|[||mood|||||I have honest tea! I am set!||]|
|[||music|||||Never Be Lonely-The Feeling||]|
Title: Sweet Poison
Disclaimer: Jared and Jensen may or may not be fucking each other. I do not know *one can hope*. And if they are fucking, some how I doubt this is how it went down.
Summary: Having anything to do with Michael Rosenbaum is hazardous to Jared's health and Jensen's sanity.
Genre: PWP, silliness!
Acknowledgements: thank you whimsicalwonder, I love you for betaing this for me. And for letting me bounce ideas off of you, even though they aren't your OTP.
The beat is pulsing in Jensen’s ribcage, and he feels like a tuning fork for loud music. It’s a feeling just short of a heart attack. He may or may not have had too much to drink. He leans back in his chair, three heinekens making him languid and easy, muscles rolling. He doesn't have an agenda for the night, not like Mike who is determined with not one, but, check it, two chicks tonight. Jensen kinda feels like skipping that tonight, too much effort to talk up some random girl and take her home. He'll probably go home with Jared and crash on his couch.
They’ve never hit this club before, just opened a few weeks ago--the ambience is a little too flashy and fashionable for Jensen's taste. It was Mike's turn to choose, said they had great tappas. There was, in fact, no Tappas. But the music was still good. Grand Funk Railroad’s “Some Kind of Wonderful” is on full blast, and a willowy blonde is gyrating to the bass line directly in his line of sight. He doesn't even have to turn his head. Very nice.
Jared is arguing amiably about football with a couple of college guys they met earlier at the bar. Or Jensen thinks he is. He's too lazy to get up and see if he's puking his guts out in the restroom. He hears Jared's belly laugh from the bar, cuts right through the music. Jensen shrugs a little to look at him.
Jared’s wearing a tight black t-shirt, short sleeves for once--makes him look utterly fuckable, and Jensen is definitely watching the blonde! Er, he can see her out of the corner of his eye, hips rolling and thrusting.
Mike claps him on the shoulder, startling him back to reality. “Jensen, my friend, Tom and I have a bet.”
Jensen gives Rosenbaum a wary look.
“Yeah?” He takes another sip of his beer and pays more attention to the song changing to an edgier single with a breathy female vocalist. The blonde disappears. Fuck.
Mike pulls out a little glass vial and sets in on the table with an audible clack, drawing Jensen’s attention back to him. “Tom said I wouldn’t drink this—” he waves the vial around, “and I bet him 50 bucks I would.”
Jensen glances at the vial, the liquid inside is dark red, almost black, kind of like blood. “Yeah, well, I can see why you wouldn’t. What is it anyway?”
“We were in China Town in some little grocery store picking up some tea for Jamie, when this clown spotted it,” Tom interjects. “It’s some home-cooked aphrodisiac, the lady behind the counter looked almost frightened that he was buying it.”
“Dude, that shit’ll probably make your dick fall off!” Jensen takes a swig of beer. "You're such dumbass! I hope your dick does fall off!" He shakes his head. There are times when Jensen thinks he might be the only smart person in the entire world.
“Right, it probably won’t even work and I’ll be sitting here completely normal for the entire evening, boring you two out of your minds.” Rosenbaum pours the liquid into his beer. Jensen shoots him an incredulous look and Tom takes a big gulp of whiskey sour.
"Should you be mixing that with alcohol?" Tom asks, wiping his mouth.
Jensen laughs, eyes still wide. "Dude, are you trying to prove all those psych evals right about you being mentally retarded?"
Mike unleashes Jamese Dean, "Live as if you'll die tomorrow!" They all groan.
Tom sighs and rubs his forehead. “Look, what are the alternatives, Mike? A) as Jensen said, your dick will fall off or B) you’ll be humping somebody’s leg all night long! Dude, you know about crazy stuff in asian markets, that chinese chalk ant killer stuff is illegal in most of the civilized world!”
"I plugged poison control into your cell-phone," Mike replies. "If I start humping somebody's leg, just let me do it, fun for me!"
"This will end in tears, my friend," Tom tells him levelly. Jensen can't help laughing.
Jared shoves through the crowd, smiles at some blonde girl, hey now! Jensen's blonde! He looks happy and energetic, light on his feet. Jensen smiles to see him. He must have won his argument. Jared sets his mostly-full beer bottle back on the table and folds himself into a chair next to the rest of them.
“Did you school them?” Jensen asks. Jared laughs and leans back in his seat. His cheeks are flushed in merriment and the bright smile is enough to light up the room and catch stares from more than a few of the club’s patrons.
“Nope, refused to budge.” Jared takes a long haul on a beer, and looks over at the college boys, who are collectively trying to hit on a girl. “Idiots,” Jared says without heat and rolls his eyes. He climbs to his feet and Jensen eyes him in confusion. “Gotta go to the bathroom.” He makes a jerking motion with his hand to rear of the club. Jensen nods and looks over at the other guys. Mike and Tom are still arguing about their bet. Tom is probably still trying to dissuade him. Jensen would try, but he fucking knows Mike won't budge.
“If something happens you can take me to a fucking hospital, sweet heart!” Mike says to Tom and reaches for his bottle. He grabs it and is about to bring it to his lips, when he double takes and looks at the bottle again. “Hey, this isn’t my beer!”
“What?” Jensen and Tom say together, both checking to make sure they haven’t grabbed the wrong one and imbibed Mike’s hokey aphrodisiac in the process. Both of them are intensely relieved when they realize they have definitely not stolen Mike’s beer by mistake.
And then Jensen spies a beer sitting on the edge of the table, where Jared had been only moments before.
“Jared drank it!” Jensen whispers.
Michael and Tom sit in stunned silence, their mouths partially open for a moment before Mike bursts out laughing. “Well, there goes my fifty bucks!”
“You twat!” Tom shoves his shoulder. “Jared just drank whatever poison you were so intent on ruining your innards with!”
“He’s so big, I doubt it’ll do any damage,” Michael waves it off, rubbing a hand absently over his stubbly head.
Jensen puts his head in his hands. Six feet plus of horny Jared is a frightening idea. He’d like to believe that because of Jared’s gargantuan size he would be fine; however, he knows that Jared isn’t brilliant at holding his alcohol, and the one time he got high they were persuading him off the balcony railing, because he'd seriously convinced himself he'd be able to leap off and fly.
Jared’s coming out of the bathroom and walking across the club back to their table. He doesn’t look any different than when he left. Smile firmly in place. All three guys watch him carefully to see if he does anything strange, but he’s just walking, not jumping into somebody’s lap and ravishing them.
“See? He’s fine.” Rosenbaum says, poking Jensen’s bicep.
“Mike, it’s only been five minutes!” Tom protests as he throws a worried glance at Jared. "It takes regular tylenol a half hour to kick in!"
Jared reaches the table, standing at Jensen’s shoulder.
“Guys, I feel a little strange,” Jared pulls a hand through his hair, “like that time somebody slipped me a rufie and—”
Rosenbaum cracks up and buries his face into his palms. Jensen bends his head and groans. Everything had been going so nicely. Tom looks at Jared apologetically, but the other man doesn’t even seem to notice the strange reactions of his friends. His pupils are completely blown, and his breathing is coming very fast.
Jared runs a hand up over his stomach to cover his heart, inadvertently drawing his shirt up slightly to reveal the golden skin of his abdomen. Jensen’s eyes are inexplicably drawn to follow the line of dark hairs arrowing downwards in Jared’s jeans. If he turns his face just slightly to the left, his nose will be buried into Jared’s crotch.
“Jared, because I am a bad bad bad man, I’m afraid you have to suffer.” Michael manages to say through his laughter. Jared closes his eyes and furrows his brow, his hand shooting out to steady himself on the back of Jensen’s chair.
"Jared? Are you dizzy, do you feel sick? Tom has poison control in his cell-phone!" Jensen asks him hurriedly.
"Yes, I come prepared for all the wonderful times my friends get slipped inedible substances by Mike," Tom mutters sarcastically. Jared doesn't get the choke. He shakes his head a little, and coughs.
"No, dude, I'm tripping, there's like eight of you," he finally says.
“Right, I’m getting him out of here,” Jensen practically growls.
Mike shrugs. "Do I still win the bet if I was fully intending to drink it, but Jared got there first."
Jensen grabs Jared’s arm as he hears Tom reply, "No, asshole! Although I pay for your therapy from now on, if that's what gets you to go!"
“Mmm, what’s going on?” Jared mumbles. They stop to try and navigate through a knot of dancers. Jensen's hand tight around Jared's wrist. He's trying to shove through a throng of grinding coed, but they push back, stopping him up short. Jared is suddenly plastered to his back. Jensen hisses and ducks away, steering Jared toward the door.
“Mike and Tom had this bet going that Mike wouldn’t drink some shit cooked up in China Town and by accident, it ended up in your stomach,” he tells his friend belatedly.
Jared groans, and Jensen feels a little mortified at the fact that the sound goes straight to his dick. “What was in it?” Jared's voice is low and harsh, and he’s stumbling slightly.
They’re outside now, in the cool night air, and Jensen hopes it’ll help Jared regain his equilibrium, sober him up a little, make him stop acting so loopy. Jensen had driven them over from Jared's house after they'd stopped to give Sadie and Harley a walk and some food before they left to go out. He gives the smirking valet his number, hanging on to Jared to keep him from careening right into the large ornamental flower pot right next to the curb.
“I have no clue what was in it,” he tells him, impatient for the valet to get back. "But we're hoping it wont have any lasting effect on your genitals."
"What? Jensen?" Jared voice is confused and annoyed at once. Like he can't stand not knowing what is going on.
The valet drives up in Jensen's truck, hopping out and handing Jensen the key. "Hey, don't you look familiar?"
Jensen narrows his eyes at him, and tosses him a ten dollar bill. "Not a word!" The man shrugs and slinks off. Jensen rolls his eyes. Can't go anywhere in this city anymore.
Jared leans up against the trunk, while Jensen fiddles with the lock, and lets out another moan, his hand covering his face. “Christ, feel so fucking . . .” Jared trails off and attempts to open the car door, but he doesn’t get very far; a shudder wracks his body, and he wets his lower lip like he’s a starving man who’s just come across an all you can eat buffet.
"Er, that's my door," Jensen points out.
Jared giggles. "I have no idea what you're talking about, I like this door, it's totally mine."
"Would you just! Oh!" Jensen snarls and tugs Jared around the side of the car by his collar. "Here, this is your door."
Jared laughs again. "I have my own door."
"Yes, Jared, special invention, just for you." Jensen wants to go back in that bar and shoot Mike right in the head. There are three things preventing that. One, he doesn't own a gun. Two, he'd have to pay the cover charge again. Three, Jared would probably drive the car into a pole in his absence. Jensen just knows that Jared wouldn't let a little thing like KEYS stop him.
He has to practically shove Jared up onto the seat. His head is lolling and rocking, his cheeks flushed bright red. Jensen has to reach over him to belt him, and finds his face nearly in Jared's crotch. Heh. Awkward.
Jared flops around like there isn’t a bone in his body, his mouth slightly open. "I feel really good, Jen--ugh, like first blow job good."
"Well, that's great, buddy!" Jensen says, voice falsely cheerful. "Now, just get your legs out of the way of your door so that you can feel good in the comfort and privacy of your own home."
Jared chuckles. "Privacy is for pussies." He starts pulling on the hem of shirt and unbuckling his belt.
"Hey!" Jensen cries, eyes widening. "Leave your clothes on! Didn't your mama teach you manners!"
"You've seen me naked, Jen," his voice is all breathy, and his hips rock upwards.
He starts the engine and shakes his head to clear it. "Not by choice, fucker!"
Jared makes a sexy little noise in the back of his throat and Jensen quickly looks over. Jared’s eyes are closed and there is a very impressive tent in his jeans. Jensen swallows noisily. "Jesus!"
Jared sighs, and shifts again.
“Well, erm, let’s get you home to take care of that,” Jensen says lamely. He covers his eyes. Images of Jared whacking off are chasing through his brain. He knows he must be bright red by now. Jensen laments the fact that Jared isn't a sweet looking blonde gyrating to classic rock. He could roll with that. This is--this is--er, not a blonde.
Jared’s eyes are squeezed shut tightly and when they stop at a light, Jensen turns on the radio in hopes of distracting his friend. Classical music or something. Christian Fundamentalist Radio, a surefire erection killer.
Madonna’s “Erotic” pumps out through the speakers, and he quickly turns the radio off again, and if Jared had been halfway lucid he would’ve laughed at Jensen’s facial expression. Instead he makes a breathy moan and covers his eyes with one long-fingered hand. "Not far now!"
He's not sure what he'll do if Jared whips it out right there in the car. The earlier scenario involving his car and a pole might come into play. Certainly there will be therapy involved, paid for by Mike. Jensen isn't above suing for emotional distress.
Jared’s arching in his seat like the safety-belt is getting him off, and Jensen tightens his fingers on the wheel.
“I want to suck your cock, Jensen,” Jared says, his voice all gravelly and low and Jensen squeaks. “Always have.”
“HAHAHAH!” He laughs hysterically, forcefully. "You're straight Jared, you have a god awful crush on Michelle Pfeifer!" Jensen snaps back, glad that they’re only a few blocks from Jared’s house.
“You'd make a good Michelle Pfeifer,” Jared says with a strangled moan, his hands twisting on the seat belt. "Maybe--maybe that can be your next role."
“What’s wrong with you?” Jensen asks him as they pull up to Jared house. "Have you gone completely demented?"
Jared snorts with laughter, and nearly tumbles out of the truck. "I like you, Jensen."
"Yes, thank you, I'm so glad," Jensen mutters. "It's so wonderful to star as Michelle Pfeifer in your fantasies, makes a man feel really good about himself."
Jared isn't listening, he's staring up at the stars, craning his neck at an awkward angle.
Jensen throws up his hands and pulls Jared away from the car. They make their way up the front walk, Jared babbling about spoons and shoes and that really good cologne his sister gave him for his birthday. Jared trips on the stares, falls into Jensen. He can feel Jared’s eyelashes fluttering against his neck. He stops breathing for a second.
"Can I have your keys?" he asks finally, hoping Jared won't make him search for them. Jared hands them over and starts laughing again. Jensen hates drugs. With a fiery passion. Also, Michael Rosenbaum.
They get inside the door and Jared tugs his black t-shirt over his head without preamble, using his Jensen as his support.
“God, it’s so hot!” Jared falls back against a wall. "Where's the thermostat?"
Jensen goes to find it. "The a/c's on!" He calls back over his shoulder. Jared palming himself roughly through his jeans.
"Dude, bedroom!" He shouts. He turns and stomps past Jared to go to the door. There is an unforeseen snag. Jared grabs him tight by the wrist.
Jensen clears his throat, he's not how he feels about Jared’s cock digging into his stomach. “Let go of me, dude. Right now anything on two legs is attractive.”
Jared’s fingers are tracing a line from sternum to navel. His lips are right next to Jensen’s ear. “Want it so badly,” he gasps out, his voice resonating. And Jensen is going to kill Mike, he will leave this house and find a hit man. A good one. One with a full page of references. He wants the job done right.
Jared grazes a thumbnail over Jensen’s cloth-covered nipple "You don't have boobs.”
"Acgh!" Jensen growls. This is completely and utterly insane. "Let go of me! I swear I'll kick you in the nuts." He struggles in Jared's octopus hold. That is, until Jared’s mouth closes over the lobe of his ear. Jared's mouth is sloppy on his skin, tongue teasing and pointed as it runs just below his jaw.
"Hmm, taste salty, Jen."
"Yes, because I'm sweaty and disgusting and a GUY, Jared!" Jensen says, protesting even as he arches into Jensen's mouth.
"Mmmhm," Jared affirms, and bites down where skin meets shoulder. Jensen moans and arches into Jared, and Jared is smiling in a way that makes him look euphorically happy, and not like the mad sex demon that is his current incarnation. But then the look is gone, and his mouth is on Jensen’s. Jensen is kissing a guy. He's kissing his costar. He is making out with a dude who is totally high of crazy asian shit. And it’s hot and wet and messy, so much so that Jensen has to brace his palms against the wall on either side of Jared’s head.
There are like five million reasons why he shouldn't be doing this. He doesn't even like Jay that way. He's like a brother. Brothers do not kiss each other. They do not try desperately to get into each other’s pants or scrape their nails down each others backs. They do not grind up against each other in the pursuit of more friction, just like that, and oh god. Really enjoying this doesn't mean he has to tack up that ugly rainbow pride flag, does it? That would totally ruin the aesthetic of his lawn.
Jared’s leg slips between his thighs, and Jensen finds himself moving wantonly up against it, thought chased from his head. Jared pulls back a little, not enough for Jensen to completely lose the sensation, but enough for him to want more. He bites at Jensen's lips, and reaches around to palm Jensen's ass. Jared was right, there are no boobs. He realizes this when he pulls his hand away from the wall and runs it down Jared's chest. This should be the part where he freaks out and starts screaming. This should be the part where he punches Jared and they have a manly scuffle and then they forget it. This is absolutely not the part hwere he lets Jared run his fingers along the skin just below Jensen's waist band. Jensen does not like being out of control, but right now Jared, who’s high off some bizarre crap Mike dug up, to add insult to injury, is the one holding the reins.
“Love your mouth, Jen,” Jared says slowly, leaning forward to nibble lightly on Jensen’s lower lip.
"You call 'em girly, and I'll kill you!" Jensen threatens.
Jared mumbles, lips pressed to skin, "You'd be too heavy for a girl, even a fat girl." Those big hands of his are now working their way inside Jensen’s shirt, skimming over his skin. And Jensen is not rubbing their cocks together like it’s going to kill him if he doesn’t, and he’s certainly not making those high pitched throaty noises. Because Jensen doesn’t do that, he’s perfectly straight, and he likes boobs and blondes who gyrate to classic rock. And just in case there was any confusion, he doesn't think Jared's hot.
Not even the way Jared's tongue thrusts in his mouth, like he's fucking it. Not even the way Jared pulls him in the circle of his body. He's going to leave in just a second. Just as soon as it stops feeling so good.
Suddenly Jared's hands drop from Jensen’s body and his head hits the wall with a dull thunk.
“Dude, what—” his question is interrupted by Jared sliding down the wall, his legs completely unable to support him anymore.
“Jen, I—I think I’m going to pass out.” And that is all the warning Jensen gets before Jared’s eyes roll back into his head.
Jensen sinks to the floor. “Well, shit!” He takes stock of the situation: his jeans are half undone and he really doesn’t remember that happening, his shirt is a twisted mess, and his lips are probably swollen enough to make him look like he was punched.
Even though he should be relieved that they didn’t get any farther--they’re co-stars, and they play brothers, and Sandy’s a nice girl, and oh yeah, he's straight--he can’t help feeling really fucking put out. He pokes Jared with his toe, checking to see if he's still breathing.
Okay, so Jared isn’t dead, he appears to be sleeping, but either way, Jensen does not relish the prospect of getting Andre the Giant up the steps and into his bedroom. He’s half tempted to just leave Jared there. But he supposes it isn't really Jared's fault that he got poisoned and then decided to jump Jensen. Maybe when Jared wakes up, they can split the cost of the hitman.
He sighs and prepares himself for the trek up the stairs. Maybe he can sling Jared across Sadie and Harley’s backs and they’ll help carry him. Jensen decides this is probably not a good idea, you know, animal cruelty and all.
Jared comes to with a sharp flurry of movement, startling Jensen awake. He realizes he must have fallen asleep in the chair by Jared’s bedside. His back hurts like hell, which is what he gets for sleeping sitting up. The early morning light is blinding, and his head is splitting and pulsing.
He really wishes he’d had the good sense to go home to his nice comfy bed. He’d told himself last night that he was only staying because Jared needed someone to watch over him, make sure he didn't stop breathing. It would be no good, if Mike ended up on trial for involuntary manslaughter, friends don't let that happen to friends. It had absolutely nothing to do with wanting to watch him as he slept peacefully, because that is what a creepy person does, not Jensen.
“Agh!” Jared says unintelligibly, grasping his head in his hands. “Great fucking Christ!”
Jared looks over, sees Jensen, and groans, slumping back to the bed. He looks horribly pale, but other than that seems to be all right. He’s turned away from Jensen and pulled his pillow over his head, and Jensen is just left sitting there, not knowing what to do.
Jared rolls over underneath the pillow and Jensen can just see his eyes underneath. “Sorry, dude,” he says softly, looking anywhere but at Jensen. “I practically assaulted you!” Jared sits up abruptly, only to visibly regret it when his head starts pounding. And Jared’s apology is like a punch to the gut, you don’t apologize for something if you don’t regret it, and so clearly that must be what Jared is doing. And Jensen feels kind of like shit. He went through with it after all, and he hadn't taken any drugs.
“I uh, didn't say no?” Jensen says, getting to his feet and turning away from Jared. He wonders if anybody would believe him if he claimed temporary insanity. Maybe that only applied to killing rampages.
“Yeah?” Jared says vaguely, squinting as he tries to pick that moment out of the blur that the last night had become.
“Well, I never said no.” Jensen reiterates, and before Jared can answer, he has left the house. Jared doesn’t call after him, which Jensen sort of wishes he would, and although he's not sure what he really wants. A beautiful relationship started in the throes of the weird Chinese shit? Jensen is not so schmaltzy.
Jared sighs, he must have really attacked Jensen last night. There were hickies and bite marks all over his skin. Jared's surprised he stayed after all that. Especially considering he'd looked so incredibly mortified. Jensen would never admit to that, he was kind of a stoic. They should probably talk. He can hear Jensen's engine starting and gunning it off down the street. He flops back down on the bed, and decides he’s far too tired and nauseated to go after Jensen and shake the truth out of him.
That’ll just have to wait till Monday. Or, er, um, maybe it'll have to wait until it becomes an issue. Because if Jensen is willing to ignore it, Jared can do that. He can really do that.
He gets a flash of Jensen moaning and thrusting up against him and buries his face into the pillow again with a groan.
At that moment the phone rings, and Jared jumps in surprise. He reaches over to his nightstand, picking the phone up more to stop the ringing than to actually converse with whatever person who has the nerve to call him so early in the morning.
“Morning, sunshine!” Fucking Rosenbaum, of course.
“What did you do to me, asshole?” Jared has absolutely no patience for Rosenbaum's bullshit.
“I will remind you that you drank MY beer, that hardly constitutes as my fault, and besides, whatever happened to you, I was attempting to do to myself!” Jared snorts and he can practically hear the smirk in Mike’s voice. “Why? Did you do something stupid, little ickle Jared? Something happen that you regret?”
No. Nothing happened. That was precisely the fucking problem. He’d attacked Jensen and then had the misfortune to pass out before he’d even gotten to the good bits. For crying out loud, if he was gonna ruin his friendship with his co-star, it should have at least been over something solid.
“Nothing happened,” Jared replies gruffly. With the phone wedged between his shoulder and his ear, he gets to his feet and makes his way to the bathroom for a glass of water.
“Darling, please,” Mike says in a good imitation of a British accent, “something happened.”
Jared leans back against the bathroom wall, the cold tile a nice comfort against his burning skin. He swallows a handful of ibuprofen and chases it down with a large gulp of water. “Nothing happened!” Jared reiterates a little more forcefully.
Mike ignores him. “Let’s see, Jensen was pretty intent on getting you home last night, so it must have been . . .” Jared can totally hear the dawning realization in Mike’s voice. “You jumped Jensen! Did he punch you or scream, 'oh, Jared, take me away'”
Jared clicks off the phone, knowing that he is, in effect, giving Mike the answer to that question. However, Jared is currently entertaining thoughts of following Sylvia Plath’s lead and sticking his head in the oven.
So now what does Jared do? Does he run over to Jensen’s house and pounce on him, pretending to have a relapse? That would probably be a bad idea, and besides, Jensen is a smart boy; if he didn’t see through it, Jared would be worried.
Is that what he really wants anyway? He looks down at his dick. It's hardening at the thought. Gaah! What's he gonna do on set now, every time that Jensen has to toss him around as Dean?
Jared has just navigated himself back into the bed when the phone rings again. He growls and reaches for the receiver.
“What?” he practically snarls into the phone—he really can’t bring himself to be nice at the moment.
“Well, I guess I don’t have to ask how your night went!”
It’s Chad and as much as Jared loves the man, he is really not prepared to deal with whatever crap his very blond friend has managed to get himself into today.
“Why are you calling me? I didn’t think you knew a time before 11 AM existed.”
“Fuck you, dude!” Chad laughs. “So, what happened last night to put you in a mood?”
“Put me in a mood? You sound like my mother!” Jared responds, the urge to throw the phone at the wall increasing by the minute. Maybe he should tell Chad he’s got a massive hangover, which is partially true, since whatever that crazy shit was, he’s pretty sure it’s responsible for his current state of discomfort.
Chad snorts. “You won’t answer the question?”
“Well, I guess that means there were chicks involved.”
Jared has to bite back a laugh, mostly because it’ll kill his head if he doesn’t. He’s pretty sure that Jensen would resent the implication that he was a chick, even if his mouth was made for sucking cock. He seems to remember Jensen threatening to punch him at one point.
“Dude, you totally made an ass out of yourself, didn’t you?” Chad asks when he still doesn’t respond.
Jared grimaced. It wouldn’t surprise him if Jensen refused to come near him for fear of being man-handled if his rather speedy exit was anything to go by.
“Yeah, whatever, you didn’t call to talk about me,” Jared changes the subject.
Another laugh from Chad, and Jared can just picture the evil grin on his face. “A really big ass out of yourself, apparently.”
Jared sighs. “Man, just leave it.”
Chad, for perhaps the first time in his life, has the good grace to follow Jared’s request (although that probably has more to do with him wanting to talk about his own problems than because he’s suddenly developed good manners). Jared listens to his friend rant on and on about how the aunt of his fiancé hated him and was probably going to murder him in his sleep, and why god, couldn’t the world just get over themselves already, he’s not a horrible husband, really.
Jared figures it’s a bad idea to point out exactly how long his previous marriage had lasted, even if he does want Chad to hang up and let him alone.
It’s raining, and doesn’t that just suck. Work was especially difficult today with everybody shouting at one another, and doing so many fucking takes that it made the head spin. Jared and Jensen weren't awkward with each other per se, but that’s because Jensen is religiously pretending Friday never happened. And it’s hard to be awkward with someone when everybody’s nerves are on edge.
However, Jared doesn’t want to just let things lie. He wants to push Jensen for an answer. Or like, get another chance at apology.
They’d talked for a few minutes over a coffee, but it had been about the script and the next scene. And it was easily noted that Jensen had a lot of trouble looking at him. It was driving him mad, they had to get it all into the open. And it would go one of two ways: either, you want me too, you idiot, so stop acting like that; or, well, yes, I do feel that way about you, but only because of the damn drugs.
When they finally wrap and have cleaned all the layers of make-up off, Jared knows it’s time to pounce. He can see Jensen heading to his car like he’s got a pregnant woman inside desperately in need of getting to the obstetrics ward.
“Jen, wait the fuck up!” he calls after him, sprinting after him. Jensen stops but doesn’t turn around, his keys already in the door. “Look, dude, we’ve got to talk about this.”
“No we don’t, you were high, you were horny, it happened, I forgive you, I know it won’t happen again. Don’t worry about it.” Jensen says in a monotone, tugging open his car door.
“Jen, please,” Jared begs, his hand on Jensen’s shoulder and then he sees that look on Jensen’s face that his friend just isn’t quick enough to hide. Like he's afraid of what Jared has to say.
Jared is suddenly exasperated with his friend and current object of affection. “You dumb ass!”
Jensen jerks in his grasp and he still won’t look at him.
“Jenny, it doesn’t have to be like this.” He tugs his friend around to face him, and he realizes all of a sudden that the rainwater catching on Jensen’s eyelashes might just be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. And then he’s pressing Jensen up against the door of his car, and drawing him in for a kiss. Jensen stiffens at first and then relaxes, his mouth opening under Jared’s, and he’s sucking on Jared’s tongue like it’s his favorite hard candy.
Jared’s pulling Jensen’s leg upward around to wrap around his hip and he’s reveling in Jensen’s taste: rainwater, black coffee, and cinnamon. And he is never letting Jensen go. He feels too damn good pressed up against him and who cares that it’s raining and they’re getting soaked and they’re standing in a parking lot.
“Jared,” Jensen pulls back and away, panting. He’s got one hand up Jared’s jacket and the other tangled in his hair, and he looks so thoroughly debauched and sexy that Jared is amazed Jensen doesn’t get jumped every time it rains and his clothes get plastered to him. “Not here, Jared.”
And Jared smiles, his fingers cleverly working the buttons to Jensen’s jeans as he captures Jensen’s mouth in another kiss, this one slow and languid, like he’s got an eternity to spend on Jensen’s mouth alone. Then his hand is in Jensen’s boxers, his thumb hooking underneath the sensitive underside of Jensen’s hardened dick.
Jensen tears his mouth a way. “Holy--Jared!” He makes a low keening noise that hits Jared in such a way that he decides right then he’s going to spend the rest of his life forcing that sound out of Jensen’s mouth. “Here is—ungh—good.”
Jared begins jerking his cock, using a little flick of the wrist that always manages to drive himself wild. Jensen arches into him and moves to do the same for Jared, but Jared bats his hands away.
“This is just for you, man.” Jensen’s head thunks back against the body of his car, and Jared tightens his grip, enjoying the way Jensen’s cock feels in his palm. It doesn’t surprise him; he enjoys pretty much everything about Jensen.
“Fuck!” Jensen curses as Jared slows his stroke down again, his lips are parted in a fucking beautiful pout, and he wishes to hell he had a camera to capture all of it.
“Gonna come for me, Jensen?”
“I—Oh God!” Is all the other man manages, his hips pistoning against Jared’s fist. “Want you so fucking much!”
“You have me, asshole!” Jared growls as he watches Jensen come undone bit by bit. “And you coulda had me a lot sooner if you’d only asked.”
“Sandy?” Jensen’s voice breaks on the word as Jared’s fingers caress that tender patch of skin directly behind his balls.
"I--uh--might've preemptively taken care of that." Jensen blinks at him, eyes uncomprehending. "On sunday."
"You were pretty sure of yourself," he moaned.
“You've got that irresistible mouth, and you'd make a great Monicca Belucci, Michelle Pfeifer might be out of your league” Jared adds, sweeping the thumb of his other hand over Jensen’s lower lip. Jensen bares his teeth.
"I'm gonna come all over you, asshole, just see if I don't."
“Then do it, dude.”
Jensen buries his face in Jared’s shoulder to muffle his own cries and then he’s falling apart at Jared’s fingertips, thick ropy spurts of come pulse from Jensen’s dick, coating his hand.
Jensen falls completely back against the car, his eyes closed, and his skin flushed. His lips are bitten swollen and his breath is coming out in pants. Jared smiles down at him, pulling his hand from Jensen’s pants and zipping him back up. Jensen doesn’t move, and for a minute, Jared wonders if he’s gone into shock.
Jensen stirs and then he straightens up against the car. “Want to take care of this?” he asks, a playful grin in his voice as he rubs his thigh against Jared’s impossibly hard dick.
“Yeah, about that, you busy tonight?” Jared’s fingers tighten on the fabric of Jensen’s shirt.
“I think I can pencil you in.”
Well, I hope you didn't think that was awful, because it was such fun to write!