down the shore everything's alright (when you're in love with a Texas boy) - J2 - NC17
Title: down the shore everything's alright (when you're in love with a Texas boy)
Author: jeyhawk
Beta: too_rational TY baby for being lightning fast and awesome. <333
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC17
Wordcount: ~13,000
Disclaimer: I don't own these boys and I don't know them. It's all fairytales and lies.
Summary: Jensen's a rock star and Jared runs his biggest fan site. When the two of them meet sparks fly, but Jensen's lived his entire life in his closets, is he really ready to step out of it?
Notes: This fic has been in the making forever and I mean forEVER. The first version of it was done in February and I think the last version (aka this fic more or less) was done in September. Needless to say I've gotten tons of input, kind words, encouragement and criticism along the way, but I was not clever enough to put down any names. Therefore I just want to say THANK YOU to everyone that helped! You know who you are and please know I appreciate you even if I don't remember all your names. <3333
In a break between songs Jensen takes the time to scan the crowd for familiar faces. It's hard to spot them, a few dozen people among the many thousands that paid the ticket fee just to be here for this concert held on his thirtieth birthday. But he tries, squinting against the bright lights that render the audience to blurry dots.
The band picks up the next song, Chris and Steve running their fingers over the guitar strings in a familiar pattern, and as he introduces it, adding a quick anecdote about when he wrote it, he moves closer to the edge of the stage and the roar from the crowd hits him in the face like a blow. He sings the first few strands, crouching down to be able to see better, and that's when he spots them. Jared, tall and broad over the shoulders, strong hands wrapped around the fence to protect the smaller figure in front of him from the crushing pressure of the crowd.
He can barely see Sandy, her face a shiny blur against the stripes of Jared's shirt, emphasized by the startling dark of her hair. They're standing off to the side, close enough to the edge that they can exit the crowd at any time. Two security guards stand with their arms crossed behind the fence with plugs in their ears, ready to lift them out at the slightest hint of trouble.
Jensen straightens up and walks back across the stage to where he left the mike stand, the nervous current under his skin ebbing with the knowledge that Jared is out there. Steve catches his eye and raises his brows. Jensen nods once, the corner of his mouth tilting up. They're here, his half smile says, they're safe.
*
"Hey, Jensen, do you have a moment?"
Jensen blinks and turns to face the president of his fan club, a petite dark-haired woman named Sandy McCoy.
"For you, my dear, always," he says, even if the way she tugs at his sleeve at official events sometimes makes him want to smack her.
"There's someone I'd like to meet," she says with a wink, and he suspects he's going to be the victim of yet another of her matchmaking schemes.
Steve once told him that befriending Sandy was a bad idea. He made an elaborate argument that Jensen's sure would have included pie charts if their printer hadn't been broken. The point of his whole tirade seems to have been that once you know Sandy you can't unknow her, and once you know her you're completely unable to say no to her.
Steve was right, of course, but generally Jensen doesn't consider this a problem. Sandy always gets her way, but her requests are more, 'would you meet with this fan?' than, 'would you ransack and plunder this village?'. It's worse for Steve - he's been head over heels in love with her since the day they first met, but he thinks he can't compete with Jensen in her eyes.
"Who is this someone?" he asks as they wind their way through the crowd.
The after party is held in a hotel close to the concert venue and the crowd is made up of roadies, fans, journalists and friends. Jensen smiles at a familiar face and takes the time to write a couple of autographs while he waits for Sandy to elaborate. Some nights he's too exhausted to attend his own party, but this is not one of those nights. He's charged with energy, nearly vibrating with it, and he's almost happy for Sandy's hand on his arm keeping him grounded. He understands why some artists turn to drugs - who wouldn't want to feel like this all the time? - but he also knows that within a few hours he will burn out, and the crash will be epic.
"You know The Ackles Appreciation Club?" Sandy finally asks when the crowd around them starts to thin.
"Yeah," he answers, and she knows it too.
The subject of The Ackles Appreciation Club was a topic for some debate when it first surfaced. It's an internet based non-profit organization of fans for fans, and it's better than his old-fashioned fan club ever was at bringing people from around the world together in their appreciation of him and the band. They hold monthly meetings all over the US and Europe organized through the AAC's forums, and their management never needs to venture further than to the AAC's gossip threads to know what the internet is saying about them.
He's pretty sure the Official Fan Club is still bigger, but he doesn't think it's by much. Even his mom belongs to the AAC, and she goes to the monthly meetings in her area, discussing lyrics, style and which leather pants look better on him.
"Well, I want you to meet Jared, the guy who started it."
Jensen imagines a pimply sixteen year old with way too much time on his hands and a full collection of Ackles memorabilia. When AAC first surfaced he could have sworn Sandy hated the guy, as far as sweet-tempered Sandy is capable of hating anyone, and now she wants to introduce him? Maybe she wants to brag about how much closer she is with Jensen, but that would be very unlike her.
Sandy suddenly stops him with another tug on his sleeve, and her constant smile turns almost feral.
"Jensen," she says. "Meet Jared Padalecki."
Jensen looks up, and then up again, until he finally locks eyes with the elusive Jared, who turns out to be pimple-free, a few years over sixteen, and absolutely fucking gorgeous.
"Hi," Jared says, a blush rising in his cheeks. "It's an honor to meet you, really."
He stretches his hand forward and Jensen shakes it firmly, fascinated by the way Jared's huge, sweaty palm completely covers his own. Jared ducks his chin, pulling the curtains on his face with his too long brown bangs. Jensen's left to contemplate the hint of hazel peering out from behind the hair- drapes and the sweet curve of Jared's mouth.
"Hi," he says, and when he glances at Sandy, he realizes that she finally figured it out. After two years of pitiful attempts at setting him up with girls, she recognized that it wasn't her taste in women that was the problem, but the vaginas. He's not sure if he should thank her, or hit her.
*
Jared turns out to be gay. He accidentally outs himself after five minutes of casual conversation, and Jensen would laugh his ass off at Jared's awkward mortification if he wasn't caught up in a sudden hot flash. It's been years since Jensen last reacted this strongly to someone. He's gotten used to living his life in a sort of limbo between concerts and recordings, never venturing out of his comfort zone.
Unlike his band mates (before they got older and settled down some), Jensen doesn't go for the groupies. He's got no doubt it would be an easy lay, but he also knows they'd be dying to tell their story. A few years back a fan took a bunch of more or less flattering nude pics of Chris and leaked them to the tabloids. Chris laughed it off, always the good sport (he figured that if she had spunk enough to show her tits to the world, she deserved the money), but Jensen woke up in a cold sweat for months afterwards, imagining what it would have been like if it was him.
Somehow, Jensen doesn't think Jared's like that. It could be the first step towards his doom, but after just ten minutes he implicitly trusts Jared. It makes him ache inside, caught in a whirlwind of yes and no, but when he opens his mouth and invites Jared to his room, he's not scared. Not even a little bit.
*
"I don't think this is such a good idea," Jared gasps, chest heaving under Jensen's palms.
"How so?" Jensen asks, pressing closer to rake his teeth along Jared's shoulder.
Jared inhales sharply, his hands coming up to press against Jensen's shoulders. "Because you're going to break my heart," he says, voice rough with desire and the cost of admitting it out loud.
Jensen takes half a step back, searching Jared's face for clues. "I thought this was what you've always dreamed of."
Jared looks away, his eyes scanning the walls as if they will tell him what to say. For some reason, Jensen gets that truly obnoxious Celine Dion song into his head, and he doesn't realize he's humming it under his breath until Jared gives him a withering look.
"Don't make it into a joke," he says. "You have no idea how… odd this is for me."
Jensen wants to ask what's so odd about it, but he understands what Jared means. When Jensen was fourteen he started having wet dreams about GI Joe. Not the plastic doll, but the human he supposedly would be if he was alive. The dreams always started innocent enough, with GI Joe saving him from one danger or another, but they ended with Jensen on his knees with his savior's dick on his tongue.
For Jared to be here must be like if Jensen's GI Joe doll had come to life, bursting out of the box Jensen stuffed him in when he turned thirteen and decided he was way too old for toys. Thrilling and unbearably exciting, but also really freaking odd.
Jensen rubs a hand over his face. "So you're saying no? That's it?"
Jared bites down on his lower lip, and when he speaks again his eyes are full of confusion. "I don't know."
*
"I made up my mind." Jared's voice appears out of nowhere and Jensen spins around, nearly dropping his key card. It's been a week since their encounter in Jensen's hotel room, and even if he's seen Jared a couple of times since then, their conversation have never strayed out of the territory of friendship.
"Jesus," he says, hand going to his chest. "Don’t sneak up on people."
Jared looks chagrined. "Sorry," he mutters. "Thought you heard me."
"As big as you are, you move like a fucking ninja."
Jared shuffles his feet, and true to the point they hardly make a sound on the thick carpet. "A Jackie or a Jet ninja?" he asks.
"A Jet ninja, obviously, but only because he's hotter."
Jared's sudden grin pulls a responding smile from Jensen's lips. "So… uh… can I come in?"
Jensen looks at the door that he has yet to open and nods. "Yeah, of course."
He slides the key card in and hopes that he didn’t leave the place in too much of a mess. Not that Jared will care. He'll probably find it charming that Jensen can be as much of a slob as anyone. Jared's odd like that - while other fans seems to have put Jensen up on a pedestal and are terrified to let him slip, Jared seems to be more pleased by everything that contradicts his superhuman star status. Jensen never understood how people are able to forget that musicians, movie stars and royalties piss and shit and eat and puke just like the rest of them.
"Nice," Jared says, when he steps inside and looks around.
Jensen shrugs. "It's okay."
"Yeah, I guess you stay in places like this all the time, huh?"
"Pretty much, yeah," Jensen admits.
The luxurious suite with two bedrooms, an office, and the grandiose sitting room they just entered is a far cry from the dingy motel rooms he used to stay in when he was sixteen and determined to make a name for himself. A high school dropout with nothing to his name but a few hundred dollars he earned working at Uncle Joe's garage, and a voice that made people listen.
His family wasn't pleased with him, his friends didn't understand, and everywhere he turned there was someone waiting to screw him over; until he met Jeff Morgan and his luck started to turn. Over ten years later he's got millions of dollars in his bank account, hundreds of thousands of fans and the ability to make a difference, but he still lives his life from one hotel room to the next, always holding a part of himself back. Sometimes he wonders if he was happier back then, before he had eyes watching his every move, waiting for him to slip up.
"What's it like?" Jared asks suddenly, flopping down on one of the plush couches arranged in a circle at the centre of the room. "Having thousands of people scream your name on a daily basis?"
Jensen frowns, wondering if Jared's working some nifty mind magic, but then he shrugs. "It's… weird."
Jared laughs. "I thought you'd say that."
"Don't get me wrong -- it's a rush like nothing you can imagine. But when the lights die down and the crowd walks out… there's just me and the guys, you know?"
"And ten thousand fans wanting to get into your pants."
"Yeah, and that." He grins. "If I'm not mistaken, you said something about wanting to be one of them just now."
Color creeps up Jared's cheeks and makes his neck blotchy. "Yeah, I guess I did. If you still want to, I mean."
"Oh, I want to," Jensen says.
He's been thinking a lot about Jared since their last hotel room encounter. He understood Jared's reasons for walking out on him, but he kept wondering if he'd gotten his shot and missed it with a mile. It felt like the distance between them kept growing with every casual conversation they've had since then, and somewhere deep inside he stopped hoping that they would get here again.
Jared's different from the other big-time fans that follow them around. Some of them Jensen's 'known' for years but they never stopped being fans to the star. Jared's not like that. He doesn't ask a lot of questions and he doesn't fight with the others for Jensen's attention, but whenever he says something he hits straight to the core, stripping Jensen of all the layers of stardom and finding the man underneath.
There's real attraction between them, raw and powerful in a way that makes Jensen's toes curl just thinking about it, and he doesn't reckon Jared understands just how much that means to him. It's been years since he felt that sort of connection, if he ever has, and it means more than money and fame ever will because it's tangible. Real.
"I have to warn you, though," Jensen says flippantly, leaning against the wall to watch Jared sprawl over the couch. "The rumors about my sexual prowess might be slightly exaggerated."
Jared laughs. "You mean you don't practice tantric sex of the highest order? I would never have guessed."
"I started that one myself actually," Jensen says, sticking his tongue out. "So that people wouldn't be so embarrassed about spontaneously combusting when they lay their eyes on me."
"Full of yourself, Ackles, aren't you?" Jared says, pushing himself up from the couch and advancing on Jensen.
"Well, you started the Ackles Appreciation Club, so I'd say it's really all your fault."
Jared stops when there's half a foot separating them, giving Jensen a smile that's almost shy. "Will you make me regret this?" he asks.
Jensen shakes his head and reaches out to touch Jared's face. "I hope not," he answers, because it's the best one he's got.
*
Jared doesn't have the body of someone who claims to spend seventy percent of his day in front of a computer, unless he spends the remaining thirty in a gym. He's lean and built, with bulging biceps and ripped abs, and once Jensen's got him on all fours on the bed, the long line of his tapered back and the quivering of his strong thighs makes Jensen's stomach knot with desire.
Jared gives him a look over his shoulder, face flushed with equal parts arousal and embarrassment.
"Are you just going to look?" he asks with a bravado he clearly isn't feeling.
"Oh, no," Jensen says, pushing his jeans down his legs. "Not at all."
Naked, he climbs on to the bed, pressing up close to Jared. His cock slides in between Jared's thighs, and he pulls him up so that they can share an awkward kiss over Jared's shoulder. When he lets go, Jared flops back down, pressing his forehead against the pillows with a groan.
Jensen takes his time, kissing and licking his way down the dip of Jared's spine until he reaches the topmost point of his ass. He sucks a kiss into the velvety skin where the globes begin to part and Jared groans, jerking forward as if he's trying to rub up against the bed.
"Easy," Jensen murmurs, and moves his hands to rest against the front of Jared's thighs.
"What are you…?" Jared strains to look at Jensen over his shoulder. "Jesus Christ."
Jensen grins against Jared's ass, his nose riding the cleft while his tongue gets familiar with Jared's most intimate opening. It doesn't take more than a couple of cat licks for Jared to start making a whole lot of noise, clutching at the covers with his hands.
He pushes his tongue inside, loosening the clenching muscle, over and over, until Jared is slick and relaxed enough for him to add a finger, and then another one, slowly moving them in and out while his tongue swivels around the opening. His tongue aches, his jaw aches, even his shoulders ache, but Jared's desperate sounds are all the encouragement he needs.
"Oh God," Jared moans. "Jesus… Jen… I'm… fuck."
Jared's constant stream of nonsense is muffled when he buries his face in the pillows, his chest heaving with desperate breaths. He rocks into Jensen's hand, pushing back harder and harder, trying for more and deeper. Jensen lets his other hand slip up to caress the slick steel of Jared's impressive cock, fingering the wetness beading at the tip until Jared's entire body quivers on the edge.
That's when he pulls back, resting on his haunches while he fumbles for the lube that he knows has to be somewhere on the bed. Jared collapses as if Jensen's touch was the only thing holding him up, writhing slowly against the sheets in a way that is mesmerizing to watch.
"On your back," he orders, his fingers finally finding the lube and the string of condoms wrapped around it.
Jared rolls over and spreads his legs wide. Sweat beads on Jared's forehead and his cheeks are aflame with color, his cock jutting out from his body in a silk-enhanced curve connected to his stomach through a stringy rope of precome.
"Fuck me," he begs, pulling his legs up and spreading them. "God, please."
He's still shifting on the bed, minute movements that he's probably not even aware of, hips lifting of their own volition. Jensen feels as if he's about to explode just from watching him, and his fingers fumble desperately with the condom. He pours too much lube on his fingers and reaches down to slide them into Jared again, slicking him up thoroughly. Jared groans deep in his throat and his back arches, the soles of his feet planted firmly on the bed.
"Now," he begs. "Please, please, please…"
Jensen pulls his fingers back, pouring a stupid amount of lube on his cock and spreading it evenly with his fist. His balls pull up hard and he wastes no time getting into position. He pushes into Jared with a long measured thrust that leaves both of them breathless. He struggles to go slow, arms quivering with the effort of supporting the weight of his desire, and in the end he fails, bottoming out too hard and too fast.
"Yes," Jared hisses, his eyes shooting open. "God yes."
There's no stopping after that. Jensen braces himself on his elbows as he fucks into Jared, pressing panting kisses to Jared's pleasure-slack lips, eating every string of nonsense words that falls from them. Jared clutches at his shoulders, pressing his heels into the back of Jensen's thighs to pull him closer, and then he comes. Jared's entire body tenses into a bow before his semen splatters hot and wet over Jensen's stomach.
Jensen follows quickly, unable to hold back when Jared ripples around him. Biting back a deep moan, he thrusts a few more times before collapsing on top of Jared, completely boneless.
"My legs," Jared complains breathlessly.
Jensen rolls off of him, reaching down to make sure the condom stays in place before pulling it off, tying it up, and dropping it on the floor beside the bed.
"That's disgusting," Jared remarks.
"You're disgusting," Jensen retorts.
"I'm not the one who licked ass."
"Well, that ought to make me the expert on your disgustingness, huh?"
Jensen turns his head on the pillow to find Jared grinning at him. He smiles back, the corners of his mouth twitching with held back laughter.
"Just so you know," Jared says. "I don't think the rumors of your sexual prowess are exaggerated at all."
Jensen laughs this time and reaches out to smack Jared in the chest. He lets his hand stay there, palm up with his knuckles against Jared's sweaty skin. Somehow, this doesn't feel like a mistake at all.
*
Second verse is different than the first. Jensen seeks Jared out this time, finds him in the crowd after the concert and takes him up to his room. He knows it's not fair to Jared, knows he's on the verge of doing what he promised Jared he wouldn't, but when he sees him in the crowd, tall and smiling, casting furtive glances in Jensen's direction, he knows that there's no other way the night can end.
Afterwards, they're tangled up and messy in the sheets, Jared still breathing hard and Jensen so lax he's not sure he remembers how to move. Sex certainly wouldn't be one of their problems, but he knows that distance, fame, and insecurities would if he let this go any further. It's hard to think about letting go, though, when all he wants is to hold on.
"You know," Jared says, his voice a rumble against Jensen's ear. "I thought it would hurt, but it doesn't."
At first Jensen doesn't get it, Jared's words lining up all wrong in his head. Then it dawns on him and he lifts his head. "You mean you never…?"
Jared flushes. "Not really…"
Jensen raises his eyebrows.
"Or at all."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
Jared looks away. "I didn't want you to change your mind."
"But I could have… I dunno… ruined you for life."
Jared turns his head into the pillows. "I think you already did," he whispers, and Jensen knows he's not just talking about sex anymore.
*
After the fifth, or maybe the sixth, hook up, it's getting obvious that Jared thinks this is more than fucking. He has Jensen's number, and sometimes he calls when he knows Jensen will be in his hotel room, or on the tour bus. Jensen always picks up, but every time he hangs up with yet another hook up looming on the horizon, he feels choked and anxious.
Jared's too nice, too easy to talk to, and sometimes when they're on the phone Jensen forgets that he's supposed to be keeping it casual, not letting Jared get too close. There's no hint of romance in their talks. It's just stuff; normal, mundane stuff about Jared's co-workers, his dogs, his family, and Jensen's friends. Yet it brings them closer, allows them to find the common ground between Jared's normal life and Jensen's that is anything but.
Jensen wasn't supposed to let this happen. He was supposed to keep it cool.
*
They always fuck. That's the rule. It's how Jensen keeps them from being more than occasional lovers. It works out fine the first ten times, but then Jared shows up when Jensen's feeling like crap - throat sore, eyes puffy, nose stuffed - and it's not as if he can deny Jared access to his room when he's already been there so many times.
He tries to initiate something, he really does, but he ends up just standing in Jared's embrace with his forehead against Jared's shoulder, not turned on but weary to the bone. Jared strokes his hair, puts him to bed, and goes out to get him chicken soup in a Styrofoam cup. He calmly caters to Jensen's every whim during the night, when his fever spikes and Jensen alternates between being hot, cold, and thirsty.
Jensen finally falls asleep in the wee hours of the morning, the fever placated with the Tylenol Jared went out to get at three am and with Jared's arms wrapped tightly around him, Jared's strong heartbeat against his ear the only lullaby he needs.
Jared's out cold when Jensen wakes up, still in yesterday's jeans and with his hair like an unruly halo around his head. Jensen silently climbs out of bed and hits the shower. He feels stuffy, but the fever seems to be gone and his throat's no longer sore. Jared's still sleeping when he comes out from the bathroom, so Jensen covers him with a blanket and orders some coffee from room service.
He drinks it sitting in a chair by the window, not looking at the view of the city, but at the steady rise and fall of Jared's chest. They crossed a line last night. It's no longer just about fucking, and if Jensen's honest with himself, it never was. He knew the first time he slid into Jared, branding him for his own, that it could never be casual between them, and he's known it every time they hooked up since then.
Jared might pretend he wasn't a goner from the first time they kissed, but Jensen knew, has known all along, that this was more than sex to Jared. It's fucked up, how the power balance is completely out of sync between them. Jensen keeps ending up with the upper hand, the power to destroy, just because of the way they met. He doesn't want to be that guy, wants Jared to know it's not really like that, because all it would take to rip the carpet out from under Jensen's feet is one word from Jared.
Jensen's not a big talker, though; he always preferred to keep his hand close to his chest, not letting anyone get a peek of his cards. But you have to stop folding sometime, or you'll never win the pot. And maybe it's time he went all in.
When Jared wakes up, Jensen's still sitting in the chair, not having bothered to get dressed beyond the sweats he threw on after his shower. His hair is flat against his head without the aid of gel to keep it mussed, and his bare feet peek out from under the hem of the pants. It's the most vulnerable he's even been with Jared, completely devoid of all the things that keep him on the higher ground. He's not Jensen Ackles, rock star, in this room; this time, he's just Jensen.
"You feeling better?" Jared asks, blinking sleep out of his eyes.
"Yeah," Jensen says, voice rough and raw as if he spent all night screaming.
"You don't really sound better," Jared says, pushing himself up to sit with his back against the headboard. He's fingering the edge of the blanket, as if he wants to ask if Jensen put it there but doesn't dare to.
Jensen shrugs, letting his eyes follow the line of Jared's upper body, from his throat to the curve of his belly. "It'll get better," he says, and true to the point most of the roughness is gone.
Jared nods and scratches at his stomach. Jensen follows the movement of his long fingers, and wants to crawl onto the bed and lick the spot Jared's scratching, but he doesn't.
"Thanks," he murmurs. "For last night with the soup and the Tylenol and… everything."
"It was nothing," Jared says, looking embarrassed, as if he knows he's holding his hand up for the entire world to see.
"No, it wasn't. It was everything."
It's not really want he means to say. He wants to tell Jared that no one's ever done that for him before, not like Jared did. He's had people waiting on him hand and foot for the last five years, wanting to please him, wanting to get into his good graces, wanting him to like them, but he knows that's not why Jared did it. Jared didn't do it because he wants Jensen to like him, but because he likes Jensen, and somehow there's a huge difference there.
Jared bites down on his lip and gestures towards the bathroom. "I'm gonna have a shower," he says, but he doesn't make a move, and Jensen realizes he's waiting for approval.
"This is more than fucking," Jensen says, almost desperate to get his point across. "I mean… I… I don't fuck around. I know you think there are others, but there's not. There haven't been since I met you."
Jared answering smile is beautiful, and Jensen's out of the chair before he even knows it. Jared laughs when Jensen crawls onto his lap, wrapping his arms around Jensen's waist, easy and carefree.
"I haven't brushed my teeth," Jared says when Jensen makes a move to kiss him. "My mouth tastes like ass."
"Incidentally, so does your ass," Jensen says cheerfully and presses their lips together anyway. Jared's mouth doesn't taste of much at all, and even if it had he couldn't have cared less. When you're no longer just fucking, there's no need for everything to be so fucking perfect all the time, and he thinks that maybe he likes that.
Continued
Author: jeyhawk
Beta: too_rational TY baby for being lightning fast and awesome. <333
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC17
Wordcount: ~13,000
Disclaimer: I don't own these boys and I don't know them. It's all fairytales and lies.
Summary: Jensen's a rock star and Jared runs his biggest fan site. When the two of them meet sparks fly, but Jensen's lived his entire life in his closets, is he really ready to step out of it?
Notes: This fic has been in the making forever and I mean forEVER. The first version of it was done in February and I think the last version (aka this fic more or less) was done in September. Needless to say I've gotten tons of input, kind words, encouragement and criticism along the way, but I was not clever enough to put down any names. Therefore I just want to say THANK YOU to everyone that helped! You know who you are and please know I appreciate you even if I don't remember all your names. <3333
In a break between songs Jensen takes the time to scan the crowd for familiar faces. It's hard to spot them, a few dozen people among the many thousands that paid the ticket fee just to be here for this concert held on his thirtieth birthday. But he tries, squinting against the bright lights that render the audience to blurry dots.
The band picks up the next song, Chris and Steve running their fingers over the guitar strings in a familiar pattern, and as he introduces it, adding a quick anecdote about when he wrote it, he moves closer to the edge of the stage and the roar from the crowd hits him in the face like a blow. He sings the first few strands, crouching down to be able to see better, and that's when he spots them. Jared, tall and broad over the shoulders, strong hands wrapped around the fence to protect the smaller figure in front of him from the crushing pressure of the crowd.
He can barely see Sandy, her face a shiny blur against the stripes of Jared's shirt, emphasized by the startling dark of her hair. They're standing off to the side, close enough to the edge that they can exit the crowd at any time. Two security guards stand with their arms crossed behind the fence with plugs in their ears, ready to lift them out at the slightest hint of trouble.
Jensen straightens up and walks back across the stage to where he left the mike stand, the nervous current under his skin ebbing with the knowledge that Jared is out there. Steve catches his eye and raises his brows. Jensen nods once, the corner of his mouth tilting up. They're here, his half smile says, they're safe.
*
"Hey, Jensen, do you have a moment?"
Jensen blinks and turns to face the president of his fan club, a petite dark-haired woman named Sandy McCoy.
"For you, my dear, always," he says, even if the way she tugs at his sleeve at official events sometimes makes him want to smack her.
"There's someone I'd like to meet," she says with a wink, and he suspects he's going to be the victim of yet another of her matchmaking schemes.
Steve once told him that befriending Sandy was a bad idea. He made an elaborate argument that Jensen's sure would have included pie charts if their printer hadn't been broken. The point of his whole tirade seems to have been that once you know Sandy you can't unknow her, and once you know her you're completely unable to say no to her.
Steve was right, of course, but generally Jensen doesn't consider this a problem. Sandy always gets her way, but her requests are more, 'would you meet with this fan?' than, 'would you ransack and plunder this village?'. It's worse for Steve - he's been head over heels in love with her since the day they first met, but he thinks he can't compete with Jensen in her eyes.
"Who is this someone?" he asks as they wind their way through the crowd.
The after party is held in a hotel close to the concert venue and the crowd is made up of roadies, fans, journalists and friends. Jensen smiles at a familiar face and takes the time to write a couple of autographs while he waits for Sandy to elaborate. Some nights he's too exhausted to attend his own party, but this is not one of those nights. He's charged with energy, nearly vibrating with it, and he's almost happy for Sandy's hand on his arm keeping him grounded. He understands why some artists turn to drugs - who wouldn't want to feel like this all the time? - but he also knows that within a few hours he will burn out, and the crash will be epic.
"You know The Ackles Appreciation Club?" Sandy finally asks when the crowd around them starts to thin.
"Yeah," he answers, and she knows it too.
The subject of The Ackles Appreciation Club was a topic for some debate when it first surfaced. It's an internet based non-profit organization of fans for fans, and it's better than his old-fashioned fan club ever was at bringing people from around the world together in their appreciation of him and the band. They hold monthly meetings all over the US and Europe organized through the AAC's forums, and their management never needs to venture further than to the AAC's gossip threads to know what the internet is saying about them.
He's pretty sure the Official Fan Club is still bigger, but he doesn't think it's by much. Even his mom belongs to the AAC, and she goes to the monthly meetings in her area, discussing lyrics, style and which leather pants look better on him.
"Well, I want you to meet Jared, the guy who started it."
Jensen imagines a pimply sixteen year old with way too much time on his hands and a full collection of Ackles memorabilia. When AAC first surfaced he could have sworn Sandy hated the guy, as far as sweet-tempered Sandy is capable of hating anyone, and now she wants to introduce him? Maybe she wants to brag about how much closer she is with Jensen, but that would be very unlike her.
Sandy suddenly stops him with another tug on his sleeve, and her constant smile turns almost feral.
"Jensen," she says. "Meet Jared Padalecki."
Jensen looks up, and then up again, until he finally locks eyes with the elusive Jared, who turns out to be pimple-free, a few years over sixteen, and absolutely fucking gorgeous.
"Hi," Jared says, a blush rising in his cheeks. "It's an honor to meet you, really."
He stretches his hand forward and Jensen shakes it firmly, fascinated by the way Jared's huge, sweaty palm completely covers his own. Jared ducks his chin, pulling the curtains on his face with his too long brown bangs. Jensen's left to contemplate the hint of hazel peering out from behind the hair- drapes and the sweet curve of Jared's mouth.
"Hi," he says, and when he glances at Sandy, he realizes that she finally figured it out. After two years of pitiful attempts at setting him up with girls, she recognized that it wasn't her taste in women that was the problem, but the vaginas. He's not sure if he should thank her, or hit her.
*
Jared turns out to be gay. He accidentally outs himself after five minutes of casual conversation, and Jensen would laugh his ass off at Jared's awkward mortification if he wasn't caught up in a sudden hot flash. It's been years since Jensen last reacted this strongly to someone. He's gotten used to living his life in a sort of limbo between concerts and recordings, never venturing out of his comfort zone.
Unlike his band mates (before they got older and settled down some), Jensen doesn't go for the groupies. He's got no doubt it would be an easy lay, but he also knows they'd be dying to tell their story. A few years back a fan took a bunch of more or less flattering nude pics of Chris and leaked them to the tabloids. Chris laughed it off, always the good sport (he figured that if she had spunk enough to show her tits to the world, she deserved the money), but Jensen woke up in a cold sweat for months afterwards, imagining what it would have been like if it was him.
Somehow, Jensen doesn't think Jared's like that. It could be the first step towards his doom, but after just ten minutes he implicitly trusts Jared. It makes him ache inside, caught in a whirlwind of yes and no, but when he opens his mouth and invites Jared to his room, he's not scared. Not even a little bit.
*
"I don't think this is such a good idea," Jared gasps, chest heaving under Jensen's palms.
"How so?" Jensen asks, pressing closer to rake his teeth along Jared's shoulder.
Jared inhales sharply, his hands coming up to press against Jensen's shoulders. "Because you're going to break my heart," he says, voice rough with desire and the cost of admitting it out loud.
Jensen takes half a step back, searching Jared's face for clues. "I thought this was what you've always dreamed of."
Jared looks away, his eyes scanning the walls as if they will tell him what to say. For some reason, Jensen gets that truly obnoxious Celine Dion song into his head, and he doesn't realize he's humming it under his breath until Jared gives him a withering look.
"Don't make it into a joke," he says. "You have no idea how… odd this is for me."
Jensen wants to ask what's so odd about it, but he understands what Jared means. When Jensen was fourteen he started having wet dreams about GI Joe. Not the plastic doll, but the human he supposedly would be if he was alive. The dreams always started innocent enough, with GI Joe saving him from one danger or another, but they ended with Jensen on his knees with his savior's dick on his tongue.
For Jared to be here must be like if Jensen's GI Joe doll had come to life, bursting out of the box Jensen stuffed him in when he turned thirteen and decided he was way too old for toys. Thrilling and unbearably exciting, but also really freaking odd.
Jensen rubs a hand over his face. "So you're saying no? That's it?"
Jared bites down on his lower lip, and when he speaks again his eyes are full of confusion. "I don't know."
*
"I made up my mind." Jared's voice appears out of nowhere and Jensen spins around, nearly dropping his key card. It's been a week since their encounter in Jensen's hotel room, and even if he's seen Jared a couple of times since then, their conversation have never strayed out of the territory of friendship.
"Jesus," he says, hand going to his chest. "Don’t sneak up on people."
Jared looks chagrined. "Sorry," he mutters. "Thought you heard me."
"As big as you are, you move like a fucking ninja."
Jared shuffles his feet, and true to the point they hardly make a sound on the thick carpet. "A Jackie or a Jet ninja?" he asks.
"A Jet ninja, obviously, but only because he's hotter."
Jared's sudden grin pulls a responding smile from Jensen's lips. "So… uh… can I come in?"
Jensen looks at the door that he has yet to open and nods. "Yeah, of course."
He slides the key card in and hopes that he didn’t leave the place in too much of a mess. Not that Jared will care. He'll probably find it charming that Jensen can be as much of a slob as anyone. Jared's odd like that - while other fans seems to have put Jensen up on a pedestal and are terrified to let him slip, Jared seems to be more pleased by everything that contradicts his superhuman star status. Jensen never understood how people are able to forget that musicians, movie stars and royalties piss and shit and eat and puke just like the rest of them.
"Nice," Jared says, when he steps inside and looks around.
Jensen shrugs. "It's okay."
"Yeah, I guess you stay in places like this all the time, huh?"
"Pretty much, yeah," Jensen admits.
The luxurious suite with two bedrooms, an office, and the grandiose sitting room they just entered is a far cry from the dingy motel rooms he used to stay in when he was sixteen and determined to make a name for himself. A high school dropout with nothing to his name but a few hundred dollars he earned working at Uncle Joe's garage, and a voice that made people listen.
His family wasn't pleased with him, his friends didn't understand, and everywhere he turned there was someone waiting to screw him over; until he met Jeff Morgan and his luck started to turn. Over ten years later he's got millions of dollars in his bank account, hundreds of thousands of fans and the ability to make a difference, but he still lives his life from one hotel room to the next, always holding a part of himself back. Sometimes he wonders if he was happier back then, before he had eyes watching his every move, waiting for him to slip up.
"What's it like?" Jared asks suddenly, flopping down on one of the plush couches arranged in a circle at the centre of the room. "Having thousands of people scream your name on a daily basis?"
Jensen frowns, wondering if Jared's working some nifty mind magic, but then he shrugs. "It's… weird."
Jared laughs. "I thought you'd say that."
"Don't get me wrong -- it's a rush like nothing you can imagine. But when the lights die down and the crowd walks out… there's just me and the guys, you know?"
"And ten thousand fans wanting to get into your pants."
"Yeah, and that." He grins. "If I'm not mistaken, you said something about wanting to be one of them just now."
Color creeps up Jared's cheeks and makes his neck blotchy. "Yeah, I guess I did. If you still want to, I mean."
"Oh, I want to," Jensen says.
He's been thinking a lot about Jared since their last hotel room encounter. He understood Jared's reasons for walking out on him, but he kept wondering if he'd gotten his shot and missed it with a mile. It felt like the distance between them kept growing with every casual conversation they've had since then, and somewhere deep inside he stopped hoping that they would get here again.
Jared's different from the other big-time fans that follow them around. Some of them Jensen's 'known' for years but they never stopped being fans to the star. Jared's not like that. He doesn't ask a lot of questions and he doesn't fight with the others for Jensen's attention, but whenever he says something he hits straight to the core, stripping Jensen of all the layers of stardom and finding the man underneath.
There's real attraction between them, raw and powerful in a way that makes Jensen's toes curl just thinking about it, and he doesn't reckon Jared understands just how much that means to him. It's been years since he felt that sort of connection, if he ever has, and it means more than money and fame ever will because it's tangible. Real.
"I have to warn you, though," Jensen says flippantly, leaning against the wall to watch Jared sprawl over the couch. "The rumors about my sexual prowess might be slightly exaggerated."
Jared laughs. "You mean you don't practice tantric sex of the highest order? I would never have guessed."
"I started that one myself actually," Jensen says, sticking his tongue out. "So that people wouldn't be so embarrassed about spontaneously combusting when they lay their eyes on me."
"Full of yourself, Ackles, aren't you?" Jared says, pushing himself up from the couch and advancing on Jensen.
"Well, you started the Ackles Appreciation Club, so I'd say it's really all your fault."
Jared stops when there's half a foot separating them, giving Jensen a smile that's almost shy. "Will you make me regret this?" he asks.
Jensen shakes his head and reaches out to touch Jared's face. "I hope not," he answers, because it's the best one he's got.
*
Jared doesn't have the body of someone who claims to spend seventy percent of his day in front of a computer, unless he spends the remaining thirty in a gym. He's lean and built, with bulging biceps and ripped abs, and once Jensen's got him on all fours on the bed, the long line of his tapered back and the quivering of his strong thighs makes Jensen's stomach knot with desire.
Jared gives him a look over his shoulder, face flushed with equal parts arousal and embarrassment.
"Are you just going to look?" he asks with a bravado he clearly isn't feeling.
"Oh, no," Jensen says, pushing his jeans down his legs. "Not at all."
Naked, he climbs on to the bed, pressing up close to Jared. His cock slides in between Jared's thighs, and he pulls him up so that they can share an awkward kiss over Jared's shoulder. When he lets go, Jared flops back down, pressing his forehead against the pillows with a groan.
Jensen takes his time, kissing and licking his way down the dip of Jared's spine until he reaches the topmost point of his ass. He sucks a kiss into the velvety skin where the globes begin to part and Jared groans, jerking forward as if he's trying to rub up against the bed.
"Easy," Jensen murmurs, and moves his hands to rest against the front of Jared's thighs.
"What are you…?" Jared strains to look at Jensen over his shoulder. "Jesus Christ."
Jensen grins against Jared's ass, his nose riding the cleft while his tongue gets familiar with Jared's most intimate opening. It doesn't take more than a couple of cat licks for Jared to start making a whole lot of noise, clutching at the covers with his hands.
He pushes his tongue inside, loosening the clenching muscle, over and over, until Jared is slick and relaxed enough for him to add a finger, and then another one, slowly moving them in and out while his tongue swivels around the opening. His tongue aches, his jaw aches, even his shoulders ache, but Jared's desperate sounds are all the encouragement he needs.
"Oh God," Jared moans. "Jesus… Jen… I'm… fuck."
Jared's constant stream of nonsense is muffled when he buries his face in the pillows, his chest heaving with desperate breaths. He rocks into Jensen's hand, pushing back harder and harder, trying for more and deeper. Jensen lets his other hand slip up to caress the slick steel of Jared's impressive cock, fingering the wetness beading at the tip until Jared's entire body quivers on the edge.
That's when he pulls back, resting on his haunches while he fumbles for the lube that he knows has to be somewhere on the bed. Jared collapses as if Jensen's touch was the only thing holding him up, writhing slowly against the sheets in a way that is mesmerizing to watch.
"On your back," he orders, his fingers finally finding the lube and the string of condoms wrapped around it.
Jared rolls over and spreads his legs wide. Sweat beads on Jared's forehead and his cheeks are aflame with color, his cock jutting out from his body in a silk-enhanced curve connected to his stomach through a stringy rope of precome.
"Fuck me," he begs, pulling his legs up and spreading them. "God, please."
He's still shifting on the bed, minute movements that he's probably not even aware of, hips lifting of their own volition. Jensen feels as if he's about to explode just from watching him, and his fingers fumble desperately with the condom. He pours too much lube on his fingers and reaches down to slide them into Jared again, slicking him up thoroughly. Jared groans deep in his throat and his back arches, the soles of his feet planted firmly on the bed.
"Now," he begs. "Please, please, please…"
Jensen pulls his fingers back, pouring a stupid amount of lube on his cock and spreading it evenly with his fist. His balls pull up hard and he wastes no time getting into position. He pushes into Jared with a long measured thrust that leaves both of them breathless. He struggles to go slow, arms quivering with the effort of supporting the weight of his desire, and in the end he fails, bottoming out too hard and too fast.
"Yes," Jared hisses, his eyes shooting open. "God yes."
There's no stopping after that. Jensen braces himself on his elbows as he fucks into Jared, pressing panting kisses to Jared's pleasure-slack lips, eating every string of nonsense words that falls from them. Jared clutches at his shoulders, pressing his heels into the back of Jensen's thighs to pull him closer, and then he comes. Jared's entire body tenses into a bow before his semen splatters hot and wet over Jensen's stomach.
Jensen follows quickly, unable to hold back when Jared ripples around him. Biting back a deep moan, he thrusts a few more times before collapsing on top of Jared, completely boneless.
"My legs," Jared complains breathlessly.
Jensen rolls off of him, reaching down to make sure the condom stays in place before pulling it off, tying it up, and dropping it on the floor beside the bed.
"That's disgusting," Jared remarks.
"You're disgusting," Jensen retorts.
"I'm not the one who licked ass."
"Well, that ought to make me the expert on your disgustingness, huh?"
Jensen turns his head on the pillow to find Jared grinning at him. He smiles back, the corners of his mouth twitching with held back laughter.
"Just so you know," Jared says. "I don't think the rumors of your sexual prowess are exaggerated at all."
Jensen laughs this time and reaches out to smack Jared in the chest. He lets his hand stay there, palm up with his knuckles against Jared's sweaty skin. Somehow, this doesn't feel like a mistake at all.
*
Second verse is different than the first. Jensen seeks Jared out this time, finds him in the crowd after the concert and takes him up to his room. He knows it's not fair to Jared, knows he's on the verge of doing what he promised Jared he wouldn't, but when he sees him in the crowd, tall and smiling, casting furtive glances in Jensen's direction, he knows that there's no other way the night can end.
Afterwards, they're tangled up and messy in the sheets, Jared still breathing hard and Jensen so lax he's not sure he remembers how to move. Sex certainly wouldn't be one of their problems, but he knows that distance, fame, and insecurities would if he let this go any further. It's hard to think about letting go, though, when all he wants is to hold on.
"You know," Jared says, his voice a rumble against Jensen's ear. "I thought it would hurt, but it doesn't."
At first Jensen doesn't get it, Jared's words lining up all wrong in his head. Then it dawns on him and he lifts his head. "You mean you never…?"
Jared flushes. "Not really…"
Jensen raises his eyebrows.
"Or at all."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
Jared looks away. "I didn't want you to change your mind."
"But I could have… I dunno… ruined you for life."
Jared turns his head into the pillows. "I think you already did," he whispers, and Jensen knows he's not just talking about sex anymore.
*
After the fifth, or maybe the sixth, hook up, it's getting obvious that Jared thinks this is more than fucking. He has Jensen's number, and sometimes he calls when he knows Jensen will be in his hotel room, or on the tour bus. Jensen always picks up, but every time he hangs up with yet another hook up looming on the horizon, he feels choked and anxious.
Jared's too nice, too easy to talk to, and sometimes when they're on the phone Jensen forgets that he's supposed to be keeping it casual, not letting Jared get too close. There's no hint of romance in their talks. It's just stuff; normal, mundane stuff about Jared's co-workers, his dogs, his family, and Jensen's friends. Yet it brings them closer, allows them to find the common ground between Jared's normal life and Jensen's that is anything but.
Jensen wasn't supposed to let this happen. He was supposed to keep it cool.
*
They always fuck. That's the rule. It's how Jensen keeps them from being more than occasional lovers. It works out fine the first ten times, but then Jared shows up when Jensen's feeling like crap - throat sore, eyes puffy, nose stuffed - and it's not as if he can deny Jared access to his room when he's already been there so many times.
He tries to initiate something, he really does, but he ends up just standing in Jared's embrace with his forehead against Jared's shoulder, not turned on but weary to the bone. Jared strokes his hair, puts him to bed, and goes out to get him chicken soup in a Styrofoam cup. He calmly caters to Jensen's every whim during the night, when his fever spikes and Jensen alternates between being hot, cold, and thirsty.
Jensen finally falls asleep in the wee hours of the morning, the fever placated with the Tylenol Jared went out to get at three am and with Jared's arms wrapped tightly around him, Jared's strong heartbeat against his ear the only lullaby he needs.
Jared's out cold when Jensen wakes up, still in yesterday's jeans and with his hair like an unruly halo around his head. Jensen silently climbs out of bed and hits the shower. He feels stuffy, but the fever seems to be gone and his throat's no longer sore. Jared's still sleeping when he comes out from the bathroom, so Jensen covers him with a blanket and orders some coffee from room service.
He drinks it sitting in a chair by the window, not looking at the view of the city, but at the steady rise and fall of Jared's chest. They crossed a line last night. It's no longer just about fucking, and if Jensen's honest with himself, it never was. He knew the first time he slid into Jared, branding him for his own, that it could never be casual between them, and he's known it every time they hooked up since then.
Jared might pretend he wasn't a goner from the first time they kissed, but Jensen knew, has known all along, that this was more than sex to Jared. It's fucked up, how the power balance is completely out of sync between them. Jensen keeps ending up with the upper hand, the power to destroy, just because of the way they met. He doesn't want to be that guy, wants Jared to know it's not really like that, because all it would take to rip the carpet out from under Jensen's feet is one word from Jared.
Jensen's not a big talker, though; he always preferred to keep his hand close to his chest, not letting anyone get a peek of his cards. But you have to stop folding sometime, or you'll never win the pot. And maybe it's time he went all in.
When Jared wakes up, Jensen's still sitting in the chair, not having bothered to get dressed beyond the sweats he threw on after his shower. His hair is flat against his head without the aid of gel to keep it mussed, and his bare feet peek out from under the hem of the pants. It's the most vulnerable he's even been with Jared, completely devoid of all the things that keep him on the higher ground. He's not Jensen Ackles, rock star, in this room; this time, he's just Jensen.
"You feeling better?" Jared asks, blinking sleep out of his eyes.
"Yeah," Jensen says, voice rough and raw as if he spent all night screaming.
"You don't really sound better," Jared says, pushing himself up to sit with his back against the headboard. He's fingering the edge of the blanket, as if he wants to ask if Jensen put it there but doesn't dare to.
Jensen shrugs, letting his eyes follow the line of Jared's upper body, from his throat to the curve of his belly. "It'll get better," he says, and true to the point most of the roughness is gone.
Jared nods and scratches at his stomach. Jensen follows the movement of his long fingers, and wants to crawl onto the bed and lick the spot Jared's scratching, but he doesn't.
"Thanks," he murmurs. "For last night with the soup and the Tylenol and… everything."
"It was nothing," Jared says, looking embarrassed, as if he knows he's holding his hand up for the entire world to see.
"No, it wasn't. It was everything."
It's not really want he means to say. He wants to tell Jared that no one's ever done that for him before, not like Jared did. He's had people waiting on him hand and foot for the last five years, wanting to please him, wanting to get into his good graces, wanting him to like them, but he knows that's not why Jared did it. Jared didn't do it because he wants Jensen to like him, but because he likes Jensen, and somehow there's a huge difference there.
Jared bites down on his lip and gestures towards the bathroom. "I'm gonna have a shower," he says, but he doesn't make a move, and Jensen realizes he's waiting for approval.
"This is more than fucking," Jensen says, almost desperate to get his point across. "I mean… I… I don't fuck around. I know you think there are others, but there's not. There haven't been since I met you."
Jared answering smile is beautiful, and Jensen's out of the chair before he even knows it. Jared laughs when Jensen crawls onto his lap, wrapping his arms around Jensen's waist, easy and carefree.
"I haven't brushed my teeth," Jared says when Jensen makes a move to kiss him. "My mouth tastes like ass."
"Incidentally, so does your ass," Jensen says cheerfully and presses their lips together anyway. Jared's mouth doesn't taste of much at all, and even if it had he couldn't have cared less. When you're no longer just fucking, there's no need for everything to be so fucking perfect all the time, and he thinks that maybe he likes that.
Continued