Love, Apparent 19/20
TITLE: Love Apparent 19/20
AUTHOR: lifelesslyndsey
PAIRING: Jared/Misha with briefly mentioned other pairings later
RATING: NC-17
BETA'D: malbryn
Mike finds a gay club just outside of Dallas called Sue Ellen's, much to Jared's surprise. By the name, the place sounds like a mom-and-pop diner, but Mike has assured him that it's anything but. Apparently, Dallas has quite the gay scene. Misha isn't surprised at all, laughing at Jared's look of horror as Mike explains their game plan. Mike has decided that they will be commemorating Jared's sexuality like any classy, sophisticated fairy: in a bar with glitter, slutty outfits and cheap booze.
They're ringing in a gay New Year.
Crammed in the tiny living room of the cabin, they're sitting cross-legged in a circle on the floor, passing a fatty and pretending they don't know they're smoking Mike's short and curlies. Jared isn't exactly part of the two-puff-pass, but his eyes have taken on a glassy hue that suggest a decent contact buzz.
Misha is a kite. Or an airplane, or gas prices. Or some other high-thing. Whatever, shut up. He's not so good at similes when stoned.
“...and since you can't drink at the club, we figure we need to get you sloshed beforehand,” Jensen offers, clicking away on his laptop. Misha has already thoroughly mocked him but apparently winter-break means nothing to a mid-thesis med-student. He is using his disc-drive as a cup holder for his beer, so Misha doesn't rag on him too much. Jensen is nothing if not skilled at prioritizing.
Jared looks to him for help but Misha is still busy laughing his ass off. “Oh no, Baby Jay. You got yourself into this,” he tells him through wheezing chuckles. “And you're coming out.”
Misha loves puns. And Jared. Misha loves Jared. And Jared wants to bone him, he's pretty sure, so it's a good fucking day. As long as he doesn't think about the Jared-is-moving-a-million-miles-away thing.
“Puns, Misha?” Not even Tom can ruin his good mood. He knows the situation isn't ideal, but Misha loves New Year’s, he loves gay bars, and he loves Jared. This is like a post-Christmas Christmas!
Anyway, Jensen has his back. “Heh. You said coming.” Even if he does miss the fantastic pun, entirely.
So the plan is set. They're getting Jared drunk, and taking him out. Misha has been designated Beer-Bitch on the day in question. Jared comes with, dictating Misha's way to the nearest liquor store, which is apparently a whole three and a half miles east (all the way across town.)
They park on the side road, not because Misha can't parallel park to save his balls, but because they don't have any quarters for the parking meter. When Jared explains that there are no parking meters, Misha stares at him in confusion. If there are no parking meters, how the hell do you pay for parking?
That's exactly how he finds himself outside a liquor store on New Year’s Eve, punched in the mouth and on his ass being glared at by a cow named Alexis. “You son of a bitch!” She growls at him, kicking him hard in the thigh. She'd come out of nowhere, or maybe Misha just hadn't been paying attention. “Who the hell do you think you are? You ruined everything! You ruined Jared! You... stole... my... wedding!” She hits him in the balls with her stupid, ugly, cheap knock off Prada in between each word before Jared manages to takes charge.
Grabbing her arm, he tugs her back gently. “Lexi! Knock it off! Come on, calm own!” Instead of knocking it off and calming down, she hits Jared. From the ground, Misha yanks the purse right out of her hands, tossing it aside. The contents scatter, shiny tubes of lipstick, pennies and papers. If Misha picks her cell-phone up and throws it into a bush, well it's no one's business but his own. “What's your problem?”
It's got to be the most asinine question ever voiced, but Misha appreciates Jared's effort. “My problem?” Alexis seethes, kicking Jared in the shin. “My problem is that... is that you're gay! You can't be gay, Jared! We had sex! You do not go gay after me, you do not! Especially not for weirdo, scummy hippies!”
Taking Jared's proffered hand, Misha hauls himself up. “What the hell is wrong with you, you fat wench!?” He growls, dusting dirt off his ass. It wasn't the nicest thing to say to a pregnant lady, but she threw a mean punch and frankly, Misha just didn't like her.
She aims another kick at Misha, but he grabs her foot. It's only Jared that keeps her from falling on her big ass. Misha is sort of appreciative, he guesses. He doesn't want to knock over pregnant people; even he has limits. Still... if she kicks him again, he's going to spit his gum in her hair.
“Misha,” Jared says, but Misha can tell he's trying not to laugh. “She's pregnant, not fat.” She's both, in Misha's opinion. “And... hormonal, or something.”
“Yeah,” Alexis sneers, like she's one some epic battle, the little twit. “Thank you Jared.”
““Yeah, well what's your ass's excuse?” Misha snaps back, his inner sassy black-woman escaping in his ire. “Is it pregnant too? News flash honey; when they say you're eating for two, they don't mean you and a Lou Ferrigno.” Although, to be fair, any baby of Jared's is probably a giant, even in fetus form. “Like it would matter if you weren't grotesquely huge! Jared is never going to want you! So... score one for Misha for having a penis. Ha!” Penis-one, vagina-zero.
Misha's mind is pretty petty place, he doesn't deny it.
“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Alexis stomps on Misha's foot, and the heel of her crappy K-Mart shoe grazes his big toe. “I hate you.”
“The feeling is mutual, you jealous bitch!” Misha snarls. He's almost embarrassed to admit it, but his tone can't be mistaken for anything but possessive. Misha slips his arm around Jared's waist, pushing a hand up his shirt over Jared's hip bone. They might be pretending, but Misha doesn't have to act this particular feeling.
“I am a laughing stock,” Alexis says through clenched teeth. “Left at the altar by some limp-wristed faggot---”
Misha is just about ready to smack her when Jared cuts in. “Alexis Kimberly, you use that word one more time and I swear I'mma call my mama to come out here and smack you stupid! I didn't leave you at the altar, and I made it clear from the beginning that I didn't want to get married. I never wanted to marry you, ‘Lex! I'm sorry we got ourselves into this conversation, but if you disrespect me or my boyfriend again, you're going to be sorry.”
“Face it, you're just mad because Jared left you for a guy. Is your va-jay-jay so fucked up he thought sticking it in an ass would be better? 'Cause baby, I've seen Jared's dick, and you'd have to be wrecked if he shoved that thing in you and didn't feel anything.” Boyfriend. Jared called Misha his boyfriend. Pretend boyfriend or not, it still makes Misha smile smugly, giving Alexis his own little sneer. Snatching up her purse, he shoves it at her. “Take your filthy, cheap knock-off and shove it up your ass.” Apparently Alexis turns Misha into a catty bitch.
“Misha,” Jared says, less amused. He still puts his hand around Misha's shoulders though,and his smile is fond.
“Fine, take your filthy, cheap knock off and go find a Krispy Kreme fatty,” he says, with a sweet smile on his face. To be perfectly honest, Misha loves a thick girl, but Alexis isn't a girl, she's a demon. “Happy New Year, you fetus infested harpy.”
“Hey,” Jared huffs. “That's my fetus.”
“Jared-fetus infested harpy,” Misha reiterates, and Jared laughs at him. “That's pretty much makes it a compliment.”
Looking as if she's ready to gear up for another attack, Misha is glad when Jared cuts her off. “Look Alexis, I don't want to fight,” Jared tells her with a shrug. “I think we should be friends. We used to be friends, remember?”
She grits her teeth and looks away, dejected and fat. “I don't want to have this baby alone,” she says and it's probably the most honest thing he's heard out of the twat’s mouth. “Babies should be born into marriages. That's how God would want it.”
Misha can feel Jared tensing, his patience wearing thin at the mention of God. It's obviously a dig at Jared and him, or just homosexuality in general. “If that's the case Alexis, he probably doesn't want them made in the back of minivans in Piggly Wiggly parking lots either,” he tells her, kind but firm. “He probably also frowns on not wearing panties at church and stealing your mom's Valium, but that never stopped you before, did it? Don't be a hypocrite, ‘Lexi. Face facts; we're not getting married. I'm gay. I do gay things with my gay boyfriend. Gay, gay, gay, gay, gay.”
“But the baby---” She begins, clutching her stomach, and now it's obvious to Misha that Jared is just as sick of her show. No one is RSVP'ing to her desperate pity party and they have better places to be.
“I'll be happy to be that kid's dad, to raise it and love it and all that. Hell, if you decide you don't want it, Alexis, I will take it. No questions asked,” Jared says, and Misha is surprised by the serious tone in his voice. It's obvious that Jared totally means it. He's selflessly stepping in and giving her an out she doesn't deserve. “I'd do that, if you wanted to start your life with a clean slate, and find some guy who wants to marry you and have your kids. I'd take the baby, okay?”
She blinks at him, tears turning her eyes even bluer. “You'd really do that?” She asks, looking up at him with her head cocked.
“Sure would,” Jared replies, sounding tired. “It's probably the only chance I'll ever get to have a baby. All that being said, the idea of marrying you horrifies me. The idea that I ever put my cock inside you literally makes me vomit in my mouth a little.” Their mutual shiver of disgust is anything but feigned. “And the notion that I might ever be expected to do it again makes my balls want to crawl back up inside my body and die.” He reaches out and pats her shoulder awkwardly. “Just... just go home, okay Alexis? Game over, you know? And Happy New Year.”
“Yeah,” she murmurs back, turning down the side walk. “Happy New Year.”
They watch her vanish around the corner before pushing open the liquor store doors. “You're way too nice to her,” Misha says in a huff.
It earns him an incredulous look. “And you're a mean, mean little man,” Jared laughs, slapping Misha on the stomach with the back of his hand, just like Sharon had done to Gerry. “Seriously, you were mean to her.”
“She hit me in the nards, Jared! Once you take a ball-shot, you basically say fuck-all to any kind of decorum,” Misha explains, grabbing the booze. “She wants to fight cheap, I'll fight cheap. And hey, I didn't even mention her cankles. Or you know... that you knocked her up at a Piggly Wiggly. Seriously Jared, that's classy.”
“I was a bagger, okay? She caught me on my lunch break,” Jared huffs, quickly redirecting the conversation. “Anyway, so you didn't mention her cankles. Clearly, you're a shining example of restraint,” he says dryly, giving Misha's arms, laden with bottles of various liquor, a pointed look. “I can't believe you called her fetus-infested. And fat!”
“As far as insults go, at least it was true,” Misha argues mildly. Seriously, he'd held back for the sake of Jared's fetus. He had way more creative things to call her. “She is fetus-infested and fat.”
“Right,” Jared snorts, watching the cashier listlessly ring up Misha's purchases. He gives Jared a lazy look, but says nothing. “Also, I never pegged you for a brand whore, you petty little bitch. Were you just flaunting every homosexual stereotype you could? I kind of expected you to take off your earrings and try to tear out her weave.”
Indignant (not embarrassed) Misha's mouth falls open. “I am not a brand whore!” He denies, as they leave the store and head for the car. “It's about quality, not brands. I like quality!”
“So the emphasis on her, and I'm quoting you here, 'filthy, cheap knock-off', had nothing to do with brands?” Jared asks him, lifting a brow.
Glowering, Misha means to deny it, but is quickly distracted by a window display. “Jared,” he breaths, looking through the glass. “Assless chaps.”
Returning to the cabin, Misha lets himself be happy, if only for the moment. Listening to Jared tell Alexis he was gay, gay, gay, gay, gay had driven something home for Misha.
Jared is gay.
And Jared may or may not like Misha in a sexual way. Mike pretty much spelled it out for him and Misha's already rationalized it in his head, so there's no point in beating around the bush. Jared thinks about Misha when he's coming on other people, and Misha has worked with less.
There is one big glaring catch though; Jared is moving back to Texas.
“You're brooding,” Mike says, kicked back at the cabin's kitchen counter. “Why are you brooding?”
“I want to fuck Jared,” Misha tells him flatly eyeballing the bottles of liquor lining the counter for tomorrow. “And you know, all that other stuff you do to someone you like.” He'd elaborate, but as he has little experience with such things, he doesn't know where to begin.
Mike snorts. “You mean date?”
It's a testament to his frazzled state that his reply is a little less full of his usual suave and charm. “You mean like... bone on a regular basis and see him every day?” Misha asks, following Jared with his eyes. Jeff, who has a surprising three inches on his very tall little brother, currently has Jared in a headlock. Misha would have offered his help, but he's being offered a prime view of Jared's ass, so he can't be bothered.
“Yeah,” Mike says with a laugh, the bastard. “Pretty much do what you’re doing now with Jared, but with more boning.” He's not wrong; there is a terrible lack of boning in his and Jared's fake relationship.
“Then yes,” Misha turns, confirming this with a nod. “That is what I want.” It sounds like a fantastic plan that is never going to happen, and Misha reaches for a bottle, only to have his hand smacked by Mike. “But Jared is moving away.”
“True,” Mike concedes, pushing Misha's choice bottle farther back behind him. “How old are you now, Mish?”
Misha gives him a bored look. “Since we both know full well that you're perfectly aware of my age I'm going to assume this is a rhetorical question,” he says through a tight, somewhat condescending smile. Mike is playing games, he can tell. Misha wants no part of it.
“Magpie,” he says, with his fond little smile. “You're twenty-fivw.”
“Yeah,” Misha says slowly. He doesn't really need the reminder that he is grossly older then Jared. He also isn't about to mention that he thought he was twenty-four. He really needs to get his shit straight.“So?”
“Didn't you once tell me that you'd consider graduating when college stopped being so interesting?” Mike asks, in lieu of answer. “Well... how interesting do you think college will be once Jared leaves?”
It's not exactly a leap of logic to come to Mike's conclusion. “You think I should move with him?” He asks, surprisingly hurt. “You want me to leave?” He's not entirely sure he can cope with Mike sending him away. He wouldn't blame him of course; Misha is a terrible pain. It isn't so surprising that Mike would happily foist him on the first---
“I love you like crazy, and I'd keep you forever if I could. But... I just want you to be happy,” Mike sighs. “Jared understands you just as good as I do, if not better, and he wants in your pants. I won't let you pass that up. Maybe you should consider it.”
“I can't just pack up and move to Texas!” Misha argues, but that’s a lie. There is physically nothing holding him back. He could transfer schools, and he's pretty sure trust-fund money works in any state. “I'm weird and stuff. I need you.” It pains him to admit it, but as much as he loves Jared, Mike has kept him safe for years. He wouldn't know what to do without him.
“You don't need me anymore. Jared handles it. He knows full well how weird you are,” Mike snorts. “And he likes you more for it. Misha... just tell Jared you like him. The worst he can do is turn you down and move away.”
“Thanks Mike,” Misha says, horrified and sick to his stomach suddenly. “That's so fucking helpful.”
“What I mean is that either way, Jared is moving away. But it's up to you whether he does it all alone or not.”
“Jared's having a baby,” Misha reminds him, and then snatching the bottle back from behind Mike. There is not enough alcohol in the world to make this situation look pretty. Mike wrestles it out of his hands, and shoves it in a cupboard. “He doesn't need me around for that.”
Mike shrugs, looping an arm over Misha's shoulder. Jared looks up from where he's still beign manhandled, and gives them both a grin. “I don't know. I think he might need you more.”
One pair of assless chaps later, they head home. Jared is still a little miffed about Alexis. He wants to feel bad, but the girl is hard to feel bad for. She's too ready to place the blame of her mistakes on others, and Jared has never been that kind of guy. The blame is his to take too, but it was certainly a joint effort. He doesn't have it in him to be openly mean to her --he'd like for them to get along at least for the baby's sake-- but she makes it so freaking hard.
“Why so serious?” Mike asks, leaning against the washing machine as Jared dumps his (and Misha's) darks in. Since his outing, he just can't in good conscience expect his mother to do his laundry. In truth, he hadn't understood the laundry-reference until Misha explained it to him later. He'd been appropriately mortified.
“Thinking about the baby,” Jared sighs. He has no idea what the hell he was thinking when he made the suggestion, but it felt right. He'd never abandon his own kid, but he had no real desire to raise it with her. “I told Alexis that I'd take it. Like, by myself. I think she's going to consider it.”
“Woah,” Mike says, reeling back a little. “Dude, that's kind of a big decision. I mean, it's a baby.”
“Either way it's a baby,” Jared rolls his eyes. “But this way, at least it's just my baby? I won't be fighting her and her parents every step of the way. I mean, I guess if her parents still want to be a part of its life, I'd deal but...” Looking away, Jared turns the knob on the washer. “I guess I just figured... if it was mine, I wouldn't have to move. I mean... people have babies by themselves all the time. I could go to school part time--extremely part time, and work, which is no different than what I'd have to do here. I mean... I kind of figured I'd get an apartment next year... just, you know, with roommates. I was thinking maybe Misha, but now I can't ask that. I can't be the only kid in school with a baby, right? I don't know. I was just... uh. Thinking about it.” Great. He's rambling like an idiot. It’s like being thrown back to that first week all over again. Did he always sound like such an idiot before Misha?
Probably.
“Thinking about it a lot,” Mike replies, whistling through his teeth. “You could do it, you know? I mean... I don't know anything at all about babies, but Tom does. He has like four hundred siblings.”
“I'm not going to ask Tom to help me with my baby,” Jared replies flatly. That's probably the fastest way to lose friends. “I don't expect any of you to have to deal with this. It's my problem.”
Mike smacks him upside the head and looks at him like he's stupid. “Firstly, if you call your kid a problem again, I'll hit you in the nuts so hard you'll never even have the option of having another. That's just wrong. It's not a problem, it's a baby. Don't make me hit you. Secondly, are you stupid? Do you really think that we're just gonna bail on you because of a kid? I get that we're assholes, but you're our friend Baby Jay. I know for a fact that Misha would never leave you hanging, and dude, we're all your friends. Not promising that we have much to offer, but we do have support. And Tom. Like I said, Tom loves kids.”
“You didn't say Tom loves kids,” Jared corrects him, feeling all mushy and such. “You just said he has a bunch of brothers and sisters.”
“Yeah, well they're kids and he mostly likes them so I guess it's just assumed,” Mike shrugs. “It doesn't matter. If this is what you decide, then we got your back, Jared. And you should seriously think about telling Misha about this plan because... well. Because I think he'd want to know. I know these things, so you should do what I tell you. Remember when you didn't tell Misha you were gay? Yeah, you should always listen to Uncle Mike. Uncle Mike--see, that kind of has a nice ring to it.” Mike slaps him on the shoulder in a manly way, effectively dissolving any girly moment between them. “In the meantime, we all need to drink a lot.”
Laughing, Jared can't help but smile. “You don't have to quit drinking just because I have a kid,” he reminds Mike.
Mike gives him another baleful look. “You can't raise your kid around a bunch of drunks Jared, God.”
It's New Year’s Eve, and Jared is staring into a plastic cup of something neon pink and probably bio-hazardous. While his parents haven't said a single word about their plans, he has no doubt they know exactly what he's doing. His mother had shoved a few twenties in his pocket, made him promise he'd take a cab and then proceeded to bluntly ask him if he and Misha were using condoms. Then she slipped him an extra ten, just in case he needed to stop by the drug store. And like the good mother she is, she also told him to share with his friends.
So yeah... that had been fun.
He sniffs his drink warily. Jeff, who had happily invited himself on this little jaunt, grins. “Bubblegum infused vodka,” he says evil. “I asked my girlfriend for the most girly drinks she knew.”
Jensen, who made friends with Jeff upon setting eyes on him, cuts in. “Dude, she made a list. You get a lemon drop next. We figured we'd do all the innocent sounding ones first and then the pervy ones like a Screaming Orgasm and a Blow Job.”
Mike enters the little cabin kitchen, more drink in hand. “I found one called Cow Boy Butt Sex, but when I saw Misha's chaps I figured you were already having that.” It's said purely for show, but Mike gives Jared a perverted little grin anyway.
Jeff makes a gross brother-sex face and Jared takes a drink of the pink stuff just to hide his blush behind the cup. The taste is vile, flooding his mouth and burning his throat. “Oh God,” Jared groans. “If pink had a taste, this would be it.”
“Funny,” Jensen says, making at thoughtful face. He sips his own horrible pink drink and grimaces comically. “I said the same thing about vagina.”
Jared makes a gross vagina-sex face and every one laughs. It's a good start to the night.
They manage to keep him from getting too drunk before leaving to the club. Jeff's girlfriend, whose name eludes Jared's mildly drunk mind, drops them off. Jared would probably thank her, but he's distracted by Misha's assless chaps. Everyone else, himself included, is dressed in jeans and t-shirts. If the jeans and t-shirts are a little tighter than usual, well no one needs to know that, do they?
There's a line, but Mike quickly circumvents any wait time by dragging Jared to the front. He whispers something into the bouncer’s ear, earning a wide, toothy grin. “This is him!” He yells at them, over the sound of thumping bass escaping the door. “We're celebrating his coming out! Baby Jay, the Baby Gay!”
The bouncer is instantly interested, leering at Jared up and down. “Um... hi.”
“Don't be a tease Baby Jay,” Mike says, slapping Jared and giving him a pointed look. “Show the man a body part.”
Jared reels like an offended maiden. “What?!” He hadn't been informed of this portion of the evening, and frankly he's not sure how he feels about it. “I don't know...”
“He's not asking you to show him your dick,” Jensen says in huff.
Misha pushes himself forward, standing at Jared's side. He flashes the bouncer his best grin. “Though his dick is pierced,” he explains. The bouncer’s eyes fall to Jared's crotch, and he has to fight the urge to cover it with his hands. “Twice.”
“Oh come on,” Tom huffs. “Just flash him some ab.” He doesn't give Jared an option as he yanks his shirt up. Jared yanks it back down and wonders again how Mike had talked him out of wearing boxers. “Oh but hey, if you don't like this one, there's an even bigger version right here.”
Jared doesn't get what Tom is talking about until Jeff is standing at his side, using Jared's shoulder for an arm rest and looking down at the bouncer. “He means bigger in every way, of course,” Jeff says cockily, going so far as to grab his own crotch. Dear God, he thinks they might have planned this.
The poor bouncer. He's not exactly attractive; overweight, short, and a little bald. In the face of Mike, Misha, Tom, Jeff, Jensen and Jared... he looks a little flustered. Jared will admit that collectively, they make for a whole lot of pretty.
“You all can go in,” the bouncers says with a starry-eyed look, and doesn't card a single one of them.
“You're a doll,” Mike says sweetly, with his big cheesy grin. Jeff smacks the bouncer on the ass as they enter, and Jared can't help but love his brother a little more.
It's crowded and loud and both dark and light all at once. Jared's never been to anything more rowdy then a frat party (he blushes when he thinks about how that ended.) “Hey, the bouncer didn't tag you,” Tom notes, looking at Jared's arm.
“I think I've drank enough,” Jared hedges, catching on quickly where Tom is going with this. Jeff slings an arm over Jared shoulder and grins down at him.
“On a scale of one to stupid, how drunk are you?” Jeff asks, eyes narrowing. “It's going to take more than a few girly drinks to bring you down, Baby Jay.”
“You do not get to call me that!” Jared protest, elbowing his brother in the stomach. The previous fraternal love he was feeling is gone; such is the way of brotherhood, really. “I hate you. Who invited you?”
“No one needs to invite me,” Jeff scoffs. “I'm your big brother, it's my duty to support you in these things.”
Jared's look is anything but amused. “Seriously?” He asks, looking up at Jeff. “Is that how you solve all your life problems? 'My name's Jeff, and I'm bigger, so I win',” he mocks, making a face. He can't help but ruin it with a smile. This is all very reminiscent to him. He's missed his brother. “You're an ass.”
“The Padalecki's do breed them big,” Mike agrees, bypassing Jeff and Jared's entire argument. “So drink up.” He shoves a shot in Jared's hand a shot, something brown and murky. Jared tosses it back without question, and sputters when Mike takes that moment to tell him what it is. “It's called a Sit On My Face. Or maybe it's Shit On My Face... I don't read so well when I'm drunk.” He's got another in his hand, something yellow and bubbling. “Come on, drink up.”
Jared does, but it's begrudgingly. It's a sour-sweet concoction that taste a little like Screw Driver. “What is it?”He asks loudly, as the DJ sets a new song.
Misha takes that moment to sniff his glass, eyes narrowing in thought. He nods his head, conclusion reached. “Golden Shower!” He tells Jared, who tries not to gag. Misha has a drink in his hand as well. Had they all come to the conclusion that Jared hadn't been carded? “This one's called a Cherry Popper.”
They keep them coming, each one a little weirder than the next, till Jared is sure they're making them up. There's the Wyoming Leg-spreader that makes him want to puke, and a Harvey Wallbanger that tastes like fruit cake (that's never a compliment.) Tom’s brought a creamy drink called a Deep Throat, and Jensen's contribution had been something called a Painted Whore. Misha had made him drink a Cum Shot. That wouldn't seem so funny in the morning, he's sure.
When he's nearly too drunk to walk, someone decides it's a great idea to make him dance, tugging him by both hands onto the floor. Jeff keeps their table, wisely agreeing with Jared's protests. Padalecki's are not dancing-people. It doesn't stop Mike or Misha from manipulating Jared's arms to do the robot. He laughs it off, and lets them, slinging an arm around Misha when he feels about to fall. It's illogical to lean on Misha, he's the smallest in there crowd, but he's the only one Jared wants to cling to.
Apparently that's a lie. “He's a handsy drunk,” Mike comments, weaseling his way out from beneath Jared's other arm. Jared isn't one-hundred percent sure, but he thinks he might have been stroking the peach-fuzz covering Mike's head. It's a little fuzzy...er, not his head. Well that too...but really he meant his mind. They're both fuzzy, his mind and Mike's head. “Is this a family thing?”
Jeff laughs. “We're touchers,” he explains, giving his brother a grin. To emphasize his point, he pets Mike's head.
Midnight creeps in on them, but Jared's too busy being happy in the moment while he can.
CHAPTER TWENTY....
AUTHOR: lifelesslyndsey
PAIRING: Jared/Misha with briefly mentioned other pairings later
RATING: NC-17
BETA'D: malbryn
Mike finds a gay club just outside of Dallas called Sue Ellen's, much to Jared's surprise. By the name, the place sounds like a mom-and-pop diner, but Mike has assured him that it's anything but. Apparently, Dallas has quite the gay scene. Misha isn't surprised at all, laughing at Jared's look of horror as Mike explains their game plan. Mike has decided that they will be commemorating Jared's sexuality like any classy, sophisticated fairy: in a bar with glitter, slutty outfits and cheap booze.
They're ringing in a gay New Year.
Crammed in the tiny living room of the cabin, they're sitting cross-legged in a circle on the floor, passing a fatty and pretending they don't know they're smoking Mike's short and curlies. Jared isn't exactly part of the two-puff-pass, but his eyes have taken on a glassy hue that suggest a decent contact buzz.
Misha is a kite. Or an airplane, or gas prices. Or some other high-thing. Whatever, shut up. He's not so good at similes when stoned.
“...and since you can't drink at the club, we figure we need to get you sloshed beforehand,” Jensen offers, clicking away on his laptop. Misha has already thoroughly mocked him but apparently winter-break means nothing to a mid-thesis med-student. He is using his disc-drive as a cup holder for his beer, so Misha doesn't rag on him too much. Jensen is nothing if not skilled at prioritizing.
Jared looks to him for help but Misha is still busy laughing his ass off. “Oh no, Baby Jay. You got yourself into this,” he tells him through wheezing chuckles. “And you're coming out.”
Misha loves puns. And Jared. Misha loves Jared. And Jared wants to bone him, he's pretty sure, so it's a good fucking day. As long as he doesn't think about the Jared-is-moving-a-million-miles-away thing.
“Puns, Misha?” Not even Tom can ruin his good mood. He knows the situation isn't ideal, but Misha loves New Year’s, he loves gay bars, and he loves Jared. This is like a post-Christmas Christmas!
Anyway, Jensen has his back. “Heh. You said coming.” Even if he does miss the fantastic pun, entirely.
So the plan is set. They're getting Jared drunk, and taking him out. Misha has been designated Beer-Bitch on the day in question. Jared comes with, dictating Misha's way to the nearest liquor store, which is apparently a whole three and a half miles east (all the way across town.)
They park on the side road, not because Misha can't parallel park to save his balls, but because they don't have any quarters for the parking meter. When Jared explains that there are no parking meters, Misha stares at him in confusion. If there are no parking meters, how the hell do you pay for parking?
That's exactly how he finds himself outside a liquor store on New Year’s Eve, punched in the mouth and on his ass being glared at by a cow named Alexis. “You son of a bitch!” She growls at him, kicking him hard in the thigh. She'd come out of nowhere, or maybe Misha just hadn't been paying attention. “Who the hell do you think you are? You ruined everything! You ruined Jared! You... stole... my... wedding!” She hits him in the balls with her stupid, ugly, cheap knock off Prada in between each word before Jared manages to takes charge.
Grabbing her arm, he tugs her back gently. “Lexi! Knock it off! Come on, calm own!” Instead of knocking it off and calming down, she hits Jared. From the ground, Misha yanks the purse right out of her hands, tossing it aside. The contents scatter, shiny tubes of lipstick, pennies and papers. If Misha picks her cell-phone up and throws it into a bush, well it's no one's business but his own. “What's your problem?”
It's got to be the most asinine question ever voiced, but Misha appreciates Jared's effort. “My problem?” Alexis seethes, kicking Jared in the shin. “My problem is that... is that you're gay! You can't be gay, Jared! We had sex! You do not go gay after me, you do not! Especially not for weirdo, scummy hippies!”
Taking Jared's proffered hand, Misha hauls himself up. “What the hell is wrong with you, you fat wench!?” He growls, dusting dirt off his ass. It wasn't the nicest thing to say to a pregnant lady, but she threw a mean punch and frankly, Misha just didn't like her.
She aims another kick at Misha, but he grabs her foot. It's only Jared that keeps her from falling on her big ass. Misha is sort of appreciative, he guesses. He doesn't want to knock over pregnant people; even he has limits. Still... if she kicks him again, he's going to spit his gum in her hair.
“Misha,” Jared says, but Misha can tell he's trying not to laugh. “She's pregnant, not fat.” She's both, in Misha's opinion. “And... hormonal, or something.”
“Yeah,” Alexis sneers, like she's one some epic battle, the little twit. “Thank you Jared.”
““Yeah, well what's your ass's excuse?” Misha snaps back, his inner sassy black-woman escaping in his ire. “Is it pregnant too? News flash honey; when they say you're eating for two, they don't mean you and a Lou Ferrigno.” Although, to be fair, any baby of Jared's is probably a giant, even in fetus form. “Like it would matter if you weren't grotesquely huge! Jared is never going to want you! So... score one for Misha for having a penis. Ha!” Penis-one, vagina-zero.
Misha's mind is pretty petty place, he doesn't deny it.
“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Alexis stomps on Misha's foot, and the heel of her crappy K-Mart shoe grazes his big toe. “I hate you.”
“The feeling is mutual, you jealous bitch!” Misha snarls. He's almost embarrassed to admit it, but his tone can't be mistaken for anything but possessive. Misha slips his arm around Jared's waist, pushing a hand up his shirt over Jared's hip bone. They might be pretending, but Misha doesn't have to act this particular feeling.
“I am a laughing stock,” Alexis says through clenched teeth. “Left at the altar by some limp-wristed faggot---”
Misha is just about ready to smack her when Jared cuts in. “Alexis Kimberly, you use that word one more time and I swear I'mma call my mama to come out here and smack you stupid! I didn't leave you at the altar, and I made it clear from the beginning that I didn't want to get married. I never wanted to marry you, ‘Lex! I'm sorry we got ourselves into this conversation, but if you disrespect me or my boyfriend again, you're going to be sorry.”
“Face it, you're just mad because Jared left you for a guy. Is your va-jay-jay so fucked up he thought sticking it in an ass would be better? 'Cause baby, I've seen Jared's dick, and you'd have to be wrecked if he shoved that thing in you and didn't feel anything.” Boyfriend. Jared called Misha his boyfriend. Pretend boyfriend or not, it still makes Misha smile smugly, giving Alexis his own little sneer. Snatching up her purse, he shoves it at her. “Take your filthy, cheap knock-off and shove it up your ass.” Apparently Alexis turns Misha into a catty bitch.
“Misha,” Jared says, less amused. He still puts his hand around Misha's shoulders though,and his smile is fond.
“Fine, take your filthy, cheap knock off and go find a Krispy Kreme fatty,” he says, with a sweet smile on his face. To be perfectly honest, Misha loves a thick girl, but Alexis isn't a girl, she's a demon. “Happy New Year, you fetus infested harpy.”
“Hey,” Jared huffs. “That's my fetus.”
“Jared-fetus infested harpy,” Misha reiterates, and Jared laughs at him. “That's pretty much makes it a compliment.”
Looking as if she's ready to gear up for another attack, Misha is glad when Jared cuts her off. “Look Alexis, I don't want to fight,” Jared tells her with a shrug. “I think we should be friends. We used to be friends, remember?”
She grits her teeth and looks away, dejected and fat. “I don't want to have this baby alone,” she says and it's probably the most honest thing he's heard out of the twat’s mouth. “Babies should be born into marriages. That's how God would want it.”
Misha can feel Jared tensing, his patience wearing thin at the mention of God. It's obviously a dig at Jared and him, or just homosexuality in general. “If that's the case Alexis, he probably doesn't want them made in the back of minivans in Piggly Wiggly parking lots either,” he tells her, kind but firm. “He probably also frowns on not wearing panties at church and stealing your mom's Valium, but that never stopped you before, did it? Don't be a hypocrite, ‘Lexi. Face facts; we're not getting married. I'm gay. I do gay things with my gay boyfriend. Gay, gay, gay, gay, gay.”
“But the baby---” She begins, clutching her stomach, and now it's obvious to Misha that Jared is just as sick of her show. No one is RSVP'ing to her desperate pity party and they have better places to be.
“I'll be happy to be that kid's dad, to raise it and love it and all that. Hell, if you decide you don't want it, Alexis, I will take it. No questions asked,” Jared says, and Misha is surprised by the serious tone in his voice. It's obvious that Jared totally means it. He's selflessly stepping in and giving her an out she doesn't deserve. “I'd do that, if you wanted to start your life with a clean slate, and find some guy who wants to marry you and have your kids. I'd take the baby, okay?”
She blinks at him, tears turning her eyes even bluer. “You'd really do that?” She asks, looking up at him with her head cocked.
“Sure would,” Jared replies, sounding tired. “It's probably the only chance I'll ever get to have a baby. All that being said, the idea of marrying you horrifies me. The idea that I ever put my cock inside you literally makes me vomit in my mouth a little.” Their mutual shiver of disgust is anything but feigned. “And the notion that I might ever be expected to do it again makes my balls want to crawl back up inside my body and die.” He reaches out and pats her shoulder awkwardly. “Just... just go home, okay Alexis? Game over, you know? And Happy New Year.”
“Yeah,” she murmurs back, turning down the side walk. “Happy New Year.”
They watch her vanish around the corner before pushing open the liquor store doors. “You're way too nice to her,” Misha says in a huff.
It earns him an incredulous look. “And you're a mean, mean little man,” Jared laughs, slapping Misha on the stomach with the back of his hand, just like Sharon had done to Gerry. “Seriously, you were mean to her.”
“She hit me in the nards, Jared! Once you take a ball-shot, you basically say fuck-all to any kind of decorum,” Misha explains, grabbing the booze. “She wants to fight cheap, I'll fight cheap. And hey, I didn't even mention her cankles. Or you know... that you knocked her up at a Piggly Wiggly. Seriously Jared, that's classy.”
“I was a bagger, okay? She caught me on my lunch break,” Jared huffs, quickly redirecting the conversation. “Anyway, so you didn't mention her cankles. Clearly, you're a shining example of restraint,” he says dryly, giving Misha's arms, laden with bottles of various liquor, a pointed look. “I can't believe you called her fetus-infested. And fat!”
“As far as insults go, at least it was true,” Misha argues mildly. Seriously, he'd held back for the sake of Jared's fetus. He had way more creative things to call her. “She is fetus-infested and fat.”
“Right,” Jared snorts, watching the cashier listlessly ring up Misha's purchases. He gives Jared a lazy look, but says nothing. “Also, I never pegged you for a brand whore, you petty little bitch. Were you just flaunting every homosexual stereotype you could? I kind of expected you to take off your earrings and try to tear out her weave.”
Indignant (not embarrassed) Misha's mouth falls open. “I am not a brand whore!” He denies, as they leave the store and head for the car. “It's about quality, not brands. I like quality!”
“So the emphasis on her, and I'm quoting you here, 'filthy, cheap knock-off', had nothing to do with brands?” Jared asks him, lifting a brow.
Glowering, Misha means to deny it, but is quickly distracted by a window display. “Jared,” he breaths, looking through the glass. “Assless chaps.”
Returning to the cabin, Misha lets himself be happy, if only for the moment. Listening to Jared tell Alexis he was gay, gay, gay, gay, gay had driven something home for Misha.
Jared is gay.
And Jared may or may not like Misha in a sexual way. Mike pretty much spelled it out for him and Misha's already rationalized it in his head, so there's no point in beating around the bush. Jared thinks about Misha when he's coming on other people, and Misha has worked with less.
There is one big glaring catch though; Jared is moving back to Texas.
“You're brooding,” Mike says, kicked back at the cabin's kitchen counter. “Why are you brooding?”
“I want to fuck Jared,” Misha tells him flatly eyeballing the bottles of liquor lining the counter for tomorrow. “And you know, all that other stuff you do to someone you like.” He'd elaborate, but as he has little experience with such things, he doesn't know where to begin.
Mike snorts. “You mean date?”
It's a testament to his frazzled state that his reply is a little less full of his usual suave and charm. “You mean like... bone on a regular basis and see him every day?” Misha asks, following Jared with his eyes. Jeff, who has a surprising three inches on his very tall little brother, currently has Jared in a headlock. Misha would have offered his help, but he's being offered a prime view of Jared's ass, so he can't be bothered.
“Yeah,” Mike says with a laugh, the bastard. “Pretty much do what you’re doing now with Jared, but with more boning.” He's not wrong; there is a terrible lack of boning in his and Jared's fake relationship.
“Then yes,” Misha turns, confirming this with a nod. “That is what I want.” It sounds like a fantastic plan that is never going to happen, and Misha reaches for a bottle, only to have his hand smacked by Mike. “But Jared is moving away.”
“True,” Mike concedes, pushing Misha's choice bottle farther back behind him. “How old are you now, Mish?”
Misha gives him a bored look. “Since we both know full well that you're perfectly aware of my age I'm going to assume this is a rhetorical question,” he says through a tight, somewhat condescending smile. Mike is playing games, he can tell. Misha wants no part of it.
“Magpie,” he says, with his fond little smile. “You're twenty-fivw.”
“Yeah,” Misha says slowly. He doesn't really need the reminder that he is grossly older then Jared. He also isn't about to mention that he thought he was twenty-four. He really needs to get his shit straight.“So?”
“Didn't you once tell me that you'd consider graduating when college stopped being so interesting?” Mike asks, in lieu of answer. “Well... how interesting do you think college will be once Jared leaves?”
It's not exactly a leap of logic to come to Mike's conclusion. “You think I should move with him?” He asks, surprisingly hurt. “You want me to leave?” He's not entirely sure he can cope with Mike sending him away. He wouldn't blame him of course; Misha is a terrible pain. It isn't so surprising that Mike would happily foist him on the first---
“I love you like crazy, and I'd keep you forever if I could. But... I just want you to be happy,” Mike sighs. “Jared understands you just as good as I do, if not better, and he wants in your pants. I won't let you pass that up. Maybe you should consider it.”
“I can't just pack up and move to Texas!” Misha argues, but that’s a lie. There is physically nothing holding him back. He could transfer schools, and he's pretty sure trust-fund money works in any state. “I'm weird and stuff. I need you.” It pains him to admit it, but as much as he loves Jared, Mike has kept him safe for years. He wouldn't know what to do without him.
“You don't need me anymore. Jared handles it. He knows full well how weird you are,” Mike snorts. “And he likes you more for it. Misha... just tell Jared you like him. The worst he can do is turn you down and move away.”
“Thanks Mike,” Misha says, horrified and sick to his stomach suddenly. “That's so fucking helpful.”
“What I mean is that either way, Jared is moving away. But it's up to you whether he does it all alone or not.”
“Jared's having a baby,” Misha reminds him, and then snatching the bottle back from behind Mike. There is not enough alcohol in the world to make this situation look pretty. Mike wrestles it out of his hands, and shoves it in a cupboard. “He doesn't need me around for that.”
Mike shrugs, looping an arm over Misha's shoulder. Jared looks up from where he's still beign manhandled, and gives them both a grin. “I don't know. I think he might need you more.”
One pair of assless chaps later, they head home. Jared is still a little miffed about Alexis. He wants to feel bad, but the girl is hard to feel bad for. She's too ready to place the blame of her mistakes on others, and Jared has never been that kind of guy. The blame is his to take too, but it was certainly a joint effort. He doesn't have it in him to be openly mean to her --he'd like for them to get along at least for the baby's sake-- but she makes it so freaking hard.
“Why so serious?” Mike asks, leaning against the washing machine as Jared dumps his (and Misha's) darks in. Since his outing, he just can't in good conscience expect his mother to do his laundry. In truth, he hadn't understood the laundry-reference until Misha explained it to him later. He'd been appropriately mortified.
“Thinking about the baby,” Jared sighs. He has no idea what the hell he was thinking when he made the suggestion, but it felt right. He'd never abandon his own kid, but he had no real desire to raise it with her. “I told Alexis that I'd take it. Like, by myself. I think she's going to consider it.”
“Woah,” Mike says, reeling back a little. “Dude, that's kind of a big decision. I mean, it's a baby.”
“Either way it's a baby,” Jared rolls his eyes. “But this way, at least it's just my baby? I won't be fighting her and her parents every step of the way. I mean, I guess if her parents still want to be a part of its life, I'd deal but...” Looking away, Jared turns the knob on the washer. “I guess I just figured... if it was mine, I wouldn't have to move. I mean... people have babies by themselves all the time. I could go to school part time--extremely part time, and work, which is no different than what I'd have to do here. I mean... I kind of figured I'd get an apartment next year... just, you know, with roommates. I was thinking maybe Misha, but now I can't ask that. I can't be the only kid in school with a baby, right? I don't know. I was just... uh. Thinking about it.” Great. He's rambling like an idiot. It’s like being thrown back to that first week all over again. Did he always sound like such an idiot before Misha?
Probably.
“Thinking about it a lot,” Mike replies, whistling through his teeth. “You could do it, you know? I mean... I don't know anything at all about babies, but Tom does. He has like four hundred siblings.”
“I'm not going to ask Tom to help me with my baby,” Jared replies flatly. That's probably the fastest way to lose friends. “I don't expect any of you to have to deal with this. It's my problem.”
Mike smacks him upside the head and looks at him like he's stupid. “Firstly, if you call your kid a problem again, I'll hit you in the nuts so hard you'll never even have the option of having another. That's just wrong. It's not a problem, it's a baby. Don't make me hit you. Secondly, are you stupid? Do you really think that we're just gonna bail on you because of a kid? I get that we're assholes, but you're our friend Baby Jay. I know for a fact that Misha would never leave you hanging, and dude, we're all your friends. Not promising that we have much to offer, but we do have support. And Tom. Like I said, Tom loves kids.”
“You didn't say Tom loves kids,” Jared corrects him, feeling all mushy and such. “You just said he has a bunch of brothers and sisters.”
“Yeah, well they're kids and he mostly likes them so I guess it's just assumed,” Mike shrugs. “It doesn't matter. If this is what you decide, then we got your back, Jared. And you should seriously think about telling Misha about this plan because... well. Because I think he'd want to know. I know these things, so you should do what I tell you. Remember when you didn't tell Misha you were gay? Yeah, you should always listen to Uncle Mike. Uncle Mike--see, that kind of has a nice ring to it.” Mike slaps him on the shoulder in a manly way, effectively dissolving any girly moment between them. “In the meantime, we all need to drink a lot.”
Laughing, Jared can't help but smile. “You don't have to quit drinking just because I have a kid,” he reminds Mike.
Mike gives him another baleful look. “You can't raise your kid around a bunch of drunks Jared, God.”
It's New Year’s Eve, and Jared is staring into a plastic cup of something neon pink and probably bio-hazardous. While his parents haven't said a single word about their plans, he has no doubt they know exactly what he's doing. His mother had shoved a few twenties in his pocket, made him promise he'd take a cab and then proceeded to bluntly ask him if he and Misha were using condoms. Then she slipped him an extra ten, just in case he needed to stop by the drug store. And like the good mother she is, she also told him to share with his friends.
So yeah... that had been fun.
He sniffs his drink warily. Jeff, who had happily invited himself on this little jaunt, grins. “Bubblegum infused vodka,” he says evil. “I asked my girlfriend for the most girly drinks she knew.”
Jensen, who made friends with Jeff upon setting eyes on him, cuts in. “Dude, she made a list. You get a lemon drop next. We figured we'd do all the innocent sounding ones first and then the pervy ones like a Screaming Orgasm and a Blow Job.”
Mike enters the little cabin kitchen, more drink in hand. “I found one called Cow Boy Butt Sex, but when I saw Misha's chaps I figured you were already having that.” It's said purely for show, but Mike gives Jared a perverted little grin anyway.
Jeff makes a gross brother-sex face and Jared takes a drink of the pink stuff just to hide his blush behind the cup. The taste is vile, flooding his mouth and burning his throat. “Oh God,” Jared groans. “If pink had a taste, this would be it.”
“Funny,” Jensen says, making at thoughtful face. He sips his own horrible pink drink and grimaces comically. “I said the same thing about vagina.”
Jared makes a gross vagina-sex face and every one laughs. It's a good start to the night.
They manage to keep him from getting too drunk before leaving to the club. Jeff's girlfriend, whose name eludes Jared's mildly drunk mind, drops them off. Jared would probably thank her, but he's distracted by Misha's assless chaps. Everyone else, himself included, is dressed in jeans and t-shirts. If the jeans and t-shirts are a little tighter than usual, well no one needs to know that, do they?
There's a line, but Mike quickly circumvents any wait time by dragging Jared to the front. He whispers something into the bouncer’s ear, earning a wide, toothy grin. “This is him!” He yells at them, over the sound of thumping bass escaping the door. “We're celebrating his coming out! Baby Jay, the Baby Gay!”
The bouncer is instantly interested, leering at Jared up and down. “Um... hi.”
“Don't be a tease Baby Jay,” Mike says, slapping Jared and giving him a pointed look. “Show the man a body part.”
Jared reels like an offended maiden. “What?!” He hadn't been informed of this portion of the evening, and frankly he's not sure how he feels about it. “I don't know...”
“He's not asking you to show him your dick,” Jensen says in huff.
Misha pushes himself forward, standing at Jared's side. He flashes the bouncer his best grin. “Though his dick is pierced,” he explains. The bouncer’s eyes fall to Jared's crotch, and he has to fight the urge to cover it with his hands. “Twice.”
“Oh come on,” Tom huffs. “Just flash him some ab.” He doesn't give Jared an option as he yanks his shirt up. Jared yanks it back down and wonders again how Mike had talked him out of wearing boxers. “Oh but hey, if you don't like this one, there's an even bigger version right here.”
Jared doesn't get what Tom is talking about until Jeff is standing at his side, using Jared's shoulder for an arm rest and looking down at the bouncer. “He means bigger in every way, of course,” Jeff says cockily, going so far as to grab his own crotch. Dear God, he thinks they might have planned this.
The poor bouncer. He's not exactly attractive; overweight, short, and a little bald. In the face of Mike, Misha, Tom, Jeff, Jensen and Jared... he looks a little flustered. Jared will admit that collectively, they make for a whole lot of pretty.
“You all can go in,” the bouncers says with a starry-eyed look, and doesn't card a single one of them.
“You're a doll,” Mike says sweetly, with his big cheesy grin. Jeff smacks the bouncer on the ass as they enter, and Jared can't help but love his brother a little more.
It's crowded and loud and both dark and light all at once. Jared's never been to anything more rowdy then a frat party (he blushes when he thinks about how that ended.) “Hey, the bouncer didn't tag you,” Tom notes, looking at Jared's arm.
“I think I've drank enough,” Jared hedges, catching on quickly where Tom is going with this. Jeff slings an arm over Jared shoulder and grins down at him.
“On a scale of one to stupid, how drunk are you?” Jeff asks, eyes narrowing. “It's going to take more than a few girly drinks to bring you down, Baby Jay.”
“You do not get to call me that!” Jared protest, elbowing his brother in the stomach. The previous fraternal love he was feeling is gone; such is the way of brotherhood, really. “I hate you. Who invited you?”
“No one needs to invite me,” Jeff scoffs. “I'm your big brother, it's my duty to support you in these things.”
Jared's look is anything but amused. “Seriously?” He asks, looking up at Jeff. “Is that how you solve all your life problems? 'My name's Jeff, and I'm bigger, so I win',” he mocks, making a face. He can't help but ruin it with a smile. This is all very reminiscent to him. He's missed his brother. “You're an ass.”
“The Padalecki's do breed them big,” Mike agrees, bypassing Jeff and Jared's entire argument. “So drink up.” He shoves a shot in Jared's hand a shot, something brown and murky. Jared tosses it back without question, and sputters when Mike takes that moment to tell him what it is. “It's called a Sit On My Face. Or maybe it's Shit On My Face... I don't read so well when I'm drunk.” He's got another in his hand, something yellow and bubbling. “Come on, drink up.”
Jared does, but it's begrudgingly. It's a sour-sweet concoction that taste a little like Screw Driver. “What is it?”He asks loudly, as the DJ sets a new song.
Misha takes that moment to sniff his glass, eyes narrowing in thought. He nods his head, conclusion reached. “Golden Shower!” He tells Jared, who tries not to gag. Misha has a drink in his hand as well. Had they all come to the conclusion that Jared hadn't been carded? “This one's called a Cherry Popper.”
They keep them coming, each one a little weirder than the next, till Jared is sure they're making them up. There's the Wyoming Leg-spreader that makes him want to puke, and a Harvey Wallbanger that tastes like fruit cake (that's never a compliment.) Tom’s brought a creamy drink called a Deep Throat, and Jensen's contribution had been something called a Painted Whore. Misha had made him drink a Cum Shot. That wouldn't seem so funny in the morning, he's sure.
When he's nearly too drunk to walk, someone decides it's a great idea to make him dance, tugging him by both hands onto the floor. Jeff keeps their table, wisely agreeing with Jared's protests. Padalecki's are not dancing-people. It doesn't stop Mike or Misha from manipulating Jared's arms to do the robot. He laughs it off, and lets them, slinging an arm around Misha when he feels about to fall. It's illogical to lean on Misha, he's the smallest in there crowd, but he's the only one Jared wants to cling to.
Apparently that's a lie. “He's a handsy drunk,” Mike comments, weaseling his way out from beneath Jared's other arm. Jared isn't one-hundred percent sure, but he thinks he might have been stroking the peach-fuzz covering Mike's head. It's a little fuzzy...er, not his head. Well that too...but really he meant his mind. They're both fuzzy, his mind and Mike's head. “Is this a family thing?”
Jeff laughs. “We're touchers,” he explains, giving his brother a grin. To emphasize his point, he pets Mike's head.
Midnight creeps in on them, but Jared's too busy being happy in the moment while he can.
CHAPTER TWENTY....