Nothing Compares 2 U 3/4
Title: Nothing Compares 2U
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Language, Homophobia
Summary: (J2 AU Jared is 22, Jensen in 26) Jared Padalecki works for a company that fulfills the deepest fantasies of its clients, and he’s begun a contract with a new one - Jensen Ackles. His job is to keep his distance while fulfilling Jensen’s deepest desires. But dreams are dangerous things, and when fake emotions give way to real ones, the lines between fantasy and reality begin to blur.
A/N: The idea for the Dreams Come True Company is from an episode of CSI. It wormed its way into my brain, gave birth to a plot bunny, and dumped it on my doorstep to nurture. :) Special thanks to icelily01 for the early look and encouragement, and to leylamannion for saving my poor commas from abuse.
Chapter 3: Jared
Jared groaned and stretched. His muscles were sore in that really satisfying way you get after a workout. Well, it was kind of a workout. Jared grinned and looked around. He’d fallen asleep in Jensen’s arms after their fourth round. Jensen wasn’t there, but his side of the bed was still warm, so Jared just laid there, feeling boneless and sleepy. Ew, and sticky. Jared grimaced as he realized he was still covered in their collective body fluids.
He peeled himself off the soiled sheets and made his way to the bathroom. He took a quick shower, scrubbing himself clean. When he came out fifteen minutes later, a towel slung low on his waist, there was still no Jensen.
He was officially worried.
Was Jensen regretting what they’d done? Was he freaking out, hiding somewhere in his enormous house so he didn’t have to tell Jared to get the hell out?
Jared shook himself. No, Jensen had told him he loved him. He’d said it last night, repeated it in worshipful whispers and cried it out in orgasmic pleasure. Jensen loved him.
Right?
Jared headed downstairs, despair beginning to creep in. He made it all the way to the kitchen before collapsing onto one of the stools at the center island. He hadn’t seen Jensen. Jared’s bottom lip trembled. I bet if I went back upstairs, he thought bitterly, there’ll be a roll of twenties on the dresser.
“Morning!” Jared looked up as the first tear rolled down his cheek. Jensen was standing in the doorway, fully dressed and clean, his hair still wet.
“Where’ve you been?” Jared flinched at the accusing tone in his own voice.
“I took a shower in one of the guest bathrooms downstairs. You looked so peaceful; I didn’t want to wake you.” He stepped closer, then frowned at the look on Jared’s face. “What’s wrong?”
“I thought - that you’d left.” Jared felt so dumb and needy saying it out loud. “I thought maybe you were regretting… you know, last night.”
Jensen stared at him for moment, the stepped forward and wrapped him arms around Jared. Jared sighed and relaxed into Jensen’s embrace. “Jared, I told you… I love you,” Jensen said quietly. “I meant that; it wasn’t some heat-of-the-moment thing. I love you.”
Jared smiled against Jensen’s chest. His heart beat felt intimate and safe. “I love you, too.”
They held each other for several breaths, until Jensen stepped back. “Let’s go into town,” he said, smiling. “Not Springfield; there’s a small village west of here. It’s only a thirty minute drive, and it’s a nice place to hang out.”
Jared smiled back. He felt warm from head to toe, a deep sense of comfort and rightness. If this was what love was like, he wondered why the hell he’d pushed people away for so long. “Sounds awesome.”
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
The drive in to town had been quiet and peaceful. Jensen had twined his fingers with Jared’s the moment they got into the Impala, and he’d only let go when he had to make a turn, his hand immediately seeking out Jared’s once the turn was completed. They hadn’t spoken much, but they’d both been smiling soft, secret smiles meant only for each other.
The day spent in town slid by, honey sweet and slow. They wandered small, private art shops and artisan booths. They stopped for lunch at a little Chinese place, where the hostess cooed over them and presented them with a full bag of fortune cookies at the end. When Jared had opened his, he’d looked across the table and grinned.
“God helps those who help themselves,” he read, eyes mischievous.
Jensen had grinned back. “‘In bed’,” he added.
Jared tilted his head back and laughed.
When the sun had set, and the shops were closing their doors, Jared and Jensen made the drive back to the manor, their fingers locked.
Sadness filled Jared as they reached the house. He had to go back to work tomorrow; what the hell was he supposed to tell Pamela?
Jensen seemed to sense his internal struggle, because as he parked the car he said, staring ahead, “I’m not going to tell you to quit your job, but…” He turned to Jared. “Is this even still a job?”
Jared shook his head. “No. And I have no idea what to do.”
“You don’t have to decide today,” Jensen said. “We can -” He broke off, frowning at something out the window.
“Jensen? What is it?”
“Whose car is that?” Jensen voice and hands shook as he pointed to a sleek black Escalade sitting in the driveway.
Jared shrugged. “Not sure. Why?”
“No one should be here,” Jensen mumbled.
“Let’s go check,” Jared said, unbuckling his seatbelt. They stepped out and moved to the front door. It was open.
“Did you lock it?” Jared asked.
“I never lock it,” Jensen replied. “No one should know I’m here.” Moving into the darkened entryway, Jensen said, “Stay behind me.”
Jared wondered if he should point out that he was, in fact, bigger than Jensen, but decided against it. Immediately inside, they saw a fire crackling in the drawing room where he and Jensen had first met. When they got to the doorway, Jared saw a man sitting in the leather armchair by the fire, a glass of brandy in his hand.
“Dad?” Jensen’s voice was no more than a whisper.
The man stood. He was tall, almost as tall as Jared. He was an older man, maybe in his fifties, his handsome face lightly lined, his black hair turning grey at the temples. Jared would have found the man incredibly hot if it weren’t for the look of disgust on his face, the anger smoldering in his green eyes.
He had Jensen’s eyes.
“Jensen.” The man’s voice was low and rumbling, and vibrated through Jared like a speaker set to the floor. He knew right away he was going to hate this guy. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”
“Jared,” Jensen said, not looking at him, “this is my father. Jeffery Dean Ackles.”
Where did he know that name? Jared cast his mind about; he knew he’d heard it somewhere before.
“Your mother says hello,” Jeff was saying. “Or, she would, if she knew I was here. Then again, if she knew what you’d been doing, I doubt she’d want to speak to you.”
Jensen trembled beside him, and Jared reached out and took his hand. Jensen gripped it hard, his knuckles turning white. Jeff glanced at their joined hands and shook his head. “I knew you were sick, boy,” he said. “I thought you’d be smart enough to fight it. Guess I was wrong.” He set his glass down on an end table, moving forward. “So, Jenny - you took your little whore out for a day on the town, did you?”
Jared stiffened. “Who the fuck are you?” he spat out. He tried to take a step forward, but Jensen stopped him with a hand on his arm. He halted, but continued, “Jensen is a grown man. Who the fuck are you to comment on anything he does?”
“Who am I?” Jeff’s face darkened. “I’m his father, you filthy faggot. Who are you?”
Jared smirked. “I’m his lover.” He heard Jensen’s sharp intake of breath on his left but ignored it.
Jeff let out a harsh laugh. “You’re a whore; I know where you work. My son is paying you to indulge his sick desires. But I’m not here to talk to rent-boys.” He turned his attention to Jensen, who’d turned deathly white, his freckles standing out sharply. “We had an agreement.”
Jensen licked his lips. “I know,” he replied, his voice hoarse. “I know, I just -”
“Just couldn’t control yourself, could you?” Jeff spat. “I gave you every chance. I gave you a fortune; I told your mother and brother and sister that you were spreading God’s word across the world. I even wrote false letters to them for you; I covered your tracks so they would never know about your sins. And all you had to do was be discreet. I knew this would happen when you first ordered your whore from that flesh-peddler.”
“How did you -?”
“Jenny, I’m not stupid. I got a right to know how you spend my money. I know every move you make. And I let this little affair happen, because you never left this place. But you were seen today.”
Jensen seemed to go paler. “By who?”
Jeff snorted. “Lucky for you, he worked for me. I put a man on you the moment you started bringing this whore to your house. I knew it was only a matter of time. My guy saw you today - but it could’ve been anyone. It could have been a reporter.”
And right then Jared knew who he was.
This was Jeffery Dean Ackles, leader of Christ’s Flock Fellowship, a mega-church out of Boston. He’d seen Jeff on the news, decrying the sins of homosexuality, feminism, and basically anything else he didn’t like. Jared laughed. “Is that all you care about?” he asked. “Don’t want your precious Flock to find out you have a homo for a son? Worried about losing all your millions? God is such a lucrative business, isn’t it?”
The glance Jeff shot him could have killed puppies. “You hold your tongue, boy.” Turning the withering look to Jensen, he continued, “You want your family to find out, is that it? Want them to know you’re holed up in the woods with some fag whore, taking it up the ass as he gives you a one-way ticket to hell?”
Jared couldn’t help it. “Oh, Jensen’s not a catcher; he’s a pitcher.” He smiled viciously as Jeff’s face reddened, his expression murderous. “What’s wrong, Jeff? That a just a little too much information for you?” Turning to Jensen he said, “Come on, Jen, this guy’s a fucking joke.”
Jensen raised his head and met Jared’s eyes, his gaze pleading. “Jared, I -”
“What?” Jared snapped, fear flooding him, making him angry. “Jensen, you can’t be taking this seriously?” He lowered his voice. “Jen, I - I love you. And you love me. And there is nothing wrong with that. There’s nothing wrong with you.”
“Jensen,” Jeff barked. “You’ve lived your little fantasy long enough. Tell your whore goodbye.”
Jensen looked at his father. Jared’s eyes filled with tears that he willed not to fall. Jensen turned back to him. “Jensen?” Jared whispered.
Jensen’s despair was all over his beautiful face. He opened his mouth, then shook his head and closed his eyes.
Jared bit back a hiccupping sob. “Fine,” he said, his voice shaking, tears spilling thick down his cheeks. He was nodding his head over and over, his hands clenched into fists, nails biting into his palms. “Fine; that’s fine. You know what? I love you, Jen. I do. And I’m sorry if you can’t accept that. I’m sorry that you can’t accept yourself. If you figure it out… you know where to find me.”
Jared turned and walked out the door, praying that Jensen would stop him.
He didn’t.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
It took Jared almost two hours to get to a gas station on foot. He used a payphone to call Pamela. When she pulled up, she got out of the car, took one look at him, and wrapped her arms around him. Jared sobbed into her shoulder as she rubbed soothing circles on his back, murmuring, “Shh, shh, baby, it’s alright.” It felt like his heart had shattered, and the shards were slowly ripping his insides to pieces.
They drove back to Springfield in silence. Pamela tried to get Jared to come stay with her, but he waved her off. He went home and pulled down the bottle of Jack he saved for particularly awful days. He finished it off in less than an hour.
His headache the next day was oddly satisfying, a physical manifestation of what was going on inside him. He vomited twice that morning, but it wasn’t because of the liquor.
He went into work, because what the hell else was he supposed to do? Pamela told him as delicately as she could that Jensen had cancelled the rest of his appointments. That little tidbit had sent Jared running back to the toilet. Pamela had gone with him, an arm across his shoulders as he cried and heaved.
He’d never felt like this, not even when his parents had died. He wished he could hate Jensen. Mostly he just hated himself for falling so damned hard.
After a couple weeks, Jared told Pamela he was ready to take appointments again. She’d protested, but he needed to do something, couldn’t sit in his house and miss Jensen anymore.
Unfortunately, his first job since Jensen was also his last.
He was sent to a woman in her fifties, who wanted to throw a birthday party for a guy about Jared’s age. Her own son, a Marine, had recently died overseas, and his birthday was in a week. Jared sat through a watery “Happy Birthday” song, and cake that tasted like ash in his mouth. But the poor woman ended up collapsing in choking sobs while Jared held her. He didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything. It was strangely cathartic to watch this woman break down. He held her and rocked her, and when she regained her composure, she thanked him, and told Jared that he’d saved her life.
“I don’t think I could’ve have made it through today,” she told him, “without putting my late husband’s gun to my mouth. If you hadn’t been here… just… thanks, sweetie.”
Jared had gone in the next day with the intention of putting in his notice. He just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t distance himself from pain like that. But when he’d arrived at the office, Becky had bounced up to him and said, “Come see the TV!”
“Um… what?” Jared frowned as she grabbed his hand and pulled him to the break room. The TV was on one of the many news channels.
“The announcement comes as a great shock to Ackles’ followers.” Jared froze, his ears straining, his eyes focusing in on the screen. “Late yesterday, an open letter was sent to several major news stations. It reads, ‘My name is Jensen Ackles. My father is Jeffery Dean Ackles, the leader of the Christ’s Flock Fellowship.
“‘Several years ago, my father discovered that I am gay. His first thought was not of me, or God, or any specific Bible verse. His first thought was of his bottom line. He feared losing his millions. He blackmailed me into hiding. The Church, and my family, was told that I became a missionary. This is a lie. I have been living in a secluded manor here in Massachusetts. My father gave me a large sum of money in exchange for my complete and utter disappearance. He told me that it was better I hide my “sin”, lest my mother and brother and sister come to hate me for who I really am.
“‘I’m tired of hiding. My father made me believe there was something wrong with me; there isn’t. My father is a cult leader who abuses his power to gain wealth. It took a very rude awakening to make me see that, but I did. I’m going to live my life as God intended - as a happy, openly gay man.
“‘And if my father can’t accept that - then he doesn’t deserve to have me as a son.’”
Every eye was on Jared. After weeks of hollow despair, a tiny seed of hope was growing in his chest. It was bright and it hurt. He was proud of Jensen, but what did it matter? Jensen had made it pretty damn clear that he didn’t love Jared.
Just then, Pamela poked her head in the door. “Hey, Jared? I just got a call. Jensen Ackles is sending a car over.”
Jared’s stomach curled and flipped, and nausea washed over him. “What?” he asked, feeling numb.
“His exact message was, ‘Tell Jared I’m sending a car over, but if he doesn’t get in, I understand. And he’ll still be my only friend.’”
Jared sat heavily in a chair. “What do I do?” he asked.
Pamela came over and draped an arm over his shoulders. “Do you love him?”
“Yes.” No hesitation. Jensen had seeped into Jared’s pores; he would be with him, always.
“Then you get in the car. You hear what he has to say. And you decide if a second chance is worth it.” Pamela was so sensible, so matter-of-fact. Was it really that easy?
Chuck, another staffer, leaned on the door frame. “Hey, there’s a really nice Rolls parked outside.”
Jared took a deep breath.
He could do this.