fic: He was Secretly Irish (a J2 Leprechaun fic)
Title: He Was Secretly Irish (a J2 Leprechaun fic)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Word Count: 1250
Disclaimer: AHAHAHA
Warning: More elf jokes, hooray! This time, the elves attack the wall of fandom.
Summary: Jensen is a leprechaun at Jared's wedding, which should explain the sparkly tuxes, but really doesn't.
Happy St. Patrick's Day! I thank xxamlaxx and yumezaka. They are not to blame for any of this.
*
Even for a leprechaun, Jensen Ackles was hopelessly lucky. As a serious, professional actor with responsibilities and a good name to live up to, he'd kept his heart as well-hidden as a pot of gold - somewhere far away, shiny and forbidden. Yet he also happened to be madly, massively, hopelessly in love with his best friend slash co-star of five years. Therefore, so badly hidden his heart had become in time that it was now punctuating the end of a very long, bright, sparkly, and ever-present rainbow that seemed to shout "I love Jared Padalecki" every chance it got. Their fans, family, friends, and most strangers seemed to think so anyway.
And so, five years on, he found himself wearing a suit made of sparkles at his best friend's wedding, wishing for a knife or a fork or some sharp implement to stab himself with, or at least allow him to gorge on cake. Leprechauns so loved cake. And praise. And apparently giant cocks. But more importantly, tall puppy-eyed men who fell into forbidden love with short, freckled, button-nosed leprechauns who lived down a flight of stairs from them. Jared, as the groom, had picked out the wardrobe, and so Jensen had to be content in the end that the suits were only sparkly and weren't also pink as well. But really, Jared had to be more considerate. There were reasons Jensen had never told him quite how much he was secretly Irish. Wearing the suit, he might as well have been carrying a shillelagh and holding a four-leaf-clover between his lips. Sparkles? Seriously, sparkles?
At least someone had been kind enough to gift him with a knife. Maybe it was a leprechaun thing, but he loved pointy shiny objects so. It was hard to be a leprechaun, even as lucky as Jensen felt most days. Thank goodness the lore surrounding his people was too lame even to be acceptable by Supernatural's standards - Edlund would have been all over that shit, have Dean getting knocked unconscious by said shillelagh while Sam had to save his ass from some short creepy dancing guy in a ginger beard and green top hat - and they couldn't have the Irish-American community on their backs about stereotypes too.
He wasn't that sensitive about it himself - after all, he grew up eating Lucky Charms like every other American kid. If his eyes were a little too green and his freckles a little too cute, well, that just added to his allure. No one was ever going to suspect he was the real deal. Plastic surgery to fix slightly over-pointed ears had taken care of that (though sometimes if he squinted, he could still see the shadow of a Vulcan thing going on). He was tall, too - well, tall by everyone's standards but Jared's. That guy was a giant among men, much less leprechauns.
Jensen sat at one of the circular tables in the dining room and contented himself with eating loads of cake with a knife (he was hiding from his bodyguard, who happened to be a real-deal ogre, but they also had a secret pact to keep each others' secret, and so Jensen had to let a lot of crap slide, occasionally do public service announcements from his dungeon). He watched the groom's shoulders and head loom far above the crowd as he danced with his imp-sized bride. He liked her lace-and-bow ensemble - she looked like a fairy princess - and she didn't deserve Ruby's fate, despite his shiny new knife, and much practice on set. He tried not to stare, but he might have been getting happy-drunk on the sugar (the cake was cherry-flavored with buttercream icing - he was going to kill Jared, seriously). So drunk that he didn't see the groom until he was right behind him.
"Hey, man! You like the cake? I picked it out," Jared slapped a hand on his back and Jensen almost fell face-first into icing roses.
"Yeah. It's awesome. Yours is an awesome wedding, dude. Congrats!" Jensen tried really hard not to blush at Jared's happy red cheeks and shining eyes just inches from his face. The guy was too much sometimes. And not today, not today.
"I'm so glad you're here. I mean, of course you'd be here. But, I'm just glad. Is all. Thank you." He was obviously drunk and yammering.
"Would you stop yammering? I'm always here, you know that." Where was that champagne? Jensen needed more champagne.
Jared passed him a glass. "I know. But then why are you eating carbs?"
"What?! Don't bring up carbs!"
"Sorry, sorry," Jared raised his hands in surrender. "It's just -"
"What?"
"What'd you get us for a present?"
That was Jared, in a nutshell. Guy could never wait to unwrap his gifts. "It's, kind of a verbal thing."
"A verbal present? Uh, that's thoughtful."
Jensen rolled his eyes. "You get three wishes."
Jared smiled. "What are you, a genie?"
"Nope," Jensen blinked.
Jared laughed and sipped from his champagne flute in his sparkly tux. He got a twinkle in his eye Jensen recognized as nothing but trouble, his eyes narrowing and his ridiculously wide lips twisting upwards in a bow just like a hunter's. Yes, exactly like a hunter's, and Jensen knew he was in trouble.
"What's up, J?" Jensen swallowed.
"Nothing," and Jared focused his eyes square on Jensen's. "I wish that your marriage is just as happy as mine."
"Okay," Jensen gulped. "I think that's a great first wish."
"Second," Jared twisted the flute in his fingers, "I wish that we'll always be best friends. Forever."
"Done," Jensen's mouth was getting dry.
"Finally," Jared began.
"You sure you've thought this one through? Last and final wish." Jensen felt his wide collar growing tight and hot around his neck.
Jared smiled. "I've thought about this a lot, actually. I've had years to think it over."
"Years?" Jensen squeaked.
"Third wish - there will always be a place where we'll be together, somewhere out there in space or imagination, like an alternate universe or something, and we can be cowboys or porn stars or Sam and Dean or mermen or whatever the fuck, and it will always be awesome."
Jensen just stared, mouth gaping, ears burning up all the way to the surgically-altered tips. "You know, don't you?"
"That you're a leprechaun? Yes."
"How - What??"
Jared rolled his eyes cutely. "Please, I've always known. I know you better than anyone. You might as well be carrying a shillelagh and be sucking on a four-leaf clover."
"Hey. That's a stereotype."
"You have the greenest eyes I've ever seen. They practically sparkle. Your nose and freckles? I mean, come on. Your ears still look pointed. You dance spastically."
"Shut up."
"Your laugh is downright musical. You have a thing for horses. Your favorite food is beer." Jared stood up and held out his hand.
Jensen pouted severely. "I hate you." But he stood up anyway.
"I hate you too," Jared smiled. "Can we go ride on a unicorn over a rainbow to a pot of gold now?"
"Are you sure you want to dance? My spastic movements might kill you."
"Nah, we'll be fine. Besides, we'll always have the Internet."
Jensen took his hand and they danced one perfect dance together, before the bride took her groom back and Jensen went back to his carb love. Somewhere in cyberspace, they were humping each other on a unicorn.
The End
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Word Count: 1250
Disclaimer: AHAHAHA
Warning: More elf jokes, hooray! This time, the elves attack the wall of fandom.
Summary: Jensen is a leprechaun at Jared's wedding, which should explain the sparkly tuxes, but really doesn't.
Happy St. Patrick's Day! I thank xxamlaxx and yumezaka. They are not to blame for any of this.
*
Even for a leprechaun, Jensen Ackles was hopelessly lucky. As a serious, professional actor with responsibilities and a good name to live up to, he'd kept his heart as well-hidden as a pot of gold - somewhere far away, shiny and forbidden. Yet he also happened to be madly, massively, hopelessly in love with his best friend slash co-star of five years. Therefore, so badly hidden his heart had become in time that it was now punctuating the end of a very long, bright, sparkly, and ever-present rainbow that seemed to shout "I love Jared Padalecki" every chance it got. Their fans, family, friends, and most strangers seemed to think so anyway.
And so, five years on, he found himself wearing a suit made of sparkles at his best friend's wedding, wishing for a knife or a fork or some sharp implement to stab himself with, or at least allow him to gorge on cake. Leprechauns so loved cake. And praise. And apparently giant cocks. But more importantly, tall puppy-eyed men who fell into forbidden love with short, freckled, button-nosed leprechauns who lived down a flight of stairs from them. Jared, as the groom, had picked out the wardrobe, and so Jensen had to be content in the end that the suits were only sparkly and weren't also pink as well. But really, Jared had to be more considerate. There were reasons Jensen had never told him quite how much he was secretly Irish. Wearing the suit, he might as well have been carrying a shillelagh and holding a four-leaf-clover between his lips. Sparkles? Seriously, sparkles?
At least someone had been kind enough to gift him with a knife. Maybe it was a leprechaun thing, but he loved pointy shiny objects so. It was hard to be a leprechaun, even as lucky as Jensen felt most days. Thank goodness the lore surrounding his people was too lame even to be acceptable by Supernatural's standards - Edlund would have been all over that shit, have Dean getting knocked unconscious by said shillelagh while Sam had to save his ass from some short creepy dancing guy in a ginger beard and green top hat - and they couldn't have the Irish-American community on their backs about stereotypes too.
He wasn't that sensitive about it himself - after all, he grew up eating Lucky Charms like every other American kid. If his eyes were a little too green and his freckles a little too cute, well, that just added to his allure. No one was ever going to suspect he was the real deal. Plastic surgery to fix slightly over-pointed ears had taken care of that (though sometimes if he squinted, he could still see the shadow of a Vulcan thing going on). He was tall, too - well, tall by everyone's standards but Jared's. That guy was a giant among men, much less leprechauns.
Jensen sat at one of the circular tables in the dining room and contented himself with eating loads of cake with a knife (he was hiding from his bodyguard, who happened to be a real-deal ogre, but they also had a secret pact to keep each others' secret, and so Jensen had to let a lot of crap slide, occasionally do public service announcements from his dungeon). He watched the groom's shoulders and head loom far above the crowd as he danced with his imp-sized bride. He liked her lace-and-bow ensemble - she looked like a fairy princess - and she didn't deserve Ruby's fate, despite his shiny new knife, and much practice on set. He tried not to stare, but he might have been getting happy-drunk on the sugar (the cake was cherry-flavored with buttercream icing - he was going to kill Jared, seriously). So drunk that he didn't see the groom until he was right behind him.
"Hey, man! You like the cake? I picked it out," Jared slapped a hand on his back and Jensen almost fell face-first into icing roses.
"Yeah. It's awesome. Yours is an awesome wedding, dude. Congrats!" Jensen tried really hard not to blush at Jared's happy red cheeks and shining eyes just inches from his face. The guy was too much sometimes. And not today, not today.
"I'm so glad you're here. I mean, of course you'd be here. But, I'm just glad. Is all. Thank you." He was obviously drunk and yammering.
"Would you stop yammering? I'm always here, you know that." Where was that champagne? Jensen needed more champagne.
Jared passed him a glass. "I know. But then why are you eating carbs?"
"What?! Don't bring up carbs!"
"Sorry, sorry," Jared raised his hands in surrender. "It's just -"
"What?"
"What'd you get us for a present?"
That was Jared, in a nutshell. Guy could never wait to unwrap his gifts. "It's, kind of a verbal thing."
"A verbal present? Uh, that's thoughtful."
Jensen rolled his eyes. "You get three wishes."
Jared smiled. "What are you, a genie?"
"Nope," Jensen blinked.
Jared laughed and sipped from his champagne flute in his sparkly tux. He got a twinkle in his eye Jensen recognized as nothing but trouble, his eyes narrowing and his ridiculously wide lips twisting upwards in a bow just like a hunter's. Yes, exactly like a hunter's, and Jensen knew he was in trouble.
"What's up, J?" Jensen swallowed.
"Nothing," and Jared focused his eyes square on Jensen's. "I wish that your marriage is just as happy as mine."
"Okay," Jensen gulped. "I think that's a great first wish."
"Second," Jared twisted the flute in his fingers, "I wish that we'll always be best friends. Forever."
"Done," Jensen's mouth was getting dry.
"Finally," Jared began.
"You sure you've thought this one through? Last and final wish." Jensen felt his wide collar growing tight and hot around his neck.
Jared smiled. "I've thought about this a lot, actually. I've had years to think it over."
"Years?" Jensen squeaked.
"Third wish - there will always be a place where we'll be together, somewhere out there in space or imagination, like an alternate universe or something, and we can be cowboys or porn stars or Sam and Dean or mermen or whatever the fuck, and it will always be awesome."
Jensen just stared, mouth gaping, ears burning up all the way to the surgically-altered tips. "You know, don't you?"
"That you're a leprechaun? Yes."
"How - What??"
Jared rolled his eyes cutely. "Please, I've always known. I know you better than anyone. You might as well be carrying a shillelagh and be sucking on a four-leaf clover."
"Hey. That's a stereotype."
"You have the greenest eyes I've ever seen. They practically sparkle. Your nose and freckles? I mean, come on. Your ears still look pointed. You dance spastically."
"Shut up."
"Your laugh is downright musical. You have a thing for horses. Your favorite food is beer." Jared stood up and held out his hand.
Jensen pouted severely. "I hate you." But he stood up anyway.
"I hate you too," Jared smiled. "Can we go ride on a unicorn over a rainbow to a pot of gold now?"
"Are you sure you want to dance? My spastic movements might kill you."
"Nah, we'll be fine. Besides, we'll always have the Internet."
Jensen took his hand and they danced one perfect dance together, before the bride took her groom back and Jensen went back to his carb love. Somewhere in cyberspace, they were humping each other on a unicorn.
The End