Beta: the incredible runawaydreamer
Rating/Warnings: R for sexy times
Fandom: Supernatural RPF AU
Characters/Pairing: J2, Genevieve, Danneel & Misha
Word Count: 7,690
Disclaimer: It's all lies!
Summary: College is everything Jared hoped it would be. He has good friends, a ridiculously hot TA, and his social status has been cemented by university legend Misha Collins. As it turns out, landing the TA isn’t nearly as hard as he thought it would be.
Author's Notes: Written for the spn_j2_xmas exchange for anyothergirl415. I tried to use as many of your likes as I could. I hope you enjoy it. Happy holidays!
Alternate AO3 link: here
College is one of those places where you’re free to be yourself. You can take up yoga, listen to indie music, and give being a vegan a go. You can lift weights for free in the rec center and finally learn what all the various machines are for. You can discuss the homoerotic subtext found in Marvel Comics and actually get a good grade for your effort. You can embrace all the things you were afraid to do growing up in Podunk, Nowhere. There’s dollar pizza slice night and on Tuesdays five dollars will get you a bowling lane and a tacky pair of shoes to rent. It’s a place to discover yourself, find your path, stumble, and keep going, appreciating the trials and tribulations along the way.
To Jared, college is everything he wasn’t sure he was going to have. Between his partial academic scholarship and his work-study program, he actually manages to figure it out. His parents help where they can, but money is always tight.
Jared wanders into Griffin Hall, checking his schedule on his phone one more time to verify the location, and climbs the stairs to room 203. It’s a big lecture hall filled with stiff wooden chairs that are stuck to the floor. Whoever designed these rooms hadn’t done it with people Jared’s size in mind.
He spots a couple of familiar faces and eventually he sees Chad waving at him and pointing to the vacant chair a row over.
“What’s up?” Jared says, sliding his book bag off his shoulder and trying to fold himself into the chair.
“Not much,” Chad replies. “I had English Comp this morning. Remind me again to never sign up for a nine am class.”
Jared chuckles as he switches his phone to silent. “I told you that was a bad idea. There’s a reason why seniors schedule every class for after lunch.”
“It’s because they have options. Freshmen don’t have shit.”
“Don’t be a negative Nancy.”
“I’ve been up since eight. I reserve the right to be an asshole.”
“Must be a standing reservation, then,” a young woman mutters behind them.
Jared and Chad turn simultaneously. “Hi,” Jared says. “I see you’ve already met Chad. I’m Jared.”
“Excuse you,” Chad says, affronted. “I’ve never met her before in my life.” He squints at the dark-haired brunette who’s wearing a Red Jumpsuit Apparatus tee shirt. “Wait a minute… keg stand girl?”
“You dropped me on my ass!” she replies angrily. “‘Oh, I can hold you up. No problem! Look at my bulging man-muscles.’ And then you dropped me. On my ass.”
Chad has the decency to at least look marginally embarrassed for all of two seconds. “I was drunk.”
“Really drunk,” she agrees. “I’m Gen, by the way, because God knows you don’t remember.”
Jared chuckles and leaves the two of them to discuss the proper position for executing a perfect keg stand. He sees the flash of silver and watches a kid with bright purple hair amble down the aisle. With all the piercings, Jared hopes he avoids thunderstorms, because he’s a walking lightning rod. He flops into a seat in the second row, his body slumping to a boneless sprawl, and immediately props his feet up on the chair in front of him.
“Dude, if we ever lose satellite, we’re inviting that guy over,” Chad says. “He’s a walking antenna.”
“I kind of like it,” Gen whispers. “Rockin’ the rebel look.”
Chad rolls his eyes. “I get the whole being rebellious thing in college, but turning yourself into a walking cliché? I don’t think so.”
“Okay, so he won’t make the university brochure or anything, but, hey, it works.”
“I bet you a meal at Burger King he won’t make it through the first semester,” Chad challenges.
“You’re on,” Jared replies immediately and bumps his fist against Chad’s before Gen can respond that the dare was probably aimed at her.
The professor ambles in and the side conversations fall silent. They spend the next hour listening to the course expectations and nodding through reminders that this is not high school, and university-level work is expected. They go over the lab schedule, and finally the professor scans the audience. Eventually his gaze drops to the bright purple hair in the second row. “Oh, there you are.”
“Because he’s so hard to miss,” Chad mutters.
“Class, this Jensen Ackles. Stand up, Jensen.” Jensen pushes himself out of his seat and turns to give a disinterested wave to the students, gaze fixed on the back wall.
Jared takes a long look, blushes and drops his gaze to his textbook. Ogling the TA on the first day of class probably isn’t the quickest way to academic success. People are leaning forward, and Jared thinks this is the most interested everyone has been since class started.
“He’s my TA for the course,” Dr. Watson continues. “Jensen is a graduate student in microbiology with study interests in epidemiology and specifically nosocomial infections.”
Chad blinks. “What the fuck did he just say?”
“He’s studying something I can’t even pronounce,” Gen says. “How fucking hot is that?”
Jared opens his mouth to agree with her, but the professor continues, “He’ll be covering office hours during the week and assisting during labs. He’s one of the best students I’ve ever had, and I’ve been teaching longer than most of you have been alive, so that’s saying something. If you have problems, see Jensen during office hours.”
“I’m going to have problems. So many problems,” Gen says quietly.
Jared watches as students quickly scratch down the office hours into their notebooks and has a feeling that she’s not the only one.
“I don’t understand women,” Chad mutters.
Jared doesn’t understand women either, but he knows he’s at least ahead of Chad in that regard. What he really wants to understand is the indifferent-looking graduate student named Jensen Ackles who looks like he belongs in a tattoo shop rather than a prestigious research university.
“You owe me a flame broiled burger and fries, bitch,” Jared says. Chad looks at him sideways, and Jared shrugs. “Hey, a bet’s a bet.”
Gen joins them because, as she puts it, sometimes you just need greasy fast food.
Jared makes it to third week before he seeks out assistance during Jensen’s office hours. Gen has been there four times in a variety of outfits and has reported that Jensen hasn’t so much as blinked. Also, that he plays in a band, drinks a lot of Starbucks, and apparently does actually understand how DNA is synthesized.
The office door is open and Jared lurks just around the corner. Rationally, he knows it’s stupid to feel nervous. He’s paying good money to take this class, and if he doesn’t understand something, he should get help. He swallows, straightens up, and marches around the corner like he’s expecting to face the firing squad rather than the class TA.
Jensen looks up, glances at Jared and pulls the pen he’s been chewing on – if the teeth marks are any indication – out of his mouth. “Clap if your epidermis is showing.”
Jensen blinks at him, expression blank.
Jared claps twice and Jensen grins, white teeth flashing, as he gestures to the empty chair. “Have a seat.”
“Is that how you greet all of your students?”
“No, not usually, but it’s always nice when someone gets it.” He slides a Starbucks receipt into an open gene therapy textbook, closes it and pushes it away. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m sorry, were you working on something? I can come back later if you’re busy. It’s not a problem. I can–”
Jensen lifts his hand. “Whoa, slow down, steam roller. It’s not a problem. Office hours, remember? Apparently this is what I’m here for, so make me feel useful.”
Jared points to the scribbled notes next to Jensen’s elbow. “What were you working on?”
“Analytic epidemiology methods for research on Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus.”
Jared laughs. He understood about half of that sentence. “Is that all?”
Jensen holds up another torn piece of notebook paper. “And the beer list for a party this weekend.”
“Now that’s something I can get behind.”
Jensen smiles, drops the list on the desk and leans back in his chair. “So tell me, Jared, how can I help you?”
Jared’s eyes widen. There must be eighty students in that class, and Jared has said all of two words during lecture, which isn’t exactly memorable. “How do you know my name?”
“You’re Gen’s friend, right? She talks about you, if you’re the soccer player who can bench press half the debate team.” Jensen cocks his head to the side, gaze sliding over Jared’s arms before nodding once. “She’s got to be talking about you. It’s a bit unnerving, especially when she’s supposedly here to get help with her homework.”
“I have no idea why she’s doing that. I’ll, uh, tell her stop,” Jared replies. Nothing like a friend embarrassing you before you’ve had the chance to do it yourself.
Jensen shrugs against the black leather chair before slumping down to a relaxed sprawl that shouldn’t be possible with a skeletal system. “No worries. It’s kind of sweet, actually. She talks about you a lot.” Jensen winks at him, and Jared only pales because boy, is he ever wrong. “Now, did you actually want help with something or did you want to talk about Gen? Because I’m fine with either. Open door policy and all that.”
“Cytokinesis,” Jared blurts out, because if he keeps staring at the way the light reflects off Jensen’s brightly-colored hair, Jensen’s going to think he’s a creeper.
“Okay,” Jensen replies slowly, stretching out the word. “Going somewhere with that, or is the division of cells just so jaw dropping, that was your whole thought on the subject?” When Jared doesn’t reply, Jensen asks, “Is it cell division or that particular stage that’s throwing you?”
Jared stares down at his hands and rethinks his idea to come here in the first place. He’s not going to remember a damn thing about this besides the way Jensen’s hair looks under the fluorescent lights, and somewhere he knows Chad is laughing his ass off at him. “I don’t know. The whole thing?”
Jensen’s eyes narrow fractionally. “You did well on the last quiz, Jared. You understand the concept. Maybe it’s just first exam nerves?”
“Yeah, maybe that’s it,” Jared says lamely.
“But, hey, I have nothing to do for the next hour, so let’s go over it again.” Jensen pulls out a drawing from a file folder on the bookshelf. “Here are the stages of mitosis. Tell me what you know and I’ll fill in the gaps.”
Jared tells him what he knows, which takes roughly three minutes. Jensen proceeds to tell him what he knows about the subject and loses him somewhere around the Myosin regulatory light chain and vesicle fusion, but that’s okay because his voice is deep and soothing and Jared could pretend to understand what he’s saying all day.
It turns out Jensen is a better teacher than Jared had anticipated, because on his first exam he’s able to regurgitate most of what Jensen told him. He aces it, and Jensen gives him a thumbs up on his way out of the classroom.
Misha Collins is somewhat of a celebrity around campus. No one knows exactly how long he’s been there, or if he’s even a student anymore, but his parties are legendary. Gen scores an invite because she knows somebody who knows somebody who is friends with Danneel who is a friend of Misha’s. College is weird like that.
“Oh my god,” Gen murmurs, jabbing her elbow into Chad’s side. “That’s him. That’s Misha.”
Chad winces, steps away to a safe distance and follows her line of sight through the dancing bodies to the man dressed in a toga, adorned with a wrapped crown of leaves. “It’s a toga party?”
Jared glances around at the multitude of partygoers. “He’s the only one wearing a toga.”
“Because he’s just that awesome,” Gen says dreamily. “Quick, we need to introduce ourselves. He needs to know who we are. This is essential for the future of our social lives.”
Jared is propelled forward by Gen, who is dragging him through the crowd by the front of his flannel shirt. “I’m not really looking to climb the social ladder.”
Gen doesn’t even slow down. “You’ll thank me for this later.”
Misha is surrounded by people, everyone volleying for the attention of the university legend. Every time someone brushes against him, Misha steps away. He doesn’t stop smiling, but it’s obvious he doesn’t want a bunch of strangers pawing on him.
“He’s not going to talk to us,” Jared says, trying to be the voice of reason. They’re freshman, and if Misha’s expression is anything to go by, he’d be more interested in watching cement dry than another set of introductions.
“Oh, look. It’s tall, punk and nerdy,” Chad says, pointing to the right at Jensen, who is weaving through the crowd.
“Did you expect him to be anywhere else?” Gen asks. “Everyone who’s anyone comes to Misha’s parties."
“And why are we here again?” Jared deadpans.
Gen, Chad and Jared watch as Jensen pushes through Misha’s adoring fan club and launches himself at the toga-wearing host. “All hail, Caesar!”
Misha catches him, steps back to take his weight as he laughs openly. “Et tu, Brute?” Misha says, grinning, before he presses a sloppy kiss to Jensen’s temple. “Good evening, gorgeous.”
Gen’s jaw nearly hits the floor, and if Chad’s eyes open any wider, he’ll be up for a world record. “Did anyone see that coming?” Chad asks.
Jared mutely shakes his head as he tries to piece this Jensen together with the epidermis-showing genius that keeps afternoon office hours on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
Misha eases Jensen to his side, keeping an arm secured around his shoulders, and hisses, actually hisses, as one of his admiring fans reaches out to touch one of the zippers on Jensen’s leather jacket. “So glad you made it. Have some punch, sweetheart.”
“Fuck off, Mish. That hasn’t worked since sophomore year,” Jensen replies as he leans heavily against Misha’s side.
“What can I say? I like you better when you’re drunk,” Misha replies as he slides his hand underneath Jensen’s jacket. “Cheap and easy, that’s what I’m talking about.”
“I keep telling you, I’m easy, but I’m never cheap,” Jensen shoots back, smirking.
Misha presses his free hand against his chest. “After six years, I must confess: this man speaks the truth.”
More people have gathered around to watch the verbal volleyball game. Jared doesn’t blame them, because he can’t tear his eyes away from the way Jensen is draped against Misha like a continuation of his ancient Roman costume. And damn if Jensen doesn’t look good decked out in ripped jeans topped with a leather jacket with more useless zippers than a Leatherman has tools. People are whispering questions, and the name Jensen Ackles is tossed around a few times along with ‘fuck, that much hotness should be criminal.’
“Hey, Gen and Jared! What’s up?” Jensen yells. It takes Gen tugging on his arm to come to the realization that the greeting was directed at him. Jared swears the roaring music has lowered in volume as everyone watches the newcomers with keen interest. “Oh, hi, Chad.”
The crowd separates and Gen tugs him forward. All eyes have shifted to Jared and his two friends, and the sudden feeling of being a sacrificial lamb forms in Jared’s gut.
“Friends of yours?” Misha asks, an inquiring eyebrow raised.
“Actually, we’re his stu–” The word is cut off by Gen’s elbow ramming against his ribcage.
Jensen smiles, and Jared swears his eyes are shining. “Yeah, they’re my friends. Misha, meet Gen, Jared and Chad.”
“I’m digging the flannel,” Misha says.
And just like that, their social status has been decided for the next four years. Jared has officially become cool, and it only took a toga-wearing party master and a drunk, albeit gorgeous, TA to do it.
Midterms are looming on the horizon when Jared seeks out Jensen’s assistance for the second time. Jensen is leaning against the doorway to his office and offering reassurance to a student Jared doesn’t recognize. She smiles at his promise that she’s going to do great and mumbles a soft thank you.
Jared steps back as she pushes her way past, and Jensen smiles warmly when Jared meets his gaze. His hair is bright pink today, and even though it’s not a color Jared would choose, Jensen manages to make it look good.
“Hey, Jared, nice to see you again,” Jensen says. He sounds genuinely pleased, and Jared dismisses it immediately because Jensen’s only doing his job. TAs are supposed to be nice to students who seek their help. It’s just part of the gig. When Jared doesn’t respond, Jensen asks, “Everything okay?”
Jared blinks and realizes Jensen’s smile has morphed into concern. “No. Yes! Everything’s fine. Great, even. Absolutely fantastic.” He’s rambling, and Jensen’s smiling again, and he’s not sure he’s ever seen someone this beautiful outside of the movies.
Jensen raises his hand, chuckling softly. “Fantastic even with midterms coming? You have to tell me what your secret is so I can market it and make millions.”
“You should become an actor. You’d make millions if you did that.” Jared takes a second to process the fact that he just said that out loud.
Jensen is laughing now, open and easy, and he waves Jared into the office. “I’m afraid my acting career died a tragic death when I was eight and actually vomited off the side of the stage during our school play.”
“I’m sure your parents were proud,” Jared says teasingly, though he thinks that if Jensen came within thirty feet of a talent scout, he’d be signed ten seconds after he smiled.
“They cheered anyway. They’re good like that,” Jensen responds, smiling at the memory. He blinks and refocuses on Jared. “So, I assume you’re not here for my charming company.”
Jared shrugs because he isn’t, not really, but being in Jensen’s company is far from a hardship. He has to remind himself that it only goes one way, and a graduate student is probably not looking to hang out with a freshman.
“Jared?” Jensen prompts. “You sure you’re okay? You seem distracted.”
Jared resists saying, ‘Have you seen your face? Because it’s pretty fucking distracting.’ He clears his throat. “I’m good, really. I wanted to go over the signal reception one more time.”
Jensen nods and opens the textbook. “Why don’t you tell me what you know and I’ll fill in the blanks, okay?”
Jared manages to recite nearly the entire section word for word, and in the end, he apparently knows a lot more than he thought he did. Jensen praises him, even if he is a little wide-eyed at Jared’s ability to recite the textbook and pull a few facts from related articles he’s read.
“It sounds like you’ve got it all down. I don’t think you need me.” Jensen leans back, the office chair creaking as he slouches against the worn leather. “So, tell me something else. Anything else.” He glances at the clock on the wall. “You’ve got five minutes. Go.”
Jared’s always got something to say, and now he’s staring at Jensen with his mouth agape. “Um… I don’t understand.”
Jensen smiles patiently. “Tell me something about you.”
Something this innocent shouldn’t feel like a trap. Jared fears the moment he opens his mouth, he’s going to say something stupid, and Jensen’s going to laugh in his face. He settles on something obvious. “I play soccer.”
“Really? That’s cool. What position do you play?”
Jared shakes his head. “Why are you asking?”
Jensen shrugs, dropping his gaze from Jared to the open textbook on the desk. “Because I’m interested.”
Jared’s phone starts vibrating against his thigh and he checks the screen. “Time’s up.”
Jensen smiles again, and this time it looks forced, like on the first day Jared saw him in class. “I’ll see you later, Jared.”
“Yeah. Bye, Jensen.” He walks out the door without making eye contact. Okay, what the fuck just happened?
Even though the university is huge, Jared starts seeing Jensen around campus. He sees him laughing at a picnic table in the quad, surrounded by his friends. Jared sees him sipping a cup of Starbucks at nine o’clock in the morning when he’s on his way to the writing center. Jensen’s band plays on Saturday night at Cornerstone, and Gen drags him along. He doesn’t put up more than token fight. Chad comes, saying it will be worth it for the laughs. Of course Jensen’s band is actually decent, if punk rock with grunge roots and a local flavor is your type of sound. Now Jared can’t not see Jensen, and the more he tries to avoid him, the more he’s around.
Jensen and Danneel come to one of his soccer games, and Jared supposes turnabout is far play and all. He tries to focus on the ball and covering the midfield and is definitely not paying attention to the soggy nacho chips Jensen and Danneel are sharing or the soda they’re passing back and forth. After the coach tells him to get his head out of his ass and back on the field, he settles down and focuses on what he’s doing. He has the best game he’s had all season and manages to look like a competent player rather than a gangly teenager who’s more arms and legs than actual talent. Jensen trots across the field once the game is over, and he waves to several of the seniors on the team, who acknowledge him by name. Apparently he knows everyone on campus.
Jensen stops an arm’s length away from Jared. “Great game.”
“Thanks,” Jared responds before he tugs his shirt up to wipe away the sweat on his face. “Didn’t realize you were a soccer fan.” His voice was muffled through his shirt and when he pulls the material back down, he sees Jensen’s wide-eyed stare. He’s about to repeat what he just said because Jensen looks confused and a little flushed, but it’s Texas and it’s ridiculously hot outside so that’s to be expected. “I said–”
Jensen barrels across him. “You wanna get something to eat?”
Jared cants his head to the stands where Danneel’s bent forward, tapping away on her phone. As much fun as it would be to play third wheel to their duo, even if it is Jensen, he’d rather not. “I would, but the team usually goes out together after a game.”
“Hey, you can miss it,” Tom says, bumping Jared’s arm as he walks by with a bag of equipment slung over his shoulder. “Everyone gets a free pass once a season.” He nods to Jensen. “What’s up, man?”
“Hey, Tom. Good game tonight.”
“I’ve been begging you to come watch us for the last two years. Nice to see you finally made a game.”
Jensen shrugs, and he brushes a few blades of grass off his arm. “Finally had a free night. You know how it goes.”
Tom chuckles, shaking his head, and Jared feels like he’s odd man out on a private joke. “Yeah, man. I know how it goes. I’ll see you around, Ackles. Good game, Padalecki.” He jogs off the field and disappears between the bleachers.
“I better go with him,” Jared says. He musters up a smile. “See you around, Jensen.”
“Yeah. I’ll see you in class, Jared.”
That night over pizza and watered down beer, Tom tells a story about how he dated an upperclassman during his second semester. Apparently it was short-lived and had gone down in flames after she’d graduated and took a job in California, but he still remembers Natasha, and damn if she hadn’t taught him some moves.
Later, when he recounts the strange encounter with Jensen to Gen and she slaps him upside the head and calls him a fuckin’ moron, he wonders if he’d read the whole situation wrong.
“Okay, explain to me why our hot-as-fire TA just spent the last half hour of our study session playing you up,” Gen asks as she drops her bag on the floor and flops down on the bed next to Jared.
“Fuck my life,” Jared groans and rolls over.
“That’s not an answer,” Gen replies as she plucks away the pillow Jared’s trying to crawl underneath.
Jared presses his face against the sheets, his voice muffled as he says, “I think he’s gotten the wrong idea.”
“Whatever gave you that idea? You only shot him down twice,” Gen mocks. “I swear it was like a bad romance novel. Every time I said something nice about you, he was like, ‘Yes! Exactly! Jared is that nice of a guy! I agree, he must work out all the time! Yes, his muscles do require a concealed weapons permit.’ Jared, I can hear you groaning. Are you able to conceptualize how bad this was for me?”
“This is not my life.”
“This is your life,” Gen corrects practically. “And you’ve royally fucked it up. Now we just have to figure out how to fix it.”
“You have a suggestion, I’m all ears.”
“You really want to know?” Gen asks.
Jared turns his head, one eye blinking in her direction at the hopes of getting a real solution to his doomed-before-it-ever-started romance. “Yes?”
Gen blows out a deep breath, ruffling her hair. “Fine. Throw him up against a wall, kiss him like you’re dying and he’s the only thing that can save your life, and then reap the benefits. Oh, and give your bestest buddy Genevieve all the details. I expect pictures.”
Jared blinks his one visible eye. “Um. I’m not sure I can do that.”
“You want him, don’t you?”
Jared resists the urge to say ‘Well, duh!’ “Yeah, you know I do.”
Gen shrugs. “So do something about it.”
“And if he’s not gay? What then?” Jared asks.
“One, he’s already said he’s interested. I still want to beat your ass for missing that golden opportunity,” she rants.
“Hey, how was I supposed to–”
She cuts across him. “Two, he wears Misha like a blanket, Jared. If he’s not gay, he’s so sure of his sexuality that he won’t be upset if you toss him against the nearest hard surface and offer your sexual services.”
“You do realize this could blow up in my face.”
“It’s a risk,” Gen agrees. “But it’s a calculated risk, and the payoff outweighs the potential disaster, don’t you think?”
“I’ll think about it,” Jared mutters as he steals his pillow back and rolls away to face the wall.
“Well, think fast, because you’re wasting the best years of your thighs.”
Jared lifts his hand to flip her off as she climbs off the bed to leave the room.
Jared would like to act as if the novelty of Misha’s parties has worn off. It hasn’t. He’s in the kitchen navigating through couples, trying to get to the sink to refill his cup with water. He hasn’t puked in public yet, and he’s not anxious for the experience, so it’s time for a water break.
“Hello, wearer of the epic flannel,” Misha says solemnly, appearing out of thin air. He’s wearing a bright red cape, and Jared thinks he’s supposed to be Little Red Riding Hood, or maybe he just really likes the cape.
“Yes, your name. I do realize it belongs to you, as does the flannel, but since said flannel is more notable, I chose to recognize that.”
There are several ways Jared could respond to that; what he settles on is, “Hi, Misha. Great party.”
Misha looks around at the couples that are seconds from fucking on his kitchen floor. “It is, isn’t it?” Misha refocuses his laser-sharp gaze on Jared. “But that’s not why you’re here.”
“Not really, no,” Jared replies as he fills his cup in the sink. He turns around, pressing against the counter, and takes a few sips.
“You like Jensen.” It’s not a question, merely a statement of fact, and Jared can’t find it in himself to deny it. He’s been watching Jensen like a hawk and praying that the alcohol-induced haze is enough to keep anyone from noticing.
“Yep, I do.”
“He’s a likable guy.”
“Ya think?” Jared mutters. He feels silly and young, like he has nothing to offer, and he suddenly wants to be anywhere but here.
Misha doesn’t react to Jared’s grumbled response. “So do something about it.”
Jared sighs as he runs his hand through his hair. “You sound like Gen.”
“She’s a smart woman. You should listen to her.”
“Why can’t Jensen do something about it?”
Misha shrugs. “I have it on good authority he already tried. Twice.” He straightens and watches until Jared meets his gaze. “He won’t try again, okay? That’s just Jensen. In fact, he came on harder to you than… well, anyone. I’m offering you advice people have offered good money for, so listen up: he’s not going to make another move. He’s going to hide behind his ripped jeans and dyed hair, always being beautiful and never being touched.”
“You touch him,” Jared points out, albeit grudgingly.
“Yeah, and I could write a thesis on just how long that took,” Misha shoots back. “If you want him, go get him, because this is your chance. Right now.”
“I don’t know,” Jared says, hesitating. “Might miss the party.”
Misha rolls his eyes. “The party is bullshit, okay? It’s all bullshit. I hate to spoil the suspense, because this is exactly what you should be doing at twenty– You’re twenty, right?”
“Nineteen,” Jared corrects.
Misha groans. “Of course you are.”
“Look, I’m not trying to tell you what to do. I’m the last person that would ever do that, but if I might offer one more thought to ponder?”
Jared waves his hand for Misha to continue, because this conversation can’t possibly get anymore awkward.
“The saddest four words of mouth or pen are these four words: what might have been.”
Jared pauses, cup halfway to his mouth. “The hell does that–”
“Chris! You made it!” Misha says happily as he throws his cape over his shoulder and wanders away to greet the newcomer.
Jared watches, tongue in his throat, as Jensen leans heavily against the wall as he climbs the stairs. There’s only one reason for going upstairs at one of Misha’s parties. Usually it’s more covert because as laid back as Misha is, if you’re screwing in his house and he sees it, he claims free rights to plaster it all over the internet.
Whatever happens upstairs is not something Jared wants to imagine Jensen doing with anyone but him. He has no rights to this man, and frankly, their limited conversations haven’t placed Jared on what he would call firm ground. It’s a crush. Just a silly little crush, and he can get over it. Jensen’s not going to want–
“Jensen, wait!” Jared calls and he’s moving, taking the stairs two at a time.
Jensen pauses, using the wall for support as he turns around. “Jared?”
“You don’t want to do this.”
Jensen blinks at him. “What don’t I want to do exactly?”
Jared points to the hallway, the bedrooms beyond. “You don’t want to go up there. Whoever’s waiting for you, I… I could be better. I could give you better.”
Jensen leans against the wall and hooks his thumb through the belt loop on his jeans, eyes unreadable. There’s a glimpse of a pink tongue as it moistens his lower lip as his gaze darts to a closed bedroom door and back to Jared. “You sure about that?”
Jared swallows, because maybe if he knew who his opposition was, he’d know how to compete. This isn’t a game, though, because no one took the time to explain the rules, and what’s at stake is a far greater prize. “I like you, Jen. I’d like the opportunity to get to know you better. I’d really like to fucking kiss you right now, and take you out for dinner next week.”
Jensen watches him, eyes assessing, and the only sound is his quick puffs of air as he breathes. When he doesn’t respond, Jared decides that’s it. He tried and he lost.
Danneel brushes against Jared as she climbs the stairs. She bumps against Jensen’s shoulder and says, “Quit being an asshole and just tell him, Jensen.”
Jared closes his eyes and waits for Jensen to tell him about the person waiting on the other side of the door. The person that could have been him if he’d played his cards right. He waits for his heart to get trampled on.
“It’s okay, Jen. I get it,” Jared says quietly. He motions to the hallway. “Go ahead. I won’t try to stop you again.”
Jensen takes a deep breath and blows it out through his nose. “I live here.”
Jared blinks, all independent thought grinding to a halt. “You what?”
Jensen points to the second door on the right. “That’s my room.”
“You live here,” Jared repeats as he tries to process the newfound information.
“I should have said something sooner. There’s not–” Jensen’s arm drops to his side and he half-shrugs. “There’s no one waiting. It’s not like that. I’m not like that.”
“It’s okay,” Jared says as he takes another step toward Jensen.
Jensen’s gaze slides up Jared’s chest and focuses on his mouth. “So did you mean it?”
Jared swallows and takes another step so that he’s eyelevel with Jensen’s stomach. “I meant all of it, but if you’d like to be more specific, I’m happy to clarify.”
Jensen chuckles before he sinks his teeth into his lower lip when Jared braces a hand on the wall and one on the rail and takes the last step that brings him to Jensen’s level. “You said you want to kiss me.”
“Actually, I said I’d really like to fucking kiss you,” Jared amends before he leans forward to capture Jensen’s lips. People are cheering in the background, and somewhere it registers in Jared’s mind that they just put on a show for half the student body, and then Jensen does something with his tongue that makes Jared’s knees buckle. Fuck it. Let them watch.
“Come on, Jared,” Jensen murmurs against his neck. “My room is literally ten steps away. We can do this. We can totally–” Jared kisses the spot behind his ear, tongue brushing against the back of the silver stud– “If we don’t move now, we’re going to give everyone a show, and I don’t think you want your parents seeing this on YouTube.”
“Don’t care,” Jared murmurs.
“You’ll care tomorrow,” Jensen responds as he forces himself to take a step back from Jared, which is actually a step up. “My room. There’s a bed and everything.”
Jared smiles at the thought and wraps his arms around Jensen’s waist. Jensen’s legs wrap around his middle, and they’re kissing again. The cheers are deafening when Jared takes the final step with Jensen in his arms. He’s able to keep an arm around Jensen and manages to get the door open with his free hand.
“Christ, Jared,” Jensen mumbles as Jared kicks the door closed. “You’re a fucking brick wall.”
Jared drops Jensen on the bed, falling over him with his arms extended before he eases himself down on his forearms. “So…”
“Now that you’ve got me, Padalecki, don’t tell me you don’t know what to do with me,” Jensen teases.
Being this close, Jared can see how Jensen’s green eyes shine when he laughs. He runs his fingers through Jensen’s hair – it’s blue now. “I’ve been thinking about you for months,” he says honestly.
Jensen tilts his head and presses a soft kiss to Jared’s chin. “Me too.”
“You’ve been thinking about yourself for months? I hadn’t pegged you for a narcissist.”
Jensen slaps his ass before he hooks his feet over Jared’s ankles. “You know what I mean.”
Jared smiles and dips down for another kiss. “Yeah, I do.” He feels the press of Jensen’s black Doc Martins against his thighs. “We’re going to get dirt all over your bed.”
“Don’t care,” Jensen murmurs as he nibbles his way across Jared’s collarbone.
Jared chuckles, the conversation on the staircase still fresh in his mind. “You’ll care tomorrow.” He gives Jensen a quick, firm kiss and extracts himself to kick off his sneakers before he starts unlacing Jensen’s boots.
Jensen watches him through hooded eyes. “You make everything ridiculously hot. I hope you know that.”
“I’m taking off your shoes,” Jared says, laughing. He presses a quick kiss to Jensen’s ankle and drops his foot on the bed. He starts picking apart the knot on the second shoe. “Christ, have you ever heard of flip flops?”
Jensen brushes his foot over Jared’s thigh, toes tickling his side. “If I’d known the night was going to end up like this, I would have worn a sheet. Misha’s got a couple of spare togas in his closet.”
Jared nearly cheers when the knot finally comes loose, and he tugs off the boot and tosses it away. He climbs back on top of Jensen, who’s already got his fingers wrapped in Jared’s shirt. He tugs the material up and over Jared’s head so quickly that when Jared lands, he’s shirtless and Jensen’s looking pretty damn proud of himself.
“You’re good at that,” Jared says as he nips at Jensen’s lower lip.
“Wanna see what else I’m good at?”
The ‘fuck yes’ response is swallowed by a quick twist, and Jared lands with his back on the bed and Jensen sitting across his thighs, staring down at him with a deliciously devious smirk. Jared gets all of two seconds to appreciate their rapid change in positions before Jensen’s attacking his mouth, all teeth and tongue and holy sweet mother of God.
Jared rallies enough brain cells together to know that Jensen’s seriously overdressed for this. He tugs on his shirt, growling into his mouth.
“Oh, my shirt? You want me to take it off?” Jensen asks as he folds his arms on Jared’s chest and drops down, bright green eyes inches from Jared’s nose.
Jared tugs again, pulling the material tight across Jensen’s back. “I’ll rip it off. I swear to fucking God, Jen.”
Jensen laughs. “All right, fine, I’ll take it off. No need to resort to violence.” He leans back and pulls the shirt over his head. Jared’s hands are immediately on his chest, his stomach, long fingers stroking every inch of exposed flesh.
The first word that flits across Jared’s derailed mind is ‘beautiful.’ Jensen is fucking beautiful, all sharp lines and muscular curves. He leans up to kiss an errant freckle on Jensen’s chest. He says what he’s thinking because his brain-to-mouth filter isn’t the best, “Fuck, you’re beautiful, Jen.”
Jensen slides his arms over Jared’s shoulders, folding one arm around Jared’s neck to tangle his fingers in Jared’s hair. He braces against the wall with his free hand as he grinds down in Jared’s lap. “I…” Jensen swallows a moan. “I think you’re biased.”
“I think you’re blind,” Jared murmurs, skimming sloppy kisses over every inch of skin he can reach.
“I am blind. You’ve seen me wear glasses.”
Jared groans excitedly at that particular mental image.
“Got a thing for glasses, then?” Jensen murmurs. “I think I have a spare pair around here.” He tries to lean over to the bedside table, and Jared holds him tighter, refusing to let him go.
Jensen squeezes his thighs against Jared as he settles on his lap. “I’m going to hold you to that.”
The breath escapes Jared’s lungs so quickly he’s lightheaded. Without hesitation, Jensen agreed that there would be a next time, as if next time is the most logical conclusion, and how could Jared possibly be this fucking lucky?
“You’re amazing,” Jensen murmurs before he drinks the rest of Jared’s lingering doubts away with open-mouthed kisses. Jared’s fingers are dancing over the waistband of Jensen’s jeans, lingering touches against the button of his jeans. Jensen’s breath ghosts over his ear. “Go ahead.”
His fingers fumble clumsily as he finally tugs the button through the frayed hole. It’s new flesh to explore, and Jared wishes he could see, but he can’t tear his mouth away from Jensen’s long enough to look.
“My turn,” Jensen murmurs before sinking his teeth into Jared’s neck. It’s enough to make Jared’s eyes roll back, and then Jensen’s slithering down his body, kissing and nipping as he goes. He presses a firm kiss just below Jared’s navel, fingers teasing his sides as he skims down to the soft skin just above Jared’s jeans. His fingers glide across Jared’s stomach, lower and lower, until he’s tracing the same small patch of skin over Jared’s hip. Jared breaks out in goosebumps, not sure if he’s even breathing anymore. Finally Jensen stills, fingers hovering over the button on his jeans, and he looks up. “Okay?”
Jared reaches out to touch Jensen’s stubbled cheek. “Yes. Fucking hell, yes.”
Jensen’s tugging at his jeans, and Jared lifts his hips. His jeans are tossed somewhere in the corner. Whatever thoughts he’s trying to gather are violently derailed as Jensen breathes against his hip. Warm breaths caress his skin, and Jared feels like he’s burning from the inside out. “Please, Jen. Do something. Anything. Touch me.”
Jensen smiles against his thigh. He nips the soft flesh and licks away the sting. It’s like being tortured in the best possible way. “I didn’t think I’d ever hear you say that.”
That registers somewhere in Jared’s lust addled brain and he cups Jensen’s cheek, lifting his head so their eyes meet. “I’m sorry. I’m slow, okay? Painfully, horribly slow.”
Jensen tilts his head and kisses Jared’s palm. “You’re not slow, Jared. Next time I’ll just have to be more obvious. Although saying ‘I’m interested’ seemed pretty fucking obvious to me.”
Jared groans and flops back down on the bed. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”
“I’m thinking no,” Jensen says deviously before he bends his head, mouth so close to Jared’s cock he can feel him breathe. “You can make it up to me later.” He rubs his mouth on Jared through his boxers, and Jared nearly swallows his tongue when he’s freed from what’s left of his clothes.
“Fuck, Jen,” he murmurs, fingers threading through Jensen’s hair. “You’re driving me crazy. Do you know that? You’re fucking driving me–”
Jensen’s fingers finally land where Jared wants them most, caressing and teasing, and Jared closes his eyes, fighting the urge to come. A skilled tongue licks at him, swallows him in endless heat, and when Jared opens his eyes and sees Jensen, sees what’s his, he loses it amongst crashing waves of pleasure.
It takes a couple of minutes to control his breathing, and Jensen is slowly kissing his way over Jared’s stomach, his chest, and Jared tilts his head to capture Jensen’s mouth. He rolls on top of him, pulling Jensen underneath him. “My turn.”
Jensen smiles up at him, resting his arms on Jared’s shoulders. “It’s okay, Jared. There’s no rush.”
Jared lifts an eyebrow. “I think it’s a little late to be worried about my virtue.”
Jensen shrugs against the pillows. “I’m just saying it’s not a contest. We don’t have to rush into any–”
Jared’s hand brushes over his cock, and Jensen nearly bites his own tongue. “Let me do this, okay? Please let me do this.”
Jensen nods once, eyes closed, and Jared nudges his cheek with his nose.
Jared takes his time, fingers exploring the flat planes of Jensen’s stomach, skimming down his thighs and dancing over his boxers. He kisses Jensen’s neck, his ear, whatever he can reach. Jensen’s mouth is open, his tongue darting out to swipe at Jared’s mouth. Jared captures his lips in a deep kiss, and he swallows Jensen’s moan when he wraps his hand around Jensen’s cock.
Jared’s given handjobs before, but watching Jensen come apart underneath him is enough to make his own cock twitch with interest. “Come on,” Jared whispers, breathing hard against Jensen’s ear. “I wanna watch you. Come for me, Jen.”
Jensen’s back arches off the bed and he comes in Jared’s hand, mouth open in a silent scream. It’s the most beautiful thing Jared’s ever seen.
“We have to do that again,” he says after Jensen manages to lean over far enough to grab a shirt from the floor so they can clean up.
“Morning sex is awesome,” Jensen says as he flops down, tossing his arm over Jared’s stomach and effectively ending the ‘should I leave?’ debate before Jared can even start thinking about it.
Jensen lifts his head, glaring at the light across the room. He waves his hand. “By the power of the Force.”
Jared openly laughs, because Star Wars jokes will never get old. When the door opens a couple of inches and a hand slides in and switches the light off, Jared’s left gaping as the door closes softly.
Jensen smirks against his shoulder. “I can’t hear you over the sound of how awesome I am.”
“What the fuck just happened? Were they listening the whole time?” Jared nearly shrieks.
“Calm down,” Jensen says around a yawn. “I texted Misha when I grabbed my shirt and asked him to get the light.”
Jared’s unsure of how to respond, and when Jensen drapes his leg over his thigh and asks, “Did you feel like moving?” Jared concedes the point.
“You’re too smart for your own good.”
Jensen grins against his collarbone. “'Course I am. Got you, didn’t I?”
“You did, Jen,” Jared whispers, kissing his temple. “You definitely did.”