Fanfiction: J2 - So Much More (Or How Jensen Learned not to be Such a Judgmental Prick) 5/?
Title: So Much More (Or How Jensen Learned Not to be Such a Judgmental Prick)
Author: conclusivelead.
Fandom: J2 RPS (AU).
Rating: This chapter - R.
Genre: Romance/Humor/Drama.
Warnings: Just Ridiculousness, Incorrect Geography, & Blatant Misuse of a Celebrity. So far, anyway.
Word Count: ~3,500.
Challenge/Inspiration: The idea was taken from a prompt issued by willow_fae_20. The original prompt can be found right hurr.
Beta: burningwhisper
Notes: Aaaaand the commenting went back down, lol. @_@ Oh well, whatcha gonna do? Things definitely start to heat up in this chapter!
Summary So Far: Jared wallows, Jensen feels guilty, and all must be put to rights - which it is. But Jensen just can't stay on his feet...
V. In Which Jared is Pleasantly Surprised and the Tension Rises Thanks to Jensen’s Inability to Stay on his Feet
JARED
Monday, April 25th, 2009
8:15 PM
Padalecki Household - Richardson, Texas
When Mom knocks on my door, I’m currently quite happily burying my face as far as I can into my pillow. So far, Plan Suicide-by-Smothering isn’t working exactly how I’d expected it to.
“Go away,” I moan, voice more than a little muffled by my pillowcase. “I’m wallowing in despair.”
I don’t know how she does it, but Mom manages to understand me. The bed dips with her weight as she sits, and I scoot to the left a little. “Well, can you take a break long enough to come down and take Sadie for a walk?” she asks dryly, voice lacking the pity I expect.
“Ugh,” I scoff, stuffing the ends of the pillow up around my face and over my ears. “Definitely, definitely not for that.”
One side of the pillow is snatched down and my mom asks, “What was that?”
“I said ‘definitely, definitely not for that,’” I repeat solemnly.
Mom stares down at me expressionlessly.
“Bad day?”
I groan pathetically. “You have no idea.”
She shrugs, the buttons of her pink sweater catching the light from the lamp on my bedside table and sparkling. “I might. I was young once, I’ll have you know.” There’s a short lull in the conversation. “Want me to send your dad up?”
I have no desire to tell her that right now she probably has a better understanding of what exactly I’m going through than my dad ever did or ever will.
“No,” I sigh, rolling over onto my back completely. “Don’t worry about it; I’m just working the whole moody teenager deal.”
“Well, you work it very well,” she answers, and gets to her feet. For a second I think I’m home-free, but halfway down the hall she calls, “Walk Sadie!”
It’s not worth it. It’s just not worth it. Seriously, I give up.
I roll over and off the bed, onto the clothes-covered carpet. It’s a wonder I don’t smash my head against the dresser. “I hate you!” I yell back, and then, “Where’s the leash?”
JARED
Tuesday, April 26th, 2009
11:53 AM
Richardson High School - Richardson, Texas
“Okay, pile in; pile in!” yells Chad, pushing at Tom’s back as he attempts to crowd into the backseat with four other guys.
“I’m fucking trying, man, but this asshole’s knee’s in my crotch!” Tom retorts, followed by a quick “sorry” from aforementioned asshole.
As soon as Tom is nice and cozy in the backseat and there aren’t any more limbs in the way of it, Chad slams the door shut and rolls his shoulders back. He turns to me expectantly. “There’s still room if you wanna change your mind, man.”
I glance doubtfully at the packed car for a moment, completely unconvinced. “Uh, nah, that’s cool. Ya’ll go.”
Chad shrugs casually, obviously not caring either way. “Alright, whatever. See you at practice.”
Inclining my head in acknowledgement, I watch as he jumps into the chaos of his car and drives off with half the basketball team in tow.
I tell myself that I don’t want to go because today they’re headed to Taco Bell and I’m not completely recovered from my last Volcano Taco just yet, but that’s bullshit.
I saw Jensen in the hall earlier today and nearly flipped out. I really don’t understand how it is that I never noticed him before a month ago. He stands out with his unattractive wardrobe and unstylish hair, but those aren’t the things I’d found myself noticing earlier. Instead I’d seen just how smooth his skin is, and how the green shirt he’s wearing makes his eyes just, like, pop in this completely mesmerizing way. I’ve got it bad, worse than I’d even realized; especially if I’m using words like ‘mesmerizing’ and it’s not to get down some chick’s pants in a display of misguided masculinity.
Inevitably, as I lean back against my car and cross my arms, the thought of getting down some chick’s pants transforms into thoughts of getting down Jensen’s pants, and I’m suddenly a lot warmer than I was five seconds ago.
Damnit, damnit, damnit.
I’ve been attracted to guys before. I mean, I was probably fourteen when I realized that I might not completely be into girls, and sixteen when I had my first full-on crush on a guy, so I’ve dealt with similar emotions before, but nothing has ever been this painfully insistent.
It’s completely confusing just how powerful the effects of his every word and action are on me, twisting at my conscience and turning something as small as a passing attraction into something much, much bigger.
The sun is unfairly hot, baking my skin and turning the metal of the car behind me into a death trap. I uncross my arms and launch myself off the car door, unable to handle the heat anymore. I might as well go inside while there’s still time and grab something to eat. I don’t really want to…I’d rather stay here and wait it out and see if what I want to happen happens, but his abrupt departure yesterday tells me it’s hopeless.
I sigh, wiping the sweat from my forehead and squinting up into the sky, cursing the unbearably hot weather. After a few moments of glaring into the sun, I let my eyes close and lower my face, taking a deep breath in through my nose and trying to find the resolve that will allow me to leave the parking lot and venture back inside.
I hear the rumble of a car near the entrance to the parking lot and realize that enough time has passed that if I go inside now I’ll probably be able to wheedle some food out of the lunch ladies. They never can resist my charms. Usually the thought of free food would bring a grin to my face, but I’m seriously not feeling up to anything other than forlorn looks and moody sighs.
Speaking of moody sighs…the rumbling of the car stops and I open my eyes again when the sound of an engine is replaced with a somewhat familiar exhalation of air.
Jensen is standing a few feet away, holding two cups in his hands and looking extremely awkward.
“Hey,” I greet, surprised beyond articulate speech.
“Hi,” he mumbles back. He lifts his eyes and the sun glints blindingly off his glasses. I squint.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, crossing my arms again. It doesn’t come out accusatory, which I’m thankful for. It’s just a question.
“I…I brought you…well, here.” He thrusts out the hand holding one of the two Styrofoam cups and I accept it without hesitation. It’s cold. I arch an eyebrow at him questioningly, then peel the lid from the cup. Inside is a melting vanilla ice cream cone. I’m speechless, but only for a second. I reach inside and lift it out, ice cream smearing my fingers. It’s cold against my skin, and it feels wonderful.
“I’m sorry about yesterday.” Jensen’s voice is quiet. “And…and I’m sorry about before yesterday, too. I know I can be kind of hard to talk to, and I think - I think I just didn’t know how to take it when you started talking to me, so I automatically just got all defensive. I didn’t know if I could trust you.”
I glance up at him. His hands are clutched tightly around the other cup. He’s watching me carefully.
“So…can you?” I ask. The ice cream is melting onto my fingers, but I ignore it.
“Can I what?”
“Can you trust me?”
He hesitates, eyeing the cone in my hand and then glancing up at me. There’s a split second where the walls are down and I can see Jensen, really see him, see how tentative, how scared shitless he is. The sun reflects off his glasses as he lifts his head a bit and the moment is over.
“I hope so,” he manages quietly.
I grin and reach out, removing the lid from his cup, too. The grin immediately disappears and I gasp, eyeing the contents of his cup.
“You jerk, how come I don’t get two scoops?!” I try to sound offended, but I don’t. He grins and sticks out his tongue, apparently choosing not to answer.
I lean down and take a big bite of my cone. The cold hurts my head, but I don’t even care.
Tuesday, April 26th, 2009
12:12 PM
Richardson High School - Richardson, Texas
The Styrofoam cup plops into the can with a whooshing sound as the trash bag rustles at the impact.
“So Tom says ya’ll have been friends practically forever,” Jared says, wiping his sticky hands on his shirt. Jensen gives him a curious look and finishes the last of his own cone, unconsciously crushing the other cup in his hand and tossing it underhand at the trash can. It misses, but Jared picks it up and drops it in.
“Yeah, our moms are friends,” Jensen explains, still looking a little wary at the question. “Why bring it up?”
Jared shrugs, crossing his arms and leaning against the locker next to Jensen’s. “Not sure, really. I guess I’m just trying to figure it all out.”
The shorter boy jerks his locker door open with a clang and gives Jared a dubious frown. “Figure what all out?”
Jared’s eyes narrow mysteriously, and he shakes a finger at him before replying cryptically, “Everything, Jen, everything.”
“Uh, right.” Jensen rifles through his own personal little space, searching for a working pen and his notebooks for the rest of the day’s classes. His locker’s a mess; books are stacked haphazardly on the two shelves and scraps of paper, plastic utensils, soda cans, and all other manner of trash litters the bottom.
“Dude, that’s disgusting,” crows the taller teen, leaning down over Jensen’s shoulder as he struggles to locate his Pre-Calc binder. “How do you ever find anything in there?”
Jensen sniffs haughtily, and then wishes he didn’t as the smell of overripe fruit wafts up to his nose from the miscellaneous debris below. Coughing, he finally pulls the last of his notebooks from the locker and swings the door shut, spinning his combination lock just in case. “I have my own system of organization,” he explains, eyes still watering from the smell.
“Yeah, right. Seriously, Jen, when’s the last time you cleaned that thing out? Smells like something died in there.”
The green-eyed teen snorts and considers. “Beginning of the year?”
Jared practically chokes. “I clean mine out once a week,” he explains, eyebrows shooting up.
“Hm; never really figured you for a clean freak.”
Jared bristles, shoulders going back and head going up. “What’s that supposed to mean, exactly?” They turn the corner and head toward Jared’s locker.
Jensen walks just a bit behind Jared, struggling with the many books and binders in his arms. Spotting his distress, Jared reaches out and takes a good half of the books away, ignoring Jensen’s protests and interrupting him by repeating, “What is that supposed to mean?”
He shrugs and watches as Jared gently places Jensen’s stuff on the top of the row of lockers (which is a lot higher than the shorter teenager could ever hope to reach), and begins to fiddle with his locker’s dial. “I dunno, just that you’re a…well, you’re a jock. I guess.”
Long fingers still and hazel eyes glance over at him where he is slumped against an adjacent locker. “Yeah, I am. What does that have to do with anything?” He doesn’t sound upset by Jensen’s explanation; his tone is more curious than anything else.
“I dunno,” Jensen says again, voice strained. “I just…I don’t know.”
One more spin of the dial and Jared’s locker swings open.
“Look,” he says, reaching into his immaculately organized locker, which Jensen eyes in disbelief. “Just because I’m a jock doesn’t mean that I fall into every stereotype there is. In fact, I don’t really fall into many of them. Yeah, I can be an asshole, but then again, so can anybody. And yeah, sometimes I don’t do my homework, but that doesn’t mean I’m a slacker and it really doesn’t mean I’m stupid. A little lazy, maybe, but not stupid.” Jared stuffs his relatively empty backpack onto the bottom of the locker and slams it shut. He reaches up and retrieves Jensen’s things before turning and looking him in the eye. Seeing the apology in the shorter boy’s face, he shrugs. “No worries, man. It’s not a big deal. Besides, you’re not exactly what I thought you’d be, either. Somehow I’d gotten it into my head that all nerds were organization Nazis.”
Grinning, Jared swoops about and walks back the way they came, still juggling his armful. For a second, Jensen just stares after him, but then runs to catch up, retorting, “I am not a nerd!”
Jared’s laugh echoes in the empty hall.
Thursday, April 28th, 2009
6:01 PM
Bob E. Crowley Memorial Dog Park - Richardson, Texas
Sadie starts barking happily as soon as Jensen and Harley round the corner. Harley barks back, tugging fervently at this leash attached to his collar and practically dragging Jensen down the path. Jared bursts into laughter at the sight of a red-faced Jensen struggling to keep up with his dog.
Once he’s close enough, Harley surges forward in one last burst of energy and immediately begins rubbing his nose against Sadie’s, who reciprocates.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say they were making out,” Jared says, still laughing.
Jensen cocks his head to the side and studies the two animals for a minute, something like disturbed fascination present on his face.
“…gross,” he decides after a short silence, and Jared snorts.
“C’mon,” he says, pulling Jensen over to the bench by his sleeve. It’s the same bench from the previous day, and as though they realize this, Harley and Sadie slither beneath it and cuddle up exactly as they had before. This time, Jared and Jensen keep hold of the ends of the leashes. Jensen’s decided he won’t ever let Harley pull a fast one again.
“Get your homework outta the way?” asks Jensen, making himself comfortable.
Jared shrugs half-heartedly. “Most of it. The rest I’ll knock out before bed.” He rests his arms along the back of the bench, sitting closer than probably necessary and causing Jensen extremely pleasant discomfort. He wants to scoot those two inches over and sit hip-to-hip with the tall basketball player, but he restrains himself, fisting his hands in the material of his shorts.
Jared notices the tension in his face and the crumpled cloth and arches an eyebrow. “Are you okay, man?” He sounds genuinely concerned.
Jensen nods slightly, keeping his eyes on his feet. “Yeah, just a headache.”
Jared clucks his tongue sympathetically. “Ugh, headaches are the worst. You know, my mom gets migraines, and it’s absolutely terrible to watch. Her eyes get all squinty and they start to water and she can’t move for hours and hours. Hey, you don’t get migraines, do you? Because if you think one might be coming on, I can totally take you home-”
The shorter boy shakes his head. “No, not migraines. I just stayed up kinda late last night studying for a test and now I’m tired. That’s all.” He sighs, taking off his glasses and rubbing at his eyes in order to prove his point. When he lowers his hand, the skin all around his eyes is reddened. For some reason, this causes the green in them to stand out remarkably and Jared finds himself staring, wondering just how it is that no one’s ever noticed how completely enticing Jensen is.
Jensen notices Jared’s eyes on him, and he stares back. “What?”
The taller teen immediately looks away, fingers brushing against the back of Jensen’s neck ‘accidentally’ as he lowers his hands onto his lap. “Nothing.”
They sit in silence for a while, neither wanting to say anything and disturb the peace. It’s completely quiet, except for a few cheerily cheeping birds and the snuffling noises of Sadie and Harley as they get out from underneath the bench and begin to investigate their surroundings.
Jensen’s fingers twist between the loops of the leash, leather soft against his skin.
It’s too quiet. Jensen asks, “So what’s your favorite movie?” just to fill the silence, and Jared grins and responds, “Definitely Animal House” which leaves Jensen with a confused look on his face and Jared looks absolutely stunned when he says, “You’ve never seen Animal House?!” in complete and utter disbelief.
Somehow, conversation just sort of erupts thereafter, and after Jared explains to Jensen the mind-blowing genius of Jim Belushi, he begins describing the hilarious plot of every National Lampoon movie he’s ever seen, and Jensen is almost impressed with Jared’s knowledge about college comedies.
“And then, no kidding, he thinks he’s actually going to get laid-” Jared sounds incredulous, but so far as Jensen can tell, that seems to be the general gist of all the National Lampoon films. He matches Jared’s grin with one of his own -he practically can’t help it.
Time passes quickly. Once Jensen’s heard about all of Jared’s favorite movies, and talked about his own (“Gladiator, for sure”) and they’ve discussed books (“I’m not big into reading; I think the last book I really, really loved was Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and that was probably because of all the candy,” admits Jared) and music (“The Beatles were pure genius,” raves Jensen), they are surprised out of their intense conversation by the loud beeping of Jensen’s watch.
It makes both boys jump, and then Jared laughs. “Wow, we’re jumpy.”
Jensen clicks at the button on his watch several times before it finally turns off. “To say the least,” he agrees, pushing himself to his feet. “That was my alarm for dinner. Mom told me to be back by seven. We’re having spaghetti.”
The spaghetti bit is probably unimportant, but Jared nods like he understands. Jensen loves spaghetti.
“Harley!” Jensen calls, pulling at the end of the leash. His dog is currently snapping at a passing butterfly while Sadie takes a nap nearby. At the sound of his master’s voice, Harley barks happily. Jensen takes a few steps forward, around Jared’s left knee, and pulls at the leash again. “Harley, come on! It’s time to go home.”
Harley barks again, and before Jensen can dodge, Harley bounds toward him and leaps, pushing his paws against Jensen’s chest, and the momentum pushes him back on his heels until he falls…
…straight into Jared’s lap.
“Geez, man, you just can’t stay on your-” Jared starts to crack a joke, but then it hits him and he kind of just chokes.
Okay, all things considered, in the past week or so Jensen has been very good about keeping his libido in check. Especially when ‘all things considered’ has involved spending more time than is good for his mental health with Jared Padalecki, to whom Jensen is more attracted than he’s ever been to anyone else.
He has been very good at keeping his façade of heterosexuality when all he’s wanted to do is test the waters, see if it’s possible if maybe, just maybe there is something here.
But all his control - all his restraint - comes crashing down around his ears when he realizes just where his is.
He’s in Jared-fucking-Padalecki’s fucking lap.
He is straddling Jared’s leg, and his ass is pressed back against Jared’s crotch, and he is painfully aware of the grip on his ribs where Jared’s hands have settled reflexively. For a few seconds, they just sit like that, both a little shocked, and Jensen’s not sure if he does it consciously or if it’s an accident, but he slides further back along Jared’s leg.
Jared groans - he groans, a breathy exhalation of air that ghosts over the back of Jensen’s neck and sends shivers down his spine. He shakes at the sensation and the movement is excruciating. The legs of Jensen’s shorts are riding back past his knees, revealing the beginning of his thighs, and the cool air there does something to him, adds to the tension somehow. He leans forward and grips Jared’s leg just above his knee, searching for some kind of stability.
The fingers at his sides relax and then tighten again, almost painfully, but Jensen is too predisposed with the sensation of what could possibly be a hard-on digging into his ass to feel much else.
Breathless, scared, and tempted as hell, Jensen pulls away, scrabbling to dismount from Jared’s outstretched leg. He clears his throat, cool breeze drifting past his reddened face.
He scrubs a hand over his face, hiding. It feels like it’s been hours since he called Harley over, but it’s only been a few seconds. It couldn’t have even been a minute, really. It’s weird how tension makes things feel like they last longer than they do.
“Uh, um, m-my bad,” he stutters, wrapping his hand up further in Harley’s leash.
Jared clears his throat, too, and rubs his hands against his jeans. “Oh, yeah, n-no problem.”
“So I better get back; don’t want to miss dinner. Uh…I’ll see you later.”
Jared can’t say anything, so he just nods and waves as Jensen turns and practically runs away.
TO BE CONTINUED.
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