Jared and Dean’s Adventures in Monster-killin’, Sam-retrievin’, and Sexual Confusion (post 2/2)
Title: Jared and Dean’s Adventures in Monster-killin’, Sam-retrievin’, and Sexual Confusion
Author: ciaan
Fandom: Supernatural show/rpf crossover AU
Spoilers: through episode 2x04
Rating: worksafe
Pairings: Jared/Dean, Jared/Jensen, references to other canon couples
Summary: Jared could play along with this. He could pretend to be Sam. No problem, he did that all the time. 17,500 words.
Disclaimer: All persons, places, and events in this story are either fictional or are used fictitiously. Supernatural is owned by The CW, which is not me. This is a non-profit piece of unofficial and untrue entertainment.
Notes: Originally written for estrella30’s All CW Kink & Cliché Challenge and posted in July 2006. This is a revised and updated version of the story. If you read the earlier version, some events have been changed from that.
Thanks: To buffyspazz and allzugern for the awesomely awesome beta comments, kinetikatrue, beckaandzac, coyotegestalt, and idiosyncrarchy for the research help, and everyone who commented on the earlier version for the reassurance and support.
continued on from...
Day Three
Dean was still asleep when Jared woke up. He rolled over and opened his eyes for a second when Jared stood up, but then closed them again, apparently satisfied that nothing was trying to kill him. Jared stumbled through his bathroom routine. His head felt basically fine. Seemed Sam was more prone to headaches from psychic flashes than from alcohol. Once he was dressed he headed out to the hotel lobby and got coffee. There was a table with breakfasty baked goods and fresh fruit laid out. Jared stared at the fruit, then at the strips of musty paper hanging off the walls, then at the fruit again.
Maybe there was some supernatural force at work here? A demon or ghost who made it their mission to serve an incongruously good breakfast?
He shrugged and gathered up a plate with two bagels, some cream cheese, and lots of fruit to go with the two cups of coffee.
He got back to the room just in time to see Dean finish buttoning up his jeans.
Jared set the food down. “Breakfast.”
Dean looked at the plate as if cantaloupe and strawberries violated the laws of nature. “God, you’re worse than Sam.” He grabbed up a cup of coffee and took a sip black, then poured some creamer in.
“What, because only women, hippies, and frou-frou California boys eat fruit for breakfast?”
Dean shrugged. “You said it, not me.” He set the coffee down and began trying to undo his bandage where it fastened behind his back. “Let me just get this, and we’ll go have a real breakfast.”
“Cheetos?”
“Those are for the morning after an all-night drive, not a drunken escapade.” He tugged on the bandage again, and it failed to come undone. “A little help?”
Jared walked over and peeled the bandage off. The cuts on Dean’s stomach were healing over but still had vulnerable scabs. Dean didn’t rebandage them, just pulled a t-shirt on. Then he gestured at Jared. “Let’s see yours.”
So Jared ended up having to take his shirt off to give Dean a view. Dean stepped behind him, declaring that the wounds looked fine. Jared felt a dull rush of pain on his back as Dean poked him.
“The thing give you bruises, too?”
“No, you did those.”
“Oh, yeah, right.” Dean’s hand traced gently across Jared’s upper back and down his right side, making Jared shiver. “Sorry.” Jared shrugged as Dean’s fingers dropped away from his skin. “I’ll make it up to you by buying breakfast.” Dean’s voice was more teasing than apologetic.
“I did pay for dinner and drinks last night, after all.” Jared laughed as he pulled his shirt back on, then smoothed down his hair.
Dean reached up and knocked Jared’s hair askew again. “Hard-earned money, Jared, hard-earned money.” He smirked while Jared frowned and brushed his hands over his head.
They ended up going back to the same place they’d been the night before. There was no sign of Linda the waitress, and the bar was closed. Only a handful of people were eating breakfast, or maybe brunch considering the time, mostly families with little kids.
Dean ordered eggs sunny side up with bacon and toast and Jared got a tall stack of blueberry pancakes. Their waitress this time was matronly, and Dean didn’t flirt with her, just smiled sweetly and called her ma’am, like Jared did.
As soon as she trundled off, Dean leaned forward, elbows on the table, hands clasped under his chin. “Here’s what I’m thinking. We haven’t been able to find any good information here, so we should go back to a bigger city, like Des Moines, that might have more resources.”
“But what if something here is what caused this? Could leaving break some sort of connection?”
“I don’t know. We can always come back, though. I think it’s time to do something I almost never do.”
“What?”
“Call in the flakes.”
Jared asked what that meant, but Dean didn’t explain, just went back to drinking his coffee.
When their food came, Jared slathered his pancakes with butter and syrup. Dean was staring at him speculatively, but Jared didn’t care. He was starving, and they looked so good. He took a huge bite.
They didn’t taste right at all. That was awful. He grimaced.
Dean burst out laughing. “Dude, Sam hates blueberries.”
Jared stared at him in shock, then spit the bite out into his napkin. “That is so wrong. He’s one sick fuck.”
“Totally. So, you going to eat those?”
Jared stared mournfully at his pancakes. “I don’t think so.” The thought of it made him shudder.
Dean reached out and grabbed the plate of pancakes, dragging it towards him. He shoveled one of his eggs onto it, then pushed his plate in front of Jared, shaking his head. “The things I do…” he muttered.
“I can order something else.”
“Shut up and eat your eggs.” Dean shoved a forkful of pancake into his mouth and chewed determinedly.
So Jared obediently ate the eggs. They were good, made just the way he liked, and he still had some fruit waiting back at the motel.
After breakfast they returned to the motel to pack, then Dean hustled them onto the road, still not explaining to Jared what exactly they were doing. They were going back to Des Moines, but he didn’t say why.
As Dean drove along, humming along to Metallica, Jared stared out the window at the flat scenery, thinking. He kept going over what he’d done so far, what could have caused the switch, the differences in these universes, even the nature of reality, until his head was spinning with frustration. He tried to think whether Dean had actually mentioned anything about the plot of any episode, and decided he hadn’t really. So maybe the story was really different, even though the basics were the same.
But, even if Dean confirmed or denied everything that was supposed to have happened up until then, Jared’s presence was still changing things. He just didn’t know how or how much, and he didn’t see how he could ever know that.
What was Sam’s presence doing to his own world? Had Sam done anything weird or horrible, gotten Jared in trouble with Jensen or Sandy or his parents in some way, pissed off Kripke and gotten Jared fired, starved his dogs?
Not to mention the fact that, regardless of what Jared told Dean, Sam was learning all sorts of shit about his own future by being on set. He’d bring that knowledge back with him.
Unless he never came back.
It was an awful thought. Jared was enjoying hanging out with Dean, mostly, but he didn’t want to stay here. He didn’t want to be trapped in Sam’s life, hunting monsters, hunted by The Demon. He didn’t want to have only one person he could ever really explain it to, and have that person be unavailable to him in so many ways. And if Sam never came back, Dean would end up totally hating and resenting Jared for that.
He didn’t want to contemplate, heaven forbid, ever trying to explain all this to John Winchester and dealing with his anger. Jared would never be able to stay quiet about the future in that case, not with John and Dean both pressing him.
No, Jared wanted to go back home and live his own life. It was a good life, and he liked it, and he’d worked hard to get it in the first place. He was determined to work hard to get it back.
The two of them remained lost in their own thoughts until they reached Des Moines. Dean drove around a little until he found an area of town with some alterna-boutiques, a thrift store, and a used record store. He parked behind the music store and hopped out of the car. “Let’s go shopping.”
“For CDs?”
“Nope. Further down the block.”
Jared followed Dean down to a New Age store with books and herbs in the windows. The doorframe was draped in silver cloth edged with feathers and beads. The place was called, according to the sign, ‘The Wandering Path.’ Dean paused on the doorstep, then gritted his teeth and went inside. So that’s what he’d meant by flakes.
The place smelled like sage and patchouli, and Jared had to rub his nose to hold in a sneeze. Dean headed to the back wall and scanned the books on the shelves. Some of them were antique, others new, but all looked handmade.
Dean pulled one down and started flicking through the pages. Jared didn’t see any title on the cover of it, or on most of the other books on that shelf.
Just then, a plump middle-aged woman in an orange ‘70s dress bustled up to them. “Anything I can help you boys with?”
“Yes, ma’am, if you’d be so kind.” Dean turned and flashed her a brilliant grin. “I’m Dean, and this is my brother Jared.”
Jared glanced over at him, just in time to see Dean drop his gaze for a second after saying that. Dean’s eyelashes fluttered against his cheek, and Jared’s stomach fluttered along with them. When Dean looked back up at the woman his expression was so intense that Jared didn’t even hear what he was saying. Instead, he just heard Jensen’s voice in his head, whispering, “Dean doesn’t do friends. He knows family and people to save and enemies, that’s it.” Jared tried to tell himself that it was just a cover story, and it was, but it was so much more than that, too.
“…about getting souls back into the right body? Not when someone’s died, just if the soul’s gone off to the wrong place, somehow,” Dean was saying when Jared managed to tune back into him.
The woman nodded, then turned and perused the shelves for a moment. She pulled down a dusty old tome bound in cracked red leather, with no words or decorations on the outside. Dean took it and opened it to a random page, and Jared leaned in to see the yellowing, rough paper covered in scratchy handwriting, parts of the ink splotchy and faded. The woman looked Jared over searchingly, then nodded again. “Yes, that ought to do it for you.” She reached up and patted Jared’s cheek, standing on her toes. “Good luck, boys.”
“Thank you,” Dean replied.
Jared thought he might be blushing, because his face felt warm and tingly. Or maybe that was because of some psychic thing she did when she touched him.
She took the book back from Dean and walked them over to the cash register, where she rang it up and placed it in a plain paper bag. It was fifty dollars, and Jared really had no idea whether that was expensive or cheap. Dean nodded slow and serious at the number and paid in cash. The woman clucked her tongue at him when she touched it, and he grinned wryly.
“My name’s Mizz Selene, and you boys remember to come back here and ask for me if you need any ingredients for that, you hear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jared answered.
“We sure will,” Dean added.
They left the store, and Dean led Jared to a little park nearby.
“How’d you know about that place?” Jared asked.
“I didn’t, but I hoped. Wasn’t expecting to find the right kind of thing first try. Let’s make sure.”
They sat down on a bench under a tree, and Dean opened up the book. Jared tried to read over his shoulder, but the handwriting was little and cramped, full of words he couldn’t make out at all. He thought they might not even be English. After a few minutes he gave up and settled back with his eyes closed, letting Dean do the work. Dean mumbled sometimes as he read, and there were birds singing, and a warm breeze. It was actually really pleasant, and Jared zoned out a little.
Eventually he started paying more attention as Dean’s mumbles coalesced into firmer sentences. “Oughta… Red candle, got that. Mint, chamomile, old bowl, yeah, crow’s feather, rocks… Check. Looks like this one might work.”
Jared pulled up, eyes snapping open. “Really? Lemme see.” Dean handed him the book, pointing to the top of the page. If ever souls go awry and do travel from their homes, fastenings upon the body come loose... It went on like that for a bit, then started explaining a ritual, with pictures of the symbols to draw, lists of elements to bring in, and an incantation in Latin. “Okay.”
“I looked through the whole book, and that’s the one that best matches our situation. Most of the rest are more typical exorcisms and such, but this one’s for homecomings, bringing people back where they belong.”
“Sounds good.” It actually sounded kinda dangerous, knowing how Dean might remember and use that sort of spell in the future if John died the same way, but Jared tried not to think about that, since there were no guarantees.
“Let’s find a place, then.”
Jared blinked. “Right now?” His voice didn’t quite crack on the sentence.
“I meant a motel, you dork. This sort of thing always needs preparations.” Dean punched Jared lightly on the arm. “Come on.”
They drove around a little until they passed a grocery store. When they stopped to buy soda and sandwich fixings, Dean grabbed a couple boxes of mint and chamomile teas.
“Are those…” Jared twirled a hand at the tea. “She said to go back to her if we needed ingredients.”
“It’s good enough. You can always fudge this stuff. Besides, I don’t want to go back to that freaking store. It was tacky.”
“My God, and I’m putting my life in your hands.”
Dean tossed the tea into the shopping cart and puffed out his chest. “Sure you are. I’m a highly trained professional.”
Jared just shook his head and pushed the cart down the aisle.
They were cruising back to the highway, looking for a motel, when they neared a sign for a detour due to construction, and the glove compartment began beeping and whining.
“The hell?” Jared pulled back from it.
Dean waved a hand. “EMF meter. Get it out and check the readings.”
Jared pulled out the rigged-up Walkman as Dean took the turn down a side street. The noise stopped. “Huh,” Dean said.
He circled around a few blocks, and the EMF activity seemed to be centered right on the intersection that was under construction. Dean tapped the steering wheel as Jared read him numbers from the screen. They drove right past a little bed and breakfast, and Dean pulled into the parking lot with a screech.
“Okay. Looks like a job and a convenient base of operations.”
“What about the spell?” Jared asked.
“We’ll get to it, man, but I want to try and figure out what this thing here is, too.” Dean looked over at Jared. “That okay?”
Jared nodded. “Yeah, sure.” He definitely wanted to go home, but it didn’t have to happen in the next few minutes. He’d still like time with Dean.
They walked into the living room of the B&B together. There was a guy at a desk there, across from a chintzy couch. The wallpaper was striped, the walls were covered in paintings, and everything was busy and frilly.
The guy looked up as they approached the desk. “Can I help you?”
Dean grinned at him. “Yeah, we’d like a room for tonight.”
“All we have available is one king.”
“Sure. Okay.” Dean didn’t even blink. The guy looked from him over to Jared, and Jared raised an eyebrow blandly. The guy fumbled around for the credit card Dean handed him and swiped it through the register. As Dean bent to sign the receipt he casually asked, “So what’s up with the construction out there?”
“Oh, the light’s been broken for ages now. It changes randomly, caused a bunch of accidents. They tried to fix it earlier, and it still didn’t work, so they’re having another try.”
“Hmm. That sounds annoying.”
“Yeah.” The guy handed over a key. “You’re all set, Mr. Halford. Enjoy your stay.”
“I’m sure we will.” Dean slung an arm around Jared’s waist. “C’mon, sugar, let’s go unload the car.” Jared walked out with his arm over Dean’s shoulders.
When they got to the car, Dean let go of him to open the trunk.
“You are seriously evil,” Jared laughed, shaking his head.
“Nah, just studly.” Dean threw a duffel at Jared, who caught it across his chest with both arms. The next bag Dean tossed to him hit the first one and fell to the pavement.
Jared stooped to pick it up as well, hefting both of them. “I’d flip you off, but…”
“Shoulder straps, dude.” Dean hauled another bag over his shoulder and slammed the trunk shut.
“You gave me the bags without straps.”
Dean shrugged and flicked Jared the bird. “Well, fancy that.”
“Seriously fucking evil.” Jared shook his head again, following Dean into the building and up to their room.
They ate lunch, and Jared shook his head again over the tea bags Dean put away in a drawer. He was pretty sure the spell wouldn’t work with these haphazard methods. Hopefully it would just do nothing and they could go get the right stuff and try again, but he was worried he might turn into a chicken or something. Really, if he were being practical, he ought to insist on taking more precautions, but he kept telling himself that he didn’t really know what he was talking about, or how this worked, or what the rules were. Dean was a lot more experienced, and if he said it was alright, it could very well be alright. So Jared was going to trust him, and if Dean fucked up, well, Jared was going to see how much of an advantage Sam’s height and longer reach gave him in a fight.
Dean settled down on the bed to re-read the book they’d bought and crosscheck portions of it with John’s journal. Jared settled down in the armchair to, apparently, channel surf and fidget while Dean ignored him. When Jared found himself actually watching an episode of Full House, he finally turned the TV off and turned to Dean, who was calmly flicking pages and making notes on the pad of paper from the room’s desk.
“Is there anything I can do that would be useful?” Jared asked, a little desperately.
Dean looked up. “Actually, yeah. You wanna run a load of laundry?”
Jared groaned. “Oh, God. Why did I ask?” They’d passed a laundry room in the hall on their way upstairs. “Okay, fine. Where are your dirty clothes?”
Dean pointed to his duffel. Jared looked over at it. Sam at least had his dirty clothes separated out in another bag, but… “Just wash whatever you think needs it,” Dean said.
“Oh, no. I am not sorting through and smelling all your clothes. You can come along and toss them in the washer, I’ll take it from there.” At least it was something to do.
Once the washer was humming along Dean went back to the room and Jared sat there, flicking through some old magazines. He skimmed his way through a couple news weeklies and tabloids, looking for a mention of someone he really knew, not finding any. The boredom was starting to wear on him. What did Dean and Sam normally do all day?
While the dryer was spinning, Jared tried to do some stretches in the little room, fake push-ups against the edge of the washer, squats and lunges, whatever he could fit in. It was weird. Sam seemed to have a little more leg strength and a little less arm strength, and he could touch his toes better than Jared but not put his arms as far behind his back. Little differences that kept throwing Jared off as he twisted and pushed, but it felt good to be working out even a little after all that time sitting around.
Finally he flung the clean clothes back in the duffel, took them to the room, and dumped them out on the foot of the bed to fold. Dean was still ensconced at the head, laptop open and spell book beside him, glancing between them and jotting down more notes on the pad of paper. He seemed totally calm, not at all restless, utterly at ease with what he was doing. Jared felt like climbing the damn walls.
He folded a pair of Sam’s jeans, then tossed a t-shirt over Dean’s laptop. “Don’t you ever get bored?”
Dean raised an eyebrow at him. “What’s your problem? I’m working.”
“No, seriously. You don’t have any games, any books, any friends… What in hell do you do?” Jared balled up another shirt convulsively, then dropped it back on the bad.
“Now that’s a stupid question. What do you do all day?”
“I work. Like, fourteen, sixteen hours a day.” Jared started pacing along the bed. “But at least I also have hobbies and a social life.”
“No, see, I work. Saving people. What you do, walking around pretending stuff, that isn’t the same.”
“Oh, come off it. You watch movies, you listen to music. Hell, you watch Oprah and she’s the richest woman in the country.”
“Aren’t those hobbies?” Dean was sitting up straighter, ignoring the papers spilling off his lap. “But you can’t honestly say your, uh, job, is as important as mine.”
Jared threw out his arms. “I'm not going to give you some impassioned defense of acting! I just wanted to point out that I’ve been taken away from everything I do, and you haven’t really been compensating for that, with your boring-ass motel life.”
Dean stood up, grimacing. “You’re a pissy little bitch. You think I haven’t lost anything? At least I didn’t go, what, bugfuck insane like you predicted? And don’t think I didn’t catch the implications of that statement.”
“Then why don’t you just send me home already?” Jared didn’t even know why he was yelling at Dean now, when earlier he had been wanting to stay longer. He just couldn’t take the waiting.
“Why do you think?” Dean stared at him narrowly for a moment, and Jared stared back. Dean finally shook his head, turned, and stomped out of the room.
“I have no fucking clue!” Jared yelled as the door slammed shut. He angrily threw more clothes around the bed for a few minutes, sulking, then folded them up neatly. Eventually he tried reading the spell book again. It was a little easier going, and he puzzled through the instructions for their ritual. It didn’t seem to specify anywhere what state the herbs had to be in, which was reassuring.
After a while Sam’s phone rang, and Jared picked up the call from Dean.
“Hey,” came Dean’s voice immediately, “what do you want on your pizza?”
Jared scrunched up his face. “Lots of meat? Peppers, olives.”
“Sounds good.”
“Pretty much anything but pineapple, really.”
Dean laughed. “Got it. No fruit.”
“Tomatoes are fine.” Jared smiled back, knowing Dean couldn’t see it.
“Tomatoes don’t count as a fruit.”
“Whatever you say, Dean.” Jared did laugh at him then.
“Exactly. See you in thirty.” He hung up, and Jared put down the phone, still grinning.
When Dean rolled back in he had a large pizza and a couple more sodas. Jared went to open the box and stared at the pizza in surprise. “Broccoli?” The pizza had all the meat and peppers and olives Jared had asked for, and also broccoli.
“Trust me, you’ll like it.”
“Is this like the blueberries?”
“Yeah, Sam’s a weirdo.”
Dean settled back with a slice of pizza, chowing down. Jared took a bite, and yeah, it was better than he expected. He didn’t normally like broccoli much, but this was really good.
After dinner Dean took a nap, saying they would go out and check the stoplight at 2 or 3 am when there shouldn’t be anyone around.
Jared wasn’t quite tired yet, and he felt odd about sleeping in the same bed as Dean, so he again sat in the armchair and futzed about with the TV, watching local basketball, HGTV, whatever, even, as it got later, infomercials, dozing off and on.
At about 2 am Dean got up and started packing a bag with a few guns, the journal, lighters, holy water, some other supplies. They got dressed in dark clothes and headed out. The stoplight was two blocks away, an easy walk down the dim and deserted streets to the intersection barricaded with construction signs and traffic cones, cherry picker sitting in the middle of it.
The stoplight was off, and no one was around. The night was quiet. The EMF meter didn’t beep, not even the slightest whine.
“Okay, this was going like crazy earlier. What happened?” Dean looked more annoyed than confused.
“Maybe it only comes out when there’re cars?” Jared suggested.
Dean waggled a finger at him speculatively. “Might be. You move these cones, I’ll go get the Impala.”
He left Jared there rolling his eyes and sighing, but Jared did clear out enough cones for Dean to sneak the car in, headlights off, inching along.
Once the Impala rolled through into the intersection the stoplight began to flicker between red and green, and the EMF meter went crazy again.
Jared looked around warily, but no one came out to investigate, and no ghosts or apparitional vehicles appeared to kill them. It was just the Impala, red and green flashes reflecting off her shiny black surface, sitting there alone. The driver’s side window came down and Dean beckoned him over.
“Dad’s journal has a ritual for removing curses from inanimate objects. Works for all the most common types, and it doesn’t even require any herbs.” He grinned.
“You think that’s what this is?”
“It’s a good place to start, unless you want to go do more research to get specifics.”
“Let’s give it a try, then.”
At Dean’s suggestion, Jared climbed in the cherry picker. He’d never driven one of these before, but he imagined he could figure it out. Luckily, the key was stored in the ignition, and it started easily, with a noise that made Jared grimace but didn’t bring anyone to see what was going on. After a few tries with the various levers he could raise and lower the thing, and he got it into a position where he could bring the platform right up to the still-flickering lights. Dean got out the journal and some holy water and got on the platform, and Jared lifted him up. Dean sprinkled the water on the lights and said something in Latin, holding the pages up to the colorful glow to read them. When he was done, the lights continued flickering. Nothing seemed to change. Dean shrugged, and Jared lowered him down.
They got out and met in the center of the intersection. “Okay, maybe it’s not cursed. Maybe it’s something else,” Dean said.
Jared turned up his hands. “How can we figure that out?”
“Think we can just burn it?”
“I know we burn stuff a lot, but I doubt that’ll catch fire.” Jared examined the sturdy metal structure of the stoplight. “Maybe we should try what other shows do and use electricity. It does have an energy signal, after all.” He waved the EMF meter, which was still beeping away.
Dean’s jaw worked thoughtfully. “That might clear it out, and if not, we’ll do something else. But where would we get an electrical jolt?”
Jared jerked his thumb at the Impala. “You got jumper cables?”
Frowning, Dean shook his head. “Oh, no you don’t.”
“Oh, yeah I do. Even if it doesn’t work on the lights, it won’t hurt the car.”
Eventually Dean acquiesced, though he still grumbled as they got out the jumper cables and hooked them to the Impala’s battery. Jared hoisted Dean up in the cherry picker again so that he could fasten the other ends of the cables to the metal right by the lightbulbs. Once Dean was back down, he turned on the ignition of the Impala, the two of them standing on the side away from the stoplight, crouching down behind the open door of the car.
There was a surge of electricity and a shower of sparks as the lights blew out with explosive pops. Then everything was dark and still. The EMF meter in Jared’s hands was silent. They waited a minute, but the intersection stayed calm, nothing more happening.
Jared glanced at Dean. “Reckon it worked?”
“Looks like. I’ll keep an eye on reports from the area to be sure, but I guess that dissipated whatever it was.”
Once they got back to the room they both crawled into the bed. Jared was wearing boxers and a t-shirt, but Dean had stripped to just his boxers.
Jared turned his light off, though Dean’s was still on. Jared lay there awkwardly on the left side of the bed, scooted over as close to the edge as he could get, on his back, arms down at his sides, trying not to move around. Dean seemed to be doing the same, but Jared was studiously trying not to look at him.
Suddenly Dean sighed huffily. “Fine. Get over here.”
“What?” Jared turned his head, staring into Dean’s green eyes. Suddenly he was grabbed and yanked toward Dean as Dean slid over, and then his head was resting on Dean’s chest, the brown nub of Dean’s nipple directly in his eyesight. Dean’s left arm came around the top of Jared’s shoulder, and his right hand wrapped around Jared’s bicep. Jared wasn’t exactly sure what was happening, but he shifted his shoulders until he was comfortable, his right arm curled between and under them, his left resting across Dean’s stomach, fingers by his side. He kept his hips pushed back and away, not touching Dean, just in case.
“Once, when I was about nine,” Dean said quietly, “we went way down to the Florida Keys. I don’t remember what Dad was hunting there, ghost pirates or something, but Sammy and I got to play on the beach all day. We got the most awful sunburns, but that night Sam crawled into my bed and curled up with me anyway, even though it hurt like hell to touch anything.” His thumb rubbed slowly back and forth over Jared’s arm.
That was a sweet story, but this situation was actually totally different. Jared could hear Jensen murmuring “bottomless pit of neediness,” and he couldn’t tell whether Dean knew what he was doing. “Dean, I…” He trailed off, though, words not coming to him. He could feel the muscles over Dean’s ribs tight under his hands, and the scabs on his stomach.
“I know, Jared. It’s okay. Even if it is just because I look like your boyfriend.”
“It’s not just that.” Jared closed his eyes.
Dean let go of him for a moment, shifting, and the red tinge behind Jared’s eyelids disappeared as the light switched off. Then his hand was back around Jared’s arm, fingers tracing the bulge of his bicep. Dean turned his neck to the left, curving his chin over the top of Jared’s head, resting it there. Jared breathed in the smell of Dean, sweat and cheap motel soap and the leather of jacket and car, with a hint of lingering incense and herbs, and gave up trying to figure it out. Dean’s other arm came down to rest along Jared’s back, clutching the folds of his shirt.
Dean was quiet then. Jared moved a little, shifting his legs so his feet and knees touched Dean’s. He dug his nails into Dean’s side for just a second, then relaxed.
They lay there together, not saying anything more, until they were asleep.
Day Four
The next morning when Jared woke up he noticed they had separated in the night, moving back to their own sides of the bed. Dean had turned over onto his stomach, and Jared was sprawled out all over, only one hand resting on Dean’s back. Dean shifted sleepily when Jared climbed out, but he stayed in the bed.
Eventually he got up, and they had breakfast in the B&B’s dining room, neither one talking about anything, sitting there awkwardly for a while after they were done eating until Dean gruffly suggested that they start setting up the spell.
Dean spread a tarp out over the floor of their room, and they sketched an elaborate circle on it in permanent marker, surrounded by the symbols from the book. Jared didn’t recognize any of them, but Dean knew what some were. At the four points of the compass they laid out a crow’s feather, a stone, a red candle, and a plastic cup of tap water from the bathroom to represent the four elements. A beat-up old metal bowl rested in the center of the space to hold the chamomile and mint. While Jared was pulling apart the teabags and pouring the herbs in the bowl, Dean took a lighter from his pocket and set it to the candle. When Jared looked back up a minute later he saw Dean sticking his finger in the pool of melted wax around the wick, pulling out a bit of it and peeling it off his skin to roll into a ball.
Jared glared. “Don’t fuck it up. You’re already playing fast and loose with this ritual as is.”
“Dude, chill. Some details matter, some don’t.” Dean dropped the wax back into the candle’s hollow and then blew out the flame. “You done with the tea?”
“Yeah.”
“Then we’re ready to roll.”
This was the moment. Jared really wanted to go home, and he really hoped he didn’t end up splattered all across two worlds by this, but despite not wanting to stay, he didn’t want to leave, either. He was going to miss Dean. Jared stared at him, trying to fix the sight in his memory. Dean stared back.
Jared walked out across the line and pulled Dean into a hug for a moment. Dean’s arms came up, and he hugged Jared back. “Bye, Dean.”
“No need to get so worked up,” Dean said, but he sounded a little choked himself. “You’ll still see me all the time up on the TV screen.”
“That’s not the same.”
“Yeah, could be more accurate, if you do remember to tell that Jensen of yours to work out more.”
Jared laughed and slapped Dean’s back as he stepped away. “I’ll do that.”
“Get in there, then.”
Jared stepped into the circle as Dean picked up the spell book. Dean began to recite the incantation, his voice low and hypnotic as he chanted. Jared moved around at his cues, activating each element in turn, lighting the candle, blowing on the feather, stirring the water, tapping the rock on the floor. He felt a little silly doing these things and actually expecting it to work, and that contrasted with the solemn sound of Dean’s voice to put him in an even more heightened state of tension.
As Dean closed his mouth on the last syllable of the recitation Jared plunged his hands into the bowl of herbs. There was a blinding flash of white light.
When it cleared, Jared was standing with a book in his hands, staring at Sam’s body kneeling before him in the middle of a magic circle and looking at Jared with an expression of utter confusion.
“Dean?” Jared asked. That would be completely par for the course, for Dean’s fucked up iteration of the spell to have just switched the two of them and made the whole situation even worse.
“…Aren’t you Dean?” The other person raised an eyebrow as he replied.
“Sam?” That might be a step closer to right. Maybe.
“Um…”
Jared recognized that look of confusion now, the tone of that ‘um.’ It was someone who thought he shouldn’t admit to not being Sam. “Jensen?”
“…Jared?!”
“Yeah. So if we’re both here, that means Sam and Dean are…”
“In my apartment, I guess.” Jensen looked down. “Is it safe to leave this circle?”
It was really odd for Jared to watch Sam’s body from the outside, seeing it look so similar to his own, but with Jensen’s grin on its lips. Jared glanced down at Dean’s hands, then set the book on the table next to him.
“I think so. So you figured out about… all this?” He waved a hand ineffectively.
Jensen strode over to him. “You said you were going method, and then I thought you were trying to break it off with me, and then Sam finally fessed up. Aw, Dean really is shorter than Sam.”
“It’s good to see you, too, bitch. Well, sorta see you.” Jared threw his arms around Jensen, and they squeezed each other tight. Then Jensen spun them around to both face the mirror over the dresser, his arm still around Jared.
“So that’s what Sam meant,” he said after a minute.
“Yeah.” Jared leaned against Jensen’s shoulder, so much higher up than it should be, watching Dean’s head tilt toward Sam as he did so. “Wanna try Dean’s punk-ass spell again and see if we can blow this pop stand?”
“I don’t get to shoot or burn anything first?” Jensen tightened his grip on Jared’s arm. “This’ll be a pretty short trip.”
“I just want to go home.” Jared moved his hands over across Jensen’s hip, his fingers slipping under the shirt, feeling the warm skin of Sam’s side.
“Right. What do we do?”
Jared directed Jensen to read the phrases from the book, and Jared got to do the same actions he had done before with the elements, his heart pounding in his ears even louder than the last time, the two of them both standing in the center of the circle.
This time when the white flash cleared it was replaced by the familiar sight of Jensen’s living room. It was dark outside, and the lights were on bright. Jared was sitting sideways and cross-legged on the sofa, hands outstretched in some wild gesticulation, looking up into his own face, his own hand resting on his new knee.
“Well, fuck.” Jared saw his lips part in front of him, heard his own voice like a recording. He’d seen himself on film a billion times before, gotten used to the sight, to the variations of angles, lights, makeup, expression, other people’s feelings there in his eyes. But watching himself do something he’d never actually done was odd, like a tape made when he was falling-down drunk resurfacing years later, but more so. More so than seeing Sam from the outside. His face continued talking. “This is Jensen. That still you, Jared?”
“Yup.” Jared could hear Jensen’s voice as he spoke, lowered and reverberating in his ears and throat.
“What now?” Jensen asked.
Jared shook his head. “No spell book here. I guess we just hope they’re still mixed up and wait for them to try again, and pray that fixes it all.”
“Just great.”
Jared tried not to think about what would happen if that didn’t work. Maybe Sam and Dean were fine and wouldn't know Jared and Jensen were mixed up, maybe their spells wouldn’t affect this world now that the two weren’t crossed anymore, maybe he’d have to pretend to be Jensen forever. Or maybe they’d just keep switching around over and over, never getting it right.
Yeah, not thinking about that.
He swung himself onto Jensen’s lap, kneeling over his thighs. This was kinky, and he probably shouldn’t be interested, but what the hell. He wanted to say hi to Jensen properly now that he didn’t have to worry about doing anything to Sam and Dean. And if he learned what it was like to kiss himself, that was alright with him. It’d be interesting.
“Hey, there,” he whispered.
“You’re whacked,” Jensen said, but he stretched up to meet him.
Jared buried his hands in his own hair, pulling Jensen closer, licking across his lips. Jensen’s hands settled at his waist, his mouth opening. Fingers and tongue all felt bigger from this side.
Jared closed his eyes, kissing deeply, and the darkness turned into brightness, a flash, then darkness again, and Jared kept kissing through it.
He was pressed back into the sofa, someone’s weight on his lap, hands in his hair, hips under his hands. Jared started to pull away, uncertain who it was, but the hands clutched at him, and that was definitely Jensen he was kissing, lips moving familiarly on his, teeth nipping at him.
They kissed for a moment and then broke off, leaning their foreheads together.
“I never got to talk to Sam,” Jared whispered.
“We got cut off in the middle of a conversation. And I never got to talk to Dean.”
Jared laughed, pushing away to smile suggestively at Jensen. “He says you need to work out more.”
“Oh, does he, now.” Jensen grinned.
Sliding his hands up Jensen’s back, Jared nodded solemnly. “And I have some great ideas for your first set of reps.”
Jensen leaned into him, eyes gleaming. “What could they possibly be?”
Even though Jared loved Jensen, as he swung him over onto the couch cushions he knew deep in his heart that he was dedicating this time around to Dean Winchester.
The end.
Author: ciaan
Fandom: Supernatural show/rpf crossover AU
Spoilers: through episode 2x04
Rating: worksafe
Pairings: Jared/Dean, Jared/Jensen, references to other canon couples
Summary: Jared could play along with this. He could pretend to be Sam. No problem, he did that all the time. 17,500 words.
Disclaimer: All persons, places, and events in this story are either fictional or are used fictitiously. Supernatural is owned by The CW, which is not me. This is a non-profit piece of unofficial and untrue entertainment.
Notes: Originally written for estrella30’s All CW Kink & Cliché Challenge and posted in July 2006. This is a revised and updated version of the story. If you read the earlier version, some events have been changed from that.
Thanks: To buffyspazz and allzugern for the awesomely awesome beta comments, kinetikatrue, beckaandzac, coyotegestalt, and idiosyncrarchy for the research help, and everyone who commented on the earlier version for the reassurance and support.
continued on from...
Day Three
Dean was still asleep when Jared woke up. He rolled over and opened his eyes for a second when Jared stood up, but then closed them again, apparently satisfied that nothing was trying to kill him. Jared stumbled through his bathroom routine. His head felt basically fine. Seemed Sam was more prone to headaches from psychic flashes than from alcohol. Once he was dressed he headed out to the hotel lobby and got coffee. There was a table with breakfasty baked goods and fresh fruit laid out. Jared stared at the fruit, then at the strips of musty paper hanging off the walls, then at the fruit again.
Maybe there was some supernatural force at work here? A demon or ghost who made it their mission to serve an incongruously good breakfast?
He shrugged and gathered up a plate with two bagels, some cream cheese, and lots of fruit to go with the two cups of coffee.
He got back to the room just in time to see Dean finish buttoning up his jeans.
Jared set the food down. “Breakfast.”
Dean looked at the plate as if cantaloupe and strawberries violated the laws of nature. “God, you’re worse than Sam.” He grabbed up a cup of coffee and took a sip black, then poured some creamer in.
“What, because only women, hippies, and frou-frou California boys eat fruit for breakfast?”
Dean shrugged. “You said it, not me.” He set the coffee down and began trying to undo his bandage where it fastened behind his back. “Let me just get this, and we’ll go have a real breakfast.”
“Cheetos?”
“Those are for the morning after an all-night drive, not a drunken escapade.” He tugged on the bandage again, and it failed to come undone. “A little help?”
Jared walked over and peeled the bandage off. The cuts on Dean’s stomach were healing over but still had vulnerable scabs. Dean didn’t rebandage them, just pulled a t-shirt on. Then he gestured at Jared. “Let’s see yours.”
So Jared ended up having to take his shirt off to give Dean a view. Dean stepped behind him, declaring that the wounds looked fine. Jared felt a dull rush of pain on his back as Dean poked him.
“The thing give you bruises, too?”
“No, you did those.”
“Oh, yeah, right.” Dean’s hand traced gently across Jared’s upper back and down his right side, making Jared shiver. “Sorry.” Jared shrugged as Dean’s fingers dropped away from his skin. “I’ll make it up to you by buying breakfast.” Dean’s voice was more teasing than apologetic.
“I did pay for dinner and drinks last night, after all.” Jared laughed as he pulled his shirt back on, then smoothed down his hair.
Dean reached up and knocked Jared’s hair askew again. “Hard-earned money, Jared, hard-earned money.” He smirked while Jared frowned and brushed his hands over his head.
They ended up going back to the same place they’d been the night before. There was no sign of Linda the waitress, and the bar was closed. Only a handful of people were eating breakfast, or maybe brunch considering the time, mostly families with little kids.
Dean ordered eggs sunny side up with bacon and toast and Jared got a tall stack of blueberry pancakes. Their waitress this time was matronly, and Dean didn’t flirt with her, just smiled sweetly and called her ma’am, like Jared did.
As soon as she trundled off, Dean leaned forward, elbows on the table, hands clasped under his chin. “Here’s what I’m thinking. We haven’t been able to find any good information here, so we should go back to a bigger city, like Des Moines, that might have more resources.”
“But what if something here is what caused this? Could leaving break some sort of connection?”
“I don’t know. We can always come back, though. I think it’s time to do something I almost never do.”
“What?”
“Call in the flakes.”
Jared asked what that meant, but Dean didn’t explain, just went back to drinking his coffee.
When their food came, Jared slathered his pancakes with butter and syrup. Dean was staring at him speculatively, but Jared didn’t care. He was starving, and they looked so good. He took a huge bite.
They didn’t taste right at all. That was awful. He grimaced.
Dean burst out laughing. “Dude, Sam hates blueberries.”
Jared stared at him in shock, then spit the bite out into his napkin. “That is so wrong. He’s one sick fuck.”
“Totally. So, you going to eat those?”
Jared stared mournfully at his pancakes. “I don’t think so.” The thought of it made him shudder.
Dean reached out and grabbed the plate of pancakes, dragging it towards him. He shoveled one of his eggs onto it, then pushed his plate in front of Jared, shaking his head. “The things I do…” he muttered.
“I can order something else.”
“Shut up and eat your eggs.” Dean shoved a forkful of pancake into his mouth and chewed determinedly.
So Jared obediently ate the eggs. They were good, made just the way he liked, and he still had some fruit waiting back at the motel.
After breakfast they returned to the motel to pack, then Dean hustled them onto the road, still not explaining to Jared what exactly they were doing. They were going back to Des Moines, but he didn’t say why.
As Dean drove along, humming along to Metallica, Jared stared out the window at the flat scenery, thinking. He kept going over what he’d done so far, what could have caused the switch, the differences in these universes, even the nature of reality, until his head was spinning with frustration. He tried to think whether Dean had actually mentioned anything about the plot of any episode, and decided he hadn’t really. So maybe the story was really different, even though the basics were the same.
But, even if Dean confirmed or denied everything that was supposed to have happened up until then, Jared’s presence was still changing things. He just didn’t know how or how much, and he didn’t see how he could ever know that.
What was Sam’s presence doing to his own world? Had Sam done anything weird or horrible, gotten Jared in trouble with Jensen or Sandy or his parents in some way, pissed off Kripke and gotten Jared fired, starved his dogs?
Not to mention the fact that, regardless of what Jared told Dean, Sam was learning all sorts of shit about his own future by being on set. He’d bring that knowledge back with him.
Unless he never came back.
It was an awful thought. Jared was enjoying hanging out with Dean, mostly, but he didn’t want to stay here. He didn’t want to be trapped in Sam’s life, hunting monsters, hunted by The Demon. He didn’t want to have only one person he could ever really explain it to, and have that person be unavailable to him in so many ways. And if Sam never came back, Dean would end up totally hating and resenting Jared for that.
He didn’t want to contemplate, heaven forbid, ever trying to explain all this to John Winchester and dealing with his anger. Jared would never be able to stay quiet about the future in that case, not with John and Dean both pressing him.
No, Jared wanted to go back home and live his own life. It was a good life, and he liked it, and he’d worked hard to get it in the first place. He was determined to work hard to get it back.
The two of them remained lost in their own thoughts until they reached Des Moines. Dean drove around a little until he found an area of town with some alterna-boutiques, a thrift store, and a used record store. He parked behind the music store and hopped out of the car. “Let’s go shopping.”
“For CDs?”
“Nope. Further down the block.”
Jared followed Dean down to a New Age store with books and herbs in the windows. The doorframe was draped in silver cloth edged with feathers and beads. The place was called, according to the sign, ‘The Wandering Path.’ Dean paused on the doorstep, then gritted his teeth and went inside. So that’s what he’d meant by flakes.
The place smelled like sage and patchouli, and Jared had to rub his nose to hold in a sneeze. Dean headed to the back wall and scanned the books on the shelves. Some of them were antique, others new, but all looked handmade.
Dean pulled one down and started flicking through the pages. Jared didn’t see any title on the cover of it, or on most of the other books on that shelf.
Just then, a plump middle-aged woman in an orange ‘70s dress bustled up to them. “Anything I can help you boys with?”
“Yes, ma’am, if you’d be so kind.” Dean turned and flashed her a brilliant grin. “I’m Dean, and this is my brother Jared.”
Jared glanced over at him, just in time to see Dean drop his gaze for a second after saying that. Dean’s eyelashes fluttered against his cheek, and Jared’s stomach fluttered along with them. When Dean looked back up at the woman his expression was so intense that Jared didn’t even hear what he was saying. Instead, he just heard Jensen’s voice in his head, whispering, “Dean doesn’t do friends. He knows family and people to save and enemies, that’s it.” Jared tried to tell himself that it was just a cover story, and it was, but it was so much more than that, too.
“…about getting souls back into the right body? Not when someone’s died, just if the soul’s gone off to the wrong place, somehow,” Dean was saying when Jared managed to tune back into him.
The woman nodded, then turned and perused the shelves for a moment. She pulled down a dusty old tome bound in cracked red leather, with no words or decorations on the outside. Dean took it and opened it to a random page, and Jared leaned in to see the yellowing, rough paper covered in scratchy handwriting, parts of the ink splotchy and faded. The woman looked Jared over searchingly, then nodded again. “Yes, that ought to do it for you.” She reached up and patted Jared’s cheek, standing on her toes. “Good luck, boys.”
“Thank you,” Dean replied.
Jared thought he might be blushing, because his face felt warm and tingly. Or maybe that was because of some psychic thing she did when she touched him.
She took the book back from Dean and walked them over to the cash register, where she rang it up and placed it in a plain paper bag. It was fifty dollars, and Jared really had no idea whether that was expensive or cheap. Dean nodded slow and serious at the number and paid in cash. The woman clucked her tongue at him when she touched it, and he grinned wryly.
“My name’s Mizz Selene, and you boys remember to come back here and ask for me if you need any ingredients for that, you hear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jared answered.
“We sure will,” Dean added.
They left the store, and Dean led Jared to a little park nearby.
“How’d you know about that place?” Jared asked.
“I didn’t, but I hoped. Wasn’t expecting to find the right kind of thing first try. Let’s make sure.”
They sat down on a bench under a tree, and Dean opened up the book. Jared tried to read over his shoulder, but the handwriting was little and cramped, full of words he couldn’t make out at all. He thought they might not even be English. After a few minutes he gave up and settled back with his eyes closed, letting Dean do the work. Dean mumbled sometimes as he read, and there were birds singing, and a warm breeze. It was actually really pleasant, and Jared zoned out a little.
Eventually he started paying more attention as Dean’s mumbles coalesced into firmer sentences. “Oughta… Red candle, got that. Mint, chamomile, old bowl, yeah, crow’s feather, rocks… Check. Looks like this one might work.”
Jared pulled up, eyes snapping open. “Really? Lemme see.” Dean handed him the book, pointing to the top of the page. If ever souls go awry and do travel from their homes, fastenings upon the body come loose... It went on like that for a bit, then started explaining a ritual, with pictures of the symbols to draw, lists of elements to bring in, and an incantation in Latin. “Okay.”
“I looked through the whole book, and that’s the one that best matches our situation. Most of the rest are more typical exorcisms and such, but this one’s for homecomings, bringing people back where they belong.”
“Sounds good.” It actually sounded kinda dangerous, knowing how Dean might remember and use that sort of spell in the future if John died the same way, but Jared tried not to think about that, since there were no guarantees.
“Let’s find a place, then.”
Jared blinked. “Right now?” His voice didn’t quite crack on the sentence.
“I meant a motel, you dork. This sort of thing always needs preparations.” Dean punched Jared lightly on the arm. “Come on.”
They drove around a little until they passed a grocery store. When they stopped to buy soda and sandwich fixings, Dean grabbed a couple boxes of mint and chamomile teas.
“Are those…” Jared twirled a hand at the tea. “She said to go back to her if we needed ingredients.”
“It’s good enough. You can always fudge this stuff. Besides, I don’t want to go back to that freaking store. It was tacky.”
“My God, and I’m putting my life in your hands.”
Dean tossed the tea into the shopping cart and puffed out his chest. “Sure you are. I’m a highly trained professional.”
Jared just shook his head and pushed the cart down the aisle.
They were cruising back to the highway, looking for a motel, when they neared a sign for a detour due to construction, and the glove compartment began beeping and whining.
“The hell?” Jared pulled back from it.
Dean waved a hand. “EMF meter. Get it out and check the readings.”
Jared pulled out the rigged-up Walkman as Dean took the turn down a side street. The noise stopped. “Huh,” Dean said.
He circled around a few blocks, and the EMF activity seemed to be centered right on the intersection that was under construction. Dean tapped the steering wheel as Jared read him numbers from the screen. They drove right past a little bed and breakfast, and Dean pulled into the parking lot with a screech.
“Okay. Looks like a job and a convenient base of operations.”
“What about the spell?” Jared asked.
“We’ll get to it, man, but I want to try and figure out what this thing here is, too.” Dean looked over at Jared. “That okay?”
Jared nodded. “Yeah, sure.” He definitely wanted to go home, but it didn’t have to happen in the next few minutes. He’d still like time with Dean.
They walked into the living room of the B&B together. There was a guy at a desk there, across from a chintzy couch. The wallpaper was striped, the walls were covered in paintings, and everything was busy and frilly.
The guy looked up as they approached the desk. “Can I help you?”
Dean grinned at him. “Yeah, we’d like a room for tonight.”
“All we have available is one king.”
“Sure. Okay.” Dean didn’t even blink. The guy looked from him over to Jared, and Jared raised an eyebrow blandly. The guy fumbled around for the credit card Dean handed him and swiped it through the register. As Dean bent to sign the receipt he casually asked, “So what’s up with the construction out there?”
“Oh, the light’s been broken for ages now. It changes randomly, caused a bunch of accidents. They tried to fix it earlier, and it still didn’t work, so they’re having another try.”
“Hmm. That sounds annoying.”
“Yeah.” The guy handed over a key. “You’re all set, Mr. Halford. Enjoy your stay.”
“I’m sure we will.” Dean slung an arm around Jared’s waist. “C’mon, sugar, let’s go unload the car.” Jared walked out with his arm over Dean’s shoulders.
When they got to the car, Dean let go of him to open the trunk.
“You are seriously evil,” Jared laughed, shaking his head.
“Nah, just studly.” Dean threw a duffel at Jared, who caught it across his chest with both arms. The next bag Dean tossed to him hit the first one and fell to the pavement.
Jared stooped to pick it up as well, hefting both of them. “I’d flip you off, but…”
“Shoulder straps, dude.” Dean hauled another bag over his shoulder and slammed the trunk shut.
“You gave me the bags without straps.”
Dean shrugged and flicked Jared the bird. “Well, fancy that.”
“Seriously fucking evil.” Jared shook his head again, following Dean into the building and up to their room.
They ate lunch, and Jared shook his head again over the tea bags Dean put away in a drawer. He was pretty sure the spell wouldn’t work with these haphazard methods. Hopefully it would just do nothing and they could go get the right stuff and try again, but he was worried he might turn into a chicken or something. Really, if he were being practical, he ought to insist on taking more precautions, but he kept telling himself that he didn’t really know what he was talking about, or how this worked, or what the rules were. Dean was a lot more experienced, and if he said it was alright, it could very well be alright. So Jared was going to trust him, and if Dean fucked up, well, Jared was going to see how much of an advantage Sam’s height and longer reach gave him in a fight.
Dean settled down on the bed to re-read the book they’d bought and crosscheck portions of it with John’s journal. Jared settled down in the armchair to, apparently, channel surf and fidget while Dean ignored him. When Jared found himself actually watching an episode of Full House, he finally turned the TV off and turned to Dean, who was calmly flicking pages and making notes on the pad of paper from the room’s desk.
“Is there anything I can do that would be useful?” Jared asked, a little desperately.
Dean looked up. “Actually, yeah. You wanna run a load of laundry?”
Jared groaned. “Oh, God. Why did I ask?” They’d passed a laundry room in the hall on their way upstairs. “Okay, fine. Where are your dirty clothes?”
Dean pointed to his duffel. Jared looked over at it. Sam at least had his dirty clothes separated out in another bag, but… “Just wash whatever you think needs it,” Dean said.
“Oh, no. I am not sorting through and smelling all your clothes. You can come along and toss them in the washer, I’ll take it from there.” At least it was something to do.
Once the washer was humming along Dean went back to the room and Jared sat there, flicking through some old magazines. He skimmed his way through a couple news weeklies and tabloids, looking for a mention of someone he really knew, not finding any. The boredom was starting to wear on him. What did Dean and Sam normally do all day?
While the dryer was spinning, Jared tried to do some stretches in the little room, fake push-ups against the edge of the washer, squats and lunges, whatever he could fit in. It was weird. Sam seemed to have a little more leg strength and a little less arm strength, and he could touch his toes better than Jared but not put his arms as far behind his back. Little differences that kept throwing Jared off as he twisted and pushed, but it felt good to be working out even a little after all that time sitting around.
Finally he flung the clean clothes back in the duffel, took them to the room, and dumped them out on the foot of the bed to fold. Dean was still ensconced at the head, laptop open and spell book beside him, glancing between them and jotting down more notes on the pad of paper. He seemed totally calm, not at all restless, utterly at ease with what he was doing. Jared felt like climbing the damn walls.
He folded a pair of Sam’s jeans, then tossed a t-shirt over Dean’s laptop. “Don’t you ever get bored?”
Dean raised an eyebrow at him. “What’s your problem? I’m working.”
“No, seriously. You don’t have any games, any books, any friends… What in hell do you do?” Jared balled up another shirt convulsively, then dropped it back on the bad.
“Now that’s a stupid question. What do you do all day?”
“I work. Like, fourteen, sixteen hours a day.” Jared started pacing along the bed. “But at least I also have hobbies and a social life.”
“No, see, I work. Saving people. What you do, walking around pretending stuff, that isn’t the same.”
“Oh, come off it. You watch movies, you listen to music. Hell, you watch Oprah and she’s the richest woman in the country.”
“Aren’t those hobbies?” Dean was sitting up straighter, ignoring the papers spilling off his lap. “But you can’t honestly say your, uh, job, is as important as mine.”
Jared threw out his arms. “I'm not going to give you some impassioned defense of acting! I just wanted to point out that I’ve been taken away from everything I do, and you haven’t really been compensating for that, with your boring-ass motel life.”
Dean stood up, grimacing. “You’re a pissy little bitch. You think I haven’t lost anything? At least I didn’t go, what, bugfuck insane like you predicted? And don’t think I didn’t catch the implications of that statement.”
“Then why don’t you just send me home already?” Jared didn’t even know why he was yelling at Dean now, when earlier he had been wanting to stay longer. He just couldn’t take the waiting.
“Why do you think?” Dean stared at him narrowly for a moment, and Jared stared back. Dean finally shook his head, turned, and stomped out of the room.
“I have no fucking clue!” Jared yelled as the door slammed shut. He angrily threw more clothes around the bed for a few minutes, sulking, then folded them up neatly. Eventually he tried reading the spell book again. It was a little easier going, and he puzzled through the instructions for their ritual. It didn’t seem to specify anywhere what state the herbs had to be in, which was reassuring.
After a while Sam’s phone rang, and Jared picked up the call from Dean.
“Hey,” came Dean’s voice immediately, “what do you want on your pizza?”
Jared scrunched up his face. “Lots of meat? Peppers, olives.”
“Sounds good.”
“Pretty much anything but pineapple, really.”
Dean laughed. “Got it. No fruit.”
“Tomatoes are fine.” Jared smiled back, knowing Dean couldn’t see it.
“Tomatoes don’t count as a fruit.”
“Whatever you say, Dean.” Jared did laugh at him then.
“Exactly. See you in thirty.” He hung up, and Jared put down the phone, still grinning.
When Dean rolled back in he had a large pizza and a couple more sodas. Jared went to open the box and stared at the pizza in surprise. “Broccoli?” The pizza had all the meat and peppers and olives Jared had asked for, and also broccoli.
“Trust me, you’ll like it.”
“Is this like the blueberries?”
“Yeah, Sam’s a weirdo.”
Dean settled back with a slice of pizza, chowing down. Jared took a bite, and yeah, it was better than he expected. He didn’t normally like broccoli much, but this was really good.
After dinner Dean took a nap, saying they would go out and check the stoplight at 2 or 3 am when there shouldn’t be anyone around.
Jared wasn’t quite tired yet, and he felt odd about sleeping in the same bed as Dean, so he again sat in the armchair and futzed about with the TV, watching local basketball, HGTV, whatever, even, as it got later, infomercials, dozing off and on.
At about 2 am Dean got up and started packing a bag with a few guns, the journal, lighters, holy water, some other supplies. They got dressed in dark clothes and headed out. The stoplight was two blocks away, an easy walk down the dim and deserted streets to the intersection barricaded with construction signs and traffic cones, cherry picker sitting in the middle of it.
The stoplight was off, and no one was around. The night was quiet. The EMF meter didn’t beep, not even the slightest whine.
“Okay, this was going like crazy earlier. What happened?” Dean looked more annoyed than confused.
“Maybe it only comes out when there’re cars?” Jared suggested.
Dean waggled a finger at him speculatively. “Might be. You move these cones, I’ll go get the Impala.”
He left Jared there rolling his eyes and sighing, but Jared did clear out enough cones for Dean to sneak the car in, headlights off, inching along.
Once the Impala rolled through into the intersection the stoplight began to flicker between red and green, and the EMF meter went crazy again.
Jared looked around warily, but no one came out to investigate, and no ghosts or apparitional vehicles appeared to kill them. It was just the Impala, red and green flashes reflecting off her shiny black surface, sitting there alone. The driver’s side window came down and Dean beckoned him over.
“Dad’s journal has a ritual for removing curses from inanimate objects. Works for all the most common types, and it doesn’t even require any herbs.” He grinned.
“You think that’s what this is?”
“It’s a good place to start, unless you want to go do more research to get specifics.”
“Let’s give it a try, then.”
At Dean’s suggestion, Jared climbed in the cherry picker. He’d never driven one of these before, but he imagined he could figure it out. Luckily, the key was stored in the ignition, and it started easily, with a noise that made Jared grimace but didn’t bring anyone to see what was going on. After a few tries with the various levers he could raise and lower the thing, and he got it into a position where he could bring the platform right up to the still-flickering lights. Dean got out the journal and some holy water and got on the platform, and Jared lifted him up. Dean sprinkled the water on the lights and said something in Latin, holding the pages up to the colorful glow to read them. When he was done, the lights continued flickering. Nothing seemed to change. Dean shrugged, and Jared lowered him down.
They got out and met in the center of the intersection. “Okay, maybe it’s not cursed. Maybe it’s something else,” Dean said.
Jared turned up his hands. “How can we figure that out?”
“Think we can just burn it?”
“I know we burn stuff a lot, but I doubt that’ll catch fire.” Jared examined the sturdy metal structure of the stoplight. “Maybe we should try what other shows do and use electricity. It does have an energy signal, after all.” He waved the EMF meter, which was still beeping away.
Dean’s jaw worked thoughtfully. “That might clear it out, and if not, we’ll do something else. But where would we get an electrical jolt?”
Jared jerked his thumb at the Impala. “You got jumper cables?”
Frowning, Dean shook his head. “Oh, no you don’t.”
“Oh, yeah I do. Even if it doesn’t work on the lights, it won’t hurt the car.”
Eventually Dean acquiesced, though he still grumbled as they got out the jumper cables and hooked them to the Impala’s battery. Jared hoisted Dean up in the cherry picker again so that he could fasten the other ends of the cables to the metal right by the lightbulbs. Once Dean was back down, he turned on the ignition of the Impala, the two of them standing on the side away from the stoplight, crouching down behind the open door of the car.
There was a surge of electricity and a shower of sparks as the lights blew out with explosive pops. Then everything was dark and still. The EMF meter in Jared’s hands was silent. They waited a minute, but the intersection stayed calm, nothing more happening.
Jared glanced at Dean. “Reckon it worked?”
“Looks like. I’ll keep an eye on reports from the area to be sure, but I guess that dissipated whatever it was.”
Once they got back to the room they both crawled into the bed. Jared was wearing boxers and a t-shirt, but Dean had stripped to just his boxers.
Jared turned his light off, though Dean’s was still on. Jared lay there awkwardly on the left side of the bed, scooted over as close to the edge as he could get, on his back, arms down at his sides, trying not to move around. Dean seemed to be doing the same, but Jared was studiously trying not to look at him.
Suddenly Dean sighed huffily. “Fine. Get over here.”
“What?” Jared turned his head, staring into Dean’s green eyes. Suddenly he was grabbed and yanked toward Dean as Dean slid over, and then his head was resting on Dean’s chest, the brown nub of Dean’s nipple directly in his eyesight. Dean’s left arm came around the top of Jared’s shoulder, and his right hand wrapped around Jared’s bicep. Jared wasn’t exactly sure what was happening, but he shifted his shoulders until he was comfortable, his right arm curled between and under them, his left resting across Dean’s stomach, fingers by his side. He kept his hips pushed back and away, not touching Dean, just in case.
“Once, when I was about nine,” Dean said quietly, “we went way down to the Florida Keys. I don’t remember what Dad was hunting there, ghost pirates or something, but Sammy and I got to play on the beach all day. We got the most awful sunburns, but that night Sam crawled into my bed and curled up with me anyway, even though it hurt like hell to touch anything.” His thumb rubbed slowly back and forth over Jared’s arm.
That was a sweet story, but this situation was actually totally different. Jared could hear Jensen murmuring “bottomless pit of neediness,” and he couldn’t tell whether Dean knew what he was doing. “Dean, I…” He trailed off, though, words not coming to him. He could feel the muscles over Dean’s ribs tight under his hands, and the scabs on his stomach.
“I know, Jared. It’s okay. Even if it is just because I look like your boyfriend.”
“It’s not just that.” Jared closed his eyes.
Dean let go of him for a moment, shifting, and the red tinge behind Jared’s eyelids disappeared as the light switched off. Then his hand was back around Jared’s arm, fingers tracing the bulge of his bicep. Dean turned his neck to the left, curving his chin over the top of Jared’s head, resting it there. Jared breathed in the smell of Dean, sweat and cheap motel soap and the leather of jacket and car, with a hint of lingering incense and herbs, and gave up trying to figure it out. Dean’s other arm came down to rest along Jared’s back, clutching the folds of his shirt.
Dean was quiet then. Jared moved a little, shifting his legs so his feet and knees touched Dean’s. He dug his nails into Dean’s side for just a second, then relaxed.
They lay there together, not saying anything more, until they were asleep.
Day Four
The next morning when Jared woke up he noticed they had separated in the night, moving back to their own sides of the bed. Dean had turned over onto his stomach, and Jared was sprawled out all over, only one hand resting on Dean’s back. Dean shifted sleepily when Jared climbed out, but he stayed in the bed.
Eventually he got up, and they had breakfast in the B&B’s dining room, neither one talking about anything, sitting there awkwardly for a while after they were done eating until Dean gruffly suggested that they start setting up the spell.
Dean spread a tarp out over the floor of their room, and they sketched an elaborate circle on it in permanent marker, surrounded by the symbols from the book. Jared didn’t recognize any of them, but Dean knew what some were. At the four points of the compass they laid out a crow’s feather, a stone, a red candle, and a plastic cup of tap water from the bathroom to represent the four elements. A beat-up old metal bowl rested in the center of the space to hold the chamomile and mint. While Jared was pulling apart the teabags and pouring the herbs in the bowl, Dean took a lighter from his pocket and set it to the candle. When Jared looked back up a minute later he saw Dean sticking his finger in the pool of melted wax around the wick, pulling out a bit of it and peeling it off his skin to roll into a ball.
Jared glared. “Don’t fuck it up. You’re already playing fast and loose with this ritual as is.”
“Dude, chill. Some details matter, some don’t.” Dean dropped the wax back into the candle’s hollow and then blew out the flame. “You done with the tea?”
“Yeah.”
“Then we’re ready to roll.”
This was the moment. Jared really wanted to go home, and he really hoped he didn’t end up splattered all across two worlds by this, but despite not wanting to stay, he didn’t want to leave, either. He was going to miss Dean. Jared stared at him, trying to fix the sight in his memory. Dean stared back.
Jared walked out across the line and pulled Dean into a hug for a moment. Dean’s arms came up, and he hugged Jared back. “Bye, Dean.”
“No need to get so worked up,” Dean said, but he sounded a little choked himself. “You’ll still see me all the time up on the TV screen.”
“That’s not the same.”
“Yeah, could be more accurate, if you do remember to tell that Jensen of yours to work out more.”
Jared laughed and slapped Dean’s back as he stepped away. “I’ll do that.”
“Get in there, then.”
Jared stepped into the circle as Dean picked up the spell book. Dean began to recite the incantation, his voice low and hypnotic as he chanted. Jared moved around at his cues, activating each element in turn, lighting the candle, blowing on the feather, stirring the water, tapping the rock on the floor. He felt a little silly doing these things and actually expecting it to work, and that contrasted with the solemn sound of Dean’s voice to put him in an even more heightened state of tension.
As Dean closed his mouth on the last syllable of the recitation Jared plunged his hands into the bowl of herbs. There was a blinding flash of white light.
When it cleared, Jared was standing with a book in his hands, staring at Sam’s body kneeling before him in the middle of a magic circle and looking at Jared with an expression of utter confusion.
“Dean?” Jared asked. That would be completely par for the course, for Dean’s fucked up iteration of the spell to have just switched the two of them and made the whole situation even worse.
“…Aren’t you Dean?” The other person raised an eyebrow as he replied.
“Sam?” That might be a step closer to right. Maybe.
“Um…”
Jared recognized that look of confusion now, the tone of that ‘um.’ It was someone who thought he shouldn’t admit to not being Sam. “Jensen?”
“…Jared?!”
“Yeah. So if we’re both here, that means Sam and Dean are…”
“In my apartment, I guess.” Jensen looked down. “Is it safe to leave this circle?”
It was really odd for Jared to watch Sam’s body from the outside, seeing it look so similar to his own, but with Jensen’s grin on its lips. Jared glanced down at Dean’s hands, then set the book on the table next to him.
“I think so. So you figured out about… all this?” He waved a hand ineffectively.
Jensen strode over to him. “You said you were going method, and then I thought you were trying to break it off with me, and then Sam finally fessed up. Aw, Dean really is shorter than Sam.”
“It’s good to see you, too, bitch. Well, sorta see you.” Jared threw his arms around Jensen, and they squeezed each other tight. Then Jensen spun them around to both face the mirror over the dresser, his arm still around Jared.
“So that’s what Sam meant,” he said after a minute.
“Yeah.” Jared leaned against Jensen’s shoulder, so much higher up than it should be, watching Dean’s head tilt toward Sam as he did so. “Wanna try Dean’s punk-ass spell again and see if we can blow this pop stand?”
“I don’t get to shoot or burn anything first?” Jensen tightened his grip on Jared’s arm. “This’ll be a pretty short trip.”
“I just want to go home.” Jared moved his hands over across Jensen’s hip, his fingers slipping under the shirt, feeling the warm skin of Sam’s side.
“Right. What do we do?”
Jared directed Jensen to read the phrases from the book, and Jared got to do the same actions he had done before with the elements, his heart pounding in his ears even louder than the last time, the two of them both standing in the center of the circle.
This time when the white flash cleared it was replaced by the familiar sight of Jensen’s living room. It was dark outside, and the lights were on bright. Jared was sitting sideways and cross-legged on the sofa, hands outstretched in some wild gesticulation, looking up into his own face, his own hand resting on his new knee.
“Well, fuck.” Jared saw his lips part in front of him, heard his own voice like a recording. He’d seen himself on film a billion times before, gotten used to the sight, to the variations of angles, lights, makeup, expression, other people’s feelings there in his eyes. But watching himself do something he’d never actually done was odd, like a tape made when he was falling-down drunk resurfacing years later, but more so. More so than seeing Sam from the outside. His face continued talking. “This is Jensen. That still you, Jared?”
“Yup.” Jared could hear Jensen’s voice as he spoke, lowered and reverberating in his ears and throat.
“What now?” Jensen asked.
Jared shook his head. “No spell book here. I guess we just hope they’re still mixed up and wait for them to try again, and pray that fixes it all.”
“Just great.”
Jared tried not to think about what would happen if that didn’t work. Maybe Sam and Dean were fine and wouldn't know Jared and Jensen were mixed up, maybe their spells wouldn’t affect this world now that the two weren’t crossed anymore, maybe he’d have to pretend to be Jensen forever. Or maybe they’d just keep switching around over and over, never getting it right.
Yeah, not thinking about that.
He swung himself onto Jensen’s lap, kneeling over his thighs. This was kinky, and he probably shouldn’t be interested, but what the hell. He wanted to say hi to Jensen properly now that he didn’t have to worry about doing anything to Sam and Dean. And if he learned what it was like to kiss himself, that was alright with him. It’d be interesting.
“Hey, there,” he whispered.
“You’re whacked,” Jensen said, but he stretched up to meet him.
Jared buried his hands in his own hair, pulling Jensen closer, licking across his lips. Jensen’s hands settled at his waist, his mouth opening. Fingers and tongue all felt bigger from this side.
Jared closed his eyes, kissing deeply, and the darkness turned into brightness, a flash, then darkness again, and Jared kept kissing through it.
He was pressed back into the sofa, someone’s weight on his lap, hands in his hair, hips under his hands. Jared started to pull away, uncertain who it was, but the hands clutched at him, and that was definitely Jensen he was kissing, lips moving familiarly on his, teeth nipping at him.
They kissed for a moment and then broke off, leaning their foreheads together.
“I never got to talk to Sam,” Jared whispered.
“We got cut off in the middle of a conversation. And I never got to talk to Dean.”
Jared laughed, pushing away to smile suggestively at Jensen. “He says you need to work out more.”
“Oh, does he, now.” Jensen grinned.
Sliding his hands up Jensen’s back, Jared nodded solemnly. “And I have some great ideas for your first set of reps.”
Jensen leaned into him, eyes gleaming. “What could they possibly be?”
Even though Jared loved Jensen, as he swung him over onto the couch cushions he knew deep in his heart that he was dedicating this time around to Dean Winchester.
The end.