I could stay with you (1/1)
FIC.
two things happened in september when i started this: 1) spent 5 days helping a bride plan the last details of her wedding, and 2) read wedding fic that included cake cutting but didn't go for the CAKE FIGHT! which, obviously so out of character for them!!!
also, worthy to note: i seem to be always keen on writing stuff i WOULD NEVER, EVER READ. OMG I HATE MARRIAGE FIC. also mental health fic, het fic, winchesters from the future, um j2 straight fic??? i would never read any of these things. hello. why do i do this to myself.
marriage fic, check.
I could stay with you
j2 au
pg13 for language, sexual sitautions
it's their wedding day, and pretty much everything that could possibly go wrong goes wrong. still, they're married! also, a cake fight of epic proportions. CAKE FIGHT.
3600 words
thanks to karabou and corbyinoz for their support and read-throughs! you ladies are wonderful to me.
On the morning of their wedding, the power goes out in the reception hall. Jensen takes the call at 7:30. Jared rolls over, mumbling for him to fuck off to the kitchen while curling a leg around Jensen’s calf. Jensen kicks him off, sitting up and throwing legs over the side of the bed.
“What do you mean, we have a problem,” Jensen says.
Jared’s awake. He sits up, last vestiges of sleep winked out, and slides over to Jensen’s back. The bare skin there is warm, and Jared traces the line of it with his fingertips, and puts his mouth on Jensen’s tense shoulder. He stares into the pallid light of the windowpane, streaked with rain, and sighs, listening.
Jensen hangs up the phone. He leans his head against Jared’s with a deep, steadying breath. “Power’s out in the hall,” Jensen says. “And - it’s raining.”
But he lets Jared press him back into the pillows and cover him. Jared brushes lips over his neck while Jensen stares dismally out the window, hand idly running up the back of Jared’s neck and into his hair. Jared bites his lip against the shiver.
“We’ll get a generator,” Jared says, voice muffled against soft skin. “I’ll call Jeff in a minute.”
He brushes a thumb along Jensen’s ribs, means it to be affectionate. Jensen twists away with an abrupt laugh, swearing at him. Jared grins, bites at his collar bone.
Josh is at the house by eight. Jared and Jensen are in the kitchen in their underwear: sleep-eyed, hair-mussed, three-day old tee-shirts, and fighting over who’s getting the first omelet.
“Snooze, you lose, Jay. You don’t even like tomatoes.”
“My point is that I fucking always give you the first one. It’s our wedding day and I want the first one.”
“You are being such a dick right now. Needs spinach.”
“Jensen! Don’t! Why are you so - fine. Fuck it. Have it. Whatever.”
“Why don’t you go bring the dogs out before you hurt yourself.”
“I hate to interrupt,” Josh says, standing against the door jamb, wringing at the keys his hands.
Jared turns, a welcome distraction, and asks if he’s talked to Jeff yet about the generator. Jensen offers him a cup of coffee with one eye still intent on flipping his breakfast.
Josh shakes his head, looks over to the window, and is so quiet that Jensen turns to regard him with concern. Jared steps forward, between them, and waits.
Josh says, “Uh. I, don’t have the rings. I don’t have the rings.”
Jensen tenses beside Jared, one plucked nerve. “You don’t have the rings? He doesn’t have the rings. My brother doesn’t have the rings.”
“He doesn’t have the rings,” Jared says.
Jensen’s stillness is broken by Jared’s ringtone; he cuts his gaze sideways, waiting for Jared. Jared moves quickly, cuts off the second ring and finds his brother on the other line. Jeff says, “I just called almost a dozen places. It’s Sunday. I left messages, but dude, I got nothin’.”
Jared hangs up and turns to Jensen. “Our best men suck,” he says.
“He didn’t find anything,” Jensen says.
Jared turns from the edge in Jensen’s voice; it’s the sound of his other half abruptly losing his calm. Jared feels the heavy swell of anger too, but stamps it down, instead forcing Jensen to look at him.
“We’ll make it work,” Jared promises. His fingers are light at Jensen’s wrist. He feels the thumping pulse there.
Jensen nods, sighs. “I know. But I wanted it to just work.”
Jared pulls Jensen out of the kitchen, toward the bedroom. He raises eyes briefly to Josh, who’s standing alone in the kitchen with a full pot of coffee and a burning omelet, and says, “Find our fucking rings.”
By nine, they’re in Jensen’s truck on the way to Home Depot. He’s distracted and quiet, staring blankly out the windshield, eyes flickering every time the wipers clear the windshield. Jared can’t engage him for more than a few seconds at a time, so he leans his head against the passenger window and watches the wet road.
Halfway down route twelve, Jared feels a fine shudder beneath his feet, and then a grittier one that travels up through the door frame. Jensen swears. He picks his head up and looks quickly to Jensen, who’s tightened his grip on the wheel. The truck gives a jaw-cracking shock and Jared grabs the arm rest.
Jensen steers them to the shoulder. He stares at the gauges a moment before cutting the engine and leaning his head back against the headrest, eyes closing.
Jared doesn’t say anything, eyes tracing the muscles of Jensen’s throat.
“Out of gas,” Jensen finally murmurs, turning his head to gaze at Jared. His smile is humorless and cutting. “Didn’t even think to look.”
Jared lays a hand on the back of Jensen’s neck and squeezes. Then he calls Jeff: “We’re on twelve west, near the Blockbuster. Come get us.”
Jeff is there in twenty minutes, and on Jensen’s lead they leave the dead truck on the shoulder in the rain.
Dan from Home Depot doesn’t know which generator has got enough juice to do the job. Jared picks out the most expensive one and throws it on his credit card; if he can wear $1100 John Lobb Oxfords today, he can buy some electricity.
Jensen spends an extra five minutes telling Dan that maybe he should attend a training, take a seminar, ask a co-worker, do whatever he needs to do to be able to answer a relatively simple question. Jared leaves him there, motioning Jeff to follow, and they head outside to bring Jeff’s truck around to the loading dock.
“Thanks for waiting,” Jensen snipes when he catches up to them.
Jared and Jeff are loading the generator with a teenaged ginger stockboy who’s completely useless. A steady drizzle has soaked them through. Jared has definitely lifted too much with his back. There is a pull that stretches from one hip to the other, making his breath catch.
“You were busy being a dick,” Jared grits out.
“That guy was a fucking idiot,” Jensen says. “And you just spent $800 without even asking me.”
“Jensen. I know you’re mad. But don’t start with me, all right. I don’t have a hell of a lot left.”
Jensen sighs. “I know. You’re so good.”
Jared jumps down from the bed and bites down against the twinge that tightens his back and sends a hot bolt all the way up into his shoulders.
“I know I am,” he tells Jensen, stepping close, fingertips on the underside of Jensen’s jaw. “So don’t push it, or I’m calling off this whole thing.”
Jensen smiles a very small smile.
Jared slams the bed closed. Jeff gets a call from Mackenzie, who’s at the reception hall and reports that the ceremony is going to have to be indoors, because the rain is not going to let up.
Jensen says, “Shit. The carpet. The chairs. The lanterns. It better all be in.”
Jared says, “Tell her to ask her brother if he’s found our fucking rings yet.”
Jeff looks at him oddly. “Dude, I have the rings.”
Jensen bursts into near-hysterical laughter, turning to walk off down the center lane of the parking lot, hands laced behind his head while he turns his face up into the rain.
Jared watches him for a moment, heart surging with adrenaline, then covers his eyes with a trembling hand. “Fuck’s sake, you people, do you have any idea what kind of morning we are having.”
On the way to the reception hall, Jensen’s phone rings.
“Yes, this is Mr. Ackles,” Jensen says, eyebrow raising as he looks at Jared. Jared sees the dawning of realization roll over Jensen’s expression and he rubs at his mouth as he continues: “Yes sir. No, sir, I hadn’t. You can do whatever you’d like with it; I’m getting married today.”
Jared smiles so big it hurts his chest. He buries his face in Jensen’s neck while Jensen is still talking to the state trooper.
Strangers bustle from one end of the property to the other when Jeff pulls up to the hall. They’re dressed in windbreakers; they’re carrying armfuls of lanterns, and stacks of chairs, and bits of floral arrangements. As the guys approach the entrance Chris hurries by in a Dodgers cap, with the aisle carpet tucked safely in his grasp.
“Gentlemen,” he greets briefly with a smile, nodding.
“Do I even want to ask,” Jensen says.
Chris smirks, tips his hat up with an index finger. “It’s fine, guys. Seriously. Nothing to worry about.”
They follow him inside, and the first thing Jared notices is that the center chandelier is bright above them, glowing against the gray rain clouds blotting out the windows. Next, he sees the wall sconces, and finally, a fan on the floor by an open patio door, circulating dead air.
He looks at Jensen. Jensen doesn’t look at him.
Mackenzie is standing on a table in the center of the room, directing all movement with a rolled up Us Weekly. She’s in black peep-toe kitten heels, dark-washed skinny Levis and an A&M sweatshirt that Jared is pretty certain is his, from the way it pools around her knees.
“Dude, your sister,” Jared says, staring in awe.
“Stop scamming on her, douche,” Jensen says, shoving him.
“We’re beating up like all of her boyfriends, ever.”
“The power’s on,” Jensen says, stepping up to the table and staring up at his sister. Jared hangs back slightly, uninterested in getting caught between them.
Mackenzie lowers the magazine, eyes wide. “No one called you? Either of you?”
“Nope.”
“Shit, it’s been hours. I didn’t even think to - I thought that would have been the first thing everyone else did.”
“Apparently everyone else thought that too. What’re we gonna do with the generator, Jay.”
“I don’t even know, at this point.”
“Just leave it in the truck. Fuck it. I can’t. Are the caterers here yet?”
“In the kitchen,” Mackenzie says, hopping down. “Jen, I’m sorry. What can I do?”
Jensen sighs, rubbing his forehead. “It’s all right, Mack. Just keep doing what you do, you’re doing great. Keep these guys in line. Pictures at one - make sure everyone’s ready.”
“I can do that.”
Jensen leans in and kisses her cheek then, and Mackenzie blushes, hugging him hard, French manicured nails digging into his black North Face zip-up. Jared smiles.
He puts an arm around Jensen’s shoulders as they walk away and gets shrugged off. Jared laughs so hard he pulls the sore muscle in his back.
They cross the dance floor and then head out to the hallway, toward the kitchen to find the caterer, where they find Chad hanging from a rafter.
“Well, that’s helpful,” Jensen says.
“Dude,” Jared says. “What are you doing?”
“Twinkle lights. There’s a set out, somewhere, I’m just, I’ll find them, don’t worry.”
Jensen just stares at Jared, unable to form a response.
“Are you a crazy person?” Jared asks, watching as Chad dangles with an outstretched arm.
“No, you fucker, I’m just making sure this shit is gonna work when you need it to work.”
“Well, thanks Chad,” Jensen says. “Seriously. Awesome.”
They continue on to the kitchen, but don’t get very far before there is a loud thud behind them.
“Ouch.”
“He better not have broken anything,” Jensen mutters, leading the way to the kitchen.
Chad’s got a pink band-aid on his nose as their officiant, Phillip, reads their vows. Chris stands next to him, a black suede cowboy hat perched on his head. He is smiling distantly, hands firmly clasped behind his back as he looks out from under the brim of his hat. Rockstars.
Their sisters stand with them, arm and arm with Josh and Jeff. They both look stunning in black, floor-length Alfred Angelo, bringing a sense of class and dignity Jared’s not sure this motley group of guys could have come up with on their own.
Two hundred people are fanned out behind them like wings, eyes heavy on Jared’s back. He tries to pretend they’re not there.
He can feel Jensen at his shoulder, back straight and head high. Jared spends the entire twenty minutes up their straining his peripheral vision to catch Jensen’s expression. It feels too formal just to turn and look. Jared’s never been this terrified in his life.
Jared lets his thoughts race for a while, but afterward he calms down and zones out; all he can smell is Phillip’s hand sanitizer every time he flips a page in the book he’s reading from. Jared snaps to attention when he hears his name.
“Jared, turn to Jensen. Take his hands.”
Jared’s stomach plummets to his toes; for a moment he’s so nervous to look at Jensen he thinks he won’t do it. But he does, and Jensen smiles at him, and his tie is perfectly straight, and over his right shoulder Jared can see Megan with tears streaming down her face, and when he takes Jensen’s hands they’re warm and dry and they immediately squeeze his in relief.
Jared lets out a trembling laugh, squeezing back. Jensen beams at him. Jared runs thumbs over Jensen’s knuckles. He follows Jensen’s gaze, down to their entwined fingers and bright white gold bands.
“These are the hands of your best friend, vibrant with love, that are holding yours on your wedding day, as he promises to love you all the days of his life.”
It’s when Jared is standing awkwardly with Jensen on a silent dance floor that the tone of the day truly sets in again. Heads cocked toward the DJ’s table, they wait. Chad and Chris are over there in a heartbeat. A crowd of family and friends stands at their banquet tables, beginning to murmur and crane their necks.
Jared bites his lip, jaw ticking. Silence. Bless Jensen’s heart for waiting an entire forty seconds before striding over to the DJ. Jared follows, because he doesn’t want to be standing there alone in front of everyone, like a douchenozzle.
“What’s the problem,” Jensen says.
“The song’s not here,” the DJ replies.
“What?” Jared cuts in. And he wasn’t going to care, but this is different. There was literally one thing they agreed on immediately during their planning, and it was the first dance song.
And he wasn’t going to get angry, but Jared feels his pulse pounding in his neck, feels the tightness of his breath in his chest. This is what restraint feels like.
If this DJ had any idea of the amount of arguments they’d had up to this point. Location, suit vests, which stamps to use on their invitations, the recessional music, whether to get manicures, how much to tip the caterers, which parents to ask for a little extra money.
“When I’m Sixty-Four” had been the only thing that had made them look at each other and actually smile.
“It has to be on there,” Jared says, teeth clenching. “Why isn’t it there? How could it not be there? Jensen, what the fuck?”
Jensen looks away from where Chad is scrolling through the DJ’s catalogue. He steps up to Jared, immediately drawing Jared’s eyes. They look at each other for a long moment and Jared feels some of the tension dissipate.
“Jay, it’s fine. I know it’s really not fine, but look at me. It’s fine. Right?”
“Come on. It’s the only thing I really wanted out of this whole fucking charade. You’ve flipped out like seventeen times today! Can’t I do it once?”
Jensen laughs. “No. Because when you’re flipping out, it means something’s really wrong, and today? We’ve had plenty to deal with. I’m all set with something going really wrong.”
Jared sighs. Clenches his fists and then unclenches them. “All right, fine. What are we gonna do now. Any ideas?”
“Nope. And I’m sick of deciding. Chad - find something. Play us into our fucking marriage.”
And that’s how their first dance ends up being Rod Base and EZ Rock’s “Joy and Pain.” Jensen knows every word, and Jared does a mean running man.
The day drags.
By the time it gets to cake cutting, Jared can see the lines of stress worn into Jensen’s face. The ceremony had brought some life and color back to his face, flush with emotion, but after the second set of photos and the dance debacle it becomes clear the magnitude of what they’ve had to deal with today. Jensen’s shoulders sag. His gaze is distant. He’s tired.
The DJ requests the cake be brought to the center of the floor. The music starts - “For the Longest Time,” which they fought about, because Jared wanted “Pour Some Sugar on Me” - and Jared looks to Jensen, whose game face is already on; brilliant, winning smile. He is exhausted. Jared loves him.
At the table, Jared takes a moment to look at the cake. Five square tiers of smooth, almond-colored fondant. Detailed leaf bases at each layer. Rich raspberry and floral icing art that cascades down one side of it, ending with a pretty floral mess on the bottom. His parents are responsible for it. He feels bad for what’s about to happen.
Jared cuts a huge piece of cake and looks to Jensen with intent. He feels himself trying to tap down a smile.
For a second, Jensen’s face closes with irritation, and he gives the slightest tilt of his head in warning: don’t you fucking dare. But Jared gathers the soft mess into his fingers and holds it up: this is definitely going to happen.
Surprisingly, Jensen’s face goes predatory. He smiles. Cuts his own.
“Bring it,” he whispers, and an involuntary shock of heat runs through Jared.
He holds it out for Jensen to take a bite, which he does without hesitation, eyes not leaving Jared’s face. Jensen’s hilarious, with bulged cheeks and icing at the corners of his mouth. Jared’s certain he is trying to minimize the amount of cake that will end up all over him.
Which. Jared opens up his palm and rubs the rest of it over Jensen’s face.
Jensen wheels away laughing, bright with the flash of a hundred cameras, frosting in his eyebrows. Jared laughs so hard he doubles over. Jensen slaps his handful of cake down the back of Jared’s neck - disgusting, sticky, and right into the collar of his tux.
He’s still shaking out the sticky clumps as Jensen scoops blindly into the cake and gets him in the face as well.
“Oh, you -- ” Jared says, wiping at his eyes.
They look at one another for a long moment. Jensen is vibrating with laughter. Jared feels cake in his hair. He wants to grab Jensen by the back of the head and kiss him. Instead, when Jared reaches back into the cake, Jensen does too, and every camera in the hall lights up.
There is nothing for dessert. The table is nothing more than an empty cardboard plate and a gelatinous mass of soggy cake.
The bridal party is covered in it. Jared’s hair is sopping with frosting and champagne. The cake topper - two stoic looking gentlemen with black suits and blank faces - is stuffed headfirst into Megan’s cleavage. Mackenzie is eating cake off Jeff’s shoulder. Chad had to run over to the main guest house to change his underwear. The top layer of cake sits inside Chris’ cowboy hat - penance for wearing it down the aisle.
They pose for pictures. Josh jams the hat down over Jensen’s head. Jensen’s got a smile stuck on his face that doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, just letting people take pictures of him with a cake-filled hat smashed over his head.
The hall woos and coos as Jared pulls Jensen in to lick through the frosting on the side of his face, and then kisses him dirty and sweet and full of intent, right there in front of everyone.
Jared takes pity and pulls the hat off then; shrugs out of his jacket and uses the warm clean inside to wipe off Jensen’s face.
Jensen’s eyes are hot when they’re finally clear enough to lock onto Jared. A chill of anticipation ripples down Jared’s spine.
Jensen leans in close, says, “We need to get out of here, Mr. Ackles. Now.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Padalecki,” Jared grins. He looks around; everyone is watching them quietly. He gives them a coy smile, because it’s what they want.
“We’re gonna go - clean up,” he explains.
He’s never heard a group of people cheer so loud.
They stumble over each other, laughing and shaking cake out of their clothes on their way across the property to their rooms. Rain mingles with the icing and champagne, coating them both in a sticky, intoxicating mess.
Jensen stumbles through the door behind Jared, slamming it after them. Jensen fastens his mouth to the sweet rivulets tracing down the back of Jared’s neck. Jared’s breath catches, and he backs up to pin Jensen against the door. He tips his head, breathing fast, looking for a kiss.
Jensen obliges, and his hands land on Jared’s hips. Jared covers them, laces their fingers together, pressing back against Jensen with his whole body. They aren’t going to make it up to the master bedroom.
“I didn’t carry you,” Jared says, and he marvels that he can still get weak with Jensen’s fingers against his belt buckle.
“It’s all right,” Jensen replies, pushing his face into Jared’s messy hair. “We still made it. We’re still here.”
[end]
and for fun, listen to "joy & pain" cause you know you haven't listened to this shit in years. HERE WE GO, ROD BASE, NOW.
two things happened in september when i started this: 1) spent 5 days helping a bride plan the last details of her wedding, and 2) read wedding fic that included cake cutting but didn't go for the CAKE FIGHT! which, obviously so out of character for them!!!
also, worthy to note: i seem to be always keen on writing stuff i WOULD NEVER, EVER READ. OMG I HATE MARRIAGE FIC. also mental health fic, het fic, winchesters from the future, um j2 straight fic??? i would never read any of these things. hello. why do i do this to myself.
marriage fic, check.
I could stay with you
j2 au
pg13 for language, sexual sitautions
it's their wedding day, and pretty much everything that could possibly go wrong goes wrong. still, they're married! also, a cake fight of epic proportions. CAKE FIGHT.
3600 words
thanks to karabou and corbyinoz for their support and read-throughs! you ladies are wonderful to me.
On the morning of their wedding, the power goes out in the reception hall. Jensen takes the call at 7:30. Jared rolls over, mumbling for him to fuck off to the kitchen while curling a leg around Jensen’s calf. Jensen kicks him off, sitting up and throwing legs over the side of the bed.
“What do you mean, we have a problem,” Jensen says.
Jared’s awake. He sits up, last vestiges of sleep winked out, and slides over to Jensen’s back. The bare skin there is warm, and Jared traces the line of it with his fingertips, and puts his mouth on Jensen’s tense shoulder. He stares into the pallid light of the windowpane, streaked with rain, and sighs, listening.
Jensen hangs up the phone. He leans his head against Jared’s with a deep, steadying breath. “Power’s out in the hall,” Jensen says. “And - it’s raining.”
But he lets Jared press him back into the pillows and cover him. Jared brushes lips over his neck while Jensen stares dismally out the window, hand idly running up the back of Jared’s neck and into his hair. Jared bites his lip against the shiver.
“We’ll get a generator,” Jared says, voice muffled against soft skin. “I’ll call Jeff in a minute.”
He brushes a thumb along Jensen’s ribs, means it to be affectionate. Jensen twists away with an abrupt laugh, swearing at him. Jared grins, bites at his collar bone.
Josh is at the house by eight. Jared and Jensen are in the kitchen in their underwear: sleep-eyed, hair-mussed, three-day old tee-shirts, and fighting over who’s getting the first omelet.
“Snooze, you lose, Jay. You don’t even like tomatoes.”
“My point is that I fucking always give you the first one. It’s our wedding day and I want the first one.”
“You are being such a dick right now. Needs spinach.”
“Jensen! Don’t! Why are you so - fine. Fuck it. Have it. Whatever.”
“Why don’t you go bring the dogs out before you hurt yourself.”
“I hate to interrupt,” Josh says, standing against the door jamb, wringing at the keys his hands.
Jared turns, a welcome distraction, and asks if he’s talked to Jeff yet about the generator. Jensen offers him a cup of coffee with one eye still intent on flipping his breakfast.
Josh shakes his head, looks over to the window, and is so quiet that Jensen turns to regard him with concern. Jared steps forward, between them, and waits.
Josh says, “Uh. I, don’t have the rings. I don’t have the rings.”
Jensen tenses beside Jared, one plucked nerve. “You don’t have the rings? He doesn’t have the rings. My brother doesn’t have the rings.”
“He doesn’t have the rings,” Jared says.
Jensen’s stillness is broken by Jared’s ringtone; he cuts his gaze sideways, waiting for Jared. Jared moves quickly, cuts off the second ring and finds his brother on the other line. Jeff says, “I just called almost a dozen places. It’s Sunday. I left messages, but dude, I got nothin’.”
Jared hangs up and turns to Jensen. “Our best men suck,” he says.
“He didn’t find anything,” Jensen says.
Jared turns from the edge in Jensen’s voice; it’s the sound of his other half abruptly losing his calm. Jared feels the heavy swell of anger too, but stamps it down, instead forcing Jensen to look at him.
“We’ll make it work,” Jared promises. His fingers are light at Jensen’s wrist. He feels the thumping pulse there.
Jensen nods, sighs. “I know. But I wanted it to just work.”
Jared pulls Jensen out of the kitchen, toward the bedroom. He raises eyes briefly to Josh, who’s standing alone in the kitchen with a full pot of coffee and a burning omelet, and says, “Find our fucking rings.”
By nine, they’re in Jensen’s truck on the way to Home Depot. He’s distracted and quiet, staring blankly out the windshield, eyes flickering every time the wipers clear the windshield. Jared can’t engage him for more than a few seconds at a time, so he leans his head against the passenger window and watches the wet road.
Halfway down route twelve, Jared feels a fine shudder beneath his feet, and then a grittier one that travels up through the door frame. Jensen swears. He picks his head up and looks quickly to Jensen, who’s tightened his grip on the wheel. The truck gives a jaw-cracking shock and Jared grabs the arm rest.
Jensen steers them to the shoulder. He stares at the gauges a moment before cutting the engine and leaning his head back against the headrest, eyes closing.
Jared doesn’t say anything, eyes tracing the muscles of Jensen’s throat.
“Out of gas,” Jensen finally murmurs, turning his head to gaze at Jared. His smile is humorless and cutting. “Didn’t even think to look.”
Jared lays a hand on the back of Jensen’s neck and squeezes. Then he calls Jeff: “We’re on twelve west, near the Blockbuster. Come get us.”
Jeff is there in twenty minutes, and on Jensen’s lead they leave the dead truck on the shoulder in the rain.
Dan from Home Depot doesn’t know which generator has got enough juice to do the job. Jared picks out the most expensive one and throws it on his credit card; if he can wear $1100 John Lobb Oxfords today, he can buy some electricity.
Jensen spends an extra five minutes telling Dan that maybe he should attend a training, take a seminar, ask a co-worker, do whatever he needs to do to be able to answer a relatively simple question. Jared leaves him there, motioning Jeff to follow, and they head outside to bring Jeff’s truck around to the loading dock.
“Thanks for waiting,” Jensen snipes when he catches up to them.
Jared and Jeff are loading the generator with a teenaged ginger stockboy who’s completely useless. A steady drizzle has soaked them through. Jared has definitely lifted too much with his back. There is a pull that stretches from one hip to the other, making his breath catch.
“You were busy being a dick,” Jared grits out.
“That guy was a fucking idiot,” Jensen says. “And you just spent $800 without even asking me.”
“Jensen. I know you’re mad. But don’t start with me, all right. I don’t have a hell of a lot left.”
Jensen sighs. “I know. You’re so good.”
Jared jumps down from the bed and bites down against the twinge that tightens his back and sends a hot bolt all the way up into his shoulders.
“I know I am,” he tells Jensen, stepping close, fingertips on the underside of Jensen’s jaw. “So don’t push it, or I’m calling off this whole thing.”
Jensen smiles a very small smile.
Jared slams the bed closed. Jeff gets a call from Mackenzie, who’s at the reception hall and reports that the ceremony is going to have to be indoors, because the rain is not going to let up.
Jensen says, “Shit. The carpet. The chairs. The lanterns. It better all be in.”
Jared says, “Tell her to ask her brother if he’s found our fucking rings yet.”
Jeff looks at him oddly. “Dude, I have the rings.”
Jensen bursts into near-hysterical laughter, turning to walk off down the center lane of the parking lot, hands laced behind his head while he turns his face up into the rain.
Jared watches him for a moment, heart surging with adrenaline, then covers his eyes with a trembling hand. “Fuck’s sake, you people, do you have any idea what kind of morning we are having.”
On the way to the reception hall, Jensen’s phone rings.
“Yes, this is Mr. Ackles,” Jensen says, eyebrow raising as he looks at Jared. Jared sees the dawning of realization roll over Jensen’s expression and he rubs at his mouth as he continues: “Yes sir. No, sir, I hadn’t. You can do whatever you’d like with it; I’m getting married today.”
Jared smiles so big it hurts his chest. He buries his face in Jensen’s neck while Jensen is still talking to the state trooper.
Strangers bustle from one end of the property to the other when Jeff pulls up to the hall. They’re dressed in windbreakers; they’re carrying armfuls of lanterns, and stacks of chairs, and bits of floral arrangements. As the guys approach the entrance Chris hurries by in a Dodgers cap, with the aisle carpet tucked safely in his grasp.
“Gentlemen,” he greets briefly with a smile, nodding.
“Do I even want to ask,” Jensen says.
Chris smirks, tips his hat up with an index finger. “It’s fine, guys. Seriously. Nothing to worry about.”
They follow him inside, and the first thing Jared notices is that the center chandelier is bright above them, glowing against the gray rain clouds blotting out the windows. Next, he sees the wall sconces, and finally, a fan on the floor by an open patio door, circulating dead air.
He looks at Jensen. Jensen doesn’t look at him.
Mackenzie is standing on a table in the center of the room, directing all movement with a rolled up Us Weekly. She’s in black peep-toe kitten heels, dark-washed skinny Levis and an A&M sweatshirt that Jared is pretty certain is his, from the way it pools around her knees.
“Dude, your sister,” Jared says, staring in awe.
“Stop scamming on her, douche,” Jensen says, shoving him.
“We’re beating up like all of her boyfriends, ever.”
“The power’s on,” Jensen says, stepping up to the table and staring up at his sister. Jared hangs back slightly, uninterested in getting caught between them.
Mackenzie lowers the magazine, eyes wide. “No one called you? Either of you?”
“Nope.”
“Shit, it’s been hours. I didn’t even think to - I thought that would have been the first thing everyone else did.”
“Apparently everyone else thought that too. What’re we gonna do with the generator, Jay.”
“I don’t even know, at this point.”
“Just leave it in the truck. Fuck it. I can’t. Are the caterers here yet?”
“In the kitchen,” Mackenzie says, hopping down. “Jen, I’m sorry. What can I do?”
Jensen sighs, rubbing his forehead. “It’s all right, Mack. Just keep doing what you do, you’re doing great. Keep these guys in line. Pictures at one - make sure everyone’s ready.”
“I can do that.”
Jensen leans in and kisses her cheek then, and Mackenzie blushes, hugging him hard, French manicured nails digging into his black North Face zip-up. Jared smiles.
He puts an arm around Jensen’s shoulders as they walk away and gets shrugged off. Jared laughs so hard he pulls the sore muscle in his back.
They cross the dance floor and then head out to the hallway, toward the kitchen to find the caterer, where they find Chad hanging from a rafter.
“Well, that’s helpful,” Jensen says.
“Dude,” Jared says. “What are you doing?”
“Twinkle lights. There’s a set out, somewhere, I’m just, I’ll find them, don’t worry.”
Jensen just stares at Jared, unable to form a response.
“Are you a crazy person?” Jared asks, watching as Chad dangles with an outstretched arm.
“No, you fucker, I’m just making sure this shit is gonna work when you need it to work.”
“Well, thanks Chad,” Jensen says. “Seriously. Awesome.”
They continue on to the kitchen, but don’t get very far before there is a loud thud behind them.
“Ouch.”
“He better not have broken anything,” Jensen mutters, leading the way to the kitchen.
Chad’s got a pink band-aid on his nose as their officiant, Phillip, reads their vows. Chris stands next to him, a black suede cowboy hat perched on his head. He is smiling distantly, hands firmly clasped behind his back as he looks out from under the brim of his hat. Rockstars.
Their sisters stand with them, arm and arm with Josh and Jeff. They both look stunning in black, floor-length Alfred Angelo, bringing a sense of class and dignity Jared’s not sure this motley group of guys could have come up with on their own.
Two hundred people are fanned out behind them like wings, eyes heavy on Jared’s back. He tries to pretend they’re not there.
He can feel Jensen at his shoulder, back straight and head high. Jared spends the entire twenty minutes up their straining his peripheral vision to catch Jensen’s expression. It feels too formal just to turn and look. Jared’s never been this terrified in his life.
Jared lets his thoughts race for a while, but afterward he calms down and zones out; all he can smell is Phillip’s hand sanitizer every time he flips a page in the book he’s reading from. Jared snaps to attention when he hears his name.
“Jared, turn to Jensen. Take his hands.”
Jared’s stomach plummets to his toes; for a moment he’s so nervous to look at Jensen he thinks he won’t do it. But he does, and Jensen smiles at him, and his tie is perfectly straight, and over his right shoulder Jared can see Megan with tears streaming down her face, and when he takes Jensen’s hands they’re warm and dry and they immediately squeeze his in relief.
Jared lets out a trembling laugh, squeezing back. Jensen beams at him. Jared runs thumbs over Jensen’s knuckles. He follows Jensen’s gaze, down to their entwined fingers and bright white gold bands.
“These are the hands of your best friend, vibrant with love, that are holding yours on your wedding day, as he promises to love you all the days of his life.”
It’s when Jared is standing awkwardly with Jensen on a silent dance floor that the tone of the day truly sets in again. Heads cocked toward the DJ’s table, they wait. Chad and Chris are over there in a heartbeat. A crowd of family and friends stands at their banquet tables, beginning to murmur and crane their necks.
Jared bites his lip, jaw ticking. Silence. Bless Jensen’s heart for waiting an entire forty seconds before striding over to the DJ. Jared follows, because he doesn’t want to be standing there alone in front of everyone, like a douchenozzle.
“What’s the problem,” Jensen says.
“The song’s not here,” the DJ replies.
“What?” Jared cuts in. And he wasn’t going to care, but this is different. There was literally one thing they agreed on immediately during their planning, and it was the first dance song.
And he wasn’t going to get angry, but Jared feels his pulse pounding in his neck, feels the tightness of his breath in his chest. This is what restraint feels like.
If this DJ had any idea of the amount of arguments they’d had up to this point. Location, suit vests, which stamps to use on their invitations, the recessional music, whether to get manicures, how much to tip the caterers, which parents to ask for a little extra money.
“When I’m Sixty-Four” had been the only thing that had made them look at each other and actually smile.
“It has to be on there,” Jared says, teeth clenching. “Why isn’t it there? How could it not be there? Jensen, what the fuck?”
Jensen looks away from where Chad is scrolling through the DJ’s catalogue. He steps up to Jared, immediately drawing Jared’s eyes. They look at each other for a long moment and Jared feels some of the tension dissipate.
“Jay, it’s fine. I know it’s really not fine, but look at me. It’s fine. Right?”
“Come on. It’s the only thing I really wanted out of this whole fucking charade. You’ve flipped out like seventeen times today! Can’t I do it once?”
Jensen laughs. “No. Because when you’re flipping out, it means something’s really wrong, and today? We’ve had plenty to deal with. I’m all set with something going really wrong.”
Jared sighs. Clenches his fists and then unclenches them. “All right, fine. What are we gonna do now. Any ideas?”
“Nope. And I’m sick of deciding. Chad - find something. Play us into our fucking marriage.”
And that’s how their first dance ends up being Rod Base and EZ Rock’s “Joy and Pain.” Jensen knows every word, and Jared does a mean running man.
The day drags.
By the time it gets to cake cutting, Jared can see the lines of stress worn into Jensen’s face. The ceremony had brought some life and color back to his face, flush with emotion, but after the second set of photos and the dance debacle it becomes clear the magnitude of what they’ve had to deal with today. Jensen’s shoulders sag. His gaze is distant. He’s tired.
The DJ requests the cake be brought to the center of the floor. The music starts - “For the Longest Time,” which they fought about, because Jared wanted “Pour Some Sugar on Me” - and Jared looks to Jensen, whose game face is already on; brilliant, winning smile. He is exhausted. Jared loves him.
At the table, Jared takes a moment to look at the cake. Five square tiers of smooth, almond-colored fondant. Detailed leaf bases at each layer. Rich raspberry and floral icing art that cascades down one side of it, ending with a pretty floral mess on the bottom. His parents are responsible for it. He feels bad for what’s about to happen.
Jared cuts a huge piece of cake and looks to Jensen with intent. He feels himself trying to tap down a smile.
For a second, Jensen’s face closes with irritation, and he gives the slightest tilt of his head in warning: don’t you fucking dare. But Jared gathers the soft mess into his fingers and holds it up: this is definitely going to happen.
Surprisingly, Jensen’s face goes predatory. He smiles. Cuts his own.
“Bring it,” he whispers, and an involuntary shock of heat runs through Jared.
He holds it out for Jensen to take a bite, which he does without hesitation, eyes not leaving Jared’s face. Jensen’s hilarious, with bulged cheeks and icing at the corners of his mouth. Jared’s certain he is trying to minimize the amount of cake that will end up all over him.
Which. Jared opens up his palm and rubs the rest of it over Jensen’s face.
Jensen wheels away laughing, bright with the flash of a hundred cameras, frosting in his eyebrows. Jared laughs so hard he doubles over. Jensen slaps his handful of cake down the back of Jared’s neck - disgusting, sticky, and right into the collar of his tux.
He’s still shaking out the sticky clumps as Jensen scoops blindly into the cake and gets him in the face as well.
“Oh, you -- ” Jared says, wiping at his eyes.
They look at one another for a long moment. Jensen is vibrating with laughter. Jared feels cake in his hair. He wants to grab Jensen by the back of the head and kiss him. Instead, when Jared reaches back into the cake, Jensen does too, and every camera in the hall lights up.
There is nothing for dessert. The table is nothing more than an empty cardboard plate and a gelatinous mass of soggy cake.
The bridal party is covered in it. Jared’s hair is sopping with frosting and champagne. The cake topper - two stoic looking gentlemen with black suits and blank faces - is stuffed headfirst into Megan’s cleavage. Mackenzie is eating cake off Jeff’s shoulder. Chad had to run over to the main guest house to change his underwear. The top layer of cake sits inside Chris’ cowboy hat - penance for wearing it down the aisle.
They pose for pictures. Josh jams the hat down over Jensen’s head. Jensen’s got a smile stuck on his face that doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, just letting people take pictures of him with a cake-filled hat smashed over his head.
The hall woos and coos as Jared pulls Jensen in to lick through the frosting on the side of his face, and then kisses him dirty and sweet and full of intent, right there in front of everyone.
Jared takes pity and pulls the hat off then; shrugs out of his jacket and uses the warm clean inside to wipe off Jensen’s face.
Jensen’s eyes are hot when they’re finally clear enough to lock onto Jared. A chill of anticipation ripples down Jared’s spine.
Jensen leans in close, says, “We need to get out of here, Mr. Ackles. Now.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Padalecki,” Jared grins. He looks around; everyone is watching them quietly. He gives them a coy smile, because it’s what they want.
“We’re gonna go - clean up,” he explains.
He’s never heard a group of people cheer so loud.
They stumble over each other, laughing and shaking cake out of their clothes on their way across the property to their rooms. Rain mingles with the icing and champagne, coating them both in a sticky, intoxicating mess.
Jensen stumbles through the door behind Jared, slamming it after them. Jensen fastens his mouth to the sweet rivulets tracing down the back of Jared’s neck. Jared’s breath catches, and he backs up to pin Jensen against the door. He tips his head, breathing fast, looking for a kiss.
Jensen obliges, and his hands land on Jared’s hips. Jared covers them, laces their fingers together, pressing back against Jensen with his whole body. They aren’t going to make it up to the master bedroom.
“I didn’t carry you,” Jared says, and he marvels that he can still get weak with Jensen’s fingers against his belt buckle.
“It’s all right,” Jensen replies, pushing his face into Jared’s messy hair. “We still made it. We’re still here.”
[end]
and for fun, listen to "joy & pain" cause you know you haven't listened to this shit in years. HERE WE GO, ROD BASE, NOW.