J2 RPS fic: Do What You Want
Title: Do What You Want
Author: shortsweetsoul
Fandom: J2 RPS; Supernatural RPS
Rating: PG13 (for swearing, sexual situations)
Genre: Humor, Pre-slash/Bromance (no actual romancing, sorry)
Characters: J² (Chad “Token Douchebag Friend” Michael Murray’s Voice, Random Stripper’s Voice, Now-Legal-Girl’s Voice)
Disclaimer: This is fiction! Fiction, I say!
Summary: Jared is a professional actor, for god’s sake. He can run around with eighty pounds of makeup on his face, work covered in fake blood and mud but he has never even been able to function while he has a wedgie.
Warnings: Overuse of the words “wedgie” and “man-panties.” Also, scenes from a strip club bathroom, but nothing graphic.
Notes: First fic of any kind from me in… over two years. I’m a little rusty, but I tried my hardest! Also, this is my first J2, so this is an entirely experimental endeavor. :D
More A/N: The characterizations and/or voices are probably off, because I’m new to J2, Supernatural, RPS… The list goes on and on. But I tried my hardest! :) Enjoy!
---------
There is a nice, clean line between living in the same house and living together. Jared knows where that line is, and he will not cross it. He won’t squirm in his seat on the couch, and he will focus on the television.
It’s Tuesday, so Jared and Jensen are watching Kitchen Nightmares. Gordon Ramsay is tearing apart some poor kid for putting apricots in his mashed potatoes. Asshole. It’s a cool idea! When he makes mashed potatoes tomorrow, Jared is so throwing in some apricots for sympathy.
He shifts again, without thought.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, dude?”
Jared tears his eyes away from the screen. “What?”
Jensen’s eyebrow is raised in mocking inquiry, his head cocked a little to the side. “You’re squirming like you’ve got worms in your pants.”
“Nah ‘m good more beer?” Jared says quickly before rushing out of the living room with empty bottles in hand, praying that he wasn’t waddling.
He makes sure that he’s out of sight before reaching behind him and pulling his underwear where it was digging into his ass.
God, this is fucking stupid. He can’t even pull his own wedgies out in his own house. He shouldn’t have to have the least of manners in his house, he should be free to dig the wedgies, scratch his balls, belch like a goddamn sailor-
He can’t do all of that if Jensen’s there. Because then they’d be too comfortable in the same room. They’d be too together. Jared’s dad said that the night he proposed to his momma was the night she farted in bed. Jared and Jensen aren’t together in the same kind of way, but they sort of… are.
He just had to save his friend-in-need and offer up his guest room.
“Take as long as you need, you said. Mi casa es su casa, you said. You moron,” he muttered wretchedly, standing in the middle of their kitchen (his kitchen!) with his face in his hands.
He really can’t take it anymore.
Screw the fun nights of Guitar Hero III, and those rare days off when all they do is lay on the couch and watch Food Network (which is totally not gay, there’s beer and steak and Giada’s breasts are always right in the middle of the shot). Screw the fact that Sadie and Harley love Jen like a second daddy. Screw the odd nights after long hard days where they sit and talk, actually talk about their lives and ideas and hopes and… everything.
Screw the fact that the house would feel completely empty without him.
…Well, fuck. This is gonna require further thought, now isn’t it?
---------
The next night, Jared’s hiding out in the (his!) kitchen again, leaning against the counter. Jen’s in the living room, and judging by a sudden bark of laughter he’s swiped the remote and changed the channel from Dirty Sexy Money to Seinfeld. Bastard.
Jared doesn’t put much feeling into his brief moment of annoyance. His mind is a whirlwind of thought, even though there are only two distinct ideas:
Kick him out! It’s your house! You must be freeeee!
You’d be miserable without him! Fuck insecurity about your masculinity! It’s too late anyway, you wear all those pink shirts!
These two ideas are waging war, and his subconscious has gone so far as to dress them up like Continental and Confederate soldiers.
He sighs and rubs his face. He can’t make this decision on his own.
He needs himself a Ulysses S. Grant.
Acting on instinct, he pulls his cell out from his pocket and speed dials 6. It takes eight rings before it picks up.
“What the fuck are you doing calling me on Heroic Humpday?” Chad’s voice is slurred and muffled through pumping hip-hop and shouts.
“I need to talk to you, man, I don’t know what to do-”
“Baby, put the phone back in your pocket,” a female voice slides through the speaker, much closer than the other voices.
“Dude, it’s Heroic Humpday! There are strippers dressed like fucking Catwoman!” He sounds every bit like a kid in a candy store. A really dark candy store with booze, drugs, and g-strings. “There’s latex everywhere, and those lesbians from Batman are right on top of each other! I will not miss t-”
“Chad!” Jared hisses. “I’m thinking of kicking Jen out!”
There’s a pause. Jared drums his fingers on the counter.
Then the music fades away quickly.
“Alright, I can hear you now. Start talking.” Chad commands. He sounds pissed, but at least he’s still on the phone.
Jared takes a deep breath before speaking. “I can’t relax in my own house, man. It’s like, I can be goofy, but I can’t be sloppy or ugly, y’know, just roll-”
thump.
“-outta bed and eat a bowl of cereal naked, or pull a fucking wedgie-”
thump.
“-in my own fucking house.-“
thump.
“-It’s weird. What the hell is that noise?” The thumps are louder now, and there are other noises that accompany it now.
“I’m in a strip joint bathroom. What do you think it is?” Chad drawls. “And you called me because you had a motherfuckin’ wedgie? Just buy bigger man-panties, you pussy.”
The thumping stops suddenly. “Oh… my… god… Chad?!” Jared hears a high-pitched voice squeal.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Chad groans. “Not now, random drunk stripper from yesteryear, I’m busy-”
“Random drunk stripper?” the woman’s voice cuts in again. “You don’t remember me, hun?”
“Brandy. Your dad strangled me because you’re underage. I remember you.” Jared can hear the predatory smile that Chad saves for jailbait.
The girl’s chuckle is low. “I’m eighteen now,” her voice very close.
“Really?” Sex-on-legs voice now.
“Focus, Chad! I don’t care how much you wanna tap that, listen to me!” Jared practically screeches. “You are my Grant! Help me out here!”
“Your what?”
“It’s a metap-”
“I don’t care, now listen to me.” Chad speaks patronizingly slow, which pisses Jared off and makes him feel better at the same time. “If you feel like you can take yours and Jen’s relationship to the next level, then just go with it.”
“What the fuck, ‘the next level’?” Jared scoffs. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I mean, in yours and Jen’s freakish man-love, you eating cereal naked or pulling your man-panties outta your ass is like a fucking marriage proposal.”
“I don’t actually want to eat cereal naked with him-”
“Aw, you’re helping out your homo friend with his relationship?” Brandy-Who-Is-Now-Legal cuts in, full of giggles. “When did you get so sweet?”
“I was always this sweet, babe.”
More giggles, so Chad either has his tongue on her neck or in her ear.
So. He’s done listening.
Jared sighs.
“Maybe you’re actually right about this one. I’ll just roll with it.”
More giggles, although they’re softer and more breathy.
“Not the eating cereal naked thing though. Because that’s just weird.”
Feminine gasping.
“We’re not gay.”
Now there’s moaning.
“Thanks man,” Jared hangs up quickly and puts his cell on the counter, resisting the urge to wash his hands.
He steels himself. This is it. He’s going to man up, fight for his right to-
Well, be comfortable in his man-panties.
He calmly walks back into the living room, his face set. He will be rational, and he will share his thoughts with his roommate.
He sits down, not noticing that Jensen’s muted the TV and is staring at Jared like there’s a horn on his forehead.
There’s a heavy silence while Jared stares straight ahead at the TV, refusing to look at the man sitting on the couch next to him.
The man who has slid closer to him.
The man who put his hand on Jared’s shoulder.
The man who says “Jare, you okay?” softly, their knees touching.
“I want to eat cereal naked,” Jared blurts, still staring at the TV.
“The hell?” Jensen pulls his hand back, but doesn’t move away. “Whaddya mean-”
“No, that’s what I don’t want to do,” Jared turns suddenly, almost knocking Jensen over with flailing arms. “I want to be sloppy and ugly and roll outta bed with drool crusting on my face and scratch my balls and belch and pull my man-panties outta my ass because I can run around with a broken hand and eighty pounds of makeup on my face but I just can’t deal with those, man, and…” He stops, looking at the insanely dazzling grin on Jensen’s face.
“Dude, don’t smile, then I’m gonna-”
When Jensen starts to laugh, Jared frowns.
“I’ve been agonizing about this forever-”
Jensen’s doubled over, almost falling off of the couch. He removes his glasses so he can wipe tears streaming from his eyes. “This is too damn funny-”
“How the hell is this funny?!” Jared’s forehead scrunches up, a perfect example of the bitchface. “This is serious business!”
Jensen manages to stop laughing but he’s still grinning like a damn fool.
“For starters, you used the words ‘wedgies’ and ‘man-panties’.” Jensen leans back, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “And, Jare, the way you were freaking out, I thought there was something bad coming up.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “This is so anticlimactic.”
Jared looks at him, mouth hanging open.
Jensen looks back, lamplight hitting his face at just the right angle so his face is bright, freckles and lips illuminated, eyes shiny with happiness and relief and…
“Fuck you, man,” Jared grabs the throw pillow wedged between himself and the arm of the couch and smacks Jensen with it.
Jensen laughs, sticking his glasses back on his face. “Can’t hit a man with glasses, Jare. What would your momma think?”
“You didn’t have them on, asshole,” Jared grins back.
“I still have ‘em, don’t I?”
Jared rolls his eyes and turns back to the TV. “Turn the volume back on.”
Jensen complies. “Yeah, semantics are a bitch.”
END
A/N: For future reference, I have two questions I’d like to ask. I know they’re goofy, but I MUST KNOW:
(A) If Jared were to call anyone for help pertaining to his relationship (romantic or otherwise) with Jensen, who would he call?
(B) When Jared talks about breasts in a sexual way, what term would he use?
I’m still laughing at myself for asking the second question at all.
Please, critique! I feel the need to improve, so even if you see the teeniest of problems, please comment and tell me.
Thanks for reading!
Author: shortsweetsoul
Fandom: J2 RPS; Supernatural RPS
Rating: PG13 (for swearing, sexual situations)
Genre: Humor, Pre-slash/Bromance (no actual romancing, sorry)
Characters: J² (Chad “Token Douchebag Friend” Michael Murray’s Voice, Random Stripper’s Voice, Now-Legal-Girl’s Voice)
Disclaimer: This is fiction! Fiction, I say!
Summary: Jared is a professional actor, for god’s sake. He can run around with eighty pounds of makeup on his face, work covered in fake blood and mud but he has never even been able to function while he has a wedgie.
Warnings: Overuse of the words “wedgie” and “man-panties.” Also, scenes from a strip club bathroom, but nothing graphic.
Notes: First fic of any kind from me in… over two years. I’m a little rusty, but I tried my hardest! Also, this is my first J2, so this is an entirely experimental endeavor. :D
More A/N: The characterizations and/or voices are probably off, because I’m new to J2, Supernatural, RPS… The list goes on and on. But I tried my hardest! :) Enjoy!
---------
There is a nice, clean line between living in the same house and living together. Jared knows where that line is, and he will not cross it. He won’t squirm in his seat on the couch, and he will focus on the television.
It’s Tuesday, so Jared and Jensen are watching Kitchen Nightmares. Gordon Ramsay is tearing apart some poor kid for putting apricots in his mashed potatoes. Asshole. It’s a cool idea! When he makes mashed potatoes tomorrow, Jared is so throwing in some apricots for sympathy.
He shifts again, without thought.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, dude?”
Jared tears his eyes away from the screen. “What?”
Jensen’s eyebrow is raised in mocking inquiry, his head cocked a little to the side. “You’re squirming like you’ve got worms in your pants.”
“Nah ‘m good more beer?” Jared says quickly before rushing out of the living room with empty bottles in hand, praying that he wasn’t waddling.
He makes sure that he’s out of sight before reaching behind him and pulling his underwear where it was digging into his ass.
God, this is fucking stupid. He can’t even pull his own wedgies out in his own house. He shouldn’t have to have the least of manners in his house, he should be free to dig the wedgies, scratch his balls, belch like a goddamn sailor-
He can’t do all of that if Jensen’s there. Because then they’d be too comfortable in the same room. They’d be too together. Jared’s dad said that the night he proposed to his momma was the night she farted in bed. Jared and Jensen aren’t together in the same kind of way, but they sort of… are.
He just had to save his friend-in-need and offer up his guest room.
“Take as long as you need, you said. Mi casa es su casa, you said. You moron,” he muttered wretchedly, standing in the middle of their kitchen (his kitchen!) with his face in his hands.
He really can’t take it anymore.
Screw the fun nights of Guitar Hero III, and those rare days off when all they do is lay on the couch and watch Food Network (which is totally not gay, there’s beer and steak and Giada’s breasts are always right in the middle of the shot). Screw the fact that Sadie and Harley love Jen like a second daddy. Screw the odd nights after long hard days where they sit and talk, actually talk about their lives and ideas and hopes and… everything.
Screw the fact that the house would feel completely empty without him.
…Well, fuck. This is gonna require further thought, now isn’t it?
---------
The next night, Jared’s hiding out in the (his!) kitchen again, leaning against the counter. Jen’s in the living room, and judging by a sudden bark of laughter he’s swiped the remote and changed the channel from Dirty Sexy Money to Seinfeld. Bastard.
Jared doesn’t put much feeling into his brief moment of annoyance. His mind is a whirlwind of thought, even though there are only two distinct ideas:
Kick him out! It’s your house! You must be freeeee!
You’d be miserable without him! Fuck insecurity about your masculinity! It’s too late anyway, you wear all those pink shirts!
These two ideas are waging war, and his subconscious has gone so far as to dress them up like Continental and Confederate soldiers.
He sighs and rubs his face. He can’t make this decision on his own.
He needs himself a Ulysses S. Grant.
Acting on instinct, he pulls his cell out from his pocket and speed dials 6. It takes eight rings before it picks up.
“What the fuck are you doing calling me on Heroic Humpday?” Chad’s voice is slurred and muffled through pumping hip-hop and shouts.
“I need to talk to you, man, I don’t know what to do-”
“Baby, put the phone back in your pocket,” a female voice slides through the speaker, much closer than the other voices.
“Dude, it’s Heroic Humpday! There are strippers dressed like fucking Catwoman!” He sounds every bit like a kid in a candy store. A really dark candy store with booze, drugs, and g-strings. “There’s latex everywhere, and those lesbians from Batman are right on top of each other! I will not miss t-”
“Chad!” Jared hisses. “I’m thinking of kicking Jen out!”
There’s a pause. Jared drums his fingers on the counter.
Then the music fades away quickly.
“Alright, I can hear you now. Start talking.” Chad commands. He sounds pissed, but at least he’s still on the phone.
Jared takes a deep breath before speaking. “I can’t relax in my own house, man. It’s like, I can be goofy, but I can’t be sloppy or ugly, y’know, just roll-”
thump.
“-outta bed and eat a bowl of cereal naked, or pull a fucking wedgie-”
thump.
“-in my own fucking house.-“
thump.
“-It’s weird. What the hell is that noise?” The thumps are louder now, and there are other noises that accompany it now.
“I’m in a strip joint bathroom. What do you think it is?” Chad drawls. “And you called me because you had a motherfuckin’ wedgie? Just buy bigger man-panties, you pussy.”
The thumping stops suddenly. “Oh… my… god… Chad?!” Jared hears a high-pitched voice squeal.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Chad groans. “Not now, random drunk stripper from yesteryear, I’m busy-”
“Random drunk stripper?” the woman’s voice cuts in again. “You don’t remember me, hun?”
“Brandy. Your dad strangled me because you’re underage. I remember you.” Jared can hear the predatory smile that Chad saves for jailbait.
The girl’s chuckle is low. “I’m eighteen now,” her voice very close.
“Really?” Sex-on-legs voice now.
“Focus, Chad! I don’t care how much you wanna tap that, listen to me!” Jared practically screeches. “You are my Grant! Help me out here!”
“Your what?”
“It’s a metap-”
“I don’t care, now listen to me.” Chad speaks patronizingly slow, which pisses Jared off and makes him feel better at the same time. “If you feel like you can take yours and Jen’s relationship to the next level, then just go with it.”
“What the fuck, ‘the next level’?” Jared scoffs. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I mean, in yours and Jen’s freakish man-love, you eating cereal naked or pulling your man-panties outta your ass is like a fucking marriage proposal.”
“I don’t actually want to eat cereal naked with him-”
“Aw, you’re helping out your homo friend with his relationship?” Brandy-Who-Is-Now-Legal cuts in, full of giggles. “When did you get so sweet?”
“I was always this sweet, babe.”
More giggles, so Chad either has his tongue on her neck or in her ear.
So. He’s done listening.
Jared sighs.
“Maybe you’re actually right about this one. I’ll just roll with it.”
More giggles, although they’re softer and more breathy.
“Not the eating cereal naked thing though. Because that’s just weird.”
Feminine gasping.
“We’re not gay.”
Now there’s moaning.
“Thanks man,” Jared hangs up quickly and puts his cell on the counter, resisting the urge to wash his hands.
He steels himself. This is it. He’s going to man up, fight for his right to-
Well, be comfortable in his man-panties.
He calmly walks back into the living room, his face set. He will be rational, and he will share his thoughts with his roommate.
He sits down, not noticing that Jensen’s muted the TV and is staring at Jared like there’s a horn on his forehead.
There’s a heavy silence while Jared stares straight ahead at the TV, refusing to look at the man sitting on the couch next to him.
The man who has slid closer to him.
The man who put his hand on Jared’s shoulder.
The man who says “Jare, you okay?” softly, their knees touching.
“I want to eat cereal naked,” Jared blurts, still staring at the TV.
“The hell?” Jensen pulls his hand back, but doesn’t move away. “Whaddya mean-”
“No, that’s what I don’t want to do,” Jared turns suddenly, almost knocking Jensen over with flailing arms. “I want to be sloppy and ugly and roll outta bed with drool crusting on my face and scratch my balls and belch and pull my man-panties outta my ass because I can run around with a broken hand and eighty pounds of makeup on my face but I just can’t deal with those, man, and…” He stops, looking at the insanely dazzling grin on Jensen’s face.
“Dude, don’t smile, then I’m gonna-”
When Jensen starts to laugh, Jared frowns.
“I’ve been agonizing about this forever-”
Jensen’s doubled over, almost falling off of the couch. He removes his glasses so he can wipe tears streaming from his eyes. “This is too damn funny-”
“How the hell is this funny?!” Jared’s forehead scrunches up, a perfect example of the bitchface. “This is serious business!”
Jensen manages to stop laughing but he’s still grinning like a damn fool.
“For starters, you used the words ‘wedgies’ and ‘man-panties’.” Jensen leans back, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “And, Jare, the way you were freaking out, I thought there was something bad coming up.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “This is so anticlimactic.”
Jared looks at him, mouth hanging open.
Jensen looks back, lamplight hitting his face at just the right angle so his face is bright, freckles and lips illuminated, eyes shiny with happiness and relief and…
“Fuck you, man,” Jared grabs the throw pillow wedged between himself and the arm of the couch and smacks Jensen with it.
Jensen laughs, sticking his glasses back on his face. “Can’t hit a man with glasses, Jare. What would your momma think?”
“You didn’t have them on, asshole,” Jared grins back.
“I still have ‘em, don’t I?”
Jared rolls his eyes and turns back to the TV. “Turn the volume back on.”
Jensen complies. “Yeah, semantics are a bitch.”
END
A/N: For future reference, I have two questions I’d like to ask. I know they’re goofy, but I MUST KNOW:
(A) If Jared were to call anyone for help pertaining to his relationship (romantic or otherwise) with Jensen, who would he call?
(B) When Jared talks about breasts in a sexual way, what term would he use?
I’m still laughing at myself for asking the second question at all.
Please, critique! I feel the need to improve, so even if you see the teeniest of problems, please comment and tell me.
Thanks for reading!