day during the Apocalypse That Almost Was and there is an echo of sadness behind his eyes. Heartbreakingly dejected like when he had lost faith in his Father. Like when he had lost faith in Dean.

The fight to stop the apocalypse may be over for him, for Sam, but it isn’t for Cas and Dean never fucking realized that Cas is running himself ragged.

How has Dean been such a goddamn selfish douchebag this whole entire time? So busy trying to save Sammy, so busy with his own fucked up abandonment issues, that he couldn’t even spare Cas five minutes of his time to listen.

“Jesus Cas,” he breathes, standing, stepping up to Cas. He reaches out but grabs nothing but air, hesitant.

“What the hell are they doing to you up there?”

Cas ignores him, tired eyes baring into him, and Dean thinks that all Cas has to show from his brief stint with humanity is how to be disappointed, how to feel grief and sadness.

“Did it ever occur to you,” Cas says slowly, sadly, “that had you asked it of me, I would have stayed.”

He looks away from Dean, and Dean follows the movement. The rustle of his coat, the hitching intake of breath, the click of Castiel’s throat as he swallows.

They both know Dean never would have asked. Too fucking prideful to ask for help.

They both know Castiel wouldn’t have stayed. Too loyal to leave his faith behind.

But somehow knowing - knowing that if Cas could make that choice, knowing that he would choose Dean – it means everything.

“I would much rather have stayed,” Cas adds, quiet, looking back to Dean, absolutely wrecked. And for the first time in all the time that they have known each other, Castiel looks small, vulnerable, not at all like the powerful, otherworldly, thing that he is.

Dean doesn’t know what to say, heavy with the weight of Cas’ words. Weighed down in that moment of stasis between wanting to reach out and touch and comfort and have, and wanting to run the fuck away.

He doesn’t get to make a choice, because that’s when Sam calls about the vengeful nerd spirits in the haunted ass library.

Perfect freaking timing as always Sammy.

--

Figures Sam would stumble head first into a hunt at the goddamn library of all places.

Sammy stays behind to deal with the clean up once they finally find the hairbrush that belonged to the psycho librarian from hell and burn the thing, and Dean and Cas head back to the motel. Dean had had enough books flung at his head for one evening thank you very much and did not want to hang around the things any longer.

What has Dean learned from this particular misadventure? Always pay your late fees.

Cas rides along with him in the Impala, sitting in the passenger side. They keep glancing at each other, quick sneaking looks, and there’s a silence between them that isn’t exactly awkward but still feels cloying and thick and Dean can’t seem to break through. The truth is exposed and he isn’t sure what to do with it.

It starts to rain as they pull into the parking lot, fat drops of it drumming a staccato rhythm on the roof of his baby. Dean pulls the keys out of the ignition and they sit there for a long moment in time, Dean still yearning to say something but not knowing how.

Cas looks at him, something behind his eyes exhausted and sad and he wanted to stay here with Dean.

It’s too much. He turns and exits the car, the creak of it filling this fucking never-ending quiet. He dodges the rain as he darts under cover where the roof of the motel hangs over the walkway up to the room. He doesn’t hear Cas follow him, but when he reaches the door he can feel a warmth at his side.

Dean hesitates, room key hovering outside the lock. What he thinks he wants to say is itching at him, and fuck it, but he’s never been good at resisting the urge to scratch at old wounds.

He curls his fist around the key and looks back over his shoulder at Cas.

“What you said earlier – Did you-?“ he swallows, darts his tongue out to wet suddenly dry lips and finds that he can’t get the rest of it out. Leaves the question hanging in the open air.

“I meant what I said,” says Castiel, always knowing what Dean means to say, what Dean needs to hear. Always knowing when to push and when to just let him be.

Dean turns around, back to the door of Room 302. Cas stands there in front of him, close enough to touch with his arms hung awkwardly at his sides. He’s swallowed up in that too big coat, hair wild and eyes bright and steady and trained on Dean. And right then, even with the rain beating down and their breaths coming in sharp puffs in the winter chill, he feels a warmth in his chest. A warmth that spreads and consumes like wildfire and before he can think he propels himself forward, fingers grabbing at Castiel’s damp collar.

Fuck it, he thinks, he’s never been good with words anyways.

It only takes a moment for Cas to touch a hand at Dean’s side, and then Dean is kissing him, dragging Cas forward and pressing their mouths together recklessly.

Cas’ fingers curl into the fabric of his jacket at the same time Dean wraps a hand around Cas’ neck, thumb tracing the line of his jaw, both trying to drag the other one nearer.

They kiss the only way they know how: quick, aggressive, desperate; like an argument. Sparring for the last word with each swipe of tongue, in each biting press of lips and teeth, both too full of stubborn pride to give in before the other.

Cas presses closer still, surges forward eagerly until Dean’s back hits the door. He groans, Cas’ knee slotting in between his own and Dean scrambles for purchase as the dam of his carefully concealed wanting is washed away with this one kiss. He holds on, fisting bunches of that damned coat as they kiss and kiss and kiss, bruising and insistent, Dean’s cock already pushing against his zipper as he remembers just how good they can be together.

The door opens behind him and he stumbles back across the threshold, would have fallen on his ass if Cas hadn’t had a hold on him, hands grasping his hips tight. Dean pushes at Cas’ coats, impatiently pulling at the fabric until they fall away, forgotten in a haphazard trail to the bed. Dean runs his hands up the skin-warmed cotton of Cas’ shirt, curls his hands around his shoulders and holds on tight.

They only break apart for air because Dean needs it, a necessity he’s never been regretful of until this thing with Cas. He sucks in a breath as Cas strips him of his own jacket, helps Dean peel off his t-shirt and lets the discarded clothing pool at their feet.

Dean un-tucks Cas’ shirt from his waist, sneaks a hand up underneath, rests it low on his stomach as he steps close, noses along his neck, the line of his jaw; just standing there leaning against each other. Dean pauses the race for a slow interlude as everything catches up to him. Everything Cas has ever done for him; rebelled and died and brought him back to life. He’s never had anyone – anyone besides Sammy – willing to sacrifice so much for him. Who wants to stick around through all of his fucked up issues.

It’s all too much, too heavy. Dean pushes it away, swallows it down, lightens the moment.

He slips his hands into Cas’ unruly hair, threads his fingers through the strands and tugs until Castiel pulls back to glare at him. He hates it, but Dean loves the look on his face so he can’t help it. He grins, reaches out for Cas’ tie and pulls him in, growls ‘c’mere’ against his swollen lips and it’s back on.

They kiss again, frantic, dirty, and wet as Dean makes quick work of Castiel’s belt. Strips the thing from Cas’ pants and walks him backward. Cas’ knees buckle once his calves hit the bed and Dean pushes him down, fueled by the fire licking hot and insistent in his veins, so incredibly turned on.

He needs this. He’s needed this for so long, and maybe Cas does too, he thinks as he sinks to his knees in the cheap shag carpet. He darts his tongue across his bottom lip, tugs it in between his teeth, wets it as he spreads Cas’ legs apart, hands sliding up from his knees, slow, along the inseam of his slacks, rubs his palm over the hardness waiting for him. He moans in the back of his own throat as Castiel rocks upwards into his hand, as he grinds the heel down, as he cups and squeezes.

He’d draw this out, tease, but Dean wants it too much, nothing but the snick of the zipper and the pulse of the blood in his ears the soundtrack to him tugging Cas free from his pants and underwear.

Cas’ cock is hard, the head flush and wet and begging to be sucked. Dean gives it a stroke, swipes his thumb across the moisture gathering there at the tip, brings it up to his own lips for a taste. He flicks his eyes up quick as he sucks the pad of his thumb into his mouth, up to Castiel’s face. Cas looks back at him, fuck, maybe into him, and says ‘Dean,’ like it’s the only word worth saying, and he’s leaning down to kiss Dean again, sloppy and urgent, Dean’s neck straining to meet him.

Dean pushes him back, restrains him with a look as he sinks back down, head disappearing into Cas’ lap, taking Cas into his mouth and sucking hard. Cas fucks up into his mouth, the head catching on the inside of Dean’s cheek, and it’s so fucking hot to watch Cas - composed, powerful, angel of the freakin’ Lord, Castiel - come apart like this for him. Only for him.

It’s messy and hot, so goddamn hot, as Dean works him. Bobs down as far as he can on Cas’ dick, coming back up and sucking hard on the head, over and over. He mouths along the underside, licks and sucks and it’s perfect.

Cas’ hand touches the back of his neck and Dean looks up. Sees Cas leaning back on the bed, bracing himself on one elbow, face lost in silent ecstasy, mouth open and eyes shut tight.

He loves how Cas tries to keep quiet, tries to keep it all in. How Cas lets out soft breathy moans and low barely there whispers of Dean’s name, how he stops from crying out with aborted breaths and bitten lips.

He’s straining against his own jeans now, throbbing and tenting the fly, uncomfortably wet inside the confines of his briefs. With one hand on Cas’ hip he braces himself, snaking the other down to fumble with the buttons of his jeans. He moans around Cas’ cock once he gets himself in hand, squeezes himself and jerks frantically, the slick of his own pre-come easing the way.

Cas must notice, because suddenly, suddenly, Dean’s being hauled off his knees, and then they’re on the bed, pressed together from head to toe, clothes and shoes and socks whammied away. Castiel is on top of him, rubbing his erection in abortive little thrusts along the spur of Dean’s hip, just looking down at him with those big blue eyes.

Always fucking looking at him and Dean laughs.

Castiel frowns, confused with this sudden shift in tone.

“What is so funny?” he says, voice hoarse, head tilted.

“Nothing,” Dean manages, still smiling as they rut against one another, “Just - what did I tell you about angel fu-ing my clothes away? It’s freaky.”

Smartly, Castiel’s response is to kiss him, tongue licking into his mouth and stealing his laughter, transforming it into a long drawn out moan as he fists Dean’s cock.

Castiel’s good at this, a little clumsy yeah, but for the whole handful of times they’ve done this, the handful of times Castiel’s even had sex, he’s good. A quick study. He jerks Dean in a tight grip, alternating between quick stripes and long slow tugs of Dean’s cock, reaching down to cup and roll his balls the way Dean taught him all those months ago, and Dean’s going crazy under his hand. He’s bucking and moaning and thrashing and babbling nonsensical pleas of ‘Cas, Cas, please, please, Cas.’

And he can’t take it anymore, he wants to come, needs it even. To come inside Castiel, wants to fuck him so bad it physically hurts. He flips them over, hovers above Cas and rubs his cock against his belly.

He bites at Cas’ neck, sucks a dark bruise on his collar to admire later and slips a hand down, down, pressing back behind Castiel’s heavy balls. Back to circle a finger around his opening. Cas presses back against him, his body sucking his finger inside and fuck, he’s so tight and hot and goddamn enticing. Dean’s cock throbs impatiently.

“Turn over,” Dean instructs sitting up on his knees, voice wrecked with lust.

Castiel does, propping himself up on his elbows, looking over his shoulder, always wanting to watch.

“Goddamn,” Dean says appreciatively, giving his dick a few slow tugs.

Cas shoots him a disapproving look at his blasphemous language.

He reaches out to touch, caresses the arching line of Castiel’s back, the valley of his spine, the graceful jut of shoulder blades. There’s something hovering in the air, something electric and charged and Dean imagines he’s touching Castiel’s wings.

He crawls down, nudges Cas’ legs apart further to fit in between, places a kiss to the small of Cas’ back as he brings his face level with Castiel’s ass. He palms a cheek, gropes and pats and massages indulgently, before he spreads them apart and touches the point of his tongue to that tight little ring.

Castiel shivers under him, actually goddamn shivers, and that only urges him onward. He licks, jabbing his tongue inside just so and sucks, getting Cas wet enough for his fingers. He pushes one in alongside his tongue, stretching him, pulls his mouth off entirely and fucks him with two. Watches his fingers disappear inside, in and out, Cas clenching hot and tight around him. He adds another and presses deep, Castiel jerking against him when Dean finds his prostate. Rubs over and over until Castiel let’s a rare loud moan escape past his lips.

Dean sits up, pulls out of Cas and stretches blindly across the bed to his duffle on the floor, nearly falling face first onto the carpet in the process. He finds it and dumps the contents, sifting through the mess of dirty clothes and candy bar wrappers and ammo until he finds his lube.

“Dean,” Cas prompts impatiently, and Dean says, “Yeah, Cas, yeah, just hold on,” as he uncaps the tube and slicks himself up hastily.

Cas turns back over, apparently wanting to do this face to face, and yeah, yeah, Dean wants that too. He lifts Cas’ legs, spreads them wide, hooks one high around his waist and Dean presses back up against him, fucks his cock into the tight crack of Cas’ ass and when Cas is shaking, panting his name quietly over and over, he lines himself up and finally, finally pushes inside. And it’s unlike anything Dean’s ever felt, it’s perfection, it’s the freakin’ paradise on Earth those other dick angels want so bad.

It’s so much better than he remembered it could ever be.

He bottoms out slowly and stills for a few short seconds, needing to feel Cas. To know he’s here and staying and Dean’s.

Cas urges him to move silently, commands it in the way he digs his heel into Dean’s back, rubs his cock up against Dean’s stomach, so he does what he’s been told. He pulls out and thrusts back inside, propping himself up with his hands for leverage, hovering above Cas and fucking him again and again, being swallowed up inside his heat.

“Oh fuck, yes,” he moans, building up a rhythm. Hard and fast and deep, hips pistoning quick, him and Cas moving together and making the bed creak, making the headboard scrape against the wall.

Cas is grappling for purchase, hands fisting the cheap sheets, roaming all along Dean’s back, his ass, his hair. When Dean finds his prostate again he thrashes, panting hard, head tossed back against the pillow. Dean leans down and scrapes his teeth along the exposed, elegant line of Castiel’s neck. Kisses and licks his collar bone as he fucks him hard through it.

Cas’ eyes shut tight and Dean watches him, watches him come undone, feels Castiel clench and come hard, untouched, unexpected, spilling between them.

“Cas, oh fuck, yeah, that’s it,” He says, slamming in harder, growing desperate.

His hips stutter and his rhythm falters and Cas slowly comes back from his orgasm underneath him.

“Dean,” Cas whispers, hands coming up to touch at his temple, to brush through his sweaty hair, to curl around Dean’s shoulders and bring him closer, to bring their foreheads together and Dean’s reminded of that first time. Of taking it slow and careful and guiding Cas through it, only now it’s Cas doing the same for him.

“Cas,” he whines, fucking into him fast, orgasm building and building but never quite reaching it’s crescendo.

Dean drops his forehead to Castiel’s shoulder, buries his face in the crook and Cas keeps saying his name, saying it like it’s a revelation, like it’s something sacred; like Dean’s something worth fighting for, something to be loved.

And they will never say it to each other in words, but yeah, maybe it’s true. Maybe here, like this, in this bed, in this motel room, this is how they can say it.

Cas fits his hand around the mark on Dean’s shoulder, fingers locking into place as he presses his grace into him. It bursts warm and bright along his spine, behind his eyelids, and it’s like something inside locks into place and Dean comes with a sob. He shoves deep and holds on, shaking as he comes and comes and comes, shooting every last drop of himself inside, orgasm washing over him in intense never ending waves.

Probably the best goddamn orgasm of his life. Jesus.

Together they catch their breaths in a pleasant silence, because wow. Wow.

Give him ten minutes; they’re definitely doing that again.

--

Afterwards, Dean’s dozing. Cas’ head is pillowed on his shoulder, and Dean’s hand fits easily on the small of his back, fingers mindlessly walking along the dip in his spine. And whatever, fine, it’s cuddling – a comfort he’d gotten used to with Lisa, but with Cas is somehow made better.

He’s overheated and cramped, muscle’s aching dully. It’d be sticky and disgusting, skin tacky with drying sweat and come, but luckily Cas’ mojo comes with complimentary cleaning services. The twinge in his knee is acting up; he’s not old by far, but definitely not young enough to be up all night fucking in increasingly complicated positions.

Cas shifts next to him, and man is he ever a sight. His hair rightfully sex tousled, pale skin marred with purpling bruises the exact perfect shape of Dean’s own mouth. He gave an angel a hickey. He grins proudly to himself.

“Dean,” Castiel says into the quiet.

“Yeah?”

“I killed my brothers yesterday,” Cas confesses bluntly and the sadness in his tone resonates, killing Dean’s post-coital buzz.

“Jesus,” Dean breathes, because what the hell else can he say?

Instead of spluttering through some shitty ‘my condolences’ speech, he splays a protective hand along Cas’ back. Dean let’s Castiel talk, it’s long been time for him to listen.

“It is not that,” Cas starts again slowly, “not that I have not killed before, but these were members of my old garrison and I suppose in human terms we – we grew up together in a sense. I was sad for it, but killing them - There was no other way.”

“Cas,” Dean tries, but all he can do is listen pathetically to the click of his own throat as he swallows.

Cas looks across the room, eyes focused on the doorway, Dean looks down at him, heart filled up with Castiel’s sorrow.

“Is this what I have become?” Castiel says with defeat, “No better than those before me, spilling blood instead of bringing peace.”

“Hey!” Dean nearly shouts, grabs Cas’ chin and forces him to look up, see the conviction burning bright in his eyes, “You're better than those dicks! So much better, so don’t you talk like that, Cas, don’t you dare!”

Castiel finally looks at him then, something like shame written there on his face and it fucking breaks Dean’s heart.

“Weren’t you the one that kicked my ass when I started giving up the last time? Because you may be all Man Of Steel underneath that nerdy little get-up you’re sporting, but I sure as hell can find a way to kick some sense into you myself. You can’t give up, man. Not now. Not after everything.”

Cas tries to look away again, but Dean holds him there, hand on his face. He can’t stop Castiel from averting his eyes though, and Dean watches him as he stares at a spot behind Dean’s ear.

“It is hard Dean, and I am tired.”

“Then let me share the goddamn load every once in a while, it’s what I’m fucking here for, you ass.”

“Is it?” Cas looks back at him then, up and into him. Eyes big and bright and searching.

Somehow Dean realizes that this conversation is more than just what it seems. It’s Dean saying that’s he’s sorry, that he’s willing to give them – whatever they are – a shot, that he’s all in if Cas is too.

So he better well say the right fucking thing for once.

“Yes,“ Dean says.

Castiel smiles a little, as much as he can manage in the midst of all his grief and Dean has to kiss him then, soft and sure and deep.

A knock on the door pulls them apart, Dean pushes himself up on his elbows to peer through the fogged up window. Even through the haze and the curtains, he recognizes the silhouette of his behemoth little brother.

“Seriously you guys,” whines Sam, disbelief lacing his slightly muffled voice, “I’m happy you’ve worked things out, but it’s fucking cold out here...”

Dean untangles himself from Castiel and the sheets, almost falling on his face. He finds his discarded briefs and somehow manages to pull them on, tugs his shirt over his head as a courtesy before padding across the carpet barefoot to open the door. He sticks his head out the crack and thinks hey rain stopped, before shooting Sam the smirk of a man thoroughly laid.

“Been waitin’ long Sammy?”

Of course Sam just makes the ‘my delicate sensibilities have been offended’ noise along with the winning eye-roll-pointed-disapproving-look combination.

“The Impala’s locked,” Sam starts, listing his hardships off with his fingers, “you have the keys, my wallet’s in my other hoodie, in my duffle, in the room, and it’s freaking 4 in the morning. I’ve been out here four hours Dean. Four.”

Dean looks back at Cas, propping himself up in the bed, swinging his legs around to stand and actually look for his clothes. It freaks Dean the hell out whenever he just whammies himself clothed again. That, and he never gets to enjoy the show as Cas pulls his pants up over that perfect ass.

“Four hours,” he smirks, “new record.”

“Ugh!” Sam groans, “You fucking owe me. You owe me, so many, many, things Dean.”

“What?” Dean turns back to the door, opening it fully once he deems Castiel decent enough not to scar Sam’s virgin eyes.

“Weren’t you the one being all supportive earlier? ‘Talk to Cas Dean!’,” he mimics, “Cuz,” he smiles, “we talked. We talked all right. Hell, we even kissed and made up. A few times actually.”

“Many, many things.” Sam repeats, recoiling at Dean’s lecherous grin. He brushes past Dean and into the room, escaping towards the bathroom and locking the door behind him.

Dean shakes his head, triumphant at the simple accomplishment of mortifying Sammy.

Castiel is dressed now, standing at the foot of the bed, composed and poised once more. Though Dean can see a rather large hickey peeking out over the collar of his shirt.

Awesome.

“I should be returning, my Lieutenants must be wondering why I have been gone for so long.”

“Lieutenants huh? So you’re some hotshot General up there, hey? That’s hot.” Dean says, stepping over and grabbing the collar of Cas’ trademark trench.

“Yes,” says Cas before he grabs the back of Dean’s neck and kisses him once again, this time hot and dirty and, fuck, where did he learn to do that with his tongue?

“I must really be leaving now Dean.”

“Just tell ‘em you had a hot date with The Dean Winchester. I’m sure they’ll understand. I mean, I have been known to rock a few worlds now and again. Loss of time is merely a side effect of my awesome sexual genius.”

Cas’ lips twitch up once again into that shade of a smile, and he presses an uncomfortably tender kiss to Dean’s forehead before he’s gone.

"Bye Cas," he says into the quiet, empty room.

He only hopes Cas’ next visit ashore comes sooner rather than later. Comes under better circumstances. He smiles wistfully and turns back towards the bed.

Dean’s peeling his t-shirt off again, settling back into the sheets that still smell a little like Cas, like ozone and earth and something else he can’t put his finger on, when Sam says tentative, voice childishly small from the bathroom,

“Can I come out now?”

Dean laughs.

end.

started thinking about the rest of my life |R| jsquared.

2009-04-08T07:51:50Z

[started thinking about the rest of my life]
Jared/Jensen, R, 5,700 words.
Warning: Yes, this is wedding!fic. Entirely self-indulgent.
Disclaimer: No harm intended. Jensen and Jared obviously belong to themselves, or each other. This remains unclear.

A/N: This has been sitting on my computer ever since like, that schmoop comment meme thinger a few weeks back. I thought maybe I should share it. *shoves hands in her pockets and shrugs*

---------

So Jared had this plan, and as far as plans go, it held it’s own against the Real Doll Incident of ’07. And that was a freakin’ spectacular plan if Jared does say so. Anything involving Kripke, 247 toothpicks, silly putty and an inflatable bra was bound to make the history books. But anyways, this was better.

Beyond better.

Actually it wasn’t even in the same realm as beyond better.

It was-

“Do you wanna get married?”

Great. The plan was ruined. And it was going to have something to do with violins, and cookie scented candles, and champagne. And a sparkling diamond ring in said glass of champagne. But then again, would Jensen actually wear diamonds? That’s the real question. He didn’t seem very down with the bling.

“Uh, come again?” Jensen gaped, mouth hanging open around a mouthful of taco bell. There was a piece of greasy lettuce caught between his teeth. It was gross.

“You. Me. Married. Wanna do it?” Jared shrugged biting into his Chalupa Supreme. He’d already said it, no turning back now. Padaleckis never quit.

Jensen just blinked at him, wiping at the corner of his lips with a cheap paper napkin.

“You’re asking me to marry you?”

“I fink thas wha I said yeash,” Jared said, obnoxious chewing sounds aside.

"You're asking me to marry you, in a Taco Bell?”

“Mhmmm.”

Jared licked the taco grease off his fingers and nodded.

“Really?” Jensen quirked his eyebrow, in that funny way of his that always made Jared smile.

“Yup,” said Jared, slurping from his large sized coke, “You gonna answer or what? I’m kinda hanging on your every word here. You know it being the second most important question a man ever has to ask and all.”

“What’s the first?”

“Wanna fuck?”

“Yeah, that one is important.” Jensen agreed.

“Well? Do you wanna get married or not?”

“Uh... no?”

Jared paused in balling up his empty wrapper. Scoring a trash-basket from across the Taco Bell didn’t seem like such a big feat any more.

“No?” Jared repeated, tilting his head. Why wouldn’t Jensen want to marry him? Jared was a catch damnit! Lots of people wanted to marry him! He paid for dinner and everything like a gentleman! Also he put out like, all the time.

“What did you expect? Me to get all teary eyed and have my way with you in the booth? Dude. It smells like deep fryer in here. “

Memo to brain: Next time stick with the plan. Improvising is bad.

“Would you prefer diamonds? Because I can do diamonds. I can do the hell out of diamonds.” Jared nodded.

Jensen just rolled his eyes and pushed out of the booth.

“Ask me again when there isn’t a threat of toxic Padalecki fart looming in the air.”

---

So this time he went with the plan. And it was an awesome plan. If awesome and amazing and brilliant somehow all met and had a three way? This plan would be the bastard love child of that joining.

Jensen was out at some meeting with an agent or a publicist or someone else really big and important for the afternoon, which gave Jared plenty of time to set up the cookie scented candles, scatter the rose petals all over the living room, and place the shiny silver band into the bottom of the champagne glass.

Oh yes, this time, it was going to work.

With his amazingly awesome sense of hearing, Jared caught the sound of Jensen’s key turning in the lock. He bounded towards the door, greeting Jensen with a smiling face.

“Why are you dressed like that?” Jensen blurted out, obviously admiring Jared’s fancy digs: an expensive looking suit coat with actual coat tails paired over ugly cargo shorts.

“You like?”

“Whatever makes you happy honey,” Jensen said toeing off his boots and pushing past him in the hallway and heading towards the kitchen, “We got any beer left?”

Jared grabbed his shoulders, steering him towards the living room.

“Uh, no I drank the last one.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

“No I –“ Jensen started, stopping when he caught sight of the living room.

“Surprise!” Jared shouted excitedly.

“It smells like the Pillsbury dough boy offed himself in here.” Jensen deadpanned.

“It’s the candles.”

Jensen pinched the bridge of his nose. “I really need a beer right now.”

“Here, have some champagne! It’s better! And uh, classier!”

Jared handed over the flute with the ring gleaming at the bottom, smiling eagerly at him and winking.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you again-“

Jensen knocked back the entire glass of champagne. Ring included.

“- Will you marry me?”

---

Six hours spent in the emergency room later, Jared flopped face first down onto their bed. Jensen lay down on the left side gingerly.

It was quiet a while, and Jared had thought Jensen had passed out from trauma-induced exhaustion.

“Why do you want to get married so friggin’ badly Jay?”

Apparently not.

Jared just shrugged his shoulders.

“Just do.”

“Well that’s romantic.”

“I tried to be romantic, but you ate it.”

“Too soon.” Jensen cringed.

Turning over to face his boyfriend, Jared propped his head up on his elbow, “I want to get married, because you know, I love you and stuff. Do you want the mushy speech where I wax fruity poetics about you or can we skip that part?”

“I vote for the fruity poetry.”

“Fine,” Jared cleared his throat, ”Oh Jensen, roses are red, violets are blue, you give awesome head and … something that rhymes with blue.”

“That was really lovely.”

“I know, I’m awesome.”

“Awesome with a capital ‘R’ maybe.” Jensen snorted.

“That’s mean.”

“I’m mean.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Yeah, but you want to marry this asshole.”

Jared smiled slowly, “I kinda do.”

Jensen sighed heavily, almost like admitting defeat, “Fine.”

“Fine?” Jared quirked his eyebrow curiously.

“Fine, yes I’ll marry you!”

The bed frame jumped as Jared tackled Jensen into the pillows, his smile so huge and happy it actually hurt, pleasant sting in the apples of his cheeks. Jared pressed sloppy kisses and muffled laughter along Jensen’s jaw, humming happily when he felt a slow caress across the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair.

“Just so we’re clear I’m not wearing the ass ring.”

“I knew it had too much ice for your tastes-“

Jensen muffled the rest of that sentence with a kiss.

---

Jared called his Momma the next day.

“Oh sweetie! This is wonderful news! That boy’s a real catch.”

“I’m not a catch?”

“Now that’s not what I meant baby, why you gotta twist my words around like that?”

“Well you implied-“

“Hush, I did nothing of the sort. Now, tell me, which one of you’ll be wearing white? It’d look nice against your tan.”

Jared groaned into the phone.

Twenty minutes later he dropped down on the couch next to Jensen.

“My mom is evil,” he groaned, dropping his head against Jensen’s. Jared felt the reassuring weight of a hand on his thigh, stroking back and forth, comforting and warm.

“How’d it go telling your ‘rents?”

“Mom said it was about time and hung up.”

Jared stole the beer from Jensen’s fingertips, taking a long pull.

“I hate you.”

---

Spreading the word on set didn’t take much beyond informing Kripke. The man was a worse gossip than both their Momma’s. Combined.

“So, we’re getting married.”

“Uh huh, sure you are.”

“No, like for real.”

“Sure guys,” Kripke scoffed thumbing through some loose papers on his desk, “And my hairline isn’t receding.”

“We’re serious.”

Kripke arched an eyebrow at him, “Serious like the time you guys managed to convince me that Power Rangers blanket was actually an invisibility cloak and I went around wearing it all day and every one pretended they couldn’t see me, or serious like the time Jared wanted to hire Zac Efron as his personal dance coach?”

Jared snorted in a fit of nostalgia, “Man it’s funny how seriously you take Harry Potter.”

“Don’t joke about Harry Potter.” Kripke pointed at him warningly.

What was that thing about crazy going hand in hand with genius?

“Well I don’t joke about Zac Efron. That kid’s got sweet moves.”

Jensen elbowed him, Jared continued.

“I also don’t joke about wanting to gay marry Jensen. It’s a very serious matter.”

“Very.” Jensen chimed.

Kripke still didn’t look like he bought it. He just leaned back in his back supportive office chair, eyeing them in that creepy way of his, very seriously staring between the two of them as if trying to read their minds. It made Jared fidgety.

Finally after several awkward minutes of mutual staring, Kripke got up and clapped them both on the shoulder with a smile, “Somewhere out there, several thousand fangirls are spontaneously squealing in delight.”

Jared hoped he didn’t tell the fangirls. Knowing Kripke, that little bastard, he probably would.

Jared still wasn’t sorry about the ‘Invisibility Cloak Fiasco of ‘08’. Even when the internet imploded a few days later with the news of the engagement.

---

The last thing Jared expected was for Jensen to get all hard-core serious about this marriage thing. He hired a wedding planner for God’s sake. Her name was Vanessa.

What kind of name was that anyways?

“Have you guys considered booking a venue yet? It’s much easier to put all the little details together after a venue has been selected. I brought a couple brochures from some popular locations.”

Jared reached out and grabbed the thick binder Vanessa pulled out of her bag, flipping through it with his ‘I am very much interested in the task at hand’ face. Most of it was boring crap about reception halls, and butterfly gardens, and gazebos, and you know, boring crap.

Jensen seemed into it though, talking with Vanessa over the pros and cons of chocolate fountains and out door something or others. Jared wasn’t paying attention.

“Oh hey! Let’s get married here!” He pointed excitedly to a couple riding a rollercoaster. The bride’s veil was flying everywhere and the groom was screaming like a girl. It looked awesome.

Jensen and Vanessa leaned over to look at the binder, both breaking out into little bouts of laughter. Shaking their heads, they turned back to their conversation.

“I think it’s cool.” Jared said to himself lamely.

---

“Dude, I don’t like that wedding planner. Her hair’s really… frizzy.” Jared complained getting into bed that evening.

“You’re just mad because we vetoed your rollercoaster-mini golf-scuba diving-adventure wedding idea.”

Jensen came out of the bathroom, looking adorable and ready for bed. Flannel pajama pants low on his hips, contacts gone and glasses perched comfortably on his nose. Yeah, Jared could get used to seeing that every night for forever.

“How is that not awesome? Tell me?”

Jensen leaned across the bed, holding himself over Jared, “If you wanna get married, we’re doin’ it right.”

He pressed a lingering kiss to his lips, but that didn’t stop Jared from pouting.

“Yeah, but I get a say too. You and Vanessa can’t be all: ‘Oh Jared, you’re so silly! Of course we can’t have jell-o shots and strobe lights at the reception! What are you thinking?’”

“Is that voice you’re making supposed to be me?” Jensen asked.

“Actually it was a combination of the both of you. How was it?”

“Really, really not right.”

“Whatever, you sound like that to me.”

Frowning, Jensen settled down between the sheets next to him, “If I give you a blowjob and say we can have jell-o shots at the reception will you stop pouting?”

“Two blowjobs, lime green jell-o shots, and you let me pick the honeymoon.” Jared retorted, rebellious glint in his eye.

“Deal.”

Jared caught the flash of Jensen’s grin before he disappeared under the sheet.

---

Jensen and Vanessa had narrowed down the search for a venue to three places: An old Church in Richmond that had these amazing stain glassed windows Jensen was practically jizzing himself over, a rustic ski lodge up in Whistler that included a complimentary pair of lift tickets for the slopes, and some park somewhere with a view of the bay and a gazebo.

Couldn’t leave out the gazebo.

Honestly? Jared didn’t care where they got married. They were totally going on the Lord of the Rings adventure tour for their honeymoon. All he had to do now was nod and grunt every once in a while to let them know he was alive.

“You like it?” Jensen said into his ear.

“Mmhmmm, yeah it’s awesome.” Jared said on automatic, not quite sure where they were any more. Jensen and Vanessa had dragged him around all afternoon, looking at samples and picking out patterns and whatever else.

Jensen opened his mouth about to say something, opting to thread his fingers with Jared’s and drag him away from the tour of the park. Yeah, he thinks that’s where they are.

“Jared, man, you know you do get a say right? It’s your wedding too. Our wedding. I-“ he looked down, “Here,” He led Jared towards the big wooden gazebo, flowered vines entwined in the old wooden slats.

Jared nearly stumbled up the couple steps, Jensen pulling him up to stand in the entry way and look out at the field.

“See there’s where all the guests will sit, some nice wooden lawn chairs. Your Momma’s sitting right over there,” he pointed over to the right with a small smile, “And there’s the band over there, nothing fancy, maybe a banjo, a couple guitars, Uhm.”

Jared watched Jensen pivot, turning to look behind them, “The minister’s standing here, and Chad behind you, because fuck knows why you’d ask that douche to be your best man.”

Jared laughed.

“And uh, there’s me, right here like uh,” he stepped closer, taking Jared’s hands in his a little awkwardly, “like this.”

Jared rubbed his thumbs across the backs of Jensen’s wrists, enjoying the moment.

“Well? Can you picture it?” Jensen asked nervously.

“You’re adorable.” He said fondly.

“You know, that was a really good moment and you ruined it, you assface. “ Jensen started to pull away, frown lines creased into his forehead. But Jared wouldn’t let him go. Instead he just pulled him in, kissing the pout off his stupidly amazing lips.

“The only thing I have to complain about is the gazebo. Everything else – everything else you said sounded pretty perfect.”

“Jared,” Jensen smiled, eyes crinkling around the corners, “there’s always a gazebo.”

---

“I figured you should have this.” Jared said plainly, tossing the little black velvet jewelers box at Jensen. It bounced off his head and landed on the carpet.

Jensen picked it up and opened it with a curious arch of his eyebrow, eyeing the simple silver ring inside. Identical to the one they had to pump his stomach for.

“You really suck at this proposal thing you know. I have no idea how I agreed to this before.” Jensen says with an exasperation that’s as fake as his smile is real and bright.

“Because I make you swoon like a girl on a regular basis?”

Jensen snorted.

But when Jared went down on one knee and re-proposed to him proper, sliding the ring onto his finger where it belonged?

Jensen may have swooned just a little bit.

Jared may have teased him about it a lot.

---

“Donna and Alan Ackles request your presence for the marriage of their daughter Jen- Ow!” Jared rubbed the spot where Jensen’s fist had collided with his arm. Hard.

“Domestic Abuse! Domestic Abuse!”

“That’s not even funny.”

“It is a little.”

“No, no it’s really not.”

“Okay fine, how ‘bout this one?” Jared cleared his throat, “Come celebrate the joining of Jensen Ross to Mr. Jared T. Padalecki-“

“Why am I the girl?”

Jared smirked, poking his tongue out between his teeth playfully as he tossed the sample invite at Jensen’s head.

“You’ve got girly hips.” Jared said simply, like it was completely obvious.

“You use kiwi strawberry shampoo.” Jensen retorted easily, determination and challenge set in his gaze.

“Eyelashes.”

“Cherry chap stick.”

“Danielle Steel novel collection.”

“You swore you’d never talk about that!”

“Uh, yeah, I lied.”

Jared smirked, seriously enjoying the horrifyingly embarrassed look on Jensen’s face. When Jensen tackled him to the floor, pinning his arms behind his head in a move that was actually pretty impressive, Jared most definitely did not squeak.

“Ow, get off me fucker!”

“You didn’t say please.” Jensen said, the smirk evident in his voice.

“I’ll never say please!” Jared wiggled against the hold, against the weight of Jensen sitting on his back. He could totally get out of it if he tried, but he figured Jensen could use the confidence boost. Honest.

“You just did.”

Jensen eased up on his grip.

“Okay okay, how about this,” Jared pushed Jensen away and sat up on his knees, “We’re getting married!” he continued, “and then I’m thinking about some clip-art, you know, hearts and naked angel babies. Our faces photoshopped on the naked angel babies.”

“That’s frightening.”

“What? No it’s not. I can make samples! I bet you’d look really cute as a cherub.”

“You’re sick.”

---

“I’m not eating that.”

“Jared,” Jensen said low, voice a threatening whisper, a warning behind a calm expression. The Husband voice. The one that meant ‘don’t embarrass me or so help me God.’ He was really getting good at it, Jared thought idly. They weren’t even married yet. Imagine what it’d be like after the fact.

“No. It looks like… like something not food.” He’d answered rather eloquently.

Jensen just gave him that glare. The one he’d learned not to challenge, otherwise bad things would happen.

With a pout he popped the sample hors d’oeuvre into his mouth, eyes closed tightly and chewing as fast as possible. It tasted like old sock. And it was chewy. Probably best if he didn’t know what he was eating then.

Apparently a good ol’ barbecue wasn’t in the cards for this wedding of theirs. Jensen wanted a fancy catering service. Jensen wanted food on the menu with names Jared wasn’t even going to try and pronounce.

“That wasn’t so bad now was it?” Jensen asked him, his smile a mixture of cocky amusement.

“Actually, it was worse than bad.”

The guy Jared is assuming was the Chef huffed with outrage. Vanessa the wedding planner was trying to bite back her amusement. Jared just shrugged sheepishly.

Jensen rolled his eyes and grabbed his hand, “Cocktail weenies and pretzels it is.”

“And jell-o shots.”

“And jell-o shots.” Jensen echoed with defeated exasperation.

Jared beamed.

---

“If I was going to have a personalized mailbox made-“

Jensen interrupted him, “Why would you do something as God awful as that?”

Jared started again, glaring at him, “If I was going to have a personalized mail box made, would it say ‘Mr. And Mr. Padalecki’, or just ‘The Padaleckis’?

Jensen stared at him in horror, “I’m keeping my own name.”

“Well aren’t you the little progressive woman.”

Jensen just flipped him off.

“So no to the personalized mailbox then?”

---

“Bitch why do you have to be getting gay married? Do you know how hard this shit is on me? There’s no way in fuck I’m getting a dude stripper for the bachelor party man.” Chad complained over speakerphone.

Jared was too busy making out with Jensen on the couch to care. He just wanted to get Jensen to make that noise again. The little needy choked off moan, Mmmmm yeah that one.

“You’re mackin’ on your boy with me on speaker aren’t you? That’s the sort of shit I mean, dude. Gross.” Jared could practically hear the face he was making over the line.

Jensen was the one to pull off with a laugh. Jared kissed the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes, playfully groping and squeezing at him as he squirmed away.

“No strippers.” Jensen said eyes a light and trained on Jared’s.

“You’re paying for my therapy Ackles.”

---

“Mmmm, you still gonna, oh Christ, gonna wanna do this when we’re married?”

Jensen looked up at him, smirking obscenely around Jared’s cock in his mouth. He tongued the head, one slow lick before resting his chin on Jared’s hip.

Jensen hummed thoughtfully and licked at his spit shiny lips. God. What Jared wouldn’t give to have them stretched back over his dick, still hard and leaking against his belly.

“What, suck your dick?” Jensen asked after a few thoughtful moments.

“Mmm,” Jared said, reaching down to lazily pull at his cock.

Jensen smiled, pressing a chaste kiss to the sharp jut of his hipbone and licking down along the inside of his thigh. Jared was taking the way Jensen screwed his lips back down tight, sucking him into the delicious hot heat of his mouth and fucking deep-throating him as a very enthusiastic yes.

This married thing was definitely one of Jared’s most awesome ideas.

---

If there was one thing Jared liked about this wedding planning business, it was the little scanner gun the sales associate gave him at Bed, Bath & Beyond when him and Jensen were choosing the gifts for the registry. That was probably a bad idea on her part.

“Stop scanning my ass,” Jensen said not looking up from the cream colored set of bath and hand towels he was eyeing. Honestly? The way he was rubbing his hands over the soft cotton was making Jared kind of horny.

“N’aww.” Jared kept clicking the button, hoping ‘1 Ass, Jensen Ackles.’ would magically pop up on the gift list under his name. He snickered thinking about how that would scandalize his Aunt Sally.

“Your ass is the only thing I want, baby.”

“Did you seriously just say that?”

“Yup.”

“You’re going to have to try harder than that Casanova.”

Jared sighed, “I can’t wait until we’re married, all I’ll have to do is say ‘Wanna do it?’ and you’ll give it up. Actually,” he tapped his chin with the scanner gun, then burst out in a teasing grin, “you already do that.”

“See if I ever give 'it' up again.”

“Once we’re married, you’ll have to.”

“Go pick out a new coffee maker.” Jensen said annoyed, shooing him away as he moved to look at throw pillows.

And really it was Jensen’s fault when weeks later their collection of gifts included but was not limited to:

• One twin sized set of Sponge Bob Squarepants bed sheets.
• Porcelain kitten shaped salt and pepper shakers.
• Six High School Musical sparkly placemats.
• One Football shaped beanbag chair.
• A Giant Lava Lamp.

And:

• One revolving tie rack. With a light!

Jared really shouldn’t have been left alone.

---

Jared’s parents and baby sister came up to Vancouver on a Saturday, a week before the wedding. Jensen’s parents were coming up a few days later.

“Hey butthead,” Megan greeted him, punching him affectionately on the arm.

“Right back at ya assmunch.” Jared retorted reaching out to mess up her hair.

“Don’t touch me.” She laughed flattening out her do.

His Momma frowned still not able to understand the ways they said ‘I love you’ in that language only siblings really understood. Daddy just smiled warmly and patted him on the back.

“Where’s Jensen?” prodded his Momma as Jared shoved the last of their luggage into the back of the truck.

“Double checking flower arrangements. I got banned from wedding related activities when I suggested we get our wedding cake from Dairy Queen.”

“I bet you probably drove that poor boy up the wall, didn’t you?” She laughed climbing into the front seat, Megan and Daddy already buckled up in the backseat.

“They can do this thing where you give them a picture and they put your face on it. On ice cream cake!”

“Even I know that’s tacky.” His Daddy offered.

Jared pouted.

They all met for dinner that night, Jensen charming the pants off his Momma, bonding with his Dad, and flirting with his sister.

“I wanna make good impressions with the in-laws.” He’d said earlier.

“They already love you more than me.”

Jensen paused, considering this for a minute, “It’s cuz I’m prettier.”

“Yeah,” Jared didn’t mean to smile as he shoved at him,” you wish.”

---

Getting kidnapped was definitely not something included in a tux fitting. Maybe it was a new addition to the process, but mostly Jared thought it had something to do with Chad being a douche. Or maybe international terrorists. There wasn’t much of a difference.

He thinks he probably should have saw this coming as he knocks around in the back of a car, hands tied behind his back and blindfolded. The door opened and another body stumbled against his, not before shouting some very colorful insults to their assailants.

“Jen?”

“Who else would it be, dumbass!”

Jared shrugged, or well tried to with his hands twisted behind his back. Not that Jensen could see it anyways. The fuckers probably got him blindfolded too.

Next thing Jared knew he was being manhandled and shoved around into some place that smelled like hooker perfume and stale beer. Not that he knew what a hooker’s perfume smelled like. Or anything.

“Gotcha bitches!”

Yup, that was Chad all right.

He was actually kind of hoping for the international terrorists. It’s kind of too bad really.

Chad pulled the blindfold down off Jared’s face and the room came into view. It was some skeezy club, hazy and smoke filled even in the middle of the afternoon. It seemed like everyone and their cousin was somehow jam packed into the tiny place.

“It smells like strippers.” Jensen complained next to him, hands still tied behind his back.

“Pfft, like you’d know what a stripper smelled like.” Jared said.

“Like Chad’s Mom.” Jensen retorted with a smart grin.

“Hey, she only stripped on Sundays.”

Only Chad, Jared thought with a fond smile.

“What do you say we get these poor bastards some shots?!”

---

What Jared remembers about his bachelor party:

• Getting drunk well before 3 o’clock in the afternoon.
• Staying drunk until 3 o’clock in the afternoon. The next day.
• Trying to give Jensen head in the bathroom stall, but being too drunk to remember how.
• Chris giving him the ‘You hurt Jennyboy and I’ll kick your pretty ass into outer space’ speech for the third time.

What Jared doesn’t remember about his bachelor party:

• Rosenbaum drawing a giant dick on his cheek.
• Challenging Misha to an impromptu yoga off.
• Misha kicking his ass in said impromptu yoga off.
• Jesse McCartney Karaoke! Also known as: Jensen and his Beautiful Soul.

---

“Jensen?” Jared whispered, poking at Jensen’s side. Jared knew he wasn’t sleeping. They were both too nervous, both too excited.

Jensen cracked open an eye and stared at him in the moonlight dark of their bedroom. He was lying on his stomach, arms folded underneath the pillow, hair plastered every which way from tossing around pretending to sleep.

Jared curled his calf around Jensen’s and slid a palm up the warm skin of his naked back. God, only hours left until Jensen was his.

“You awake?” he asked even though he knew the answer.

Jensen grunted in response, “I am now.”

“Liar,” Jared smiled leaning down to whisper against his ear, to feel Jensen shiver, ”You’ve been awake this whole time.”

“Mmmm, the sooner you sleep, the sooner,” Jensen’s breath hitched as Jared trailed his hand down to cup the curve of his ass, “the sooner tomorrow will be here.”

“Don’t wanna sleep.” He pressed a kiss to a shoulder blade, licking down the line of his back and stopping to slip the sheet down past his thighs. He pressed a chaste kiss to the dimples of his spine.

Jensen just pushed his ass back urgently when Jared spread him open, teasing and licking and sucking at him, easily fucking in with his tongue from when they fucked earlier in the shower fast and anxious.

“Jared,” Jensen panted, curling toes and fists into the fabric of the bedspread.

Later, he’d make Jensen come on just his tongue. Later when they were some place warm and halfway across the world. Later they’d do something sweet and slow, like making love.

“You wanna fuck?” Jensen looked over his shoulder at him cheeks flushed pink with equal parts embarrassment and arousal.

Jared curled his lips up into a grin, using spit and precome to push into him deep, fuck him rough and hard like he knows Jensen loves.

“My favorite question.”

---

Everything before the moment they stood in front of everyone, God, some guy from TMZ, and maybe a few stray fangirls (but that was just Jared being paranoid) to declare their big gay love for each other, seemed like a blur.

Standing underneath that ridiculous gazebo with the flowered vines, Jensen standing across from him looking every bit as fucking gorgeous as ever in his charcoal tux, Kripke actually freakin’ crying in his second row seat, will always be a crystal clear memory.

---

Jared grinned dopily as Jensen’s thumb brushed back and forth across the new ring that would be like Jared’s second skin for now until forever.

“I now pronounce you lawfully wed, you may-“

Jared swooped down and laid a big long wet one on his new husband -God, that sounded really, really awesome – before the minister could finish.

“Kiss the groom.”

If it took a good five minutes to pull them apart long enough to sign the marriage license, well that’s neither here nor there.

---

Putting up with Jensen’s spastic planning for the past couple months actually turned out to be worth it when it came to the reception. Everything was totally awesome. From the tastefully (manly) décor, to the mouthwatering food, to the endless lime green jell-o shots, the reception was beyond anything Jared could have imagined.

“Wow honey,” said his Momma in awe, “Jensen really out did himself.”

“I helped.” He said petulantly.

His Momma laughed and patted him on the chest, “Sure you did.”

For some reason he didn’t think telling his Mom the jell-o shots were his idea was gonna earn him any brownie points. So he just shrugged and made the rounds, schmoozing with the guests.

He hung out with the In-Laws, getting along with Jensen’s family like a house on fire. Jared secretly thought Jensen’s Dad thought he was totally awesome. But Jared thinks if his own Momma has a crush on his husband, it’s only fair to suck up to his husband’s Daddy.

He played stupid drinking games with his brother and Chad and Tom and Mike, he danced with his little sister and told embarrassing stories about Jensen to Katie for her last jell-o shot.

When it was time to cut the cake, the one with the little hot wheels Impala on the top, Jared fed Jensen some, trying not to get too turned on by the way he licked the chocolate frosting off his fingers.

But Jared trying not to get turned on by Jensen was like asking the sun not to shine.

No one seemed to notice when they disappeared for a half an hour, coming back disheveled and satisfied, big stupid grins on their faces. Jared will always remember that their first time together as a married couple was in the bathroom at their wedding reception, no matter how many times Jensen will remind him that blowjobs don’t count.

---

“Don’t suppose I hafta tell you this again do I?” Chris said gruffly from where they were standing together off to the side watching Jensen dance with his sister. Jared smiled fondly. Jensen was a crap dancer.

Pulling off his beer he turned, “Well no, you don’t have to, but I get the feeling you will anyways.”

“Kid, don’t get smart with me, I like you, I do but-“

Jared grinned finishing his sentence, “- don’t think you won’t kick my pretty ass into outer space if I so much as hurt Jensen’s delicate feelings?”

Chris blinked.

Jared looked back over at Jensen laughing and caught his eye, big huge smile blooming on his face, “I don’t think you have to worry.”

Instead of making some smartass comment about his upbringing, something surprising happened. Chris just gave his shoulder a short squeeze and said, “I don’t think so either.”

And then he shoved Jared out into the dance floor.

“Can I cut in?”

“Sure,” Mackenzie said kissing Jensen on the cheek and bowing out, “only because watching you two idiots try and dance together is bound to be all kinds of hilarious.”

“She’s probably got a point,” Jared said taking Jensen’s hand and pulling him close trying to figure out where exactly to put his hands, “You suck at dancing.”

“Yeah, well your not so awesome yourself.”

“Well, if Zac Efron was my dance coach we wouldn’t be having this problem.”

The high-pitched clank of forks hitting glasses echoed throughout the banquet hall, universal demand for ‘Kiss! Kiss!’

“Shut up.” Jensen said, all warm affection and smiles as he reached up and pressed their lips together sweetly, swaying to their own music.

---

“Did it seem like all that build up was kind of anti-climatic?”

“What? You having second thoughts?” Jensen asked him teasingly on the ride from the reception hall to the airport for the honeymoon, the both of them loose, sleepy, and so unbelievably happy, and best of all in love.

“Hate to break it to ya man,” he clapped Jared on the knee, hand heavy, warm and comforting through the fabric of Jared’s slacks.

“It’s kind of too late for that. You’re sorta stuck with me now.”

“Oh God. You mean that ‘for better or for worse’ stuff wasn’t just talk?”

“Smartass.” Jensen said before pulling him in by the lapels and kissing him soundly.

Jared sort of forgot what his point was. Jensen made him kind of stupid.

But only kind of.

[end].

I can't believe I wrote this. [Zac Efron/Taylor Swift RPF]

2009-03-23T23:36:27Z

[intentional or not, I don't think we saw it coming.]
Zac Efron/Taylor Swift, 1100 words, pg

For rawrs prompt of bubblegum, grass-stains, ~~scissors.~~

------

She first saw him on the red carpet. He was beautiful and bored, vacant eyes and practiced smile. Maybe to everyone else he looked ungrateful, posing for the endless flash and whir of the cameras, but to Taylor he looked trapped.

Lost inside layers of superficial Hollywood bubble wrap.

But then Joe came over, boundless ball of energetic ADD and she forgot what she was looking at.

---

She never had any difficulties adjusting to life in the limelight. It was what she always wanted anyways, so why try and fight it? She knew who she was, she knew what she wanted, no one was going to take that away from her.

Sure as hell not some pseudo ‘rock-star’ in skinny jeans who gave out promises of love as easy as he could take it away.

Taylor Swift was too good to let a Jonas Brother break her heart.

But she thought maybe he could. The boy with the vacant eyes.

If only she could figure him out.

---

Zac Efron talked to her on a warm Friday in February.

He had grass-stains on his artfully ripped in all the right places jeans, his hair was a little too long, hidden underneath a ratty old beanie, eyes behind the menacing black of his aviator shades. He looked real for once.

“You’re always watching me.” He’d pointed out matter-of-factly, twirling the keys to his expensive car between dexterous fingers.

“I’m sorry?” Taylor answered, confused from where she sat, having lunch at a street-side bistro. Her momma was inside getting more napkins.

“At those shitty excuses for award shows,” he licked his chapped lips, “you watch me.”

“I’m sorry, is it a crime to look at you?” she said back, frustrated and a little angry at his intrusion, “Should we all pay a toll to look at your million dollar face or something?”

Zac frowned, precarious wrinkle along his forehead, the corners of his lips turning downward. She didn’t know when she began to wonder if kissing him would make him smile.

“No, that’s not it at all.”

And then he walked back down the sidewalk.

Taylor replayed that conversation in her head all day.

---

The next time she saw him was at a gas station.

She was inside, flipping through the Tiger Beats for a laugh. Smirking at the shrines tweenage girls built up around these people in the glossy pages. She knew what they were all really like. If only they did too.

He came through the door, tell tale ding making her look up from Joe’s ugly smile in the magazine.

She didn’t bother hiding like he did in public, always lost in too big jeans and ugly hats and foreboding sunglasses, angry frown on his face so far different than that beautiful boy in the movies.

He walked down the aisle she was standing in, hovering around the displays of chewing gum like he couldn’t decide which flavor of mint to choose.

“You know the sugar-free stuff is up by the register,” She said offhandishly, turning to look at his back, “in case you’re scared of losing that boyish figure.”

He lifted the sunglasses off his nose, looking at her with crystalline eyes. Not vacant at all and too blue to be real really. It sort of knocked the wind out of her.

He reached over and grabbed a stick of Hubba Bubba, waving it around with a smirk.

“Think I’ll stick with this, thanks.” Zac said, turning to the register to pay for his gas.

Taylor followed him without hesitation.

“You always hang around in gas stations?” Zac asked her, sliding his American Express across the counter.

“My Mom’s getting gas,” she answered, pointing outside.

He looked over his shoulder and nodded.

“You spend a lot of time with your Mom?” he asked.

“Is that a problem for you?”

Taylor folded her arms over her chest, eyebrow arched defensively.

Zac smiled as he tucked his wallet back into his jeans. It might have been a real one too. He dug his nail into the wrapping of his bubblegum, pulling out a piece and unwrapping it, popping it into his upturned mouth. He pulled out another piece, handed it to her.

“See you around Taylor.”

She watched him drive away, sugary sweet taste of the chewing gum on her tongue.

---

She sat down and watched all his movies the next day. Wondering if he left behind any traces of himself in his characters. She scribbled down lyrics in her notebook. Would anyone recognize it was a song about Zac Efron?

She chewed on the end of her pen, thinking.

Probably not.

---

She spotted him at one of her concerts, lingering on the sidelines, hiding behind that same ratty old beanie.

She sang a little louder, played her guitar a little bit better, pretended she was singing for him.

But that was silly wasn’t it?

Afterwards, when she was out of her dress and into her t-shirt and jeans, he was still there.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend somewhere to annoy?”

“Nah,” Zac answered, “She’s not my girlfriend any more. Hasn’t been for a while.”

“So am I the substitute?”

“If that’s your way of asking me out,” he’d smiled, and yeah, that one was real. That little twitch of his lips, that was real. “It sort of sucked.” Zac finished.

Her heart beat a little louder at that.

“I don’t ask boys out,” Taylor smiled, “I’m sort of old fashioned that way.”

“You’re missing out then.” Zac replied easily, still smiling.

Looking at him, Taylor thought that all that Hollywood was scrubbed away. All the grime and make-up and persona, all that was wiped clean and what was left was just Zac.

“Do you,” she paused, she’d never done this before, boys had always been easy, but now she wasn’t so sure, “Do you want to go out sometime?”

Zac stepped forward, stepped closer, “That wasn’t so hard, right?”

Closer still, until she could count his ridiculously long eyelashes, feel his sweet breath on her cheek.

Taylor shook her head, shivered as his hand trailed up her arm.

“You gonna kiss me now or not?” She said frustrated, impatient with his slow grin.

“Yeah,” he laughed softly, cupping her face in his hand.

He pressed his lips to hers, chapped and cracked, but still so amazing. When he licked his way inside, they both tasted like bubblegum.

---

Weeks later, at the premier of Zac’s new movie, Taylor would look over at him. He’d look back at her with an easy grin, eyes a light.

He wouldn’t look so trapped anymore.

[end].

I seriously, can not believe I just wrote that. Emily, I must really love you.

If I'm the Secret, Does That Make You the Agent? [1/2].

2009-03-05T08:48:09Z

[If I'm the secret, does that make you the agent?]
Jared/Jensen. NC-17. 13,000 words.
Warning: spy!au, car chases, guns, hot nerdy boys?
Disclaimer: No harm intended. The wonderfully awesome tv show Chuck belongs to NBC, Chris Fedak and Josh Schwartz (♥). Jensen and Jared obviously belong to themselves, or each other. This remains unclear.
Summary: Jared works at the BuyMore. It used to be pretty boring. Now? He has to defend the country from assassins, terrorists, and shoplifters. And it's all Jensen Ackles' fault.

---

A/N 1: Special thanks to emoticonfail for practically commanding me to write this, otherwise you would! I just couldn't have that you know? And thanks to VAL ♥♥ rawkin_ur_sox for reading this over and telling me it didn't suck. ILU!

A/N 2: If you've seen Chuck before, heh, I kinda stole a lot of the dialogue and most of the plot. So you know. *hides* I just really wanted to see J2 in this situation. Anyways, I hope it's still enjoyable!

---

------

The sound of heavy gunfire echoed in the near distance as he led his squadron through the charred remains of fallen buildings.

“Scope the area. Anything moves shoot it dead.” He said into his headset, hearing his squad’s various approvals through the walkie.

Holding his rifle out in front of his body, he inched around the corner of a mostly in tact wall and checked for the all clear.

No enemy in sight.

“Alright, seems clear. Mayhem, cover me just in case.”

“Got it boss.”

Easing up slightly, he moved freely into the open, signaling the rest of his men to do the same. Suddenly, a piercing scream shattered through the calm and rapid thunderous gunfire began raining down from above.

He was quick to lift his rifle and grip the trigger, but not quick enough.

Everything went red.

GAME OVER.

Sighing heavily, Jared tossed his X-Box controller onto his desk and leaned back into his awesomely back supportive chair. 30 percent off at Office Depot. Best investment in a piece of furniture he ever made.

“Dude,” he said into his X-box live headset, “You were supposed to have my back. What gives?”

Eyebrow arched he waited for a response, but all he got was dead air.

Fuckin’ Chad.

Staring ahead at the TV, the flashing ‘game over’ doing nothing but taunting him, he pushed up out of his chair and turned off the television. Feeling stupid for still having the headset on, he quickly untangled it from his hair and placed it on the desk before turning and collapsing head first onto his bed.

25 and the highlight of his night was playing X-Box live alone in his dark bedroom with some kids from Korea, and Chad, who ditched him and left him for dead. He wondered if it was even more pathetic that he got ditched over the Internet and was actually kind of pissed about it.

Whatever.

Groaning he turned over so he was looking up at the ceiling, one conversed foot hanging off the edge of his too small bed.

It wasn’t long before his infinite boredom lulled him to sleep before 8 o’clock on a Friday night.

---

He was gorgeous. Green eyes sharp and smoldering with a dark passion; full of a mystery that only made Jared want him more. His hair was golden underneath the glow of the setting sun. His lips sensuous and full, Jared’s entire being ached to kiss them. Ached to know what he tasted like. His lips, his skin, every inch of him.

‘Jared,’ purred the man. The rough rumble of his voice a caress around the shape of his name, ‘Jared.’

The man was close now, and Jared could make out all the freckles across the bridge of his nose. His lips caught around the shell of Jared’s ear, beautiful mouth open to speak, ‘Beep. Beep. Beep. BEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!’

Eyes snapping open, Jared rolled off the bed, a tangle of sheets wrapped around his long legs. He reached a hand up, groping around on the bedside table, needing to kill his alarm clock.

Goddamn! Every fucking time that dream ended the same! It was like his own mind wanted to cock block him. Really, it was like the epitome of all things lame.

He managed to untangle his limbs and climb up from the floor several minutes later. He padded slowly down the hall to the bathroom, scratching low on his belly and yawning big. Priding himself in having a killer morning autopilot he reached out and turned on the shower, simultaneously kicking off his Marvin the Martian boxers.

The steam of the shower slowly but surely eased him out of his morning haze and in no time he was singing Journey’s ‘Don’t Stop Believing’ into his shampoo bottle, killer faux hawk held up by the suds of his lavender herbal essences.

Clean and smelling fresh like an Irish spring, he knotted a towel around his hips. Stopping to push his wet hair off his forehead, he winked at himself in the mirror, “Lookin’ good Padalecki.”

Next stop was the closet.

Pressed short sleeve white shirt, clip on grey skinny tie, black khakis, converse high tops, wrist-cuff watch.

Jared glanced over at his collector’s edition Darth Vader digital clock –still in the box and fully operational thanks very much- 8:10 AM, it read. Fuck. He was running late.

Getting dressed with speed, he traveled to the mirror and quickly combed his fingers through his hair. Grabbing a pop-tart and his keys off the counter, he locked up his shitty first floor apartment and made his way out to the company car parked on the street before speeding off to work.

---

Walking through the automatic doors of the BuyMore, Jared clipped his nametag onto his shirt pocket. ‘Jared Padalecki’ it read in official looking times new roman, ‘Nerd Herd Management’ was the title attached to his name and picture.

BuyMore: When you buy more, you get more.

Making his way to his station in the center of the electronics conglomerate, Jared took his seat behind his little island of authority. He couldn’t say he was happy installing Norton anti-viruses and helping the technologically illiterate program their iPhones, but it’s what paid the bills. He couldn’t really complain because the perks of working at the BuyMore totally outweighed the 12-dollar an hour salary.

For instance he had his own staff of guys far more pathetic than he that Jared could boss around. Also the after hours Herders versus Sales Guitar Hero tournaments always turned into quite the shindig.

“You’ll never believe what happened to me last night!”

“Your Mom made her famous pizza bagels and you momentarily blacked out in foodgasm?” Jared answered, booting up the computer system and swiveling around in his chair. He arched an unamused eyebrow over at Chad who had hopped up and planted his ass on the Nerd Herd desk.

“Uh, no. But good guess,” Chad reached out and started fiddling with a stapler, “My cousin Larry, you know the one with the sweet ass Toyota Yaris? Dude, he fucking took me to a strip club last night man! With actual girls!”

Chad finished excitedly, stapling the air to emphasize the awesomeness of being within ten feet of scantily clad women.

Sometimes, Jared couldn’t figure out if working with his best friend was a job perk, or was just really fucking annoying.

“So, that’s why you left me, Jing-ho, and Sketch to die in the hands of enemy combatants?”

“Girls, dude. Snatch practically right in my face!”

Jared scrunched up his nose, “Don’t say snatch man.”

“Whatever, if you weren’t so into dick, you would understand why I ditched. Jing-ho and Sketch forgave me man, why can’t you?”

“Jing-ho doesn’t speak English, and I’m pretty sure Sketch is your ninth grade girlfriend who turned lesbian the summer after you broke up.”

Chad dropped the stapler and waved his hand in the air, “Eh, that’s just the fine print details,” he jumped down off the desk, “Look I’ll make it up to you man. I’ll order you a large pizza with extra olives, make sure that kid you’ve got a hard on for delivers it and then we can get the team together and finally beat the shit out of the next level on WoW.”

Jared rolled his eyes and couldn’t help but smile at his retard of a friend. He may be sketchy, and squinty eyed, and horribly needy, but he was loyal and pretty much the best friend he’d ever had. Besides, it wasn’t like being ditched over X-box live was the worst thing Chad could do. Jared had pretty much forgiven him already, but he was totally game for the free pizza.

“Isn’t there someone you can be selling a microwave to?”

“Pfft, where the fuck have you been Padalecki? I’m on audio/video rotation this week.” Chad beamed proudly.

“Work. Go. Now.”

“Aye Aye Cap’n.”

---

Jared unclipped his tie as he grabbed the last bottle of Corona from the fridge later that evening. Work had gone by with little to do but talk Mrs. Espinoza through programming her universal remote. Again. She was a sweet woman, but Jared really could not spend another minute pretending he didn’t understand her when she kept muttering about what she wanted to do with his ass in very colorful Spanish.

Taking a pull off his beer he flopped down onto the trusty old couch he’d had since he lived in the frat house, crossing his socked feet on the cheap IKEA coffee table.

Jared was just starting to relax when his cell phone buzzed in his pocket. Reaching to grab it, the LCD screen flashed ‘Mayhem’, Chad’s smiling face beaming up at him.

“Can you not go ten minutes without me man? Seriously dude, co-dependency issues much?” Jared answered.

“Shut up bitch, you love it. But all joking aside, get your ass online bro. Jing-Ho’s Mom took his X-Box away again and we need another team member for Call of Duty.”

“Chad, I just got home. Can you wait like an hour?”

“Half an hour.”

“Forty-five minutes.”

“Fifteen.”

“Dude, your bargaining skills suck.” Jared sighed, “Half an hour, and I believe I was promised a pizza.”

“Already on it Dude.”

Chad hung up and Jared shook his head, a toss up between annoyed and amused. He finished his beer and reached over to grab his macbook. He’d learned long, long ago, that Mac’s were far superior and twenty times more efficient than any PC could ever be. Half the time a disgruntled customer came in pulling his hair out over some kink in Windows Vista, Jared couldn’t help but feel a little smug. It was wrong, but the poor suckers deserved it for investing in such a craptastic operating system.

He checked his facebook first, which was pretty much a waste of time. Chad left him five messages on his wall and had sent him some stupid application about Elvin Warlords or something that sounded maybe cool, but really, really wasn’t.

Next he opened his gmail, clicking through a few messages from Gamers Weekly and Creation Entertainment about that Battlestar Galactica Convention in October. He opened an email from his sister Megan on spring break in Cabo. He ground his teeth reading about her new boyfriend Jeremy and his fancy yacht. He hoped she dumped him before Christmas. There was no way he was spending the holidays with that douchebag.

About to close the laptop, he got an alert over iChat.

‘The Terrible Troll Raises His Sword.’

Jared arched his eyebrow. What in the hell?

The message was from an ID marked only by an asterix, no email, nothing.

“No way am I falling for this asswipe.” He muttered, sliding his fingers over the touchpad mouse to click out of the window. He knew a virus when he spotted one, after all, they didn’t make him head of the Nerd Herd for nothing.

‘The Terrible Troll Raises His Sword,’ what was probably a spybot sent again.

Why did that sound so familiar?

Scratching his chin, Jared stared at the screen. Then it dawned on him. Zork! The old text based video game he and his old college roommate Tom programmed on an old TS-80. Man, he smiled remembering all those nights they stayed up eyes glued to their computers, midterms the next day when they should have been cramming for econ.

Fuck it, he thought, old memories coming back to him, ‘Attack Troll With Nasty Knife.’

Hitting enter he sat back, feeling like a fool when nothing happened. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but he thought that maybe… Tom was talking to him.

“Get over yourself Padalecki,” he sighed, palm out to snap his laptop shut. But before he could, the screen blacked out.

“Fuck!” It was a virus! God damnit!

He smacked the side of the screen irrationally thinking it would make it all better. The screen flashed back to life, bright blue glow catching his attention.

A slow slideshow of seemingly random images started to flip across the screen: a pie, a flock of seagulls, Tom Cruise, a nuclear missiles base in Serbia, The pyramids of Giza, a humming bird, an Iranian terrorist group photo, Donald Duck having a spazz attack, illegal underground arms exchange.

The images kept flooding in, flickering faster past his eyes. Each image got harder and harder to decipher from the next, millions of pictures blurring together in a steady stream of light. Jared couldn’t look away, couldn’t blink.

The late afternoon light filtering through the blinds turned to darkness, and back again to the dim light of dawn before the laptop shut itself off.

Finally, Jared blinked his dry eyes and pushed himself up off the couch in a daze.

He should really get ready for work.

---

Pressing the heels of his hands into his eyelids against the dull ache of his head, Jared slipped into work a few hours later.

He tried not to dwell on the random images flashing across his vision. Or the fact that when the traffic report on the radio in the car to work merely mentioned that the 101 was backed up coming out of Universal city, he somehow knew it was because the cops were in a phase of deployment… whatever that meant.

He blinked and slinked to the safety of the Herd, flopping his ass down into the squeaky chair.

“Dude,” up popped Chad from practically nowhere, genuine concern etched across his face, “What happened to you last night? I left you like… maybe twenty messages on your voicemail, texted you twice, and left a message on your wall that I’d probably ignore… The point being, I thought you died.”

Jared reached up and rubbed his eyes, all he could see was pie, and yo-yos, and grenade launchers merging with Chad’s face.

“Yo, Jared,” Chad whistled, “You alright? You look like you’re gonna ralph. You didn’t drink the peach schnapps your sister left from the last time she visited again did you? By the way, how is your sister doing?”

“You’re not dating Megan. Ever.”

He felt a hand clap him on the back, “There’s the Jared we all know and love! But really, man what gives? Me and Sketch got our asses handed to us, and we fully put you to blame.”

“I- I don’t know,” he searched his brain for an explanation, not sure if he should tell Chad about Zork and the weird slideshow assault to the brain.

“I guess I was more tired than I thought,” Jared added lamely, “must have passed out on the couch.”

“Drink some Red-Bull and man up J-man, tonight you owe me three hours of uninterrupted gaming.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.”

“Alright, I’mma go pretend to sell some shit so old man Kripke backs off my case,” Chad said, drumming his hands on the desk-top before wandering away to hover around a woman looking at Blu-ray players.

Jared scrubbed a hand over his face, leaning back in his chair. Fuck he was tired, and his head was pounding. Why the hell did he watch that whole messed up barrage of images anyways? He was probably brain washed or something for all he knew.

“Excuse me?”

Still sort of out of it, Jared merely turned his head in the direction of the voice.

“I was wondering if you could help me with my phone? It won’t turn on for some reason.”

Catching sight of the guy at the counter, Jared nearly fell out of his chair. It was like he stepped straight out of his dreams, or maybe from the pages of a magazine full of ridiculously hot people that most definitely did not shop in BuyMore’s.

The guy had short cropped hair, blonde and soft looking, green eyes hidden behind stylish wire rimmed glasses, and full pouty lips that begged to be bitten.

Jesus. Christ.

Jared bet he probably had freckles too.

“Yeah, of course, “ He said finally, almost knocking the chair over as he stood up, “Let’s have a look.”

The guy handed him over a small black flip phone, last year’s Motorola Razor model.

“We get this a lot so it’s no big deal, “ Jared started, nerd herder kicking in full force, “There’s a tiny screw in this model that comes loose, keeps the battery from staying in place.”

He pulled a little screwdriver out of a drawer, slipping the back cover off the phone to take a look at the aforementioned problem. Jared stuck out his tongue in concentration as he twisted the screw back in tightly. He snapped the backing back in place on the phone and flipped it open to turn it on.

He smiled proudly handing the phone back to its owner, “There we go. Shouldn’t happen again.”

“Thank you so much!” said the guy sounding genuinely grateful. Jared most certainly did not blush when their hands brushed as he took his phone back.

“You nerds really know your stuff.”

“Oh well… we’re not exactly nerds per se...” Jared defended lamely.

The guy smiled big and bright, eyes crinkling at the corners and wow. Jared was maybe a little bit in love.

“I’m Jensen.”

Jared gaped a bit as he extended his hand. He reached out and took Jensen’s hand in his own sweaty palm, “Jared.”

He smiled easily at the guy- at Jensen- holding on to his hand a little bit longer than strictly necessary.

“Well Jared,” Jensen said a quality to his tone that Jared could have swore sounded a little like he might have been flirting with him. It was kind of sad Jared couldn’t really tell. He hadn’t been in the dating game for longer than he’d care to admit.

Jensen pulled his hand back and reached into his messenger bag. Pulling out a card, he slipped it back into Jared’s palm.

“Call me sometime.”

And with a wink, Jensen turned around and walked straight on out those automatic doors. Jared stared dumbfounded in his wake.

Chad’s wolf whistle from across the store shook him out of his disbelief. Did a guy that hot really just give Jared his number?

Five minutes later he got a text that read, ‘U so wanna bone him. ;P’

“Get back to work Chad!” Jared shouted.

Shaking his head he swiveled around in his chair. If Jared had a grin on his face the rest of the day? Well, that was probably because he just really liked defragging hard drives.

---

His green eyes were ablaze, locked on Jared as he bracketed his knees around Jared’s hips, straddling him on the plush couch.

Jared lifted his hands to cup the indecent spurs of the man’s hipbones peeking over the low sling of denim. He was gorgeous and flush above him, the hard push of his arousal pressing against Jared’s stomach with each talented roll of his hips.

Jared tugged hungrily at the man’s lip, scraping his teeth across the tender flesh and sucking hard. Pulling back, his lips were swollen and full, red and shiny, demanding to be kissed. He did just that, licking back into the man’s mouth.

“Jared,” his lover moaned, breathing ragged and cheeks gloriously pink.

Sliding a hand up the flat of the man’s stomach, Jared sucked a bruising kiss along the side of his neck, lightly nosing the hard line of his jaw.

“Jensen,” Jared breathed.

Jensen pulled back slightly, cupping Jared’s face in his hands. He smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Wake up,” he said.

Jared leaned back in, tried to chase his lips for another kiss but Jensen frowned, forehead creasing seriously. He pushed Jared’s shoulders hard back into the couch,

“Wake up,” he said again, tone demanding this time.

“Dude, wake the fuck up!”

Feeling a rush of cold air, Jared’s eyes blinked open, body instinctively curling up into a ball against the chill. God damnit, why could he never get to third base even in his own dreams?

“Good dream?” Came Chad’s voice, spiky blonde head hovering over the bed. He had Jared’s comforter gathered in his arms, smirk plastered over his face.

“Uh…”

“If you gotta spank the monkey, I’ll give you two minutes.”

Spluttering, Jared grabbed a pillow and covered his completely wilted erection.

“Jesus Chad! One, don’t ever say ‘spank the monkey’. Two, how the hell did you get into my apartment? Three, it takes longer than two minutes okay! Really.”

Chad shrugged, dropping the blanket and moving around to plop down at the foot of the bed. He turned on the X-Box and TV, “Hiding the spare key underneath the rock by the front door is really obvious dude.”

“I don’t have a spare key I hide underneath a rock.”

“Well you do since I stole your keys, made a copy and hid that spare under a rock,” Chad picked up the wireless controller and looked over his shoulder, “Dude keep up.”

Sucking in a deep breath, fully prepared on going off on a tangent about personal boundaries, Jared just deflated, shaking his head. He scooted out of bed, untwisting the t-shirt he slept in and padded out to the kitchen.

“Dude, can you make me a pop-tart? Thanks!” Chad shouted over the sounds of Madden.

Stopping and groaning, Jared turned on the coffeemaker and pushed two pop-tarts into the toaster before shuffling into the bathroom. He turned on the radio before hopping into a quick shower. Soaping up he remembered his dream, cock stirring at the almost memories of Jensen’s weight above him, of kissing his seriously awesome lips.

Was it weird to jerk off with Chad in the other room?

Scrunching up his nose, Jared decided that yes, yes it really, really was.

Focusing on the radio he stood under the spray and rinsed.

‘... Delegates prepare for the arrival of the head of the Pacific Security Council to Los Angeles this afternoon. Director Singer is scheduled to hold a conference about his new defense plan later this week…’

Suddenly a flash of images overrode his vision: Weird government documents, Director Singer shaking hands with the Japanese president, chemical and mathematical equations, a mariachi band.

His shower came back into focus, hair dripping over his eyes. Jared blinked, squeezing his eyes shut and opening them wide.

“So, that was weird.”

Stepping out of the shower, he turned off the radio and slipped back into his boxers, towel drying his hair as he headed into the kitchen to get some coffee into his system.

He definitely needed coffee.

---

Driving Chad to work was like driving a toddler to preschool. He touched everything in sight and constantly babbled about things Jared wasn’t paying any attention to.

What was most annoying was that he fucked up his preset radio stations to listen to some soft rock café shit.

“Dude, John Mayer kicks. Ass.” He’d said, “I’d go gay for John. He sings the songs of my soul.”

Jared had nearly kicked him across the store soon as they walked in, the familiar chime of the store’s motto greeting them as it rang across the speaker system,‘When you buy more, you get more.’

Slipping back behind the Nerd Herd desk, Jared sat through an almost painless team meeting about the newest virus to attack the Prism Express heavy-duty laptop model. Katie’s gum chewing didn’t even annoy him as much as it normally did. That was probably because Chad took up all the annoyance points for the day. And it wasn’t even ten o’clock yet.

That may have been a new record.

“I’d like a piece of that fine ass,” Katie said, voice whistling low with appreciation from where she sat perched on top of the desk, “Take a bite right out of it and…”

Jared glared over at her sharply.

“Sorry boss,” she smiled sweetly with a snap of her gum and hopped off the desk, probably to go over and flirt with the man with the fine ass.

He looked up curiously, pleasantly surprised to see none other than his walking wet dream smiling back at him. Staring dumbly he figured he should probably say something.

“Jensen! Uh… hi! Phone still giving you trouble?”

Jared grabbed the little screwdriver and waved it around. Jensen’s smile turned coy, “Actually yeah…” he trailed off voice like honey, “My phone hasn’t been able to receive calls-“

Jared opened his mouth before Jensen finished, “Let me take a look at it for you –“

“- Because I haven’t gotten one from you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

Jared scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, feeling his face heat up. On the one hand he felt like a jerk for not calling him, but on the other he was completely dumbfounded that someone that gorgeous could possibly be into him! He wore short-sleeved dress shirts to work for God’s sake!

“Look,” Jensen said, looking disappointedly at his watch, “I’ve got a meeting with a realtor in like, wow ten minutes,” he made a face like he couldn’t quite believe where all his time had gone.

“But I was wondering if maybe you could show me around town? I just moved here and don’t really know anybody…”

“Really? You want me to show you around?”

“Really,” laughed Jensen, “why is that so weird?”

“Oh you know because you’re like,” Jared looked him up and down a lot intimidated by his hotness, “well have you seen you lately?”

“Have you seen you lately?” Jensen retorted back with a clever grin, eyes hungrily roaming over Jared’s body behind the dorky shirt and tie.

“Actually, I just recently got rid of all my mirrors,” he joked lamely, not accustomed to this kind of attention, “it’s a new thing I’m trying.”

Jensen smiled at him, reaching over the desk to pull a pen out of Jared’s front shirt pocket, “Here’s the hotel I’m staying at,” he said as he jotted down the address on a post-it note.

He ripped the top piece off and stuck it on Jared’s shirt, fingers lingering on the fabric of his tie for a brief moment. His grin was wickedly sexy as he said, “Pick me up at 7.”

Tongue-tied and hopelessly mortified that he sprung wood at work, all Jared could do was nod.

“See you tonight, Jared.”

He watched Jensen walk through the BuyMore and out the doors into the sunlight.

“Duuuuuuuude,” Chad slid over and pulled the post-it off his shirt.

“You are so getting laid tonight.”

The thing was, Jared figured that could actually be a very real possibility.

---

The pathetic thing was, Jared hadn’t been on a date since junior year of college. It’s not that he didn’t want to date or anything, it was just well, he tended to be kind of spastic, and nervous, and said the wrong things. He never ended up with a second date, so he sort of just stopped trying.

His plan for tonight was to get that neurosis out of the way before hand. He kinda really wanted this time to end with a second date. Or possibly more dates. For the foreseeable future.

Which is how he ended up sitting in his car across the street from Jensen’s hotel, gripping the steering wheel hard and trying not to have an asthma attack.

His cell phone buzzed in his pocket.

‘Bed him well.’

It was kind of scary how interested Chad was in his sex life.

---

His fist barely hit the vibrant green door of Jensen’s swanky hotel room before it flew open. He wondered what the guy did for a living to be able to afford a room in this place.

“Hi!” he grinned enthusiastically, dopey and wide, hands shoved deep into his pockets, “You uh ready to…”

Trailing off, his eyes raked over Jensen’s body from where he stood inside the doorway. Gone were the casual work clothes, practically indecent black jeans in the place of khakis. White cotton v-neck t-shirt layered underneath a stylish leather jacket, cut perfectly across his broad shoulders. The glasses were gone, the green of his eyes framed with the longest eyelashes Jared had ever seen on any guy. He wondered if he was wearing mascara. Or owned an eyelash curler.

But what was perhaps the hottest thing about Jensen in that moment was the sultry curl of his lips into a sexy little smile.

He was so in over his head.

“…Go?” he finished lamely.

“Depends on where you’re planning on taking me.” Jensen winked, closing the door behind him and meeting Jared in the hallway.

“If I told you I’d have to kill you.”

“Don’t be so sure about that one.” Jensen said, eyes going dark.

They walked to the elevators, an awkward silence filling the air. Or at least it was awkward to Jared. Christ. He couldn’t take Jensen to the Mexican restaurant on Sunset when the guy looked that hot. He deserved to be showed off somewhere with people more deserving of his hotness. Not eating burritos with the guy who fixes hard drives at the BuyMore.

Stepping out of the elevator, Jensen trailed behind him.

Jared blushed when he caught him leering at his ass over his shoulder.

“You nerds sure clean up good, “ he heard Jensen say, voice low with appreciation.

Way, way over his head.

---

Strangely enough, Jared managed to actually relax at the restaurant. Though that was probably from the wine segment of the evening’s wine and dine agenda.

It also helped that he was pleasantly full on enchiladas and home made salsa. A fed and buzzed Jared, was a happy Jared.

Or maybe it had something to do with how Jensen managed to make him feel calm. He couldn’t quite pinpoint what the hell it was but, there was just something about him that chilled him out. Which meant he got talkative. But what was really awesome, was that Jensen was keeping up with him.

“So yeah, turns out they only hire people with the geek gene, I’m serious,” he smiled lifting his bottle of Corona to his lips for a quick sip, “If you walked in asking for a job they’d take one look at you and laugh in your face.”

Jensen looked at him incredulously, mock offended, “What? No way! I’ve got mad geek, don’t be fooled by the pretty face.”

“Hah, kinda hard not to. Have you looked in a mirror lately?”

“Nah, not really. I got rid of them all. It’s a new thing I’m trying, a friend recommended it you know?” Jensen said, lips pulled into a quirky grin around his wine glass.

“Some mirror is really missing out somewhere then.”

Jared smiled at the sound of Jensen’s laugh, those crinkles around his eyes made his stomach flop around like something really… floppy. Shut up, metaphors are hard to come up with in the face of so much hot.

“And hey, I’m serious, I’ve totally got some geek in me,” said Jensen.

Jared tried not to find a double meaning in that comment. He tried. And failed, spectacularly. Oh my God.

“You might be the only person to take offense at not being called a geek,” Jared said with amusement, “I’m impressed. Yet, not convinced in the slightest.”

“Oh! Oh, really?”

Jensen sat up, leaning over the tabletop, sensing some sort of challenge and ready to win it, “Okay how about this,” he started, “I went to comic con last year, totally got Tricia Helfer’s autograph.”

Jared thought it was cute, as he sat back, a smug look on his face.

“Uh yeah, been to comic con every year since I was 13. Not gonna cut it man,” he shrugged his shoulders sympathetically, “Valiant effort. You do get points for being a BSG fan.”

“Can’t say I didn’t try.”

Jared felt a silence peeking out, threatening to kill the roll of conversation. Of course his mouth couldn’t let that happen.

“So, I’m sitting here trying to figure out what’s wrong with you, I mean going on a date with me? Yikes man.” He teased, “Wait. You’re not like, a cannibal are you? Because that might be cool, I’ve never met one before…”

There that laugh was again, “No, not a cannibal, the boring version is I just got out of a long relationship so I may come with some baggage.”

“Well I could be your very own baggage handler.”

Wow, Jared way to get a hold on the brain/mouth filter there buddy.

Quickly, he tried to save the moment, “So uh,” he started peeling the label off his beer nervously, “This relationship, is it the reason you moved out here from-?”

God, wrong question Dude. Why did his inner monologue sound like Chad? He needed new friends.

“DC, and yeah… after, after I’d realized that all my friends were his friends, and that everything about Washington reminded me about,” He paused looking nostalgic, “Tim, I knew I needed a change. Needed to start over.”

Jared needed to lighten the mood, right now.

“Wow, you went out with a Tim?”

Jensen rolled his eyes a bit but smiled just the same, “Well what about you Mr. Geek, you got any skeletons in your closet,” he paused, eyes searching, “any secrets? Bad relationships?”

“Well, in eleventh grade I-“

“Dude, you have to go back that far?”

“Hey, I’m just the manager of the Nerd Herd at a BuyMore, what sort of secrets do you think I have? I mean, yeah sure I once stole a Butterfingers from the AM-PM and the guilt comes back every once in a while, but then I think about how awesome that chocolate bar was and you know? It was all worth it in the end.”

Jensen smiled, different somehow, tongue poking out between his teeth and ducking his head, like this was the smile of all smiles, the most sincere, “I like you, Jared,” he said simply.

Feeling something warm bloom in his chest and spread out towards the tips of his fingers, Jared smiled back at him, shy and earnest.

“Yeah. Yeah, me too.”

---

“So next item on the docket,” Jared clapped his hands together as they walked down the sidewalk, city nightlife all around them.

“Should I be scared?” Jensen asked skeptically.

“Hey, that candy store was awesome and you know it!”

“Jared, if you had the choice, you would go out on a date with the candy store over me.”

“What that’s not-!” he deflated, “Yeah, it’s probably true. Candy owns my heart like no other. If it was legal I’d marry it.”

“For some reason I don’t doubt that.”

“Okay so, music? Yay? Nay?”

“Uh… if you mean do I like music, then my answer is,” Jensen took a breath, “I guess?”

“Dude, did you just say you don’t like music?” Jared said, shock dripping from his words. It wasn’t possible for someone to not like music.

“No, no it’s just, I don’t really listen to it. Don’t really have the time.”

“What? Come on, there’s always time for music! What’s your favorite band?”

“Uh...” Jensen paused, as if he was trying to think of the first band that popped into his head, “Coldplay?”

“If you have to take that long to think of your favorite band, you don’t have one man. That’s just, “ Jared looked over at him, “sad.”

“Well what’s your favorite band then huh?” Jensen nudged his shoulder against Jared’s, and Jared felt on top of the world from just that little gesture.

Without hesitation, Jared kept his eyes on Jensen’s, “Journey.”

“Journey?”

“Journey.” He nodded, “Come on tell me that ‘Don’t Stop Believing’ isn’t the best karaoke tune of all time man. You just can’t argue against it. It’s solid fact.”

“I’ve never even heard of Journey,” Jensen blushed a bit, “God you must think I’m a loser!”

Jensen laughed at himself, the flush rising against his cheeks. It was adorable.

“Nah, not a loser. Do I think you live in a cave? Yes. Yes I do.”

“Great, I’m not a geek, I don’t listen to music. This must be your worst date ever, right?”

“Please, you kidding? I took my cousin to the Junior Prom, this is nothing.”

It was something all right, something beyond awesome. Considering his dating track record, this was the best date Jared had ever been on. And it wasn’t even over yet.

---

The club was small but comfortable. The atmosphere very laid-back, and Jared didn’t feel intimidated by any of the patrons. Everyone seemed to be normal and easygoing, just looking to kick back and have a good time. That was why he liked it here. It was one of the only places downtown he actually didn’t mind coming to. Plus they always booked the good bands.

Coming back from the bar with two bottles of Heineken, he handed one over to Jensen with a grin and sat down beside him on the plush couch just out of the way of the dance floor.

“These guys are good!” Jensen shouted over the noise of the band.

“Yeah, they are,” he said, watching as Jensen took a sip of his beer.

Every once in a while he was struck by just how incredibly gorgeous Jensen was. The dim lighting of the club just made him look even more amazing. It was just really hard to believe this was really happening right now.
Jensen must have noticed he was staring, must have felt a little uncomfortable from the weight of Jared’s gaze because he kept looking back over his shoulder every few minutes, looking back at the door. Like maybe he wanted to leave.

Great, way to go and ruin the perfect night by acting like a creeper. Score one for Team Padalecki.

Suddenly Jensen was grabbing his hand, threading their fingers and practically manhandling him up off the couch.

“Let’s dance,” He demanded, not giving Jared a choice.

“Oh, I’m not- I’m not really a dancer,” Jared protested weakly, being dragged into the center of the crowded dance floor.

Jensen pushed up close against him, grinding his hips dangerously slow against Jared’s own. Jared’s mouth went dry, focusing only on how hot the blaze of Jensen’s eyes was and the warm press of his body.

Jensen pushed off with a teasing grin, circling back around Jared to dance behind him, close against him. His hands trailed down Jared’s back, ghosting against his hips and stopping to spread his palms wide against his ass. Jared braved looking over his shoulder and Jensen was crouched near the ground, face pressed against the seat of Jared’s jeans.

Jesus fucking Christ, it was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. Now if only he and Jensen could be doing this in private. Preferably in the nude.

He heard a groan somewhere in the distance, but for all he knew that could have just been himself. Yes, Jared’s jeans were getting tighter. And no, that wasn’t a pack of Mentos in his pocket either.

Some guy passed out a few feet away, but Jared chalked it up to too much Tequila. He probably should have checked to see if the guy was okay, but Jensen had some how gotten back in front of him. He reached up and curled his hand around Jared’s neck.

Leaning over he whispered hotly, “Let’s get out of here.”

Oh. God. Yes. Please. Thank. You. Very. Much.

Jared didn’t get the chance to answer as Jensen practically pulled his arm out of its socket, dragging him out of the club and back out onto the street.

Oh he was definitely getting laid.

---

>> part two.

If I'm the Secret, Does That Make You the Agent? [2/2].

2009-03-05T08:46:47Z

<< part one.

“Jared, where’s the keys?!” Jensen growled, stopping Jared and practically frisking him for his car keys.

Normally Jared would have thought this was hot, but Jensen was being a little bit too rough for his tastes.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, where’s the fire?” He most definitely did not think ‘In my pants’.

Jensen didn’t look amused. Just harried and a little pissed off, “Keys. Now!”

“Okay, okay, here!” He reached into his jacket pocket and tossed them to him.

Jensen walked around the hood of the car in a few quick strides, opening the door and getting in the driver’s seat.

“I don’t think you should be driving- I mean, it’s a company car and technically only I’m allowed to-“

“Get in the car NOW Jared!” He sounded a little scary. Jeeze, when Jensen wanted sex you didn’t waste any time did you?

A black SUV swerved around the corner, tires squealing menacingly, heading straight for them. And. Not. Stopping.

“Jesus Christ!”

Jared opened the door quickly, barely planting his ass on the seat before Jensen was backing away from the curb, flooring the gas. Dumbfounded, Jared stuck his head out the window, checking to see if that scary black SUV was following.

He was in for a pleasant surprise when a bullet only just missed his head and cracked through the side view mirror.

“Holy fuck! Jensen- What? What the hell is going on?”

Jensen didn’t answer, just yanked his head back in the car.

Jared could smell burning rubber as Jensen maneuvered through traffic in reverse. The angry blare of horns blasting through the air as Jensen sped through a red light, narrowly missing a gleaming black Porsche.

“Oh my God I’m gonna die.” Jared said in a small, terrified voice. Manhood be damned.

He was hyperventilating. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. All Jared knew was that he was going to die at the hands of the stunningly attractive man in the driver’s seat. Or maybe perhaps from the scary guy firing at them with the big fun sized gun in the SUV.

“What does this guy want? Jensen, come on I’m kind of freaking out here.”

Jensen swerved a hard left, coming this close to hitting a fire hydrant. Jared gripped the edges of the seat like his life depended on it. And it probably did. Heading the car towards a parking structure, Jensen zoomed past the tollbooth, the attendant shouting in their wake.

Jared poked his head out the window again, (“Sorry!” he shouted.) only to be yanked back in hard by the collar of his shirt.

“Do you have a death wish Padalecki? Keep your damn head in the fucking car!”

Jensen snapped, driving to the upper level and swerving to a stop that turned Jared’s stomach. “Listen to me Jared, “ Jensen unbuckled his seatbelt and grabbed his arm, “those men are dangerous, they’re from the NSA and they’re after you.”

Jared blinked.

“Are you listening to me?!” Urgency arose in Jensen’s tone, brows knitted together seriously. Fuck, even now the guy was gorgeous.

“They will kill you Jared!” Jensen shook his arm, “Do you understand?”

It was like everything was finally catching up to him after passively being caught up in a whirlwind, “That- That guy at the club? That passed out, you killed him didn’t you!?”

“I knocked him unconscious, but that’s not the point here!”

“And what- what do you mean they’re after me? Why? I’m- I work at a freakin’ BuyMore fixing broken iPods! And I don’t even know if I want that job and- Oh God, Oh God… Jensen...”

The Black SUV slowed to a stop on the other side of the parking lot, it’s headlights shining a bright light through the rear window. Jensen turned his gaze to the rearview and cursed under his breath. A brief moment of panic shone through those green, green eyes of his before they flashed dark and determined.

“Grab on to something,” was the only warning Jared got before the car was racing backwards, straight into the front grill of the SUV.

The force of the impact almost jolted them through the windshield. Thank God for airbags huh?

The car smoked, overheated and crushed in like a tin can from the back, but somehow Jensen managed to pull them out of the heap quickly. Like back at the club he yanked Jared across the parking lot, pulling at his awkward limbs and cursing whenever Jared tripped over his sneakers.

Jensen pulled out his cell phone as he kicked open the metal door that lead to the roof of the parkade, “Request emergency air-evac. We’re on foot. Track Location.”

He hung up and shoved his phone into the pocket of those sinful jeans, lifting the back of his shirt and pulling out a gun of his own.

“Did- did you have that on you all night?” Jared swallowed nervously. Very, very afraid of where the course of events had turned and where they were going to go.

“Come on Jared!”

Tripping over the last stair, Jared stumbled out of the stairwell, out into the cool night air on the roof of the building.

Great, now he was trapped on a roof with a dangerously sexy man, the gun in his pants that’s really not a euphemism for anything fun, and some psychos from the government who could wake up any minute and join the party.

Greaaaaat.

“How do you know Tom Welling!”

“What? Tom- how- what does he have to do with this?” Jared fumbled.

“Answer the question!”

“We, we were college room-mates,” he offered, “How do you know Tom Welling?”

“We work together at the CIA.” Jensen said simply, eyes scanning the roof.

“You’re, he’s, you guys-“

“Yes,” Jensen said pointedly, a little bit exhausted with the conversation and the explaining, Jared guessed.

“You and Tom, you’re- You guys are spies?!”

“I am. Tom’s gone rogue. Jared, listen. This is important,” he came closer, expression hardened, “Did Tom try to contact you at all?”

“No, I haven’t heard from him in years, not since-“ then he remembered, “The email! He, he sent me an email the other day!”

Jensen looked at him. His eyebrows arched expectantly, waiting for an answer, “Well, did you open it?!”

“Yeah, yeah it was this line from an old video game we used to play, and then, then there were these, “ he paused not really knowing how to describe what he had seen, ”these pictures I think? Thousands of them. Maybe millions. I don’t know.”

“You saw them?!”

Jensen ran a hand through his hair, staying calm for Jared. Who was, well, freaking out was an understatement.

“Should I not have seen them? Jensen? Tell me something man, I wanna know before I get hauled off somewhere and shot in the back of the head you know? Some people wouldn’t want to know that, but me, I think I’d much rather die with some dignity and-”

A hand covered his mouth, “Jared. Shut up. Listen to me, I’m going to have to point my gun at you and you need to not freak out okay?”

Despite everything, there was something trusting behind those eyes. And whatever, maybe he was crazy but this was the most exciting thing to ever happen in his crappy little life, so Jared nodded.

“Ackles,” a gruff voice came from over Jared’s shoulder.

Jensen backed away from Jared, turning towards the scary bearded guy in a suit with a scowl.

“Let’s cut the crap shall we?” said whom Jared’s inner monologue was referring to as ‘The Bad Guy’.

“It’s been a really long day,” Bad Guy continued, cricking his neck, “and some asshole just rear-ended me. All and all, I’m not in the sunshiniest of moods, so if you wouldn’t mind,”

Bad Guy pulled out his gun aiming it at Jensen’s head, “I’m taking stretch over there,” the guy motioned towards him with the barrel of his gun, “He belongs to the NSA.”

“CIA gets him first!” Jensen barked, turning his gun on Jared.

Oh God, he was freaking out. He really, really was.

“Jensen… I’m freaking out...” He said behind gritted teeth, holding his hands up in the air lamely.

Jensen ignored him, angry eyes still on The Bad Guy, “Come any closer and I’ll shoot!”

“Now I’m really freaking out!”

“Jared, shut up!”

“Shutting up now. Pleasedon’tshootme.”

All Jared could do now was watch the scene in front of him, defenseless and terrified. Praying to God and Allah, and freakin’ whatever crazy god Tom Cruise prayed to, not to die tonight.

Bad Guy laughed, “You shoot him, I shoot you, whatever. Saves me the trouble of hauling his ass in. That and the paper work would be significantly less. Ain’t that funny?”

“I mean it Morgan, I will shoot him right now, and you will know nothing!”

“Oh, so you managed to get him to talk did you? Damn, see I just can’t pull off that seductively gay thing you do. “

“It’s the beard, “ Jensen smirked smugly, “That and that extra tire around the middle you’re carrying around. And maybe it’s the ‘old’ thing.”

Bad Guy – Morgan – laughed bitterly, pulling back the hammer on his gun, “Spare the monologue rookie. It ain’t gonna work.”

Jared’s heart beat wildly in his chest, the idea that this Morgan guy was this close to shooting Jensen was not something he was okay with.

“Wait! Wait, wait, wait,” he shouted, holding his arms out wide. Jensen and Morgan’s head’s turned to look at him expectantly. Isn’t it funny how verbal diarrhea doesn’t happen when you need it to?

He looked out over the edge of the building, out into the skyline of the city, at the tall skyscrapers surrounding them. Freezing suddenly, his eyes went wide, a rapid flash of pictures flipping across his eyelids: News Reports, schematics of the Regency Hyatt hotel, passport of a flagged Serbian terrorist, Director Singer, a bomb going off, apple pie.

Jared blinked, the world coming back into focus. He so would never get used to that.

“They’re gonna kill him,” he said breathlessly.

“Jared, who’re they going to kill?” asked Jensen patiently.

Morgan just pointed his gun at him.

“The Director guy, Singer! Director Singer, of uh, uh, the Security Council! He’s giving an address in the conference room at the Regency about something…” he trailed off trying to remember.

“How the hell do you know this boy? Speak or you lose a kneecap.”

Jared somehow did not think Morgan was bluffing.

“I don’t know! I just, I’m remembering things that I shouldn’t even know. I don’t know why but I do and it’s really starting to freak me out.”

Suddenly Jensen was in front of him, gun tucked away, and staring at him earnestly, “Tell me what you mean Jared.”

“Like, like, you guys,” he looked over at Morgan, “You guys intercepted a file full of blueprints of the hotel, and and, the CIA? Well, they found drawings of a bomb from a Serbian terrorist group. A bomb that’s in that hotel. How do I know this Jensen? What’s wrong with me?”

“Jared, Jared, look at me.”

Jensen grabbed Jared’s chin, turning his head to face him, “Those pictures in that email, they were encoded with NSA and CIA secrets. Secrets you now know.”

“Great,” Morgan grumbled in the background, “a certifiable idiot knows all the government’s secrets. That’s just great.”

“Jared, all our secrets are in your brain. You’re – you’re the computer.”

“Computer? What- what does that mean?”

“It means you’re gonna tell us if we’ve got time to stop that bomb or not. And I’m not askin’ nicely.”
Jared swallowed.

“I don’t, I can’t help you. I’m sorry. Call Tom, he’s the agent, I’m just- just the manager of a Nerd Herd! Okay? That’s all.”

“Tom’s dead!” shouted Jensen, anger in his eyes, “He died sending our secrets to you!”

A rush of sadness came over him. Sure, he hadn’t seen Tom in years, sure he’d only ever had irrational hate for him ever since he dropped off the map. His supposed best friend, gone without any reason at all. But Jared figured it made sense now, since Tom was a secret agent and all.

Key word being was.

But he could have sent him a Christmas card every once in a while, you know? Jared was pretty sure the CIA were allowed to send Christmas cards. And if they weren’t?

Well that was just pure evil.

“He’s dead?” Jared said softly, almost disbelieving.

“Alright, I’ve had enough,” Morgan fired his gun in the air, the crack of it making Jared jump.

“We can all cry and hug it out after we deal with this,” Morgan said smiling sadistically, “Now come on you girls, we’ve got a bomb to stop.”

---

Next thing Jared knew the three of them were running across the Regency Hyatt lobby, and maybe Jared almost tripped over an old lady and her luggage, but that wasn’t really important.

Scrambling to the conference room doors, Jared swung them open, Morgan and Jensen bursting ahead, guns raised. The weird thing was, no one really seemed to notice. Everyone was seated at their tables, drinking their expensive Merlots, and listening intently to what Director Singer was talking about at his official looking podium.

Could have been what happened on Lost last night for all Jared cared.

“Where is it?” hissed Jensen coming back to his side and tugging on his arm.

“I don’t know, I-“ Jared hesitated, looking around the banquet hall. He didn’t know what he was looking for, because he doubted anything would jump out and dance around singing ‘I’m a bomb, I’m a bomb, lookit meeeee!’

A lone silver, serving dish sat covered at the front of the hall, oddly out of place with the rest of the food. Honestly Jared had no idea if it was the bomb or not, but it seemed like a good place to start.

“There!” he pointed, “It’s there.”

Jensen pulled on one arm, Morgan the other, both of them manhandling him to the front of the crowded hall.

Without hesitation Jensen lifted the lid off the tray, and yup, there, sticks of C4, tell tale blinking red countdown clock included, was the bomb.

Well, what were the chances of that?

“Oh God.”

Morgan pushed him aside and crept in front of the bomb, “No time to evacuate, any ideas?”

“Disconnect the laptop.” Jensen offered.

“If we do that, there’s no telling whether it’ll set these babies off or not.”

“Fuck,” Jensen stood back up, looking at Jared expectantly, “Jared. Do you remember anything about how to stop it?”

Like, he hadn’t tried that already, seriously. “Uh, yeah not getting anything here, can’t exactly turn it on and off you know?”

“Jared, we are all going to die here. Do you understand?”

“Uh, yeah, I think I kind of get the mechanics of a bomb. You know, explosion, fiery painful death, dismembered limbs. Believe me, not really in my top ten ways to die.”

“Jared!”

“Right, uh, let me see,” pushing Morgan out of the way, he knelt down in front of the bomb. Glancing at the heavy duty laptop wired to the explosives, Jared noticed that it was the same Prism Express model the store carried.

The virus! Of course!

God, he was never more grateful for his shitty job at the BuyMore than he was at this very moment in time. Actually it was probably the only time he was grateful for his shitty job at the BuyMore.

Panic started to erupt throughout the conference room, word of the situation having reached the banquet goers.

“That ain’t no X-Box kid, “ Morgan commented from his left.

“I know that, just, really give me some space!”

“Back off JD, “ Jensen warned, he looked down at Jared and nodded, “He knows what he’s doing.”

Knowing that he had Jensen’s trust, he took a deep breath. Ignoring the tick of their death clock, Jared reached out and touched the lap top keypad, “Oh God, Oh God. Okay, here we go.”

Typing in the DOS override, Jared accessed the Internet through the hotel’s wireless system. His fingers deftly sweeping over the keyboard, he typed his search terms in to Google.

“Porn? You’re looking for porn?!” Morgan exclaimed.

Smiling a little nervously, he looked over at him, “Gay porn to be more exact.”

Pressing the enter button over the link that popped up, Larry Hardwood’s grunts reverberated through the room. Jared cringed and closed his eyes as the timer reached the end of its countdown.

3… 2… 1…

The laptop sparked, screen going blank.

Everything stopped. Room suddenly quiet.

Was he dead?

Peeking an eye open, he spotted Jensen smiling at him proudly. Not dead then.

“Christ kid, any closer and we woulda been smeared all over the walls.” Agent Morgan grumbled standing up and straightening his suit jacket. Jared figured it was as close to a thank-you as he was ever going to get out of that man.

“You did good Jared,” Jensen said, smiling that same smile, eye crinkles that made Jared’s stomach flop and flip.

Or that could have been a bout of nausea, he really wasn’t sure.

---

Jensen and Morgan dropped Jared off back at his place sometime near dawn, after that whole mess at the Regency was taken care of. Jared didn’t really remember it all. At some point he passed out. But really, he just saved himself and Jensen, and a whole buttload of people from being incinerated.

Passing out was completely justified.

Closing and locking the door safely behind him, he sagged back against it, running his hands through his hair and tugging.

Did that night just happen? Was that for real?

“Dude!”

“Ahhh!” Jared jumped. But really, could you blame him with the sort of night he just had? Swiveling around he came face to face with his intruder, or you know, in lamens terms, Chad. “Don’t do that man!”

“Dude, all night!” chirped Chad again ignoring him, punching him on the shoulder, “You sly, sly dog!”

Jared rolled his eyes. Now was not the time for Chad. Rarely was it ever the time for Chad. Unbuttoning his over shirt and kicking off his shoes, he made his way towards the kitchen desperately in need of a drink.

Chad followed on his heels like an eager puppy.

“Come on, details man! Was he good in the sack or what?”

Reaching into the fridge he pulled out the jug of SunnyD and drank straight from the bottle in long gulps. Jared wiped his mouth.

“You know, I’m really creeped out by how much you want to hear about all the gay sex I have.”

“So you did have gay sex last night!” Chad said, knowing look on his face, “My man!”

“Chad, I didn’t have any sort of sex last night, honestly I-“ Jared didn’t really even know how to explain last night.

“Right, you don’t buttfuck and tell. You are one classy dude.” Chad said with a grin, reaching into a cupboard and pulling out the box of pop-tarts.

“Chad?”

“Yeah Jay-bird?”

“Go home.”

“Okay,” he stole a pop-tart, and with a wink and a two-fingered salute, Chad was gone.

Shaking his head, he padded down the hallway just wanting to sleep this ridiculous night away. Forget it ever happened. Forget he ever met Jensen.

Fully prepared to face plant into his nice soft bed, boy was he in for a surprise.

“Jared,”

“Jesus Christ! Jensen, how did you get in here? You know what? Never mind. Stupid question.”

Jared took off his dress shirt, moving to the closet to hang it up with the others, squeezing it in between his collection of short-sleeved dork shirts and ties. The whole time he could feel Jensen’s eyes on his back.

“Jared, we need to talk.” Jensen said from behind him.

“I thought the point of driving me home, was to leave me alone.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Jensen said, closer this time.

Jared turned around and faced him. He was still so breathtaking, the early light streaming through the blinds and making his skin glow.

“Because you actually genuinely like me or the other thing?”

“Maybe both.” Jensen said quietly.

“I’d really like it if you would stop saying things like that, when clearly you don’t mean them. Can I sleep now? Or is the CIA against that?”

“Jared…”

“Jensen.” He offered, staring at him.

Jensen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, “We need you Jared, me and Morgan. You’ve got our secrets in that head of yours, but besides that, you really proved yourself today. Your country needs you.”

Jared snorted, “Did you really just say that?”

And yeah, he was a little proud of himself when that got a smile out of Jensen.

“Yeah, that was really lame.”

“Beyond lame.”

Rolling his eyes Jensen sat back down on the edge of Jared’s bed. Funny how Jensen in his bed didn’t happen the way Jared thought it would.

“You know,” Jared moved to sit down beside him, their knees touching, “Car chases, and gun fights, and bomb threats, and crazy government computers inside my head aside, this was probably the best date I’ve had in- in a really long time.”

Jensen turned his head and smiled the shy little smile, the one Jared thinks might just be real, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Jared agreed, “Too bad it wasn’t really a real date huh? You were just trying to get close to me. All that stuff about skeletons in my closet, you just wanted to know what I knew.”

“I’m kind of an idiot, “ Jared added.

“At first maybe it was like that, but I meant it you know, I do like you Jared. A lot.”

“But not enough to compromise your mission. I’ve seen enough spy movies to know that dating never really ends well with your kind,” he rubbed his sweaty palms on the knees of his jeans, “You know with death being an occupational hazard and all.”

“Jared, it’s not like that-“

“You don’t need to explain Jensen. My delicate feelings aren’t hurt or anything. If anything I got to go on a date with a fun, intense, really, really ridiculously hot guy. Not complaining over here at all.”

Jared looked over just in time to watch Jensen duck his head. For a spy, he sure blushed a lot. He looked up and their eyes locked, that feeling bloomed in his chest again, warm and awesome through out his body.

“Jared,“ Jensen started, mouth open like he wanted to say something, but stopping like he couldn’t get the words out.

Before he knew what was happening Jensen was pulling him in by the collar of his T-shirt, fisting the fabric and kissing him.

Jensen. Was. Kissing. Him!

His brain finally caught up with the program and Jared tugged him closer, wrapping an arm around Jensen’s back. Tentatively he licked into Jensen’s mouth, lush lips opening and tongue curling around Jared’s. It was messy and sloppy and far from perfect, but still the best kiss Jared had ever had, or probably ever would have for that matter.

Looks like he might just be getting laid after all!

Jensen swung his leg over Jared’s lap, straddling his thighs, and rubbing his ass deliciously against Jared’s suddenly aching cock. Calloused hands cupped his cheeks and Jensen took the kiss deeper, slower, licking at his palette.

Jesus this was just like his dream. Only you know, about infinity times better.

He helped Jensen shrug his jacket and shirt off, pulling back to press lingering kisses to those sinfully full lips of his. He didn’t want to stop kissing, but God did he ever want to play with the gorgeous skin all bared for him.

To touch and kiss, and lick, and taste. Everything.

But apparently Jensen was calling the shots here. He bit softly into Jared’s lip, tugging it lightly between his teeth. Practically ripping the cheap cotton shirt off Jared’s back, he pushed him back on the bed.

“Been wanting to do this since the first time I saw you,” Jensen growled, running his hands down Jared’s chest, “You’re the hottest geek I’ve ever seen, that’s for damn sure.”

He rolled his hips down perfectly against Jared’s, the press of Jensen’s hard-on only making Jared’s cock throb harder in his jeans.

“More- more of a nerd really,” Jared choked out.

Talented fingers trailed down Jared’s abs, making his muscles jump under the touch. It was kind of ticklish, but if he laughed right now, he would look like an idiot so Jared just bit his lip instead.

Jensen’s fingers traced the lines of his hips, skirted along the push of Jared’s zipper. His thumb circled the button. Fuck, Jensen needed to touch him right the fuck five minutes ago, Jared’s pretty sure he more than earned it already.

“Jensen… Jensen, please,” he pleaded, staring up at him, eyes dark. He reached out and cupped Jensen’s hips, brushing across the bone with soft circles of his thumb. He liked the way Jensen shuddered above him. Really, really liked it.

Possibly more than he liked watching old Star Trek re-runs.

Jensen sat back up, fumbling to undo his own pants. Jared was surprised how fast he managed to get them off, but more surprised that he’d been apparently going commando all night. Jensen’s dick curled up towards his stomach, long and thick, the fat head pearling with pre-come that Jared wanted to lick away.

Jensen fisted his cock, tugging on it lazily and looking at Jared in the eye, “Take off your pants.”

Can Jared say that he also really liked how Jensen was taking charge like this?

Because he did, very much a lot.

Scrambling to undo his belt buckle and zipper, Jared lifted his ass and shimmied awkwardly out of his pants. It was probably not sexy in the slightest, but mostly affective, not including the few brief seconds his boxers got caught around his ankles.

“God, your cock…” Jensen moaned, crawling back over to sit on his lap again. He sealed their mouths together, tongue fucking into his mouth. Jared’s whole body jerked up when Jensen’s hand curled around the base of his erection, jacking his fist slowly up and twisting back down fast.

“Want it in me Jared, gonna fuck myself on it good and hard,” Jensen breathed, licking around the shell of Jared’s ear and making Jared’s toes curl in the comforter.

“Lube.” Jensen rasped, voice like a command. Like before amongst all that chaos.

Fumbling in the bedside table Jared grabbed the bottle of KY and a foil packet of condoms. The expiry date was probably catching up to those bad boys, that’s how long he’d gone without getting any.

“Get your fingers wet, slick em’ up real good.”

Jared did what he was told, slicking up three of his fingers to the knuckle.

Jensen grabbed hold of his wrist, pushing Jared’s hand between his thighs, “Gimme two,” he breathed, rocking his cock against the flat of Jared’s stomach.

He circled his fingers teasingly around Jensen’s hole before pushing in all at once, tight little ring of muscle giving way against his fingers. Jensen hummed appreciatively, pushing his ass down against Jared’s hand. He scissored his fingers, stretching him open good.

“Another.”

Jared obliged, pushing a third digit inside, fucking him hard with his fingers. Jensen teared into one of the condoms, rolling it over Jared’s cock.

Jared had to give himself props for not shooting his load before any actual fucking even started. It had been a really long time.

Before Jared really knew what was happening, Jensen was knocking his hand away, sinking down nice and slow, replacing Jared’s fingers with his cock. It always seemed like Jensen was a step ahead. Jared liked it that way, liked that he was kept guessing.

Jensen felt amazing around him, tight and hot and made for him. Jared slid his hands down, down to cup the round globes of his ass and hold on, fingers finding where they were joined and making him moan. Soon Jensen was fucking him hard, riding him at a brutal pace with wild bucks of his hips.

Jared just stared, watching the pleasure written all over Jensen’s face, the flush on his cheeks, and the sweat dampening his hair. Jensen’s eyes were closed, bottom lip turning white from where his teeth bit into it. He was the most erotic thing Jared had ever seen.

Including gay porn induced computer viruses.

“Jared, oh, oh God-“ Jensen moaned, reaching down to furiously jack his cock.

Jared thrust up, using the give of the bed to bounce up in time with Jensen’s pace, to press up against that spot that made Jensen’s spine arch beautifully as he came, hot splashes of come coating Jared’s stomach.

The tight flutter of Jensen around him milked Jared’s own orgasm out of him, coming hard into the rubber with a long drawn out moan.

Jensen rested his hands flat against Jared’s chest, heaving to catch his breath as he came down.

“Wow,” Jared smiled dopily, a few minutes after his brain regained function beyond, Jensen, hot, fuck, now.

“Yeah,” Jensen answered, rolling off Jared and sitting up. He rubbed the back of his neck, a habit Jared was quickly becoming acquainted with as Jensen’s nervous habit.

“I should go, this wasn’t, I mean, I don’t normally -”

“Jensen.” Jared said being the demanding one for once, cutting off Jensen’s self-destructive case of the worries, “Stay. “

Reaching down on the floor, he picked up his t-shirt and wiped the mess off his stomach. He tied off the condom and tossed it into the garbage can.

“Just, sleep. I think we both kind of need it.”

Jared could tell the exact moment Jensen gave in, the tense line of his shoulders relaxed and he smiled, eyelids drooping sleepily.

“Yeah, yeah okay.”

Smiling to himself, Jared pulled back the covers, sliding between the sheets. With Jensen’s warm body beside him and the early morning light peeking through the blinds, Jared was asleep as soon as his head hit the orthopedic pillow.

That? Was the most incredible night of his life. Even better than the time he and Chad thought they saw George Lucas at a Kinko’s.

---

Later, Jared couldn’t say he was all that surprised to wake up alone. The comforter was tucked in neatly on the other side of the bed, untouched, no evidence Jensen had ever been there.

Jared supposed that’s what secret agents did. Loved em’ and leaved em’, humped em’ and dumped em’, that sort of thing. It’s not like spies could have a real relationship right? Mr. and Mrs. Smith was just a shitty movie after all, and in real life, Brangelina probably wouldn’t have gotten the quasi-happy ending.

Quietly swallowing down the disappointment, he swung his legs out of bed and padded down the hallway towards the bathroom. He didn’t yawn, didn’t scratch his stomach, just continued on autopilot, turning on the hot water and stepping under the spray.

Did any of that happen?

Logically, the chances of a reality involving Jared, CIA agents with porn star good looks, car chases, gunfights, defusing bombs, and fantastic sex at the end of it all, was far less likely than Jared dreaming it all up.

He got dressed. Clean white short-sleeved shirt, black khakis, grey tie, name tag.

Skipping the coffee and the pop-tart, Jared grabbed his keys off the hook by the front door and jogged out to the street.

“Hey Jared,” rasped that voice that twisted him up in knots.

Jensen leaned back against Jared’s car parked against the curb, his ankles crossed, Starbucks cup dangling from his fingers. He looked amazing, rumpled and soft around the edges. He was wearing yesterday’s clothes, butt of his gun peeking over the waistband of his jeans.

Smiling brightly, Jared was decidedly very much happy the whole thing wasn’t a dream.

“So you’re not just a figment of my imagination then, are you? Because I’m still not quite convinced last night actually happened,” he said walking towards Jensen and leaning beside him against the car door.

Jensen handed him a cup of coffee, “Yeah sure explosives and crazy government plots I can believe, but me having sex with you? Not sure that’s in the realm of possibilities. At all.”

He took a sip of the coffee, somehow Jensen managed to get it perfect. Maybe the CIA had a file on how he liked his coffee? Anything was fair game now.

“Not a figment of your imagination,” Jensen said around a small smile.

“Good because that would make it really hard to do this.”

And then he leaned over, kissing the bitter taste of coffee from Jensen’s lips.

He pulled back with a smile, still finding it funny that someone as badass as Jensen could blush the way he did.

“You’re a geek.”

“Nerd,” Jared corrected, pointing to his nametag, “actually I’m the manager of the Nerd Herd, so that makes me like King Nerd and-“

Jensen leaned over this time, shutting him up with a kiss.

“That’s not something to be proud of.”

“Oh, but it is.”

Jensen pulled away rolling his eyes. He reached into his jeans and tossed Jared the keys to his car, saying as he opened the door and got in the passenger side, “I had your car fixed. Figured the BuyMore wouldn’t want the King of the Nerds driving around in a heap of metal.”

“How kind of you.” Jared teased, moving around to get in the drivers side.

---

Like any other day he walked through the automatic doors of the BuyMore. (When you buy more. You get more.) Only this time, he walked in with a smile on his face, a bounce in his step, and Jensen by his side.

“Dude,” Chad practically latched onto him as soon as his foot hit the linoleum floor. “The date hasn’t ended yet? Niiiiiiiice.”

His fist was held out, Jared knew he wouldn’t give up until it was bumped. So he threw his friend a bone.

“Chad. Go sell things.”

“Alright Jay-man,” he winked, leaning over to whisper to him, “You’re totally gonna get some work nookie aren’t you?”

Jared covered his face with his hand and pushed him away.

“You’re my hero man!” he heard Chad shout in the distance as he led Jensen towards the Nerd Herd.

“So, where’s Agent Morgan?” he asked, wondering what happened to that psychopath. Maybe he had taken a shining to that scary mofo. Not that he’d say it out loud or anything.

He disappeared behind the desk, Jensen leaning on the opposite side, leaning over.

“He’s around.”

“Just around? That’s ominous. He’s not going to jump out and point a gun at my head when I’m at the urinal or anything is he?”

“You want me to point a gun at your head in the crapper? S’not my style, but for you I think I can make an exception.” Said a gruff, not amused in the slightest, voice from behind him.

Jared didn’t jump. Or scream. Or anything.

Jensen wasn’t laughing at him.

“What’s- what’s he doing here?” he squeaked.

“Didn’t ya hear? That help wanted sign just got taken out of the window, unfortunately for you,” he added under his breath, “and me.”

Jared swallowed and looked at Jensen expectantly. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be in a constant state of fear at work.

“You’re still our asset Jared,” Jensen said quietly so no one else but the three of them could hear. “As long as you’ve got our secrets in your head, we’ll be around. I’ll be around.”

Jensen locked his eyes with Jared’s, something in them maybe saying something more. Like he’d be around even if it wasn’t his job to do so. He’d still be around.

Jared smiled warmly.

“God, I can’t watch this,” Morgan complained, shuffling away to stand menacingly near the computer sales center. Somehow, Jared didn’t think he’d be making many sales.

“So, how exactly do you fix a computer?” Jensen asked flirtatiously.

“Well that depends,” Jared started with a smile just for Jensen, about to go off on a spiel on operating systems and external hard drives, until he looked up catching sight of a new customer walking through the automatic doors.

His vision blanked out, surge of information lighting up behind his eyelids.

Here we go again.

Just another day at the BuyMore.

[end.]

... or is it?

music that inspired this fic→
[01.]Don't Stop Believin' - Journey.
[02.]Goodnight and Go - Imogen Heap.
[03.]Public Service Announcement - The Bravery.
[04.]Gone Daddy Gone - Gnarls Barkley.
[05.]Treadstone Assassins - John Powell.
[06.]Tick, Tick, Boom - The Hives.
[07.]Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin' - Journey.
[08.]Heartbeat - Annie.
[09.]Peter Gunn - The Art of Noise.

♥ Thanks for reading! ♥

Fic: Paper Hearts in love, jsquared [PG-13]

2009-01-06T00:54:49Z

paper hearts in love.
j2, pg-13, 1000+ words.
summary: Do you like me? Yes or no?

For fatedcinderella because I said so. Also because she came up with the note idea. There's also that. But I have also discovered she is awesome, so yay!

------

It all started that time in between scenes where all Jared did was freakin’ stare at him. Which was working great to get him in Dean’s headspace; but he wasn’t sure that called for being irritated as fuck in real life.

So it was this train wreck pulled from the script of some half cocked and clichéd romantic comedy. Where whenever he looked away Jared would stare at him with these big huge moony eyes, but Jensen didn’t take the bait. This went on for about ten minutes before the level of irritating got too much for Jensen to handle.

So he snapped.

“Dude, if you’re trying some new creeper angle: it’s working. Cut it out!”

He was expecting some retarded Jared logic remark so it was really surprising when the big guy just blushed and shuffled away.

Huh. He didn’t think a guy of that height could shuffle.

Weird.

---

What was also weird?

Jared opening doors for him.

It was weird and offensive.

Despite his namesake, Jensen was definitely not a girl.

---

It got even weirder when Jared let him win at Madden later that night.

Jensen’s got his pride, but even he can admit that Jared’s some sort of scary ass Madden genius. Nobody lost against Jared at Madden.

Jensen was scared there was something wrong with the universe.

---

“Jen… what do you do when you’re into someone but they just don’t seem to get it?”

Jensen was sitting on the couch in his sweats, scratching his stomach and contemplating reaching for the remote when Jared assaulted him with his weird question.

He looked up with his eyebrow arched.

“Umm tell them?”

“Yeah… but I’m like 200% sure that if I tell this person out right they’ll have a panic attack, freak out and then hate me.”

“Wow, this girl sounds like a real doll.”

Jared smirked a little bit, and that was weird.

“Yeah but that’s what makes her endearing.”

“Well whatever get’s your boat floatin’ Padalecki.”

“Shut up you dick. Remember? Advice? I’m a pathetic loser?”

How could Jensen say no to that face? No really.

He wants to know how to say no to that face. Because no matter what he tries he can’t physically get the letter’s ‘N’ and ‘O’ past his lips when faced with Jared’s ‘I’m a pathetic loser with evil, evil hopelessly cute eyes’ face.

“I don’t know what to tell you man, the only advice I’ve got is tell her. Just maybe tone it down. You can be a bit intimidating at times. Don’t wanna scare the poor girl away with your over eager puppy crap. Reel it in.”

“Wow Jen, that was great advice. I don’t know how I ever lived without it.”

“I know. I’m a font of knowledge.”

---

The next day when Jensen finds a folded up piece of paper in his coat pocket that isn’t a reminder to pick up more beer and laundry detergent to himself, but instead is a flashback to the fourth grade?

It’s really weird.

Do you like me? Like, like me?
Circle yes or no.

Really, really weird.

As in he hopes Stacy Miller from the fourth grade isn’t stalking him and putting notes in his coat pockets kinda weird.

So he does the first thing that comes to mind.

He asks Jared about it.

“Dude, do you know who put this in my pocket? Because I really don’t want to think about what sort of crazy fan snuck into the house to put a note in my coat pocket if you don’t…”

He holds the aforementioned note in the air and waves it around to draw Jared’s attention.

Another weird thing happens. Jared blushes. Again. And splutters a bit like he’s lost for words which is an oddity of the universe because Jared Padalecki always has something to say. Unless…

Oh.

Oh.

OH!

Jared left him the note. Jared like likes him. In a ‘let’s be boyfriends!’ way. He likes him.

Huh.

Oddly, that doesn’t weird him out. Which is a first for the past couple days.

“I’m uh… just gonna… yeah.” And because Jensen is an idiot who hasn’t said anything, Jared ducks out of the room embarrassed and probably a little hurt.

Jensen’s an ass.

An ass who apparently had no idea Jared was into him even though now, now looking back the signs were obvious as freakin’ day. They live together for Christ’s sake!

He has to fix this.

Where the hell was a pen when you needed one?

---

So now Jensen’s sitting outside Jared’s bedroom trying to stuff the note with his ‘YES’ circled in horribly obvious bright red pen, under the crack of the door. But for some reason it isn’t really working.

Which is when the door flies open and there’s Jared, standing so tall Jensen has to crane his neck up to get a look at his face.

“Uh… hi..?” Jensen says awkwardly like he wasn’t just caught trying to shove a piece of notebook paper under his bedroom door.

“Hi.” Jared says back, a little guarded and Jensen really doesn’t know what to say so he just really clumsily shoves the note up into Jared’s face.

Jared frowns and turns to go back into his room, probably thinking Jensen’s making fun.

“No, Jay. Just, just look at it. Please?”

Jensen watched totally wrung out thinking that he blew it. He was actually really nervous that Jared was going to laugh at him.... which was weird because Jared was the one who gave him the note in the first place...

Wow, so this is what it was like for Stacy Miller in the fourth grade.

He suddenly really admires her for putting herself on the line like that as a ten year old.

Jared unfolded the note and the moment seemed to drag on as Jensen almost chewed through his lip worrying.

But it was all worth it in the end. Because seeing Jared’s face light up like that was pretty much the best thing in the entire world.

“Really?”

“Uh yeah…”

“Really really?”

Jensen rolled his eyes.

“Yes, Jared really really! Now hurry up and kiss me before I change my answer to no.”

Jared kissed him.

And it wasn’t weird.

It was perfect.

[end.]

So yeah, not exactly what I meant to write, but it's still cute. I think.

He'll say are ya married we say, no man. [Jsquared, R]

2008-12-19T03:57:30Z

He Sings a Love Song (As We Go Walking in a Winter Wonderland)
Jared/Jensen, R, 3300 words, unbeta'd.
Christmas Schmoop. Kitchen sex.

Jared normally loves snow.

That’s one thing Jensen’s learned in his time up here in the Great White North. He’s learned some other important things as well, like for instance:

-Tim Horton’s makes a pretty damn good cup of coffee for a relatively decent price.
-He probably likes Timmy Ho’s (as Tim Horton’s is affectionately called) a lot more than he likes Starbucks.
-Jared likes to use chocolate milk in his Captain Crunch.
-He’s kind of more than a lot in love with Jared. (But Jared didn’t quite know that)

Also there’s the Jared liking snow thing. And Jensen well he really fucking mega loathes entirely that white shit that the clouds crap out when it’s freezing-your-balls-off cold outside. Mostly because of the freezing your balls off thing, and also it’s wet and after a few days it turns like this really disgusting grey color, and where there’s snow there’s also ice which means falling on your ass and consequentially freezing your asscheeks off as well…

And also it’s really mother fucking cold.

But Jared?

He adores the stuff. When the flakes start falling he’s got his face pressed up against the window smiling like a goon and blabbing on about snow angels and epic snow ball fights, and ridiculous other shit like snow-shoeing and cross-country skiing like he actually knows how to do either of those things. As soon as there’s enough of it on the ground, it’s absolutely impossible to get Jared out of his snow gear and in the house where it’s, you know, warm.

That’s how Jensen knows something’s wrong this time. It’s been snowing all day here in Vancouver and Jared hasn’t mentioned anything about forcing Jensen outside with him to be the live model for his snowman. Instead he just stares forlornly out the window with these big sad eyes and Jensen’s more than a little freaked.

“Wow, did the snow kill your best friend or something?” he jokes as he comes up behind Jared at the front window in their living room. He jokes but he’s really, really concerned.

Jared just turns his head and throws those horribly sad eyes on him, and damn, it really breaks Jensen’s heart.

“You okay man?” he says as he reaches up to squeeze Jared’s shoulder, hating that Jared was sad. He only ever wanted him smiling, not looking like he should be put on suicide watch.

Jared just shrugged.

“Come on dude, you’re freaking me out here. Something’s really wrong if you’re not talking.“

It’s really a sad thing watching a six foot four man shrink in on himself and stare down at his feet like a shy little five year old. It’s definitely a weird image.

“I’m just- I’m just worried we won’t get to Texas for Christmas…” Jared says meekly.

Oh. OH. Christmas. How could Jensen have forgotten? Their flight left tomorrow afternoon and Jared was going to crash at Jensen’s parent’s for a few nights in Richardson before heading down to San Antonio to be with his family. Solo. Sans Jensen.

That’s probably the reason why he forgot right there. Two weeks without Jared was hard to fathom now that he spent every waking second with him, and there was also the whole in love with Jared thing too. He really didn’t want to be emo!Jensen over the holidays all because being without Jared is like living with a missing appendage, or maybe make it plural appendages.

Jared turned to look back out the window as if the snow had magically disappeared over the course of this conversation.

“And you’re giving the snow the sad eyes to try and make it feel guilty and go away?”

“No… I just… I don’t wanna be snowed in and miss out on Christmas Jen.”

The sheer disappointment in Jared’s eyes made Jensen want to kill the snow dead. If that were possible, he would be doing it right now. The only solace he could offer Jared was another squeeze of his shoulder and a reassuring smile.

“I’m sure we won’t get snowed in. Don’t worry about it Jay.”

+++

Surely enough the clouds managed to dump another good solid 3 feet of snow over night, and it didn’t look like it was going to stop anytime soon.

Which is why when Jensen wandered upstairs yawning and scratching his belly on a mission to get some coffee into his system the next morning, he found Jared sitting in front of the living room window again looking like he was about to slit his wrists to Sara McLachlan.

“They say there’s going to be a blizzard, with white out conditions. They’re gonna close down Highway One.”

It was chilling almost how drained of expression Jared’s voice was. He didn’t even look away from the window.

Coffee could damn well wait. This was serious business.

Padding lightly over the carpet Jensen crept down next to Jared, placing a soothing hand on his back, “Hey man, there’s nothing we can do about the weather. Don’t beat yourself up over it. I’m sure your family will understand.”

Jared looked away from the window then, looking defeated and tired and homesick. Jesus that was something Jensen did not want to see written on Jared’s face.

“You don’t understand. Christmas… We’ve got these family traditions we do every year and… I don’t… I don’t wanna miss out. I’ve never missed a Christmas.”

Man if there was one thing Jared loved more than snow it was Christmas. It must have been a huge stab in the back when snow cock-blocked him from his one true holiday love.

Biting his lip in thought, Jensen tried to come up with something to make this even a little bit better for Jay.

“Hey how about… I mean I know it’s not the same, and I’m not your family but maybe we can do some of those things here?” he raised his eyebrows waiting for Jared’s answer.

What he got wasn’t quite a smile, but there was a little light in his eyes when Jared replied,

“You are my family Jen.”

And well that was more than enough for Jensen.

+++

After a little more coaxing, and some homemade waffles, Jensen managed to get the first of Jared’s family traditions out of him.

“You’re gonna think it’s stupid.“ Jared said before shoveling a forkful of waffle dripping in Aunt Jemima’s into his mouth.

“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean I won’t try and do it.” Jensen took a sip of his coffee, keeping his eyes trained on Jared over the rim of his mug.

“Well… fine…” Jared started licking the syrup off his sticky fingers and Jensen got a little distracted.

“Me and Meg, we uh… we watch Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer and all those other silly Christmas specials together every year. It’s like… it’s stupid, but uh oddly fun.”

Jared blushed and Jensen wondered how he could go from being turned on to thinking Jared was the most adorable thing ever in the span of 3 seconds.

“Well that’s not so bad.”

+++

Yeah not so bad up until Jared started reciting all the lines to Rudolph in various character voices and giggling every time he saw Burl Ives as a snowman.

He had to admit, the torture was worth listening to Jared laugh again.

But he wouldn’t admit that Jared did a mean Hermey the misfit elf.

+++

After the movie, Jared talked about how the whole family would help decorate the tree. His Momma would pull out the golden star her Grandma had given her and put it on top. And then they’d all step back and watch as his Daddy plugged in the lights and the tree would sparkle and they’d all migrate to the couch and drink hot cocoa and just admire how pretty the tree was.

Jensen remembered that in the cabinet under the stairs he’d stored like this mini plastic Christmas tree with built in tree lights someone asked him to look-after, but he can’t remember for the life of him who.

He’s lucky he didn’t throw it away because after he’d dug it out, Jared’s face had brightened up even more. They sat around making crappy paper chains with computer paper and scotch tape, and Jared made a star out of toilet paper rolls, and staples and colored it vibrant yellow with a highlighter sharpie and put it on top of the tree.

It wasn’t much at all especially since it looked like it was decorated by a couple of artistically challenged first graders, but it may have been the most beautiful tree in the world from the look on Jared’s face when Jensen plugged it in.

+++

“So what’s next?” Jensen had asked a little bit skeptically. He had a feeling that Jared had started him out with the easy stuff.

He knew that what ever it was, he was going to do it regardless of how ridiculous it was.

+++

“Caroling? Are you freakin’ kidding me?”

Jared blushed.

It was still adorable as all hell.

“Uh... no?”

“But it’s cold outside… and... the snow...”

+++

Jensen knew he wasn’t actually in a relationship relationship with Jared, but damn was he friggin’ whipped. Jared had him wrapped around his finger with out even knowing it.

That’s really the only explanation why when the shitstorm of snow tones down, he finds himself looking like the love child of a marshmallow and a burrito, standing outside the neighbor’s house in two and a half feet of snow singing Jingle Bells, and Jingle Bell Rock and friggin’ Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree because Jared likes the happy fast paced songs like that.

But Jared’s having so much fun, laughing when he stumbles over the words and using his charm to make the neighbors join in as they move two a few more houses down the lane.

Man, he’s really got it bad if he’s willing to freeze his balls off and publicly humiliate himself.

+++

“Should I be scared?” he asked honestly afraid of what’s coming next when he flopped down on the sofa after a particularly rigorous and fucking freezing bout of caroling.

Jared just flopped down beside him with an easy grin.

The one Jensen missed all day.

“N’aww Jen. It can wait ‘til tomorrow.” Jared placed his hand on Jensen’s knee and gave it a quick squeeze.

Jensen swore that swimming anime adoration look Jared was giving him was the result of his brain being frost bitten.

They sat in silence, Jared still wearing his ridiculous hat with the toggles and the pom poms. He looked like the world’s most gigantic dork face, but Jensen thinks he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Thanks. For today… I…”

With an affectionate smile, Jensen cut him off.

“Don’t mention it.”

+++

Completely exhausted from all the Christmas festivities, Jensen managed to sleep until well after noon the next day.

He wandered upstairs, yawning and scratching his belly, same as yesterday. There was still about 2 feet of snow on the ground outside, same as yesterday.

But what was different was the lack of an angst ridden Jared, staring out the window like a sad lonely puppy or something equally as depressing.

Instead Jensen heard clamor and commotion in the kitchen, a few quiet curses tossed in the mix as well.

Smiling to himself, he curiously but cautiously tip-toed into the kitchen. Who knew what Jared was up to? He rarely cooked, so whatever it was, it couldn’t’ve been good.

“Jared? What in the hell...?”

Like he was caught doing something bad, Jared swirled around and ducked his head sheepishly.

Jensen barely managed to blink the rest of the sleep out of his eyes and take in the state of the kitchen. There was flour everywhere. On the counters, smeared on the cupboards, dotted on Jared’s cheek, all over his t-shirt.

The bag of sugar Jensen kept by the coffee maker as tipped over, crystals pooling over the counter and onto the floor. Mixing bowls, and cookie trays, and spatulas, and food coloring, and icing, and pretty much anything involved in the baking process was strewn all over the place.

“Uhh… I was making cookies. But uh… they didn’t really turn out so good looking.”

Jensen arched his eyebrow and made his way over to a plate of what looked like brightly colored mutant gingerbread men, and turned back to Jared with a still slightly confused look.

“Do gingerbread men normally have two heads?”

“Shh, mutant gingerbread men need love too.”

“No, but seriously Jared, what the hell?”

Jared mumbled something and looked down at his feet again.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I just… I thought I’d start on a tradition by myself and like I don’t know surprise you, because you’ve been really good to me and like you even went caroling when I knew you didn’t want to so uh…” He looked up rubbing the back of his neck and flushing red.

Damn it Jared stop being so fucking adorable!

“Surprise?” Jared finished with an awkward smile.

Jensen went all warm and gooey on the inside, not unlike Jared’s half cooked mutant ninja gingerbread men right then.

It kinda warmed his chilly, chilly heart that Jared would consider doing something like this for him after being so bummed about not going home. If the situation were reversed, Jensen knew he’d be a mopey bastard for weeks on end, much less back to his old self in a day.

“Jay… I…” For once he couldn’t find the words, when he knew he probably should have. It was just cookies, not a declaration of undying love.

But it could have been.

“Thanks.” He finally settled on, moving closer to Jared and knocking his shoulder against his, turning his head to smile softly up at him.

Jared looked back down at him with what Jensen swore was that same swimmingly adoring look from last night, but he was sure he was just seeing what he wanted to, and not that like Jared was like… pfft actually in love with him too or anything preposterous like that.

Except he kinda had this other weird look on his face, like it was something Jensen hadn’t really seen on him before, well maybe at least not up close and directed at him. But Jensen was sure Jared was leaning in and staring at his lips.

And okay more than sure because Jared whispered his name low and touched their forehead’s together, reaching around to touch a floury hand to the side of his neck.

It was so oddly tender from anything Jensen ever even dreamed about for how this might/would happen, as Jared leaned down and pressed his lips to Jensen’s, sucking each of his lips slowly and sweetly licking inside his mouth.

Jared tasted of sugar and cinnamon and something distinctly blue from the food coloring, and Jensen moaned as he reached out to fist his hands in Jared’s t-shirt.

Jared pulled back to say breathlessly, his lips catching on Jensen’s as he spoke, ”Been wanting to do that for a while now.”

“Me too.”

Smiling, so full of love and happiness for finally finally getting to have this, he pulled Jared back down, kissing him deeper and moving a hand down to where Jared’s low slung sweat pants revealed just the slightest curve of his hip.

That touch must have done something for Jared because next thing Jensen knew he was being walked backwards and pinned against the counter by Jared’s hips, his mouth being eaten at like it was one of Jared’s mutant gingerbread cookies.

Christ it was the hottest kiss of Jensen’s life is all he’s saying.

Jared rolled his hips down against Jensen’s in this brutally delicious pace that had him hard in record time, and Jensen needed to feel Jared’s skin underneath his hands right that very second.

Impatiently he tugged at Jared’s shirt, making Jared chuckle and pull back to help him lift if over his head.

Moaning at all that glorious golden skin in front of him, Jensen trailed his hands down Jared’s chest and stared in awe at how absolutely gorgeous Jared was.

Inside and out.

Jensen doesn’t complain when his Jared ogling time is interrupted when Jared reaches into Jensen’s flannel pajama pants and fists his cock in his big, warm hand.

“Jesus… Jared,” he bites his lip and can’t help bucking into his touch when Jared gently rolls his balls and squeezes the head of his cock just right.

“Shhh Jen, I gotcha…” he hears Jared whisper as he pets the side of his face and leans in to capture his lips once again in a slow burning kiss, all love and affection and worship.

Jensen wasn’t going to last much longer, he’d been waiting for this for so long, and now he had it and it was everything and more because it wasn’t just some drunken one night thing. Jensen was sure this was it. This was everything right in front of him.

Jared stroked his cock in a slow rhythm and a tight grip, building up the pressure until Jensen felt his toes curl as he came into Jared’s fist.

As he rode out the remnants of his orgasm, Jared pressed kisses all along his face and neck, soothing him down and making him feel loved.

If it wasn’t for the raging hard-on digging into his belly, Jensen could have let Jared do that forever.

Instead he licked his lips and pushed Jared back, staring at him with hooded eyes as he dropped to his knees in front of him. His thumbs caressing the cut of his hips before hooking in the waste band of Jared’s sweats and dragging them down to press a kiss to the swollen head of Jared’s cock.

Man, Jensen always suspected Jared was packing, but damn. He was huge and gorgeous and Jensen wondered if he tasted as good as his kisses did. So he wasted no more time and took Jared into his mouth, sucking so good and pressing his tongue to the slit tasting wave after wave of salty pre-come.

His other hand dragged down to cup the heavy weight of Jared’s balls, squeezing and caressing gently. He knew Jared was close when his balls drew up tight in his hand, and Jared’s fingers threaded through his hair.

The bitten off moans were enough to get Jensen half hard again as Jared lost complete control and came in long jets in his mouth.

Jensen swallowed everything Jared had to give him.

Both out of breath and each a blissed out mess, Jensen rested his head on Jared’s thigh. He felt a squeeze on the back of his neck and looked up smiling.

Jared looked awestruck, which Jensen figured was fitting because he was pretty damn awesome at giving head in his opinion.

“Hey…” Jared managed, his voice soft and throaty as he trailed a tender finger along Jensen’s cheek.

“So… what other Christmas tradition’s do you crazy Padalecki’s have?” Jensen says with a smirk.

Jared threw his head back and laughed, pulling Jensen up to his feet and kissing him. They were in the middle of a disaster zone kitchen and their dicks where still hanging out but it was still pretty much perfect.

Jared pulled off his lips and whispered hot and full of promise and so much love into Jensen’s ear,

“How about we start a few traditions of our own?”

Jensen was very much in favor of that idea.

Maybe he didn’t hate the snow so much anymore, after all, it brought him to Jared.

[end]

+++

OMG FIC LONGER THAN A THOUSAND WORDS! *jumps* But uhmm yes I wrote this last night in one huge swoop to try and cheer myself up about being snowed in at school. I share my fic!Jensen's attitude about snow. *nods*

Well... anyways, CHRISTMAS FIC! ♥

Are you from Heaven? (Because you must be an angel)

2008-12-07T07:32:57Z

So I may or may not just wanted an excuse to use the 'Did it hurt when you fell from heaven line?' in a fic.

~~HULLO. DEAN/CASTIEL much? I don't even care if it's been done before, because I haven't seen it yet.~~

Because after a very amusing incident the other day at the mall when a guy actually thought using a lame pick-up line would actually work on me (long story short, the security devices kept going off when I left stores and this guy outside Toys 'R Us replied when I said 'WHY DOES THAT KEEP HAPPENING?' with, 'Because your electric personality is too much for it to handle.' And then when I was all ... he kept going with, 'It only goes off for the prettiest girl in the world.')

I'm not going to lie, it made my life because that had never happened to me before.

Anyways, this resulted. It's un-beta'd obviously since I just wrote it in like twenty minutes and then posted so... *DANCES*

are you from heaven? (because you must be an angel)
dean/castiel, r, 550 words.
pre-4.10.

---

Dean has this thing where he can pick out the hottest person in the room (second to him of course) and quite literally charm the pants off said person into the back seat. Girls, guys, whomever met his standards. And okay fine, maybe that made him undeniably shallow. But Dean?

Really doesn’t care.

Because that thing of his gets him laid on a regular basis, sometimes more than twice in one night.

Except now everywhere he goes the hottest person in the damn room is his very own Guardian Angel. Which you know, considering that’s not just some expression and the guy is actually an Angel of the Lord and all… is more than fifty kinds of kinky and wrong.

So one night he’s in this bar in Tulsa, gloriously alone and about to go over and buy this foxy little brunette with great tits a drink, when of course at that exact moment Cas decides to pull that freaky stalker of the Lord mojo and appear out of thin air right next to him.

It’s really a sin that the guy doesn’t know just how fucking gorgeous he is, Dean thinks as he forgets all about that brunette with one glance at Castiel’s ridiculously sexy fuckswept hair and kiss swollen lips.

So maybe Dean’s got another thing. As in a thing for Castiel and his stupid wide and ridiculous blueblueblue innocent eyes, and that whole pulling him out of hell thing.

There’s also that.

So whatever he goes for it.

He takes a sip of his beer before swiveling around on his barstool, leaning over and smiling that ‘I’m hotshit and you know it’ grin he uses to pick-up any old usual fuck. Dean doesn’t really know the proper etiquette for propositioning angels, so he just sticks with what works here on Earth.

“So did it hurt?” he asks with a lecherous gaze.

Dean Winchester understands and appreciates irony.

He watches Castiel tilt his head to the side, and furrow his brow in thought. He looks down at his Holy Tax Accountant jacket, running his strong and capable hands (that would look so pretty and feel so fucking awesome on Dean’s cock) carefully down his front, before looking straight into Dean’s eyes.

“I have no injuries. I am not certain what you mean.”

Dean blinked. They probably didn’t teach the art of pick-up lines in Angel School.

“No, see you were supposed to say: Did what hurt? And then I was going to say: When you fell from heaven! But then you went and ruined it dude. Because you know, you’re an angel… from heaven… you know?”

He searched Cas’ face for signs of pretty much anything except for the blank expression he was sporting.

“I didn’t fall from heaven, I flew…”

Slumping back over onto his barstool with a sigh and a grumble, Dean just accepted that he wasn’t going to get laid tonight or possibly ever again until Castiel went on his way back to his cloud in that Great Gig in the Sky.

But Mostly Dean just couldn’t understand how his never fail pick-up line had well… failed.

Dean should really get a new thing.

---

*hides*

I wroted.

2008-10-05T00:33:20Z

[Gossip Girl And Bodywash: A Case Study of Jared Padalecki’s Testosterone Levels.]
Pairing: Jared/Jensen.
Rating: like maybe barely R.
Wordcount: 1,240.
Summary: People seem to have the habit of thinking Jared's a bit girly...

Jared’s been informed by unreliable sources ~~Chad~~, that well... How can he say it in so little words?

Uhm. Uh. Well Basically… It’s like… Okay here’s how it is:

Chad once (three times since yesterday) told Jared that occasionally, he tends to act like a really, really, really gigantic, post pubescent but hasn’t grown into her boobs yet, really tall and really abnormally large, hormonally imbalanced, GIRL.

And so maybe he does spend a lot of time trying to get his hair to do that artfully post-fucked thing. And maybe he does wash with a line of organically manufactured shower products. (In all fairness Lush did promise the Dreamwash Shower Smoothie would “effectively alleviate his skin's worst problems, “ through the power of “beneficial essential oils like lavender and chamomile.”) And okay. So. Maybe sometimes he’ll watch Gossip Girl and really hope that Chuck and Blair are going to make it work this time.

But come on. Jared? Jared Padalecki?

He’s all man.

100% pure, red meat eating, sports watching, beer drinking, spitting – Okay wait. Maybe he doesn’t spit. His Momma did happen to teach him that spitting was a rude habit and no one wanted to see your saliva flying all over the place.

Anyways:

Jared Padalecki?

He’s 99.94% man. Red meat eating, sports watching, beer drinking man. God Damnit! Mother chucking exclamation point! Underlined! Squared!

Seriously just ask Jensen.

-----

Scene: A trailer. Tidy, sparsely furnished. Target board on far wall devastated by hundreds of indentures. Ugly paisley couch in left corner looks to have seen better days. Unbecoming stain on the right armrest.
Jensen Ackles is sitting on said couch taking a break from his vigorous work schedule, sprawled lethargically across the cushions, arm thrown along the back.

Jensen (defeated, with a sigh): Did Jared try and convince you he’s all man again?

The audience nods.

Jensen leans forward in seat, elbows resting on knees.

Jensen: I suppose he tried to tell you he’s all man just because he’s (makes air quotations) “alpha male” in the bedroom?

It is assumed the audience gives him a puzzled look. Jared never told audience this. Jensen reads the reaction, blushes and sits up straight. He attempts to start a few sentences but has difficulty.

Jensen (stammering): What I meant was – I’m not – Jared’s – Crap…

Jensen rubs back of his neck, looking away for three seconds. Looks straight at camera serious and determined.

Jensen (says matter of factly, as if proving point): He cries at the end of The Notebook.

End scene.

-----

“Hey man I’m going to the liquor store, you want me to pick you up a case of Corona?”

“Yeah sure. Oh and maybe get me some of that Pina Colada flavored Bacardi stuff?”

“Yeah sure. If you’ll show me your vagina.”

-----

Jared sweeps his tongue along Jensen’s, stroking the slick slide of it and sucking. Jensen tastes like butter and popcorn and powdered cheese popcorn salt. He pulls back from Jensen’s lips slowly, pressing teasing kisses to the corners, biting nips to the mound of his sinful bottom lip.

Jensen whines and moans.

Jared chuckles low.

Their noses rub together, popcorn breath mingling as the movie casts an unearthly blue glow across their skin. He slides his hand up the front of Jensen’s old grey t-shirt, runs the flat of his palm across Jensen’s warm belly. He smiles privately as Jensen’s skin goose pimples, and he shivers under Jared’s hand.

Intimately they touch and nuzzle, stroke and rub and tease together on the couch, stuck in this moment as the movie plays on in time.

He runs his nose down the line of Jensen’s neck, smelling the slight tang of his skin, the scent of fabric softener clinging to the collar of his shirt. He brings a hand up to cup his jaw, rubbing the smooth underside of his thumb across the rough of Jensen’s two-day-old stubble.

Jared pauses to look. Greedily drink in the heavy dark, nownownow arousal in Jensen’s eyes. He see’s himself reflected in the inky pool of iris. He looks at the welcoming mouth that’s breathing his name in urgency. Stroking over the high of Jensen’s cheekbone, he puts them both out of their misery.

He lean’s down and tilts Jensen’s face back up, fusing their lips back together to drink in each others want, each others need, and each others love.

It hits him. Mid make-out, Jensen’s hand making it’s way over the sweatpants and into the boxers.

He laughs, deep and loud, rumbling the room.

“You’re the girl!” Jared exclaims, rubbing tears of mirth away from his eyes.

Jensen looks at him in challenge. Eyebrow arched, arms folded over broad chest.

“I tilt your head back when we kiss. You’re the girl!”

And there it is in plain old Jared logic, laugher written in his eyes.

“Jared, “ says Jensen calmly, in rational rest of the world logic, “you made us watch You’ve Got Mail.”

The ‘You’re the girl,’ is implied. Jared doesn’t really get it.

-----

Scene: Jared and Jensen’s bedroom. Late morning/Early afternoon on a Sunday. Their day off from shooting. Sunlight shines in through semi sheer curtains. Typical IKEA showroom bedroom, extra wide, extra long King sized bed in center of room. White sheets, thick white down comforter.

Jared and Jensen lie intertwined underneath blankets, Jared’s front to Jensen’s back.

Jared (instead of saying good morning): I’m not a girl.
Jensen: Yeah my ass can feel that. (Pause, goes on sarcastically) Good morning to you too Honey.

Jared rolls on top of Jensen, looks down at him with predatory flare. Grinds down into Jensen. Jensen bites lip suffocating a moan. Jared goes about showing Jensen how much of a girl he isn’t.

They have sex.

End scene.

-----

“Jensen can you pick me up some more shampoo! I ran out!”

“Just use mine you dorkwad!”

“Head and Shoulders? Dude, I need my jojoba and eucalyptus extract shampoo and conditioner, not some shitty two-in-one! Some of us care about our hair you know.”

-----

To sum things up, Jared’s kinda girly.

Yes, he owns some DVD’s of The OC, and occasionally he’ll watch some of the old school episodes. You know, back when it was good and all.

Yes, he does own a hair straightener and sometimes he actually uses it. But Jensen bought it for him, so he figures it’s only polite.

And yes, once he did go for a pedicure. There’s really no excuse for that one. He isn’t even going to try and make one up.

But you know what?

Jared’s okay with that. Really, he is. He may be a girl, but so is Jensen.

Like Jensen? The thing with him is:

He totally likes it when Jared calls him baby in the bedroom. And yeah Jensen actually enjoys cuddling after sex, well so does Jared, but Jensen? He can be surprisingly clingy in the post-coital stages. And there was that one time when Jensen let Jared fuck him against the wall and Jensen had his legs wrapped around Jared’s hips like a girl and he totally got off on it way more than usual.

So Jared’s pretty sure Jensen’s a little bit of a girl too, and maybe that means they’re a pair of lesbians who happen to have dangling genitalia.

But who is Jared to be the judge of that?

Maybe he’ll ask Chad about it.

[end.]

-----

A/N: So I kind of experimented with stuff here for the general sake of getting into the habit of writing again. Like I have all these essays coming up and I know this is NOTHING like that because I have this huge ass fear of formality, but it helped to get passed that psychological writer's block. Comments, and feedback are welcomed. I want to know if the writing style was interesting/confusing/and whatnot for you.

♥

A/N2: this was totally based off a crack conversation about THIS PICTURE in regards to how monstrously tall Jared is and how Jensen probably has to wear Spice Girl Platform shoes to avoid having to go through the degradation of tilting his head up and standing on his tippy toes like a girl when kissing Jared. Anyways...

*Ashlee Simpson dances away*

I WROTED! :D

2007-10-10T02:05:18Z

So everyone loves Jared and his argyle sweater, right? RIGHT. First thing I thought when I looked at it was, wow he looks like someone's husband. ~~MINE~~ And then I thought, hey he looks like someone's LAZY husband lounging on the couch after dinner complaining he's too full to help clean up.

AND SO THIS ENSUED. AHEM, I also blame it entirely on a certain convo with emoticonfail Srsly I just copied and pasted some bits. *g* Also I typed this up pretty fast so little misakes were probably looked over. So IDK get over it.

[argyle and dishes]
jared/jensen
PG 1,352 words
SCHMOOP, and DOMESTICYNESS
AND with a teeny surprise. :O

Life was good. He was full on homemade lasagna and wine, and that after meal lethargy was just starting to kick in as he reclined out on the plush couch in the living room. He absently rubs his stomach, his ring catching on the fabric of his sweater every so often and hums contently.

The only thing that would make this moment any better would be some mind numbing television. If only the remote was in plain sight, and not more than an arms length away. Maybe a nap would suffice.

He was just starting to doze off when he heard that nagging voice from deep in the disaster area that was their kitchen.

“Jared, get off your lazy ass and help me clean up! There’s a pile of dirty dishes that need washing. NOW.”

Jared wonders if he’ll ever manage to avoid kitchen duty.

Probably never under Jensen’s watch.

He sighs and begrudgingly shuffles into the kitchen knowing full well there’s no way out this time, or you know like ever.

The dishes really are piled up to there and then some. Pots and pans all caked with gross left over lasagna gunk, tomato sauce and cheese burned into the worst dishes. It was a dishwasher’s nightmare. He visibly shudders and receives a smack across the head from a dishtowel.

Jensen’s wiping down the counters with disinfectant like he does after every meal, (because he’s anal and a little bit OCD like that, Jared always says) and sneaking annoyed glances over at Jared and the still unwashed dishes.

“They’re not gonna bite you, you know.” Jensen retorts tossing the rag he was using over his shoulder.

Jared looks between the dishes that look like they keep stacking up higher on their own accord and the barely amused expression on his husband’s face.

‘But- I cut my finger this morning.. And I don’t think the dish soap would be good for the healing process.” He nods, proud of his excuse and turns to flee into the living room. Maybe Ellen is on. But before he can squeeze past Jensen’s death glare, his forearm is gripped and he’s being twisted around.

“Jared," Jensen’s using his stern voice now, topped off with that expression that clearly says listen to me now or suffer the consequences, “Do the dishes. Or no sex.”

Rubber gloves are shoved against his chest, and really Jared sees no way out of this. Sex deprivation is like the most horrible punishment ever. Something he learned from the last time he didn’t listen when Jensen told him to stop leaving his dirty clothes on the bathroom floor instead of in the hamper.

Hanging his head in defeat, Jared frowns and puts on the gloves and picks up the scrub brush, grumbling something about controlling husbands as he turns and runs the sink adding way too much soap in the mix.

“I don’t understand why we can’t just buy a dishwasher. S’not like we can’t afford it.” He bitches, scrubbing at the greasiest, nastiest pan he’s seen in his life.

He’s surprised when he feels Jensen’s heat against his back, a hand sneaking around to rest innocently on his hip. Jensen presses his face against Jared’s neck, absentmindedly places a kiss just under his jaw.

“Washing dishes builds character.” Jensen says against Jared’s skin and pulls back to pat him on the ass, in a playful and appreciative manner, “Such a good little housewife.”

He goes over to the fridge and gets a beer, popping the cap off with his ring. He leans against the counter and Jared can feel him watching with that satisfied little grin on his face.

Stupid Bastard.

It’s silent for a few minutes as Jared scrubs away at the dishes, barely making a dent in the pile. How the hell are there that many dirty dishes anyway? It was only the two of them at dinner. He barely notices when Jensen makes a frankly, quite irrelevant comment.

“You know that sweater makes you look like a big gigantic geek.”

Indignantly, Jared swerves around, dropping the glass he was rinsing into the water with a loud splash, “What did you just say about my sweater?” He folds his rubber-gloved hands across his chest and challenges Jensen with a glare.

Jensen stares right back, passive and seemingly unamused on the surface, as he purses his lips, “I said it makes you look like a dork.” He raises his eyebrows and takes a pull of his beer for theatrics.

Jared places his hands on his hips and looks down at the sweater in question, making a show of checking himself out. “I happen to think I look attractive and sophisticated in this sweater thank you very much.”

Jared hates how Jensen just blinks and says bluntly, “It’s argyle.” Like it’s the obvious explanation to life itself.

“What do you mean, it’s argyle?” Jared mocks Jensen’s condescending tone, and takes an angry step towards him.

“I mean, as in it’s ugly. And you look like a premature old man. And if you don’t take that hideous thing off I’m deleting your secret stash of America’s Next Top Model off the Tivo. Oh yes, I know about that.” Jensen grins cheekily, and takes a well-deserved victory sip, pulling back with an annoying and over dramatic, thirst quenching sigh.

“You’re a jerk you know that?” Jared whines lifting the sweater over his head and tossing it onto the kitchen counter, leaving him in his undershirt and his hair all wild and dishelved.

Like hell he was missing a second of cycle 9.

Jensen touches his chest over his heart and pretends to be hurt. Asshole. “Aw, Honey you don’t mean that.”

“Oh I do. I really, really do.” Jared turns back to the dishes and starts scrubbing furiously.

He hears a heavy sigh and knows Jensen feels like a douche. Out of the corner of his eye Jared can see him set his beer down and push off the counter to come stand beside him at the sink. Jared vaguely pays attention to the pathetic puppy eyes he’s trying to pass off as an apology.

But the gesture doesn’t go unnoticed. Jared hates himself for being so forgiving, as he gently knocks their shoulders and tosses Jensen a small smile.

“Am I pushing my luck if I ask you to vacuum the bedroom?” Jensen jokes with him. And Jared was going to roll his eyes and tell him not a chance in the world, but when a shrill cry comes from down the hallway, he immediately seizes the upper hand and grins broadly,

“I’ll vacuum if you change the baby’s diaper.”

Jensen sighs, “Now that’s just mean.” And then he smirks like he does when an idea pops up into his head, “I’ll trade you? Dishes for Diapers?” He smiles hopefully, and Jared contemplates taking this trade. Dishes are the devil. Everyone should just eat off of paper plates to eliminate the whole washing process. But there was always the Jensen was an ass thing, no harm in getting a little payback.

So Jared smiles happily at him and leans in as if he was going for a kiss, “No deal.” He turns his attention back to the sink, happy to be doing the dishes instead of diaper duty.

"You're evil."

With those parting words, it was Jensen’s turn to begrudgingly make his way to the nursery to face the dreaded dirty diaper; a task he did not want to do but Jared’s power over him undermined.

This whole married thing was awesome like that, Jared thought as he finished drying the last dish.

Jared admires his work, quite proud that he defeated the monster tower of dirty dishes and turned them into shiny clean ones.

He steals Jensen’s beer and makes his way back over to his friend the couch, sinking into the cushions that know his body well. Taking a pull of his beer, the remote conveniently right within his reach this time around, he flips on the TV and finally gets around to watching last weeks America's Next Top Model.

Life was definitely good.

OH YES I DID. IDK. I'm crazy. And I like babies. And married boys. *shrugs*

Resources

2007-07-24T07:13:55Z

[Textures]
ownthesunshine
ewanism
gothic_nyx
ohfreckle
sadiebabi
mizzybox
gummiiship
matchbox_icons
iconmation
iqons
77words
hanako_lovely
folded_arts
lifeisdolce
sneaky_elephant
kopgirl
24_amends
pandavirus
fffound

[General Screencaps]
inadream_caps
dj_capslock
screencap-paradise

[Supernatural Screencaps]
marishna
trutdelamonde
strippedpink
nightcomes
raloria

[Actors]
Jensen Ackles - jensenacklesfans.com
Sophia Bush - sophia-central.com
Miley Cyrus - forever-miley.net
Zac Efron - zefron.com
Bethany Joy - bethanyjoylenz.com
Jared Padalecki - jared-padalecki.org
Ashley Tisdale - misstisdale.net
Milo Ventimiglia - miloventimigliafan.com

[Other]
High School Musical - hsmusical.org

I've Been the Needle And The Thread

2006-06-24T23:31:35Z

For 1sentence. All the other pairings I wanted were taken. *huffs* So here are my lesser Sawyer/Charlie sentences. It's a random pairing, but Charlie is slashable with everyone, although not Henry Gale because that would be weird.

Title: This City's Made Us Crazy And We Must Get Out.
Fandom: Lost
Pairing: Sawyer/Charlie, passing mentions of Skate and C/C.
Theme set: Alpha
Rating: R
A/N: Slash, don't like it don't read it. My Journal I can post whatever the fuck I want. So Nana Nana Boo Boo, and other childish comments and so forth.

#01 Comfort
When everyone else on the island hated him, he was the only one to turn to.

#02 Kiss
Charlie craves Sawyer’s bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue; not Claire’s sweet and gentle one.

#03 Soft
“Sawyer you’re gettin’ soft,” Kate says, but he’s too busy watching Charlie play with Aaron.

#04 Pain
They both knew that if they kept fucking to try and become numb, it was never going to happen.

#05 Potatoes
Charlie asks, “Hey Sawyer, what rhymes with mangoes?” and Sawyer responds, “Uh... Potatoes?”

#06 Rain
The day it ended it was only fitting that it was raining; now Charlie could cleanse his skin from Sawyer and start over.

#07 Chocolate
When Hurley says, “Dude what are you thinking about?” Charlie doesn’t say, “licking chocolate off Sawyer's thighs.”

#08 Happiness
The only way to remain truly unhappy, is to keep this thing between them going.

#09 Telephone
If you think about it, it doesn’t really makes sense that Sawyer would be the first to call and strike up a conversation.

#10 Ears
Honestly, if there was one thing he liked most about the VH1 has been, it would be the ears that don’t quite fit his face.

#11 Name
Somewhere down the line when Sawyer tells Charlie his real name, Charlie just says, “James Ford? That sounds like the name of one of those men who seem like right ponces to me.”

#12 Sensual
What everyone sees as awkward and lopsided about Charlie, Sawyer sees as sensual, sexy even; not that he’d ever tell the little runt that.

#13 Death
At Ana’s and Libby’s funeral Sawyer thinks that he probably needs Charlie to hold his hand more than Claire does.

#14 Sex
They both wonder when it stopped being ‘fucking’ and started to become ‘sex’; they also both hope it won’t ever be considered as ‘making love’.

#15 Touch
The last time Charlie touched Sawyer it was to punch him square in the jaw, and after he just walked away.

#16 Weakness
The heroin was his weakness; now it’s Sawyer.

#17 Tears
No tears were shed at the end; Sawyer wasn’t no pansy and Charlie wasn’t in love.

#18 Speed
For Charlie it was always about going as fast as possible, looking for the next high, never slowing down; you wouldn’t think it, but Sawyer always brought him to a complete stop.

#19 Wind
Sometimes he feels like writing a song about the way the wind blows through Sawyer’s hair.

#20 Freedom
He’s free to screw anyone he damn well wants, Charlie just happens to be the best.

#21 Life
Charlie sings a song he wrote about life and half way through the first verse, Sawyer tells him “that everyone knows life’s shit, ‘cause hell look at the dandy situation we got goin on here,” and also that he, “should put a cork in it, before your awful singin blows my ear drums out.”

#22 Jealousy
When he sees Sawyer with Kate, Charlie doesn’t know who he’s more jealous of.

#23 Hands
Sawyer kinda likes that Charlie sometimes colours in his fingernails with black Sharpie.

#24 Taste
The first time they fuck, Charlie has the awful taste of bile in his mouth the whole time.

#25 Devotion
Sawyer sees Charlie laughing his British, tea drinking, scone eating, ass off, and knows he was caught singing “Hopelessly Devoted To You” in the shower.

#26 Forever
It wasn’t gonna last; just until Kate got over her whole ‘Doc’ thing, and when Claire decided Charlie was forgiven.

#27 Blood
He knows he’s not in love after he didn’t feel the worry and sickness at the sight of Sawyer’s blood.

#28 Sickness
He shouldn’t feel like upchucking this mornings mangoes, when he sees the way Claire has accepted Charlie into her little makeshift family once again.

#29 Melody
Next time Sawyer hears Charlie hum that stupid Drivewhateverthefuck song he’s going to hit him.

#30 Star
Sawyer wonders how this awkward little British pain in his ass, was actually famous back in the day.

#31 Home
“Be honest short stuff, you’re glad we’re goin’ home aren’tcha?”

#32 Confusion
He can’t say he’s not confused when Sawyer pushes him up against that tree and fucks him hard and fast, and then the next day Kate’s in the same position he was in yesterday.

#33 Fear
Charlie can never stop thinking, “What if Claire finds out?”

#34 Lightning/Thunder
Jack tells them to get their asses undercover, but they just continue to relax on the wet sand, challenging to lightning to strike where they lay.

#35 Bonds
“Hey mate question for ya; how exactly do you feel about bondage?”

#36 Market
Technically speaking, Sawyer was off the Island market after Charlie branded him as his the night before.

#37 Technology
When Charlie says, “You know what I miss the most? Microwaves. I’m tired of eating this cold as shite meat, they feed us,” Sawyer replies, “Well little buddy, know what I miss? Porn.”

#38 Gift
He holds the leather cuff between his fingers and remembers the day Charlie gave it to him, and how so much was left unsaid.

#39 Smile
It’s corny, but hell if Charlie’s smile isn’t infectious.

#40 Innocence
Charlie hated it when people saw him as innocent, that’s why he started fucking Sawyer during the day, so that everyone would know he was the exact opposite.

#41 Completion
He’s got some spectacular blackmailing material now that Charlie knows Sawyer makes that little whimper when he comes.

#42 Clouds
Charlie thinks that particular cloud looks like John Lennon, but Sawyer thinks it looks more like a fluffy bunny.

#43 Sky
It’s been two weeks since his ass was dragged around with a burlap bag over his head, the sky went all Sci-Fi Purple, and he can’t stop thinking about Charlie; it’s been two weeks since Claire kissed him, and ever since he’s the happiest bloke on the island; Sawyer’s the farthest thing in his mind.

#44 Heaven
Sometimes he thinks Charlie is as close to heaven as he’s ever going to get.

#45 Hell
He knows he’s already going to hell, but he wonders if this thing with Sawyer earns him a first class ticket.

#46 Sun
Sawyer kinda likes the way Charlie tucks his sun bleached hair behind his ears when he’s concentrating on something.

#47 Moon
The only other thing he likes more about Charlie than his ears, is his round, rather womanly butt.

#48 Waves
Sleepless nights come because he misses the soft lull of the waves hitting the shore; but mostly because he misses Charlie’s snoring.

#49 Hair
Just picturing his hands threading through Sawyer’s hair is enough to make him hard.

#50 Supernova
Charlie tells Sawyer his favourite song is ‘Champagne Supernova’, and Sawyer tells Charlie that he figured as much that his favourite song would be by some crap British band.

For my pals at theoc_slash

2006-06-03T06:17:09Z

Many want random smut am I right? Well I bring you random, no strings attached Smuttyness. I think this will be the first of many. There is only one rule: You can not question anything. Like how did they get there? Why is no one walking in on them? Or many numerous other questions that I will not answer. Just embrace the man schmex. Do not question it. It just is.

In a Car
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: The OC
Pairing: Seth/Ryan
Summary: The title says it all. Angsty PWP. Set after Season 3 finale.
Warning: Slash people, don't like it don't read it. I can post it. It's my own damn journal soo nnyah!

The timing could not be anymore inappropriate.

Fucking in the car after Marissa's funeral, was definitely beyond inappropriate. And Seth was sure that Ryan was just trying to forget the loss, and the images and the feelings of responsibility.

But Seth was trying to forget too. Forget Summer sobbing into his shoulder and saying "I can't do this", and the numb stare of Julie, as the shell of her daughter was laid six feet under. He wanted to forget the fact that just four days ago everyone was happy and moving forward, and now they were down the ladder, a million spaces behind.

It's hot and angry. And Seth is dying. He pushes the jacket off of Ryan's shoulders and un-tucks the shirt from behind, and slips his hand underneath. The skin beneath his palm is hot, and Ryan's biting on his lip hard enough to draw blood. He moves his hand down to Ryan's crotch and cups his erection through his pants. And Ryan is rocking into his touch, not a making a sound, because if either of them make any noise then it would mean something.

Neither knows who initiated it. Maybe it was Ryan staring at Seth at the wake. His eyes saying, "I'm lost, I need you to find me", or maybe it was Seth with the more obvious shoving Ryan into the coat room and kissing Ryan until he was sure his lips were bruised.

Now in the backseat of the Range Rover, Ryan bites Seth's neck and takes off Seth's jacket and tie and shirt. Seth remembers always wanting to do this, but never this way. Never as a means of distraction. But he can't back out now, it feels too damn good. And he's sure the second they stop Ryan will break.

Seth watches as Ryan takes off his pants, and then reaches for Seth's own belt and pulls his pants around his ankles. Ryan pushes Seth down onto his back on the leather seat, and licks his lips, before he attacks Seth's torso.

Seth feels Ryan close his teeth over a nipple. A swirling tongue, creates a mixture of pleasure and pain. Ryan rakes his nails down Seth's chest, licking a path down his curls. Then Seth feels warm hands enclosing his dick, fingers swirling in the pre-cum leaking from the head. And then the hands are gone, and Seth dies right there. But then Ryan grunts,

"Turn over."

Everything comes crashing down then. They both let go, and this thing between them surrounds and devours. Completely consuming, forgetting why both are doing this in the first place, and where they are, and the blue of Marissa's skin in the casket.

Seth complies and turns onto his stomach, erection pressed beneath his body and the leather of the seat. The anticipation of being fucked, burns his insides.

A pre-cum slick finger presses against his opening, pushing deep inside. It burns. Seth feels like he's being torn in two pieces. It moves in and out, and Seth is going crazy on just one of Ryan's fingers. Crazy from pain, that soon melts sorely into pleasure. And when Seth feels the velvet touch of a tongue pushing into him, he's moaning and clawing at the seat.

"Fuck me," He begs of Ryan. And the finger and tongue are removed, and he braces himself for the insertion of Ryan's cock. It doesn't come. Instead Ryan brings his hands to Seth's hips and presses his body against Seth's back, and latches his teeth onto Seth's earlobe. Seth lets his head fall back, and he begs Ryan again to,

"Fuck me."

This time Ryan bites Seth's shoulder, and guides his cock into his ass. Seth moans loudly and lifts his hips back allowing the dick inside him to push deeper. Ryan slams hard into Seth, almost violently. He continues the motion, sliding out and slamming in, making Seth incoherent. And when the spot inside him is hit, he can no longer think. He can only see white, and everything is blurred, by the pleasure.

It's hot, hot, hot, and so fucking good. The car is rocking with their motions and the pressure of Ryan's cock inside Seth is eating away at him, but it's worth it, Seth thinks. Ryan's gripping Seth's waist so tightly it will bruise, and he will be reminded for a long time after. Ryan's face contorts into a mixture of agony and bliss, and thrusts into him one last time, and then he breathes,

"Seth,"

and he has reached his orgasm. The sensation of Ryan coming inside him, and the feel of the leather seating against his cock, are almost enough for Seth to fall over the edge as well. But Ryan hastily pulls out of Seth and turns him over, before he can come. It feels like punishment, and he can't stand it, so he brings his own hand down to his balls and rolls them between his fingers, and Ryan watches him, face expressionless, like he's just going through the motions.

Seth closes his eyes, he's so close. Almost there, and then a hot heat is engulfing him. He opens his eyes and the scene before him is enough alone to bring him to conclusion. Ryan staring up at him, his cheeks hollowing around the cock in his mouth. Seth's cock. One flick of that tongue over the head and Seth's gone.

"Oh god..." Ryan feels Seth's fingers curl through his hair, desperately thrusting into his mouth, tasting semen in the back of his throat. Gagging slightly, he swallows all that Seth gives. Another sensation to take the edge off everything.

Seth's cock softens and Ryan releases it from the suction of his mouth. He rests his head on Seth's stomach, just breathing, relishing in the temporary loss of memory.

Seth brings his hand to Ryan's forehead and strokes and pets, and that's when all the memories flash back. The pain and guilt and sadness. Ryan remembers that they're in the parking lot of the cemetery, and it's kind of morbid and sad, so he breaks down and sobs into Seth's skin.

The tears absorb into warm flesh, and Seth reassures Ryan that it wasn't his fault.

I hope this fulfills everybody's needs for the time being. Forgive the shortness. It's the best I could do in an hour. Feedback is love. :)

Burn

2006-01-15T23:46:00Z

Title: Burn
Pairing: House/Wilson
Rating: PG
Summary: Wilson doesn't like the burning. House just wants a sandwich.
A/N: Very short. Wrote on a boring rainy day, a long time ago.

Burn

Wilson never really understood House's reliance on sarcasm. Always a retort. Rough, jagged, piercing. Stinging and hot after wards. Like beard burn. Like the kind Wilson gets after House slams him into the wall of his office and sucks and licks and bites, and then walks away completely unchanged. Wilson is left, unkempt, and swollen lipped, and burning. Left with all the evidence.

"James Wilson is not in right now, if you are: My wife, 'insert name of present' press one. If you are Greg House, and are in need of a quick shag, press two. If you are A) Dying of terminal cancer, or B) Think you are dying of terminal cancer..."

"You're an ass."

"He speaks. How shocking!"

"What do you want? I'm working. It's what we do here. At work."

"A sandwich. But a 6-inch Reuben, sans the sauerkraut, isn't going to magically fly into my hands, now is it? Wait........ maybe if I wish real hard. Wait for it, wait for it.... Nope. Darn. I had my hopes up and everything."

"Fine. I'll go get it. But only because there might be a chance that you'll maybe go and actually work, instead of you know, not working."

"Get a bag of Lays too, just not the Ketchup. It's not Ketchupy enough for my liking."

Wilson gets up from behind his desk. Waiting for a retort from House, waiting for that remark. For the burn. But instead House just pulls on Wilson's tie, tugging him down to meet his face. His breath is warm, not hot, and when his lips meet Wilson's, it's not so rough. And when it's over, his cheeks and neck are red, but they don't burn. He's built up a tolerance. House lets go of Wilson's tie, pats it back into place.

"Oh and James, with my sandwich. Get me a Dr. Pepper."

House takes his iPod out of his pocket, and puts the buds into his ears. Wilson can hear the music pour out into House's ears, remnants of the chords slipping into the room. He wonders when the burn of House's words stopped actually burning. He thinks maybe because he loves House. And that maybe House doesn't need to rely on sarcasm anymore. Maybe he relies on Wilson. So Wilson leans down on his own and presses a slow kiss to House's lips. He kisses him again, quickly, chastely. Two times. Three times.

"What are you doing?" House says loudly, iPod still wafting music into his brain, into the air.

"I don't know." says Wilson. Because he really doesn't.

House takes the headphones out.

"Well whatever it was," he says, "I know for a fact it wasn't a sandwich."

The end.
Wow. First House/Wilson fic. I can't believe how long it took me to post this.