The Road so Far (3/?)
Title: The Road So Far (3/?)
Author: Disneymagics
Rating: T (for boy kissing/cuddling and language)
Characters: Jared/Jensen, Christian, Osric, Aldis, Misha, Chad, Jeffrey Dean, Kim Rhodes
Genre: RPF, AU Boy Band, Hurt/Comfort
Disclaimer: None of these people belong to me, mores the pity
Summary: Jeffrey Dean Morgan, CEO of Star Struck Records, decides the time is right for a new boy band. They hold auditions and select the band members they believe will meet their formula for success. This is the story of the trial and tribulations they encounter along the way to super stardom.
A/N: Hello! I'm not sure how many Supernatural fans are still around, but I have an idea for a new story and I need your help. Since I'm having trouble ironing out all parts of the story, I thought it might be fun to ask the readers to give suggestions as we go along.
“Congratulations! You’ve been selected as one of the ten finalists in the Star Struck Records boy band competition!”
Things went fuzzy for an undetermined amount of time, and Jared fumbled his cell as the fingers in his hands started tingling like all blood supply had been cut off to his extremities.
“Mr. Padalecki? Are you still there?”
“Oh, uh yeah. Sorry, um, can you repeat that, please? My hearing went a little wonky. I thought you just said I’m one of the finalists” he stammered.
The voice on the other end of the line chuckled. “You’re not the only one to react that way. I don’t blame you for being overwhelmed. This is big news. Out of the three thousand or so young men who auditioned for a place in our new band, we selected ten finalists, and you, Mr. Padalecki, made the cut! We’d like to invite you to come back to Austin in two weeks for the awards show.”
Jared’s throat muscles spasmed. “A finalist?” he managed to croak. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“Well, you’re one of ten finalists, like I said, and there are five spots in the band. That means you have a fifty percent chance. The awards show will be held in two weeks. The record company will pay to fly you and your family to Austin to take part in the show. Each of the finalists will get the chance to perform, and then the five lucky band members will be announced. The whole show will be streamed live.”
Thank goodness he was out in the parking lot, sitting down in his car already, having just finished his shift at REI. The phone call had come at a good time. Ten minutes earlier and his legs may have given out on him in the middle of the camping gear department. He could have ended up pulling down the entire propane cookware display on his way to hitting the floor ass first. That would have been embarrassing. Or if it had come ten minutes later, he would have been on the road and the call would have rolled over to voice mail. Listening to someone tell him he was a boy band finalist over voicemail…he never would have believed it wasn’t a prank call. Come to think of it…
“Are you putting me on right now?” he asked. “Did someone put you up to this?”
The voice chuckled again. “No to both questions. This is the real deal. We’ll be sending the details to your email address, but I wanted to call first and tell you in person. There’s another waiver for you to sign, of course. Once we get the signed waiver back from you, we’ll send your flight information. The company will pay for you and up to four guests. You’ll need to let us know who you’re bringing with you so we can purchase their airline tickets. Oh, and you’ll need to be ready to perform in front of a live audience as well as the people watching the stream. My advice, make it something catchy, something that’ll get the audience up out of their seats. That’s what the judges will be looking for. You’ll want to showcase both your singing and your dancing talent. Any other questions?”
Jared tried to think of another question. He knew as soon as he hung up, he’d have thousands, but his mind was stuck in a loop of I’m a finalist, I’m a finalist, I’m a finalist, and nothing else would surface. “Not at the moment.”
“That’s fine, you can always call the studio if any questions come to you later. The phone number will be on the paperwork we’re emailing to you. Congratulations again, Mr. Padalecki, and we’ll see you in two weeks.”
The line went dead, the guy probably had other finalists to call, and Jared sat in his car, staring at his phone for all of five heartbeats before he was scrambling with the door handle. The car was too confining. He needed to get out, he needed to run around the parking lot, yelling at the top of his lungs. He settled for whooping loudly and doing a few cartwheels - a throwback from his old high school cheerleading days - heedless of the gravel that stuck to his palms.
A few people, who had just exited the store, stared at him.
He gave them a cheery wave and announced, “I’m a finalist!”
Their baffled expressions remained in place.
Jared didn’t mind. He’d never had a problem with people staring at him. In fact, he rather enjoyed being the center of attention. Good thing too, because he only had two weeks to come up with a routine that he would then be performing in front of a live audience.
**~**~**~**~**~**~**
A driver met him at the airport when he landed in Austin two weeks later, a placard reading Jared Padalecki held in front of him. That was a first, and it was funny how special a little piece of cardboard with his name on it could make him feel. His only luggage was a classic black and white Mickey Mouse carry-on since he would only be in Austin for a couple days. So, he didn’t have to stop by baggage claim on the way out of the airport to the waiting black SUV. As cars went, it was pretty sweet. It wasn’t a limousine, but if everything went his way, who knew, maybe someday. If you were going to dream, might as well dream big.
The driver wasn’t real chatty, and although Jared was usually chatty enough for two or three people, he was a bit pensive today and didn’t feel up to the job of keeping a conversation going. Instead, he spent the drive watching the passing scenery and going over his performance in his head.
His mother, father, younger sister, older brother and sister-in-law met him at the Hotel Magdalena where the record company was putting them up. They all still lived in San Antonio which was only a two hour drive from Austin, as opposed to Jared who had decided to stay in Orlando even after his second Disney College Program stint had ended.
He hugged his family and let his mom and dad gush over him for a while. His brother, Jeff, ribbed him over his boy band ambitions, but Jeff’s wife, Veronique, told him to hush. “Don’t let him fool you, Jared. He’s really very proud of his little brother,” she confided.
His sister, Megan, linked her arm in his on the way up to their rooms. “I can’t wait to tell all my friends that my brother is famous.” She smiled sweetly up at him. “You better win this thing tomorrow. I’m planning to live vicariously through you, so don’t screw it up.”
He reached his other arm around and tickled her side, then turned so she could see his lips move. “Well, aren’t you Little Miss Sunshine. Thanks for the pep talk.”
“Anytime,” she said with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.
Although is was early in the afternoon, they decided to chill out in their rooms, eat dinner at the restaurant inside the hotel, and spend a quiet evening catching up on each other’s lives. They didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but it was sure to be crazy, chaotic, and totally insane no matter which way the judges decided. Tonight was the calm before the storm.
**~**~**~**~**~**~**
The next morning found Jared staring at himself in the makeup mirror backstage at the Long Center for Performing Arts. His family had already been seated inside the auditorium, and Jared was at a loss.
He didn’t normally think much about his looks, but once he’d walked backstage and gotten a glimpse at his competition…well, he couldn’t help but start to compare himself to the other guys. All of a sudden his forehead looked way too big, the moles on his face stood out way too much, his hair was too shaggy, his cheekbones weren’t nearly sharp enough, nor his jawline strong enough.
He’d taken the empty seat at the long makeup mirror, and now he was just staring, wondering were to start first. Makeup wasn’t his thing, he’d never tried applying it before. If only he’d thought ahead and had Megan give him a few pointers last night, or better yet, had her apply some kohl around his eyes this morning like some of the other guys were doing now.
The guy in the seat next to him, for example, was skillfully smudging the kohl around his expressive green eyes, making the color pop even more than it already did. As if he needed any help with his looks; the guy was one of the most stunning people Jared had ever seen. His dark blonde hair was styled model-perfect. His adorable freckles were only barely visible under the foundation that made his skin glow as though it had been sun kissed.
Jared picked up the black-tipped kohl pencil in front of him, giving it an experimental shake. Maybe simply holding it would unlock it’s secrets. Nope. No secrets were forthcoming.
“Do you need some help with that?” asked a quiet voice.
Jared looked over into gorgeous, kohl-rimmed, green eyes that were currently gazing shyly back at him.
Shy. How could a guy that good-looking be shy?
“Uh, yeah, actually. I’ve never used this stuff before.”
“Here, let me.” Mr. Gorgeous took the stick and leaned over, reaching his other hand to hover hesitantly near the side of Jared’s face. “Can I…is it okay if I just…”
“Yeah, sure, no problem, whatever you need. My name’s Jared, by the way.”
“Jensen.” The hand landed gently on his cheek in almost a caress, tilting his face toward the makeup mirror lights. As he began smoothing the pencil over Jared’s lash line, he said, “The trick is to be generous with the amount you put on. It might look like too much to you, but the audience will barely be able to see it if you don’t put enough on.”
Jared instinctively closed his eyes against the movement of the pencil. The feel of the other boy so close to him, his hands on his face, was much more intimate than any first meeting should be. To distract himself from the urge to lean in for a kiss, something that would be highly inappropriate, Jared said the first thing that popped into his head. “Should you really be doing this? Helping the competition, I mean.”
Jensen’s hand shifted and the pencil moved over to Jared’s other eye. He hummed softly. “If you asked my mother, her answer would be a resounding no. I don’t mind, though. I like helping out when I can.” There was a dab, dab, dab, fanning out from his lash line, and then Jensen’s hand no longer framed his face. “Okay, open your eyes. What do you think?”
Jared gazed into the mirror. His eyes looked - there was no other word for it - they looked…sultry. “Whoa. Jensen, you worked a miracle. I don’t know how to thank you.”
A slow smile lit Jensen’s face. “It was nothing.”
Jared was just about to make a joke about whether Jensen knew any miracles that would make his forehead look smaller, when an out of breath PA came rushing over. “Jensen Ackles, you’re up first. Are you ready?”
Jensen took the cream-colored duster jacket with black buttons off the back of the chair he’d been sitting in and slipped it on. The color complimented the fitted black tee-shirt and black pants he was wearing and billowed when he moved in a way that drew attention to his slim waist. “I’m ready,” he said.
“Good luck,” Jared hurried to call after him. “And if you ever need anything, let me know. I’d like to repay the favor.”
Jensen turned back and tilted his head. “Anytime, Jared. Good luck to you, too.”
Then, he was gone, pushing past the curtained off backstage area into the vestibule were he would wait until his name was called to go on stage.
An intense yearning to watch Jensen perform, flooded him, but it wasn’t possible. The competitors were not permitted to leave backstage until their names were called. So, he would just have to watch Jensen’s performance later on YouTube or on Star Struck Records website where the whole awards show was currently being streamed live.
To pass the time while he waited for his name to be called, he watched the hustle and bustle going on around him. A short, slender young man off in the corner was practicing a ballet move that looked like it took a lot of precision and concentration. Another guy with a body that looked like Adonis come to life was moving from one impossible position to another, muscles bulging as he supported all his weight on the tips of his fingers.
Jared was a firm believer in no more practice on the day of a performance. Either he knew the routine before then or he didn’t. Practicing the day of would only give him a case of nerves. He thrived on being spontaneous.
One by one, the others were called on stage. He kept hoping that Jensen would reappear after his performance, but he never did. None of them did. There must be another waiting area for afterwards.
When there were only two acts other than himself yet to go, a guy wearing a ball cap and distressed jeans, and another who had a haughty, unapproachable look on his exceedingly handsome face, Jared’s name was finally called.
He followed the PA past the curtain, just as he’d seen the others do, into the vestibule. The stage was visible from where Jared stood in the right wing. He bounced on the balls of his feet and shook out his hands to warm up while he watched the announcer point the competitor before him towards the left wing.
The announcer turned back to the audience and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s give Matt Cohen another round of applause for his fantastic performance.”
The audience obliged with what Jared felt was a decent if not overwhelmingly enthusiastic amount of cheering.
“Next up, we have Jared Padalecki from Orlando, Florida. Everyone, please put your hands together and help me welcome Jared to the stage!”
More clapping, and Jared could hear his sister’s yell and his brother’s very distinctive whistle over the rest of the din. With the stage lights bright in his eyes, he couldn’t see the audience. He smiled and waved to where he thought his family was seated.
The announcer came over, clapping a hand on his shoulder and asking questions like, “How had he heard about the contest?” and “What did his family and friends think about him becoming a member of the next hot boy band?”
Jared answered the questions with a warm, welcoming smile while he played up to the audience. It wasn’t hard to do. He just pretended he was dressed up like Prince Eric or Prince Naveen and acted like he’d seen them do hundreds of times when interacting with Disney park guests.
When the announcer left the stage, and his music began playing, he focused and relaxed into it. His dance moves flowed like honey to his own arrangement of Prince’s Purple Rain. His earpiece drowned out most of the external noise around him, allowing him to get lost in his own voice singing the soulful lyrics in time with his movements.
Before he knew it, the song was over. The house lights came on. Jared watched in amazement as the audience, cheering and hooting, came to their feet. A standing O. He was getting a standing ovation. It was unbelievable.
The announcer came back out. “Let’s hear it for Jared Padalecki, everyone! Yes, that was outstanding!”
He was ushered offstage, still in shock.
The other competitors were all milling around on this side of the stage, the atmosphere much more jovial since the stress of performing no longer hung over them.
“Hey, good job, man! You killed it out there,” said the dark-skinned young man with muscles for days. “Name’s Aldis.”
“Thanks! I’m Jared. Wish I could have seen you perform, but you know, they had us pretty cloistered over there.”
“Yeah, no big. So, there’s what…two more to go now?”
“Yup, two more, then we get the results.” Jared looked around and found Jensen, watching him from a little ways away. “Good luck, man,” he said in parting to Aldis as he turned fully towards Jensen.
“You were really good,” Jensen said, kohl-rimmed eyes downcast.
Thanks, dude. How about you? Were you happy with your performance? Wish I could have seen it. I bet it was amazing.”
Jensen flicked a glance toward the stage area and the audience beyond. “Yeah, I think it went well. Guess we’ll find out soon.”
Jensen seemed worried, which was strange because he hadn’t seemed worried at all before his performance. It was like he was getting a delayed batch of nerves while everyone else was stress free.
He was so busy trying to figure out the mystery that was Jensen Ackles while also milling around, meeting the other guys, that he forgot to watch the last two performances, and then they were all getting called out to stand in a line on stage.
“I have in my hand, the results of today’s competition. Five of these talented young men will go on to become Star Struck Records newest idols. The other five will hopefully go on to find success of their own elsewhere,” the announcer said, drawing out the moment for dramatic effect, much to Jared’s annoyance. Facing the contestants, he held up the paper with the results. “If I call your name, please step forward.” Pause. “Jensen Ackles.” The audience applauded wildly. Jensen stepped forward, amazement written all over his face. Pause. “Matt Cohen.” More applause, a little less enthusiastic and not as long. Matt Cohen stepped forward. Pause. “Steve Carlson.” More applause, but for even less time. Steve looked over at Christian before stepping forward. Pause. “Colin Ford.” More applause, although the audience seemed to be getting uneasy. People were shifting in their seats, murmuring to their neighbors. Colin stepped forward. This time the pause was even longer. Jared held his breath. This was it, the last name, it was now or never. “Jake Abel.” Polite, yet perplexed applause. Jake Abel stepped forward. “I’m sorry, the five of you were not selected to be in Star Struck Records new band.”
Gobsmacked, Jared watched the thrilled disbelief drain from Jensen’s demeanor. His face fell, his shoulders slumped, and his bright eyes dulled.
Those bastards! Those cruel, view-hungry bastards!
The fact that Jared had made it into the band was lost on him in the ensuing pandemonium on stage.
Once the audience figured out what was happening, the place erupted, people clapping and stomping their feet. Christian and Steve seemed to be having an argument with lots of yelling and arms being thrown up in the air. Aldis began jumping up and down, grabbing first Osric, then Taboo, the rap artist that Jared hadn’t really met yet, and lastly Jared in jubilant hugs.
“I give you your newest idols - Jared Padalecki, Christian Kane, Taboo, Osric Chau, and Aldis Hodge!” the announcer screamed into the microphone to be heard over the celebrations happening on and off stage.
Jared couldn’t believe it. He’d won! He’d made it! He was in the band! Dumbstruck, he made the rounds to the other contestants, first high-fiving and fist-bumping the other winners, then giving his condolences to the…he didn’t want to think of them as losers…the ones who hadn’t won.
He deliberately went to see Jensen last. There were tears in the boy’s eyes, but he was obviously holding them back, not wanting to get emotional in front of everyone.
“Congratulations, Jared. You deserve it,” Jensen said when Jared approached him.
“I’m sorry about how they made the announcement. That was messed up, man. It was cruel,” Jared said, putting a hand on Jensen’s cheek in a mirror image of the way Jensen had cupped his face when applying the kohl.
Jensen leaned into the touch, and a single tear escaped the confines of his long lashes. “No, it’s fine. I understand why they did it.
“I understand why they did it, too. That doesn’t make it right,” Jared exclaimed.
Any further response Jensen might have made was cut off by the arrival of a woman with long blonde hair, an expression of extreme distaste on her otherwise attractive face. “Come on, Jensen. Let’s go.” She latched on to Jensen’s duster sleeve and all but dragged him off the stage.
It was only after they were gone that Jared realized he had no way to contact Jensen. And he really wanted to contact him.
A/N: I encourage you to make suggestions for situations you would like to see in this story. Things you would like to see happen or anything else really. We are writing this story together! And please, even if you don’t want to give any suggestions, leave me some feedback. I know every writer asks for feedback and it gets old after a while, but I would really appreciate it. Thanks!
Author: Disneymagics
Rating: T (for boy kissing/cuddling and language)
Characters: Jared/Jensen, Christian, Osric, Aldis, Misha, Chad, Jeffrey Dean, Kim Rhodes
Genre: RPF, AU Boy Band, Hurt/Comfort
Disclaimer: None of these people belong to me, mores the pity
Summary: Jeffrey Dean Morgan, CEO of Star Struck Records, decides the time is right for a new boy band. They hold auditions and select the band members they believe will meet their formula for success. This is the story of the trial and tribulations they encounter along the way to super stardom.
A/N: Hello! I'm not sure how many Supernatural fans are still around, but I have an idea for a new story and I need your help. Since I'm having trouble ironing out all parts of the story, I thought it might be fun to ask the readers to give suggestions as we go along.
“Congratulations! You’ve been selected as one of the ten finalists in the Star Struck Records boy band competition!”
Things went fuzzy for an undetermined amount of time, and Jared fumbled his cell as the fingers in his hands started tingling like all blood supply had been cut off to his extremities.
“Mr. Padalecki? Are you still there?”
“Oh, uh yeah. Sorry, um, can you repeat that, please? My hearing went a little wonky. I thought you just said I’m one of the finalists” he stammered.
The voice on the other end of the line chuckled. “You’re not the only one to react that way. I don’t blame you for being overwhelmed. This is big news. Out of the three thousand or so young men who auditioned for a place in our new band, we selected ten finalists, and you, Mr. Padalecki, made the cut! We’d like to invite you to come back to Austin in two weeks for the awards show.”
Jared’s throat muscles spasmed. “A finalist?” he managed to croak. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“Well, you’re one of ten finalists, like I said, and there are five spots in the band. That means you have a fifty percent chance. The awards show will be held in two weeks. The record company will pay to fly you and your family to Austin to take part in the show. Each of the finalists will get the chance to perform, and then the five lucky band members will be announced. The whole show will be streamed live.”
Thank goodness he was out in the parking lot, sitting down in his car already, having just finished his shift at REI. The phone call had come at a good time. Ten minutes earlier and his legs may have given out on him in the middle of the camping gear department. He could have ended up pulling down the entire propane cookware display on his way to hitting the floor ass first. That would have been embarrassing. Or if it had come ten minutes later, he would have been on the road and the call would have rolled over to voice mail. Listening to someone tell him he was a boy band finalist over voicemail…he never would have believed it wasn’t a prank call. Come to think of it…
“Are you putting me on right now?” he asked. “Did someone put you up to this?”
The voice chuckled again. “No to both questions. This is the real deal. We’ll be sending the details to your email address, but I wanted to call first and tell you in person. There’s another waiver for you to sign, of course. Once we get the signed waiver back from you, we’ll send your flight information. The company will pay for you and up to four guests. You’ll need to let us know who you’re bringing with you so we can purchase their airline tickets. Oh, and you’ll need to be ready to perform in front of a live audience as well as the people watching the stream. My advice, make it something catchy, something that’ll get the audience up out of their seats. That’s what the judges will be looking for. You’ll want to showcase both your singing and your dancing talent. Any other questions?”
Jared tried to think of another question. He knew as soon as he hung up, he’d have thousands, but his mind was stuck in a loop of I’m a finalist, I’m a finalist, I’m a finalist, and nothing else would surface. “Not at the moment.”
“That’s fine, you can always call the studio if any questions come to you later. The phone number will be on the paperwork we’re emailing to you. Congratulations again, Mr. Padalecki, and we’ll see you in two weeks.”
The line went dead, the guy probably had other finalists to call, and Jared sat in his car, staring at his phone for all of five heartbeats before he was scrambling with the door handle. The car was too confining. He needed to get out, he needed to run around the parking lot, yelling at the top of his lungs. He settled for whooping loudly and doing a few cartwheels - a throwback from his old high school cheerleading days - heedless of the gravel that stuck to his palms.
A few people, who had just exited the store, stared at him.
He gave them a cheery wave and announced, “I’m a finalist!”
Their baffled expressions remained in place.
Jared didn’t mind. He’d never had a problem with people staring at him. In fact, he rather enjoyed being the center of attention. Good thing too, because he only had two weeks to come up with a routine that he would then be performing in front of a live audience.
**~**~**~**~**~**~**
A driver met him at the airport when he landed in Austin two weeks later, a placard reading Jared Padalecki held in front of him. That was a first, and it was funny how special a little piece of cardboard with his name on it could make him feel. His only luggage was a classic black and white Mickey Mouse carry-on since he would only be in Austin for a couple days. So, he didn’t have to stop by baggage claim on the way out of the airport to the waiting black SUV. As cars went, it was pretty sweet. It wasn’t a limousine, but if everything went his way, who knew, maybe someday. If you were going to dream, might as well dream big.
The driver wasn’t real chatty, and although Jared was usually chatty enough for two or three people, he was a bit pensive today and didn’t feel up to the job of keeping a conversation going. Instead, he spent the drive watching the passing scenery and going over his performance in his head.
His mother, father, younger sister, older brother and sister-in-law met him at the Hotel Magdalena where the record company was putting them up. They all still lived in San Antonio which was only a two hour drive from Austin, as opposed to Jared who had decided to stay in Orlando even after his second Disney College Program stint had ended.
He hugged his family and let his mom and dad gush over him for a while. His brother, Jeff, ribbed him over his boy band ambitions, but Jeff’s wife, Veronique, told him to hush. “Don’t let him fool you, Jared. He’s really very proud of his little brother,” she confided.
His sister, Megan, linked her arm in his on the way up to their rooms. “I can’t wait to tell all my friends that my brother is famous.” She smiled sweetly up at him. “You better win this thing tomorrow. I’m planning to live vicariously through you, so don’t screw it up.”
He reached his other arm around and tickled her side, then turned so she could see his lips move. “Well, aren’t you Little Miss Sunshine. Thanks for the pep talk.”
“Anytime,” she said with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.
Although is was early in the afternoon, they decided to chill out in their rooms, eat dinner at the restaurant inside the hotel, and spend a quiet evening catching up on each other’s lives. They didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but it was sure to be crazy, chaotic, and totally insane no matter which way the judges decided. Tonight was the calm before the storm.
**~**~**~**~**~**~**
The next morning found Jared staring at himself in the makeup mirror backstage at the Long Center for Performing Arts. His family had already been seated inside the auditorium, and Jared was at a loss.
He didn’t normally think much about his looks, but once he’d walked backstage and gotten a glimpse at his competition…well, he couldn’t help but start to compare himself to the other guys. All of a sudden his forehead looked way too big, the moles on his face stood out way too much, his hair was too shaggy, his cheekbones weren’t nearly sharp enough, nor his jawline strong enough.
He’d taken the empty seat at the long makeup mirror, and now he was just staring, wondering were to start first. Makeup wasn’t his thing, he’d never tried applying it before. If only he’d thought ahead and had Megan give him a few pointers last night, or better yet, had her apply some kohl around his eyes this morning like some of the other guys were doing now.
The guy in the seat next to him, for example, was skillfully smudging the kohl around his expressive green eyes, making the color pop even more than it already did. As if he needed any help with his looks; the guy was one of the most stunning people Jared had ever seen. His dark blonde hair was styled model-perfect. His adorable freckles were only barely visible under the foundation that made his skin glow as though it had been sun kissed.
Jared picked up the black-tipped kohl pencil in front of him, giving it an experimental shake. Maybe simply holding it would unlock it’s secrets. Nope. No secrets were forthcoming.
“Do you need some help with that?” asked a quiet voice.
Jared looked over into gorgeous, kohl-rimmed, green eyes that were currently gazing shyly back at him.
Shy. How could a guy that good-looking be shy?
“Uh, yeah, actually. I’ve never used this stuff before.”
“Here, let me.” Mr. Gorgeous took the stick and leaned over, reaching his other hand to hover hesitantly near the side of Jared’s face. “Can I…is it okay if I just…”
“Yeah, sure, no problem, whatever you need. My name’s Jared, by the way.”
“Jensen.” The hand landed gently on his cheek in almost a caress, tilting his face toward the makeup mirror lights. As he began smoothing the pencil over Jared’s lash line, he said, “The trick is to be generous with the amount you put on. It might look like too much to you, but the audience will barely be able to see it if you don’t put enough on.”
Jared instinctively closed his eyes against the movement of the pencil. The feel of the other boy so close to him, his hands on his face, was much more intimate than any first meeting should be. To distract himself from the urge to lean in for a kiss, something that would be highly inappropriate, Jared said the first thing that popped into his head. “Should you really be doing this? Helping the competition, I mean.”
Jensen’s hand shifted and the pencil moved over to Jared’s other eye. He hummed softly. “If you asked my mother, her answer would be a resounding no. I don’t mind, though. I like helping out when I can.” There was a dab, dab, dab, fanning out from his lash line, and then Jensen’s hand no longer framed his face. “Okay, open your eyes. What do you think?”
Jared gazed into the mirror. His eyes looked - there was no other word for it - they looked…sultry. “Whoa. Jensen, you worked a miracle. I don’t know how to thank you.”
A slow smile lit Jensen’s face. “It was nothing.”
Jared was just about to make a joke about whether Jensen knew any miracles that would make his forehead look smaller, when an out of breath PA came rushing over. “Jensen Ackles, you’re up first. Are you ready?”
Jensen took the cream-colored duster jacket with black buttons off the back of the chair he’d been sitting in and slipped it on. The color complimented the fitted black tee-shirt and black pants he was wearing and billowed when he moved in a way that drew attention to his slim waist. “I’m ready,” he said.
“Good luck,” Jared hurried to call after him. “And if you ever need anything, let me know. I’d like to repay the favor.”
Jensen turned back and tilted his head. “Anytime, Jared. Good luck to you, too.”
Then, he was gone, pushing past the curtained off backstage area into the vestibule were he would wait until his name was called to go on stage.
An intense yearning to watch Jensen perform, flooded him, but it wasn’t possible. The competitors were not permitted to leave backstage until their names were called. So, he would just have to watch Jensen’s performance later on YouTube or on Star Struck Records website where the whole awards show was currently being streamed live.
To pass the time while he waited for his name to be called, he watched the hustle and bustle going on around him. A short, slender young man off in the corner was practicing a ballet move that looked like it took a lot of precision and concentration. Another guy with a body that looked like Adonis come to life was moving from one impossible position to another, muscles bulging as he supported all his weight on the tips of his fingers.
Jared was a firm believer in no more practice on the day of a performance. Either he knew the routine before then or he didn’t. Practicing the day of would only give him a case of nerves. He thrived on being spontaneous.
One by one, the others were called on stage. He kept hoping that Jensen would reappear after his performance, but he never did. None of them did. There must be another waiting area for afterwards.
When there were only two acts other than himself yet to go, a guy wearing a ball cap and distressed jeans, and another who had a haughty, unapproachable look on his exceedingly handsome face, Jared’s name was finally called.
He followed the PA past the curtain, just as he’d seen the others do, into the vestibule. The stage was visible from where Jared stood in the right wing. He bounced on the balls of his feet and shook out his hands to warm up while he watched the announcer point the competitor before him towards the left wing.
The announcer turned back to the audience and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s give Matt Cohen another round of applause for his fantastic performance.”
The audience obliged with what Jared felt was a decent if not overwhelmingly enthusiastic amount of cheering.
“Next up, we have Jared Padalecki from Orlando, Florida. Everyone, please put your hands together and help me welcome Jared to the stage!”
More clapping, and Jared could hear his sister’s yell and his brother’s very distinctive whistle over the rest of the din. With the stage lights bright in his eyes, he couldn’t see the audience. He smiled and waved to where he thought his family was seated.
The announcer came over, clapping a hand on his shoulder and asking questions like, “How had he heard about the contest?” and “What did his family and friends think about him becoming a member of the next hot boy band?”
Jared answered the questions with a warm, welcoming smile while he played up to the audience. It wasn’t hard to do. He just pretended he was dressed up like Prince Eric or Prince Naveen and acted like he’d seen them do hundreds of times when interacting with Disney park guests.
When the announcer left the stage, and his music began playing, he focused and relaxed into it. His dance moves flowed like honey to his own arrangement of Prince’s Purple Rain. His earpiece drowned out most of the external noise around him, allowing him to get lost in his own voice singing the soulful lyrics in time with his movements.
Before he knew it, the song was over. The house lights came on. Jared watched in amazement as the audience, cheering and hooting, came to their feet. A standing O. He was getting a standing ovation. It was unbelievable.
The announcer came back out. “Let’s hear it for Jared Padalecki, everyone! Yes, that was outstanding!”
He was ushered offstage, still in shock.
The other competitors were all milling around on this side of the stage, the atmosphere much more jovial since the stress of performing no longer hung over them.
“Hey, good job, man! You killed it out there,” said the dark-skinned young man with muscles for days. “Name’s Aldis.”
“Thanks! I’m Jared. Wish I could have seen you perform, but you know, they had us pretty cloistered over there.”
“Yeah, no big. So, there’s what…two more to go now?”
“Yup, two more, then we get the results.” Jared looked around and found Jensen, watching him from a little ways away. “Good luck, man,” he said in parting to Aldis as he turned fully towards Jensen.
“You were really good,” Jensen said, kohl-rimmed eyes downcast.
Thanks, dude. How about you? Were you happy with your performance? Wish I could have seen it. I bet it was amazing.”
Jensen flicked a glance toward the stage area and the audience beyond. “Yeah, I think it went well. Guess we’ll find out soon.”
Jensen seemed worried, which was strange because he hadn’t seemed worried at all before his performance. It was like he was getting a delayed batch of nerves while everyone else was stress free.
He was so busy trying to figure out the mystery that was Jensen Ackles while also milling around, meeting the other guys, that he forgot to watch the last two performances, and then they were all getting called out to stand in a line on stage.
“I have in my hand, the results of today’s competition. Five of these talented young men will go on to become Star Struck Records newest idols. The other five will hopefully go on to find success of their own elsewhere,” the announcer said, drawing out the moment for dramatic effect, much to Jared’s annoyance. Facing the contestants, he held up the paper with the results. “If I call your name, please step forward.” Pause. “Jensen Ackles.” The audience applauded wildly. Jensen stepped forward, amazement written all over his face. Pause. “Matt Cohen.” More applause, a little less enthusiastic and not as long. Matt Cohen stepped forward. Pause. “Steve Carlson.” More applause, but for even less time. Steve looked over at Christian before stepping forward. Pause. “Colin Ford.” More applause, although the audience seemed to be getting uneasy. People were shifting in their seats, murmuring to their neighbors. Colin stepped forward. This time the pause was even longer. Jared held his breath. This was it, the last name, it was now or never. “Jake Abel.” Polite, yet perplexed applause. Jake Abel stepped forward. “I’m sorry, the five of you were not selected to be in Star Struck Records new band.”
Gobsmacked, Jared watched the thrilled disbelief drain from Jensen’s demeanor. His face fell, his shoulders slumped, and his bright eyes dulled.
Those bastards! Those cruel, view-hungry bastards!
The fact that Jared had made it into the band was lost on him in the ensuing pandemonium on stage.
Once the audience figured out what was happening, the place erupted, people clapping and stomping their feet. Christian and Steve seemed to be having an argument with lots of yelling and arms being thrown up in the air. Aldis began jumping up and down, grabbing first Osric, then Taboo, the rap artist that Jared hadn’t really met yet, and lastly Jared in jubilant hugs.
“I give you your newest idols - Jared Padalecki, Christian Kane, Taboo, Osric Chau, and Aldis Hodge!” the announcer screamed into the microphone to be heard over the celebrations happening on and off stage.
Jared couldn’t believe it. He’d won! He’d made it! He was in the band! Dumbstruck, he made the rounds to the other contestants, first high-fiving and fist-bumping the other winners, then giving his condolences to the…he didn’t want to think of them as losers…the ones who hadn’t won.
He deliberately went to see Jensen last. There were tears in the boy’s eyes, but he was obviously holding them back, not wanting to get emotional in front of everyone.
“Congratulations, Jared. You deserve it,” Jensen said when Jared approached him.
“I’m sorry about how they made the announcement. That was messed up, man. It was cruel,” Jared said, putting a hand on Jensen’s cheek in a mirror image of the way Jensen had cupped his face when applying the kohl.
Jensen leaned into the touch, and a single tear escaped the confines of his long lashes. “No, it’s fine. I understand why they did it.
“I understand why they did it, too. That doesn’t make it right,” Jared exclaimed.
Any further response Jensen might have made was cut off by the arrival of a woman with long blonde hair, an expression of extreme distaste on her otherwise attractive face. “Come on, Jensen. Let’s go.” She latched on to Jensen’s duster sleeve and all but dragged him off the stage.
It was only after they were gone that Jared realized he had no way to contact Jensen. And he really wanted to contact him.
A/N: I encourage you to make suggestions for situations you would like to see in this story. Things you would like to see happen or anything else really. We are writing this story together! And please, even if you don’t want to give any suggestions, leave me some feedback. I know every writer asks for feedback and it gets old after a while, but I would really appreciate it. Thanks!