Fandom: Supernatural RPF
Characters: Jared Padalecki/Jensen Ackles with an appearance by Misha Collins
Beta: The wonderful sandymg
Warnings: Non-graphic sexy times
Disclaimer: It's all lies!
Word Count: 3760
Summary: Jared's making things much harder than they need to be.
A/N: Written for morganoconner for spn_j2_xmas. I tried to combine some of your prompts; I hope you like it!
Jared sits quietly, watching Jensen who’s chewing the end of his pen as he reads through the episode script that arrived an hour ago. Even script reading is sexy as hell when Jensen’s the one doing it. He makes a rumbling noise of discontent, marks through a line and scribbles a note on the edge of the paper.
Jared shakes his head and tries to focus on the unopened script in his lap. He’s a professional, dammit. When Jensen takes a sip of his coffee and groans as the warm liquid slips down his throat, Jared’s pencil snaps in his hand. He’s never going to get anything done at this rate. He should be used to this by now; they’ve been working together for years. It’s just another typical day on set for them, nothing out of the ordinary, only Jared can’t stop staring at his costar. And it’s driving him nuts.
Why it’s bothering him now, after all this time, he doesn’t know. Maybe he’s finally losing his mind. One too many hits to the ole’ noggin from trying to do his own stunts. He’s noticing things he’s never noticed before, or at least he used to be better at ignoring them. The way Jensen’s jeans fit just right, or when he finally lets go and laughs, he does it with his whole body, eyes crinkling around the edges and shoulders shaking. He’s worked in close proximity with Jensen for years so why is he now all of the sudden paying attention to the finer details that evaded consideration before? What’s changed?
He stares at Jensen who’s now sucking on the end of his pen, tongue wrapped around the plastic tip like he’s trying to – Jared shakes his head roughly. “Do you mind?”
Jensen looks up, eyebrow inching up his forehead, obviously confused. “What?”
Jared uses his script to wave in his direction, gesturing to him, to his stupid eyebrows and stupidly perfect face, and God, when Jensen’s focus is solely on him, he feels like he could…
“Jared, is something wrong?”
Jared sighs. He should learn to keep his big mouth shut. “It’s just…gotta learn my lines.” And you’re distracting me with your epic pen sucking mouth.
Jensen gives him a what the fuck look? They’ve read their scripts together countless times before and it’s never been an issue. Jared’s making it a problem, and he can’t seem to stop so he glares at Jensen like he’s done something wrong. It’s not Jared’s fault Jensen’s sucking on his pen like it’s a damn straw in the best chocolate milkshake ever.
“Okay,” Jensen says awkwardly, drawing out the word as he stands. “I’ll just head back to my trailer then.”
“Good idea,” Jared agrees, watching as Jensen gives him a parting glace like he’s grown a second head and shuts the door behind him.
“Now to get back to work,” Jared mumbles, focusing on the script in his lap. He doesn’t get any of his lines memorized, but he does spend the next hour fantasizing about Jensen sucking on something other than his pen.
He manages to flub his way through filming, apologizing left and right for not knowing his lines, and he finishes the day with a promise to get his head out of his ass and be back to fully functioning bad assery tomorrow.
The crew is quick to forgive as always, and he takes them up on an offer for a beer. In fact, it’s the best idea he’s had all day.
As it turns out, it’s the worst idea he’s had all day. If Jared thought Jensen had a thing for his pen, he’s damn near tongue fucking his beer. If Jared squeezes his bottle of Corona any harder, it’s going to explode in his hand.
Jensen drops his hand in his lap to wipe the condensation on his thigh. He leaves his hand there, tapping out the rhythm to the song that’s playing overhead. Jared watches with rapt attention when Jensen reaches for his beer, running his finger over the damp label before wrapping his hand around the neck and bringing it to his lips. It’s not a drink, it’s a fucking production and Jared can’t look away. Jensen’s eyes drop to half mast and he swallows twice before he wipes his mouth across the back of his hand. Jared’s never been so jealous of an inanimate object in his life.
It’s official: Jared’s insane. Certifiably insane. Call the men with the butterfly nets because he’s finally lost it.
Jensen doesn’t notice because Jensen never notices. He wouldn’t tell Jared to hold his breath if he was up to his eyeballs in water. That’s just how he rolls.
Misha appears on Jensen’s right side and says something that has Jensen laughing, a full on belly laugh that causes other people to turn and smile. He’s like a beacon, bright, shining and beautiful, and Jared can’t breathe. The room constricts, like all the oxygen has been forced out just by Jensen’s laugh, and Jared has to get out of here before he does something, says something he won’t be able to take back. Jared’s not a stupid teenager anymore. He knows what he’s feeling, and he knows what he wants to do and who he wants to do it to. He’s also mature enough to know it’s never going to happen.
He stands so fast the bar stool screeches across the wooden floor. Jensen stops, the whole room stops, and all eyes are on Jared. If the floor would open up and swallow him whole, that’d be awesome.
“Jared?” Jensen questions. He looks curious and even worse, he looks concerned. Jared needs to leave. Now. Before he makes an even bigger ass of himself.
“I gotta go,” Jared says, backing away slowly.
Jensen’s eyes narrow, and for a second Jared thinks he’s going to call him on his bullshit. Jensen’s always good for that. Apparently miracles do exist because Jensen shrugs and starts picking at the label on his beer. “Sure. Whatever, man. See you tomorrow.”
It’s like the world starts spinning again and people return to their drinks and conversations. Jared’s out the door before he hears what they’re saying.
Jared spends the next week doing what any rational, sane man with a sense of self preservation would do: he avoids Jensen like the plague. He’s only close to him when he has to be, when they’re filming and there are a bunch of witnesses loitering around. The second the director calls cut, Jared retreats to the corner of the room, his stay the fuck away vibes keeping the even usually brave souls from venturing close.
Jensen finally corners him on Friday afternoon when they’ve taken a break for lunch. Jared’s too busy stuffing his face to see him approach. When Jensen clears his throat, Jared stops chewing and drags his gaze up Jensen’s jeans, over his Henley and finally land on his face. “Mario Kart?” Jared continues to stare and tries to put those words in context, and he’s over thinking to the point where he’s confused again. “You might want to swallow before you choke on that.”
Jared coughs, covers his mouth and manages to get the food down in two swallows.
“Sexy,” Jensen deadpans.
Jared opens his mouth to say ‘yes, yes you are,’ before his brain catches up with him, informs him that he’s a moron, and he snaps his jaw closed.
Jensen shakes his head and gives him the ‘what the hell is your problem?’ look Jared’s been seeing far too much lately. “I’m gonna ask again because you’re apparently slow. Mario Kart later?”
Mario Kart. The game. The game they play on Jared’s floor where their shoulders casually brush together, and Jensen stretches his legs out in front of him, and Jared’s going to be forced to stick pens in his eyes because being that close to Jensen is just that fucking painful. No thank you.
“Um…I’ll take a rain check, okay?”
“What’s with you? It’s like you can’t be…” Jensen huffs out his frustration and rubs his hand over the back of his neck.
“Maybe I just want to do my own thing for awhile,” Jared snaps. They’re not attached at the hip. They don’t have to spend every waking second together. If Jared is going to keep his sanity and his job, he has to do this. He has to put as much distance between himself and Jensen as possible. It’s such complete bullshit he can’t even make himself believe it.
Jensen’s voice is devoid of all emotion when he says, “You want your space? Fine. I can do that.”
If Jared thinks he’s good at making himself scarce, Jensen is the master. He all but disappears from Jared’s life and it leaves a huge gaping hole right in the middle of Jared’s soul. They’ve been in each other’s back pockets for so long, it’s like Jared’s missing a limb, and he’s got no one to blame but himself.
Things are wrapping up for the day, and the crew has started taking things apart in preparation for tomorrow’s early shooting schedule.
Jensen’s across the room, bent over and searching for something in one of the costume trunks. Jared gives himself two seconds to take an eyeful then pulls his gaze away to Misha…who’s staring unblinkingly at Jensen’s ass. Jensen stands up, pressing his hands to lower back as he stretches and rolls his shoulders a couple of times. He saunters out of the room with Misha’s heavy gaze tracking every moment.
“Take a picture. It lasts longer,” Jared mutters.
Misha blinks several times and shrugs unapologetically. “I like to look at beautiful things.” He fixes Jared with an owlish stare, and Jared wonders if Misha can see everything he’s feeling like it’s a neon sign flashing over his head. “Don’t you like to look at beautiful things, Jared?”
Jared coughs and studies his old tennis shoes. Is this a trick question? With Misha, he’s never really sure. “And by beautiful you mean Jensen?” He tries to sound sarcastic, but his laugh is humorless and he sounds more awkward than amused.
Misha nods as if Jared is the stupidest man alive. “Hey, I understand. You’re a guy from Texas. I expect you to be a little narrow minded.”
“Hey!” Jared snaps. “I’m not blind, alright?” The words slip past his lips before he knows what exactly he’s trying to defend.
“So you’re just scared.”
Misha’s all-knowing attitude is grating on his nerves. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Misha shrugs, obviously not in the mood to use little words to explain it to his dumb ass. “Well, while you figure it out, I’m going to go play with Jensen. He said something about Mario Kart earlier.” There’s something about the way he says play like it suddenly means hot passionate sex up against the wall, and Jared’s hand is tight on Misha’s arm before he can move away.
“Just…I got this, okay?” Jared says. What he has, he doesn’t know, but he’s going to have to do something, and he’s going to have to do it now.
Misha blinks at him, a knowing smile twisting his lips. “I’ll defer to your lesser experience, then.”
“Yeah, you do that.”
Jared finds Jensen in his trailer, already stripped of the clothes that are Dean Winchester’s. His face is neutral when Jared hovers awkwardly just inside the door.
He opens with the only thing he knows is the truth. “So I’m an ass.”
Jensen blinks at him, face blank. “That’s not really news.”
“And I’m sorry?”
“Very convincing.” Jensen’s not going to make this easy.
“Look, I know I’ve been acting weird lately.”
“Care to explain that?” Jensen asks.
Jared swallows, comparing everything he could possibly lose with what he might gain. In the end, their friendship is worth too much. “Not really, no.”
Jensen shrugs and flops down on the couch. “Fine.” He picks up the play station controller and holds it out. “Wanna play?” Jensen’s going to let it all go just like that? He’s not even going to ask?
“That’s it?” Jared says. “Just like that, over and forgotten?”
“So you had a stick up your ass,” Jensen says. “Whatever. It happens. What do you want me to do? Withhold sex to punish you? Not my style, Jay.”
Jared barks out a laugh, loud and awkward, and slaps his hand over his mouth when Jensen’s eyebrow starts creeping up his face. “It wasn’t that funny.”
He forces himself to calm down, biting the inside of his cheek until he tastes the coopery tang of blood. “You’re right. It wasn’t.”
Jensen rolls his eyes and drops the controller on the couch. “You’re a fucking weirdo.” He walks over the mini fridge and bends down as he opens the door. “Wanna beer?”
Jared stares open mouthed as Jensen sways from side to side, his denim clad ass on display. God’s punishing him. That’s the only logical explanation at this point. This is all part of some cruel cosmetic joke.
Jensen looks over his shoulder, green eyes focusing on Jared like pinpoint lasers. “Beer?”
By some miracle, Jared finds his voice. “Yeah. Sounds good.”
He’s cursed. And now he’s forced to watch Jensen tongue fuck his beer for the next twenty minutes. Jensen twists off the cap using his shirt and passes Jared a bottle of Labatt Blue before he settles on the small couch, resting his bottle on his knee.
“The trailer doesn’t need you to prop it up, you know,” Jensen says flatly.
Jared pushes himself away from the wall and hovers awkwardly next to the couch, staring down at Jensen who’s watching him through curious green eyes. It shouldn’t be this hard – it was never difficult between them, their friendship sparking in an instant and growing from there. They’ve never lied to each other; they’ve never had a reason to. Jensen’s not a man of infinite patience, and if Jared keeps on like this…
Jared opens his mouth to apologize, but what comes out instead is, “I like you.” He blinks, replays the three words in his mind, decides that doesn’t sound like ‘I’m really sorry,’ and blinks again. Holy shit.
Jensen chuckles and takes another swallow from his bottle. “That’s sweet. I like you, too. Wanna braid my hair?”
That’s not Jensen, that’s Dean, and Jensen is not Dean. Jared calls bullshit and decides it’s now or never. He’s going to lay it on the line, just put it out there and he’ll pick up the pieces later. If Jensen holds it against him, then Jared will have to find a way to deal with it. “I wanna fuck you.” It’s out there now, permeating the room like a cloud of cigarette smoke in a dance club.
Jensen picks at the label on his beer for a second before setting the bottle aside with a decisive nod. “Okay.”
His ears are ringing now like the music is turned up way too loud even though it’s quiet enough to hear a pin drop. “What?”
“I said okay,” Jensen repeats.
Jared stares, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. This is a possibility he never considered because his little secret was never going to see the light of day. And now here he stands with Jensen looking at him expectantly, and he had no idea what to do. Sure, the mechanics he could figure out – he’s not that big of an idiot, but seriously? Now? Here?
“Unless you didn’t mean it,” Jensen says, clearly giving him an out. An out he doesn’t want.
“No, no I meant it.” Jared eyes the short couch and the uncomfortable bed that barely fits one person. “Not here.”
“Okay,” Jensen says as he stands up. “Where do you want to go?”
To have sex Jared mentally adds. “My house,” Jared spits out when he notices Jensen’s actually waiting for a location. “I gotta let the dogs out.”
Jensen puts his hand over his heart. “Aw, Jay. You always say the most romantic things.”
Jensen pushes past him and pulls on his leather jacket, the one with all the useless zippers, and picks up his keys. “I’ll meet you there.” And with that, cool as a cucumber, Jensen’s out the door.
Jared spends the next thirty minutes freaking out. What the hell is he doing? What the hell is Jensen doing? He’d said yes like Jared asked him if he wanted pizza for dinner; no fanfare, no questions – just a simple yes. Maybe he’d misheard. Maybe he thought Jared announced he wanted to him to duck…or something equally as stupid and unbelievable.
Jensen’s SUV is already in the driveway. Jared never bothered getting the key back from him when he moved out because to him, Jensen always belonged here and still does.
Then Jared settles on the most logical explanation for the freakish turn of events – Jensen’s fucking with him. It’s a joke, a cruel joke, but it has to be a joke nonetheless because there’s no way Jensen just agreed to have sex with him.
Jensen opens the front door, the dogs pulling him out onto the porch, and he eyes Jared in the darkness. “Dude, you’re standing in your driveway like some kind of creeper.”
Jared hopes he doesn’t look at stupid as he feels. “Jensen, whatever this is –"
“It’s me walking your dogs. Now either help or get out of our way.”
Jared moves out of the way after Harley and Sadie greet him quickly, eager to get on with their walk. “I’ll just hop in the shower.”
“Yeah, you do that,” Jensen replies, his shoulder brushing against Jared’s before the dogs pull him down the street.
“You’re making this weird,” Jensen comments as he leans against the doorway of Jared’s bedroom. Jared nearly jumps out of his skin, trying to yank his boxers up underneath the towel and not fall flat on his face in the process. He hasn’t been this awkward since high school when he tried to make out with Nikki Mason in the back of his parents’ pickup truck.
Jared risks glancing at Jensen, the light haloing around him as shadows dance across his face. The feelings are still there, and Jensen is still as stupidly beautiful as always.
“Take it back,” Jensen murmurs as he steps into the room.
Jared cocks his head to the side, backing up against the dresser as Jensen crosses the room.
“Tell me you didn’t mean it.” Jared swallows, opening his mouth as Jensen whispers against his lips, “Take it back.”
He can’t say anything because Jensen is pulling the air from his lungs with his mouth, tongue flicking inside to tease and explore.
Jared’s brain stutters, freezes then restarts. This is really happening. Jensen is eating his mouth like he’s starving, and Jared is standing there like a deer in the headlights. He lifts his hands, skimming his fingers down Jensen’s back, and Jensen hums approvingly.
They should probably talk about this, maybe lay some ground rules or something, but then Jensen does something with his tongue along the roof of Jared’s mouth and twitches his hips just so, and Jared’s pushing him toward the bed, grabbing at his shirt as he goes.
Jensen’s shirt flies across the room, and Jared collapses over him on top of the bed, his head cradled between Jared’s forearms. “This okay?” Jared asks, breathless and wanting.
Jensen growls and bucks his hips, friction setting Jared’s nerves on fire. “S’ fine. Wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.”
Jared kisses him, wet, sloppy and desperate. A couple of his brain cells gather together and stage a revolt, warning him of possibly consequences, of what tomorrow could bring, and Jared pulls away, watching as Jensen tries to follow him.
“Why now?” Jared whispers.
Jensen groans and flops back against the pillows. “Seriously? You’re really going there? Now?”
Jared nods and combs his fingers through Jensen’s hair. He must have showered before they left the set because his hair is soft, separating easily as he pushes his fingers along Jensen’s scalp.
Jensen leans against his touch, hooking his legs around Jared’s ankles. “You really wanna know?” When Jared nods again, he says, “Because you asked.”
It’s so stupidly simple and so them Jared wants to smack himself in the face. “That’s it?”
Jensen shrugs one shoulder against the bed and smiles. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Should we, you know, talk about this or something?”
“Isn’t that what we’re doing?” Jensen replies, his eyebrow crawling up to his hairline.
Jared bumps Jensen’s cheek with his nose. “Don’t be a smart ass.” What he means is I can’t lose your friendship. I can’t lose you. He settles on, “I don’t want to fuck this up.”
Jensen’s eyes widen and for a second Jared thinks he’s going to hit him. “The way I see it, we’ve had six years of foreplay. If that’s not enough, there’s something seriously wrong with you.”
Jared grins and kisses the corner of Jensen’s mouth. “So that’s what we’ve been doing.”
“I don’t tongue fuck a beer for just anyone.”
Jared freezes, mouth open from nibbling on Jensen’s lips. “You were fucking with me?”
“No,” Jensen reassures before his eyes shine mischievously. “I was trying to get you to fuck me. It was working, too, until you decided we had to have this little heart to heart.” He twists so his thigh is rubbing against Jared’s erection.
“You’re gonna pay for that,” Jared promises and he grabs Jensen’s arms and pins them above his head.
Jensen smirks, and it’s anything but punishment when Jared wrings three orgasms from his body before he collapses on top of him, spent, sated and completely at peace with the world. Jensen gave as good as he got, pushing buttons Jared didn’t know he had. He’s wrung out, exhausted, and he can’t remember the last time he felt this good, like everything is happening exactly like it should, like the puzzle has finally found its missing piece, and he’s complete.
Jensen mouths at his shoulder, sloppy kisses trailing over his collarbone. They’re sticky and sweaty and no one seems in a hurry to move.
Words aren’t said because they’re not needed. What they have, you can’t put a name on, and Jared decides he’s not going to try because what it is, above all else, is them. And right now Jared thinks they’re pretty much perfect.