Fic: Suburban Cape Cod Blues (Part 1)
Master Post
Jared fidgets behind the desk, watching the students slowly trickle in. Eighteen girls-women-and one guy. More than a few of them are eyeing him in confusion. He watches the clock on the wall. When it hits 2:00 he stands up and walks around to the front of the desk.
“Okay, welcome to Intro to Feminist Lit. That’s English 231. If this isn’t where you meant to be, feel free to leave now. I won’t be offended, I promise.” He grins slightly, glancing around, but nobody gets up. “All right, good. In that case, I’m Jared Padalecki. You can call me Professor Padalecki if you want to make me feel old, but I’d really prefer it if you called me Jared.”
He’s relieved to see some smiles around the room and he turns around to grab a stack of papers.
“This is your syllabus. Take one and pass ‘em along. It’s got our schedule, major assignments, my office hours-please feel free to make use of them-list of required books, of course-” He breaks off when he sees a hand go up three rows back to his left, a tiny blonde with sharp blue eyes. “Yes, question?”
“Yes. I don’t mean to be rude, but-” She pauses. “You’re our professor for feminist lit?”
Jared hears some low murmurs of assent from around the room. His stomach drops to his toes as sheer terror sets in, but he expected this. He steels his determination and clears his throat. “You mean because I’m a man?”
She turns a little bit pink but nods decisively.
Jared takes a steadying breath and starts talking.
~*~
After the last student files out Jared retreats to Sophia’s office. He flops unceremoniously into a chair, feeling completely wrung out.
“I hate you so much right now,” he tells her.
She looks up from her monitor, a smirk of pure evil on her face. “Aw, honey. Rough day?”
He glares at her. “They nearly ate me alive.”
“What’s the matter? Big man like you afraid of some scrawny fledgling feminists?”
“Yes,” he says, nodding emphatically.
“Oh, come on, Jared. I know you too well. You had them eating out of your hand by the end of the hour, didn’t you?”
He permits himself a small smirk of his own. “Maybe a little. My spiel on the validity of feminist criticism was pretty awesome.”
“See? It’s fine. Didn’t I tell you it would be fine?”
“Actually, what you told me was that you needed a professor for one more section of feminist lit, and with Dr. Bellman on maternity leave, I was the only one remotely qualified.” He pauses. “And you’d cut my balls off if I didn’t do it.”
“Well, I do believe in positive reinforcement,” she says. “Anyway, it’s good to broaden your horizons.”
He huffs out a laugh. “I’m already teaching the course. You can stop sweet talking me.”
“You love me.”
“Wouldn’t be compromising my macho image like this if I didn’t.”
She eyes his pink patterned button-down pointedly. “Honey, the day anybody calls you macho will be the day they’re building snowmen in hell.”
He nods agreeably. “Point. But I figure if I make you feel guilty enough for this maybe you’ll think you owe me sometime down the line.” He tries the puppy eyes of doom, but she shakes her head, laughing.
“Please, if I hadn’t developed an immunity to those eyes I would never have survived being friends with you for two years.”
“Worth a shot.”
“Whatever. Are you ready? We’re going to be late for the meeting if we don’t get going.”
“Yeah, yeah. Just gotta grab my bag from my office, then we can go.”
~*~
Most of the group is already assembled by the time Jared and Sophia arrive.
“Chad, you bastard! Why did I ever give you my spare key?” Jared shakes his head, laughing.
“Because you’re madly in love with me and you were hoping I’d take it as a sign to move in,” his best friend answers.
Jared rolls his eyes so hard that he almost sprains something. “Yeah, that must be it.” He drops to one knee next to the couch where Chad is sitting. “Marry me, Mayhem. Let’s adopt Chinese babies together.”
Chad reaches out and drags Jared’s head forward, planting a sloppy kiss on his lips before shoving him backwards and off balance so Jared sprawls across the living room rug. “Bitch, please. I am so too good for you,” he says, and they both crack up.
Someone clears their throat from the doorway. Jared twists his head around from his spot on the floor to see a seriously adorable guy looking from him to Chad like they’re hungry lions that might just eat him.
“Um, sorry, ‘scuse me,” he says, ducking his head and hiding his piercing blue eyes momentarily. “Is this the Safe Zone mentors’ meeting?”
Jared scrambles up from the floor, hastily dusting off his pants. “Yes, absolutely. Come in! I’m Jared Padalecki, lowly associate English professor and coordinator for the group. Welcome to the house of insanity.” He holds out his hand, and Shy Adorable Guy shakes it hesitantly.
“Misha Collins,” he offers. “I’m the new Constitutional Law professor.”
“Nice to meet you, Misha. I wish I could say we’re not usually like this, but, well, we are.” He grins in what he hopes is a winning manner and turns to the group to make introductions, and he finds Chad doing a fantastic impression of a fish trying to breath air. “So this is Chad. He’s a counselor with Student Health Services, not to mention my best friend. That probably proves I’ve got a masochistic streak.” He smirks at Chad, expecting a snappy comeback.
Instead, he watches in shock as Chad turns a delicate shade of pink and waves shyly. “Hi,” he says softly, studying his shoes.
Jared stares. “Um, Chad, you sick, buddy?”
“No, shut up,” Chad answers, still not looking up.
Jared shakes his head and moves on, determined to torture whatever it is out of Chad later. “Anyway, this is Sophia Bush.”
Sophia waves cheerily. “Women’s Studies,” she elaborates.
“And this is Samantha Ferris.”
“Call me Sam,” she says. “Theater. Performance Theory and Set Design. And token dyke.”
“Not anymore,” the girl next to her says, looking at Sam with what can only be called adoration.
“I’m sorry,” Jared says, “I don’t think we’ve met.”
“Danneel Harris,” the stunning redhead offers. “PhD candidate in chemistry and graduate RA.”
“And apparently Sam’s latest sweet young thing,” Chad interjects, apparently recovered from his mysterious speechlessness.
“Shut your mouth, Murray,” Sam warns, glaring.
“So.” Jared turns to Misha. “Did we scare you off yet?”
“Were you trying to?” Misha asks, laughing a little.
Jared claps him on the back. “Nah, just wanted to get the insanity out there in the open. Wouldn’t want you to join up without knowing what you’re getting into.”
Misha grins. “Well, consider me fairly warned, then.”
“All right, man! Welcome to Safe Zone.” Everyone settles down in a messy approximation of a circle and Jared gets down to business. “Okay, for our newbies and in case anybody needs a refresher, our primary mission is to mentor LGBT students or any student who’s struggling with issues of sexual orientation and gender identity.
“We offer a safe space for them to talk about what they’re going through without having to worry about a hostile reaction. And we use these shiny stickers-” he holds up a rainbow striped triangle with the letters SZ on it, “-to identify ourselves. We put them on our doors so students know where they can go when they need someone to talk to.
“We also try to help out the Rainbow Alliance with campus outreach and awareness activities like the Day of Silence and Pride Week. I’m the lucky son of a bitch who gets to be faculty advisor for the next generation of twinks, so if you’ve got a question about any of the above, I probably know the answer.
“So, it’s a new year, and we have a new crop of RAs to indoctrinate. I was going to handle the presentation myself, but since we’ve got an insider in our midst, Danneel, would you like to help out?”
“Sure thing, boss,” she says, grinning.
There’s not really a lot more business to deal with, so people fall to talking amongst themselves. Jared tries to draw Chad into conversation with Misha, but he ends up doing most of the talking while Chad answers direct questions in monosyllables. A few minutes later, Danneel pulls a magazine out of her bag.
“Breaking news in the Ackles scandal,” she declares gleefully.
Jared groans. “Oh, come on, haven’t we heard enough about this?”
For almost two months, the country has been following the scandal of country music star, Jensen Ackles. The singer was outed in a particularly ugly and public fashion-literally caught with his pants down at the CMA Music Festival in June. He’s been plastered across the tabloid covers ever since.
Jared thought it was finally dying down, but apparently, some particularly creative “reporter” has been able to drag another story out of it. Jared feels kind of sorry for the guy. He figures it can’t be easy being gay in Nashville, land of the macho and the manly.
Everybody else wants to discuss the latest juicy details, though, something about an “anonymous source close to the singer”-yeah, sure-so he sits back and waits for it to blow over.
~*~
Jared was supposed to pick up chips and a two-liter. One bag and one bottle, a quick trip through the self-checkout, and then he’d be free of the retail hell that is Wal-Mart at 5:30 on a weekday. He wasn’t supposed to need a cart, so he didn’t get one.
Which doesn’t explain how he finds himself staggering up aisle seven balancing a Coke and a Sprite, Tostitos, a jar each of mild and hot salsa and a jumbo variety pack of condoms. He’s got his cell phone wedged between his jaw and his shoulder, Chad’s voice in his ear.
“But, Jayman, you’re already there. Just grab some mild salsa-“
“Hot!” Sophia yells in the background.
“Mild!” Chad hollers back, not bothering to pull the phone away from his mouth. Jared winces.
“Broke my heart!” she counters.
“Oh my god, we only dated for two months!”
“Dude,” Jared breaks in, “I’ll just get both, okay?”
“He’s getting both!” Chad yells triumphantly. Then at a more bearable volume, he adds, “Thanks, man. My uncastrated balls thank you, too.”
Jared chuckles. “No problem.”
“He’s getting the Sprite, right?” Sophia shouts.
“Coke!”
Jared sighs heavily. “Coke and Sprite. Got it.”
“Oh, and Adam called. Rainbow Alliance needs condoms for the activities fair.”
“Dude, Wal-Mart is five minutes away from campus. Am I really the only one capable of finding the enormous gray and blue building?”
“Aww, don’t be mean! They’re poor starving students.”
“The group has ridiculous amounts of funding. Any time they need money, they just start mumbling about homophobia, and the school coughs up a couple thousand.”
“So bill them!”
Jared shakes his head. “Fine, fine. Anything else? Because I am out of hands, and I’m hanging up on you in five, four-“
“Well, I’m a little low on lube-“
“No. Chad, we are best friends, but there are lines.”
“Fine.”
“You are so not pouting because I won’t buy your lube.”
“No.”
“You are! God, all right! I’m such a pushover. KY?”
“The warming kind?”
“File under ‘things I didn’t need to know.’” Jared scans the shelves and finds the right one, nudging it into the crook of his elbow. “All right. That’s it. I’ll see you later.”
“Oh, wait! What about-“
But Jared doesn’t wait to hear what else Chad can’t drive five minutes to buy himself. He lets the phone slide down his chest and manages to free a pinky to flip it closed.
He’s almost got his very interesting assortment of shopping balanced enough that he thinks he can make it to the registers when a solid weight slams into him, and he goes down, sprawled across the aisle surrounded by soda, snacks and condoms.
~*~
This is a bad idea. Jensen knows this is a bad idea. Dohring has cautioned him about going out in public at all, and Jensen is in complete agreement with him on this point.
But he is out of coffee. This is unacceptable. Jensen is fairly sure that the world will cease to turn on its axis if he does not have coffee, so here he is in Wal-Mart at 5:30 on a Wednesday. The aisles are crowded with mothers wrestling with toddlers, students fighting over fifty cent notebooks, and cube monkeys trying to squeeze in some after work shopping.
His pulse is up and the back of his neck is prickling, but he thinks it’s mostly his paranoia. Most of these people are too caught up in their own business to pay any attention to him. A couple of shoppers’ eyes have lingered that extra moment that means they recognize him, but nobody’s tried to approach yet.
He’s got his coffee, picked it out and ran it through the grinder without incident, when he remembers he’s out of lube. He’s pretty sure he knows what Dohring would say about buying that at Wal-Mart, and more than likely the cashier will sell the story to some tabloid, but he’s cranky and caffeine deprived. It’s been weeks of this hiding, and he’s already here, and fuck it. He mentally gives his agent the finger and heads across towards the pharmacy section.
Halfway there, he notices he’s acquired a skinny shadow with emo bangs and a cell phone. Serves him right. His agent obviously has the godlike omniscience to tell when Jensen is being disobedient, and Emo Boy is his punishment.
He considers abandoning his mission, but he’s nothing if not a stubborn bastard. He picks up his pace, trying to lose the kid in the crowd. No such luck, tenacious little parasite. Probably can’t wait to snap a picture and splash it all over his blog, Facebook, MySpace, whatever the hell else everybody’s plugged into these days.
By the time he makes it to the right aisle, he’s looking backwards more than forwards, contorting himself in a hopeless attempt to keep an eye on the kid while simultaneously avoiding giving him a clean shot for his camera phone. Oh, god, what if he gets a shot of Jensen reaching for the lube? This was such a bad idea. Why can’t he ever listen to his own better judgment?
The crowds are thinning out as he approaches the corner where they hide the unmentionables. Wouldn’t do to have Sam Walton rolling over in his grave because the lube and condoms are out in plain sight, after all. Jensen’s got a constant litany of fuckfuckfuck running through his head.
He risks another glance over his shoulder and runs smack into what feels like a brick wall. It makes a really interesting squealy noise, though, so he has to conclude it’s not. Jensen whips his head around to find he has knocked down a giant. Goliath shakes shaggy brown hair out of his face and blinks in bewilderment.
And Jensen’s brain grinds to a halt. Correction, he has knocked down the hottest giant in existence. After a few seconds, his brain catches up, and he realizes he’s staring uselessly at the guy he just knocked on his ass in the middle of Wal-Mart.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says, bending down and reaching for the guy’s scattered shopping. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” He starts to pick himself up. “I’m-” He breaks off. “You’re Jensen Ackles,” he says, sounding stunned.
Jensen’s stomach drops. He sighs. No getting away from it now. “Yeah.”
“Wow, I, wow.” The guy laughs self-consciously. “I don’t really listen to your music. Sorry, is that bad to say? But, like, I saw what happened. That really sucks, man. Nobody should have to go through that.”
“Um, thanks?” Jensen is very confused.
“Yeah, not that my apology means anything, I mean, you don’t know me from Adam.” The guys is gathering chips and soda from where they’re scattered across the floor. Jensen notices a bottle of KY warming lube that’s rolled under the shelf near his foot. Moving before he can think better of it, he grabs it and shoves it in his jacket pocket. No way is he getting his own now that the giant is babbling at him and obviously reads way too many tabloids.
“I mean,” he continues, “It’s like a sickness in this country. The obsession with celebrity. Like they-you-are super-human or something.” He pauses and looks up through his bangs in a way that Jensen refuses to find adorable. “You’re not, right? Secretly Superman, I mean.” He grins impishly, and somehow Jensen can’t keep from grinning back.
“Nah,” he says, shifting uncomfortably. “Just plain old human like everybody else.”
The guy nods. “That’s what I thought. You know, I don’t normally pay attention to tabloid stories. Makes me feel kinda skeezy. But this-you-I couldn’t really help it. Felt personal somehow. I mean, being an out gay man isn’t easy, I can tell you. But I can’t even imagine what it would be like for somebody like you with the whole world watching.”
“Um, yeah.” Jensen sort of floored by the easy way he says it. Says it’s not easy, but it must be a little bit because he’ll say it to a stranger in Wal-Mart. He rubs the back of his neck, feeling awkward.
“I, god, I’m such a dork. I did my doctoral thesis on representations of the queer in mainstream literature. English Lit degree, so not quite tabloids, but it’s kind of the same idea, and wow. You are a rock star. What do you care about my doctoral thesis?”
“Country star,” Jensen corrects without thinking, promptly feeling like the biggest douchebag in the whole world. “And I’m not too good for the little people or anything.” He doesn’t know why he’s defending himself to this guy he doesn’t know and just happened to unfortunately knock down, except then the guy grins again.
“It’s been a long time since anybody’s called me little,” he says, his eyes glinting wickedly.
Jensen is prevented from saying something really awkward and embarrassing for the umpteenth time in five minutes when the guy’s attention shifts sharply to a point somewhere over Jensen’s shoulder.
“Don’t even think about it, Zac!” he says, commanding.
Jensen looks around to see Emo Boy guiltily shoving his cell phone into the pocket of his jeans.
“Sorry, Professor Padalecki,” he says, looking simultaneously chagrined and disappointed. He hovers for another second before shuffling off, shoulders hunched.
Jensen turns back to the guy, now his rescuer. “Wow, thanks, man.”
He shrugs. “No big deal. Like I said, obsession with celebrity. Zac was in my Queer Lit class last semester.”
“So you’re a professor?”
“Yep. Adjunct Professor of English Literature at Lowell University, if I’m trying to be impressive or something.”
“Pada what now?”
He pulls a face. “Padalecki. Don’t worry, no one can pronounce it. I’m Jared.”
The guy-Jared-offers his hand. Jensen takes it, shaking hesitantly. “This is usually the part where I would say ‘Jensen,’ but um, we kinda established that.”
Jared laughs. “Yeah, sorry. That’s gotta be awkard for you.”
“It really is.”
“So, uh, nice to meet you?” Jared seems suddenly unsure.
Jensen looks around at the couple of items still on the floor. He looks at Jared the Giant and thinks he might have a really good escape plan. “God, here, let me help you carry this stuff.”
“What, really?”
“Yeah. Least I can do after I nearly maimed you, right?”
Jared shrugs. “I guess. You don’t have to do that, but I ended up with a little more than I could carry, so I definitely wouldn’t mind the help.”
“You’ve got it, then.” Jensen grabs the jars of salsa and, wow, the giant variety pack of condoms. “Planning on an exciting weekend?”
He nearly kills himself right there when he hears it come out of his mouth. Jared turns slightly pink. “Oh, god, no. They’re for-I’m the faculty supervisor for the campus LGBT group. The activities fair is this week. It’s a promotional thing. Wow, that just doesn’t sound like it’s supposed to. It’s probably best if I stop trying to explain, huh?”
Jensen bites his lip to hold back a laugh. “Yeah, could be.”
“Okay. That’s all my stuff, now I just need to get off the floor.”
Jensen is a bit boggled that he’s spent several minutes on the floor of Wal-Mart with Jared. That just can’t be good. Definitely time to make a strategic retreat. He gathers his share of the stuff in one arm and offers his other hand to Jared to help him up. Jared takes it, and Jensen can’t help but notice that his hand, which isn’t particularly small, is dwarfed by Jared’s enormous paw.
“Thanks, man,” Jared says, moving towards the checkout.
Jensen does not at all hide behind him as he follows. He dumps Jared’s stuff at the self-checkout. “So,” he says, stalling, “It was nice to, uh, accidentally assault you.”
Jared laughs. “Yeah, nice to talk your ear off.”
“Right.” Jensen shifts his weight. “Well, see you around then.”
Jared nods. “It’s a small town.”
Jensen pays for his coffee and walks out the door. He does not look back at Jared, which means Jared doesn’t catch him looking back and fucking wink at him. Nope. None of that happens.
Jensen is a fucking Jedi Master of denial.
~*~
When Jensen gets back to the shit hole apartment he’s calling home, Chris is camped out in front of his door. Okay, fine, the shit hole is actually a lovely one bedroom in a nice, residential neighborhood. Tomato, tomahto. The really important aspect is his best friend. Who is on his doorstep.
“What the hell are you doing here, Kane?”
“Nice to see you too, Ackles. I’ve been doing great, how ‘bout yourself? Since you’re so big on keeping in touch lately. But since you ask, I heard from CMT that you’re sequestering yourself to work on material for a new album. Thought you might want some help.”
“Hope you didn’t have any trouble finding the place that I didn’t give you the address of.”
“Gabe was really accommodating,” Chris says with a wicked grin. “After I threatened to call his mother. You should give that manager of yours a raise. So efficient under pressure.”
At this point, Jensen knows he’d better cave before Chris has his momma on the line, telling her some shit about him not eating. She’d be on the next plane out of Dallas, and-anyway, it’s not like he’s that upset that Chris is here. Being shut up alone in this apartment in this tiny town several state lines away from the closest real tex-mex food has kind of sucked ass.
“Like I need song writing help from you anyway, loser.”
“You’d be nothing without me, Jenny.”
“Don’t fucking call me Jenny, Christina.”
“Dude, open the door before your neighbors come out and take pictures to sell to the tabloids just out of spite.”
“Hold your horses.” He pauses. “And my coffee.” He thrusts the bag at Chris while he digs his keys out of his pocket and lets them inside.
Chris settles in like it’s his place instead of Jensen’s, sprawling on the couch.
“Bring me a beer, bitch,” he says.
“Get your own damn beer,” Jensen retorts.
“Now, what kind of a hostess are you?”
“The kind who thinks guests who put their dirty cowboy boots on the coffee table should get their own alcohol.”
“You know you love me.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” he says, thrusting a bottle roughly at Chris’ chest.
Chris grins. “Told ya.”
“What are you, five?”
“Nah, you wouldn’t give beer to a minor, Jenny. You’re too straight-laced.”
“What did I tell you about that Jenny shit?”
“Honey, if I haven’t stopped by now, I’m not gonna.”
Jensen shrugs. “I thought maybe fifteen years was the magic number.”
Chris laughs and shakes his head. They lapse into comfortable silence, nursing their beers. After a while, Chris leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and turning the bottle between his fingers.
“How you holding up, Jen?” he asks, teasing gone from his voice.
Jensen stiffens. He really does not want to talk about this. “Fine. Why wouldn’t I be? Just a little vacation in scenic, small town Massachusetts.”
Chris sighs. “I know you’re the indestructible man and all, but you got outed all over every tabloid in this country and several others. You’ve been ignoring calls and e-mails from all your friends since that asshole Dohring shipped you up here. Steve’s convinced you either died or got abducted by aliens. Jason’s living on a couple of drunken text messages. And I had to shake down your manager for your address.”
He puts his beer down on the table deliberately.
“So cut the bullshit, Ackles. Tell me how you’re really doing.”
Jensen grits his teeth. He hates this shit-talking about feelings-and anyway, it’s not like things are that bad. He can handle it himself, no problem. But Chris is-Chris is Chris. They’ve known each other since freshman year of college, and he’s staring at Jensen with that look that says he’ll sit there and stare for as long as it takes Jensen to cave. Jensen might as well just give up now and save himself the stress.
“Kinda shitty, but dealing.”
“Jensen, people who are dealing return their friends’ calls.”
“Dohring gave me strict instructions to lay low.”
“Right. ’Cause your fucking best friend is going to go running to the press.” Chris’ lips twist bitterly in a way that looks utterly wrong on him, and Jensen feels a stab of guilt for being the cause of it.
“Sorry. I-sorry.” He doesn’t know how to explain. Not like Chris didn’t know he was into guys, but Jensen didn’t exactly do long confessional monologues about liking dick, either. He really prefers to think about it as little as possible, much less talk about it. As far as he’s concerned, it’s something that could ruin his career and is currently doing a bang up job of exactly that.
Despite overwhelming evidence, his manager still wants him to deny everything until the press pretends to believe it. What’s the point? Might as well just come clean and let the chips fall at this point. But Dohring was all, “Don’t sacrifice everything you’ve worked so hard for-we’ve worked so hard for. One drunken mistake doesn’t mean you have to go all Carson Kressley on me. Just lay low until the worst blows over, and we’ll get you back on track, okay?”
And Jensen caved like he always did. It didn’t hurt that he was breathe-into-a-paper-bag terrified about what he’d done. The righteous anger that had led to him giving the paparazzi the middle finger while some twink sucked him off was gone before his hangover. So he let his agent ship him off to the middle of nowhere, to a town that’s barely heard of country music, to wait for Lindsay Lohan to do something that makes everyone forget about him and his preferences.
Chris sighs and picks up his beer again, taking a long pull. “Well, either way, dollface, I’m here now, and you’re not getting rid of me.”
Jensen grimaces. “Come on, man. Jenny wasn’t bad enough?”
Chris grins at him, cocky and annoying, and Jensen feels like maybe the level of general suck in his life is slightly down today. Score two points for tiny Oklahomans who don’t know how to mind their own damn business.
~*~
Chad is on his couch when Jared gets home, lugging four Wal-Mart bags. He thinks about bitching to keep up appearances, but this just can’t wait.
“Dude, you will never guess what happened at Wal-Mart!”
Chad looks up from the bag of cheese doodles he’s currently inhaling. “If it’s not bought my lube and two kinds of salsa, I probably don’t care.”
“Shut up. You care. Jensen Ackles knocked me on my ass and then helped me pick up my stuff while I made a complete idiot out of myself babbling about my dissertation and the culture of celebrity and god knows what else.”
Jared dumps the bags on the couch next to Chad and plops down beside them, the better to bury his head in his hands.
Chad cracks up. “Yeah, right,” he says, barely managing to speak between bouts of hysterical laughter. “And I bet Patrick Dempsey was eating at the Caf at lunch. Did Orlando Bloom pump your gas?” He starts rummaging through the bags, still chuckling to himself.
Jared huffs. “I’m not kidding! He was there!”
Chad looks up from his search, indignation on his face. “Dude, you didn’t get my lube. If you think making up some bullshit story about Jensen Ackles showing up in Wal-Mart is going to get you off the hook for chickening out of getting my lube, you’ve got another thing coming!”
Jared frowns and peers into the nearest bag. “I totally got it. Despite the fact that you should just buy your own damn personal lubricants. And it’s true. Jensen Ackles is in our town, buying coffee at our Wal-Mart, okay?”
Chad raises an eyebrow. “It’s not here, Jay, and neither is he.”
“Why would I lie about this?”
Chad eyes him skeptically. “Because you’re a giant ball of crazy? I don’t know. But I do know there’s no way that happened.”
Jared sighs and gives up, throwing up his hands. “Fine, fine, you got me. I made it up. Now go to Wal-Mart and get your KY yourself, okay?”
Chad pouts, crossing his arms over his chest in an excellent imitation of a two-year-old. “Fine.”
They sit in silence for a minute until Jared decides it’s his turn to harass his best friend.
“So when are you going to ask Misha out?” he asks, grinning evilly.
“When-I-what?”
“Bitch, please. You think I missed how you went all monosyllabic when Blue Eyes walked in?” Chad makes some very gratifying vowel sounds, and Jared laughs. “So?”
“I don’t know! When the time is right!”
“Mr. Hit On Anything With Two Legs is waiting for the right time? What the fuck?”
“He’s-I don’t know. Different.”
“So be different. Ask him to dinner instead of a drunken hookup.”
Chad scowls. “Shut up.”
“If the shoe fits.”
“Whatever. I’ll ask him when I’m ready. Now grab a beer. The game’s on.”
“What game?”
“Any game. The shut up, Padalecki game.”
Jared rolls his eyes. “Fine, fine. The game is on.”
~*~
Jared’s piled under paperwork. Seriously, he thinks he’s in danger of drowning in it. Wasn’t the technological revolution supposed to eliminate actual paper paperwork? He sighs heavily. Technology may move on, but the university requires everything filed in triplicate hard copy. And e-mailed. Oh, bitter irony.
He’s distracted from his internal rant by a knock on his doorframe. He looks up and frowns slightly. “Hi, Zac.”
Zac has the good grace to look embarrassed. “Hi, Professor Padalecki,” he says.
Jared shakes his head. “Come on, don’t make me feel old. How many times do I have to tell you, it’s Jared?”
Zac shrugs. “Sorry.”
Jared gestures towards the chairs on the other side of his desk. Both have seen better days, and it’s pretty much just your choice of which brand of uncomfortable you want. Zac perches on the edge of the one that will swallow you whole if you try to sit any further back than that.
Jared hastily piles his paperwork and essays waiting to be graded into haphazard piles to come back to later and shoves them aside. “So, what can I do for you, Zac?”
“Well, I’ve decided to major in English.”
Jared grins. “Good for you.”
Zac nods. “And I was hoping you would be my major advisor?”
Jared takes a breath. He hates being the bad guy, but. “That depends. Will your budding career as a paparazzo interfere with your studies?”
Zac’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head. “No. And it wasn’t even like that,” he says. “He was just there, and he’s Jensen Ackles, and I just thought-“
“That you’d snap a couple of cell phone pictures and plaster them all over the internet?”
Zac bites his lip and looks down. “Um, yeah, I guess.”
“Don’t you think people have a right to their privacy, Zac?”
“Yeah?”
“So where does taking pictures of celebrities without their permission fit into that?”
“I guess it doesn’t.”
“Planning on doing it again?”
“What are the chances I’ll randomly run into a freshly outed rock star in Wal-Mart again?”
Jared fixes what he hopes is a stern look on his potential protégé.
Zac coughs and looks vaguely ashamed. “Okay, okay, I get it. If I ever see a famous person shopping for lube again, I’ll respect their privacy and not try to take pictures of them.”
Jared blinks. “You think he was shopping for lube?”
Zac quirks a small grin. “Or condoms.”
Belatedly, Jared realizes he’s sort of killed the impact of his stern lecture. He clears his throat. “So, now that we have that settled, I would be glad to be your advisor.”
~*~
Jensen yawns and stretches as he walks out of his bedroom. It's early, but for once, he feels like doing something other than burrowing under the covers and hiding until the evil sun goes away. He glances over at Chris, out cold and snoring to wake the dead on his couch, before shuffling into the kitchen to make coffee.
He stares for a moment at his hard won bag of coffee and remembers long, long legs, shaggy hair, and smiling hazel eyes. Shaking his head to dispel the images, he pours the grounds into the filter and punches the on button. No sense dwelling; it's not like he'll ever see the guy again, anyway.
Abruptly, Jensen decides it's a good morning to go for a run. He's been letting his fitness regimen slide, and that just won't do. He changes into his running clothes while he waits for the coffee to finish, and he hears the telltale hiss of steam that says it's ready just as he's about to pull his shoes on.
He walks back into the living room, sneakers in hand, and notices that Chris hasn't stirred an inch. He grins evilly to himself and chucks a shoe at his friend. Chris starts and flails at his unseen attacker, nearly falling off the couch in the process. His hands find the shoe on his chest, and he blinks blearily across the room.
"What the hell?" he asks, affronted.
Jensen shrugs happily. "Get up! We're going running."
Chris runs a hand over his face. "Oh, hell, no. You can go be one with nature or feel the burn or whatever on your own. I'm going back to sleep." Then he hurls Jensen's shoe away in no particular direction, rolls over and does just that.
Jensen frowns at him for a moment, then shrugs. He dumps a couple of sugars in his mug of sweet, black goodness, downs it quickly, then retrieves his shoes and heads out the door. He's not going to let Chris' lazy ass ruin his plans for the morning.
The sun is warm on Jensen's face as he starts off down the sidewalk, setting a comfortable pace, but even in the last week of August, he can feel a hint of fall chill in the air. It reminds him that this is New England, not Texas or even Nashville, and that makes him just a little bit sad.
Pretty soon, though, the endorphins kick in, and he's not thinking about anything but his feet pounding methodically on the pavement and the pleasant hum in his muscles. He runs out to the edge of the neighborhood, a couple of miles, give or take, and loops around to make his way back. He's maybe halfway back to the apartment when he hears a commotion around the corner he's about to turn. He pauses, listening. A dog barking and somebody yelling, "Harley! No, Harley, bad dog! Harley!"
The next thing he knows, a huge beast of a dog comes barreling around the corner, ears flapping and tongue lolling. Jensen tries to step aside, but he's not quite fast enough, and the dog still sideswipes him hard, landing him on his ass in somebody's yard.
~*~
Jared tears around the corner, Sadie trotting calmly beside him like the good girl she is. "Harley, get back here! You come here right this instant, or I'm taking you back to the pound. Don't think I won't!"
"You don't think a slap on the paw and community service would be more appropriate?"
Jared stops short and turns to find Jensen Ackles picking himself up off the ground. He buries his face in the hand not holding Sadie's leash. "Oh, my god. I am so sorry. He's just a giant puppy, I swear. He saw a squirrel, and that was it. Are you okay?"
Jensen waves him off. "No big deal. No blood, no foul. Besides, serves me right for nearly killing you in Wal-Mart last night."
Jared feels his cheeks heat up. "Oh. You remember that."
Jensen gives him a strange look and speaks clearly, like he thinks Jared is a little slow. "Yeah, I remember that. It was about twelve hours ago."
"I know." Jared sighs. "I was just hoping you were far too important to remember some guy who talked your ear off about things that are totally none of my business."
Jensen was obviously in the middle of a run, and it must be the exertion that's making his cheeks pink because there is no way Jensen Ackles is standing in front of Jared blushing. He opens his mouth to answer, but Harley chooses that moment to come bounding back, trailing his leash behind him.
To Jared’s surprise, instead of coming to him, Harley trots right up to Jensen and butts his head against his leg. He opens his mouth to call Harley away, but Jensen laughs and bends down to scratch behind his ears.
“You’re just scared to face the music, aren’t you?” he says as he pets him thoroughly. Harley closes his eyes and whines slightly, clearly in doggy heaven. Jensen looks up, and Jared is struck by the bright green eyes partially shielded by really unfairly long lashes. “You’re not really going to punish him, are you?”
Jared laughs. “Dude, no. I’m like the worst doggy parent ever. I’m always threatening to do stuff, and then they look at me with their sad brown eyes, and I give them treats instead. They’re so spoiled. Sadie’s a good girl, though.” He looks down at her. “Aren’t you, baby? Yes, you are.” He realizes he’s baby talking to his dog in front of an insanely gorgeous man who also happens to be a rock-country star and clears his throat. “So, um. Out for a jog?”
Jensen smiles up at him, and it’s different from the way Jared’s seen him smile before. It’s clear and honest and reaches his eyes and is-Jared swallows hard-really, really hot actually.
“Yeah,” Jensen says, standing up, “Hence the workout gear.” He gestures at himself vaguely. And, oh, Jared had been trying to ignore how good he looks in those basketball shorts and the thin, gray t-shirt that clings to his torso almost obscenely. His hair is spiked with sweat, and there are freckles across his nose, and Jared is screwed.
“Right,” Jared says, feeling like an idiot. “Well, um, I guess I should-” He gestures vaguely past Jensen to indicate continuing his walk.
“Do you want to go to dinner with me?” Jensen asks. The words practically trip over each other, he says it so fast.
Jared stops and stares. “What?”
Jensen bites his lip and looks down. “Never mind. Forget I said anything,” he mumbles at his shoes.
“Wait, no! I mean yes. Yes, absolutely! I mean-really?”
Jensen looks up at him, still seeming unsure, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, really,” he says. “So, yes? Really?”
Jared can’t stop the grin that spreads across his face. “Yes, really.”
Jensen grins back at him. “How’s Friday?”
“Tomorrow Friday?”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot. Is that too soon?”
Jared shakes his head. “No. Tomorrow’s perfect.”
They agree on meeting at eight. Jensen doesn’t have his phone on him, so Jared fishes his out of his pocket and programs Jensen’s number in. He’d be lying if he didn’t have a fleeting thought about how much he could sell that for and how Jensen should be more careful. He could be a stalker. He’s not, but-Jared forcibly shuts his brain up. He’s got a date with probably the most gorgeous guy he’s ever seen up close. Life is good
“So I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says when the arrangements are made.
“Yeah, tomorrow,” Jensen echoes. “Maybe this time nobody will knock anybody over.”
Jared laughs. “Yeah, let’s hope. Okay. Well. See ya.” He waves, feeling retarded.
A few steps down the street, Jared can’t resist sneaking a look over his shoulder, and he feels a stupid little thrill when he finds Jensen looking back, too. Jensen ducks his head in embarrassment, then glances back up, smiling and shrugging slightly. Jared grins back at him until Sadie and Harley tug impatiently on their leashes and he has to look away or risk getting dragged down the street.
~*~
Jensen bounces back into the apartment with a stupid smile on his face. Chris is awake now, nursing a cup of coffee. He looks up, still bleary-eyed, when Jensen comes in.
"Who hit you with the perky stick?" he demands, scowling like the very idea of happiness offends him on a fundamental level.
Jensen doesn't care. Jensen is in a good mood, and Chris is going to get happy right the fuck now. "I have a date," he blurts out, bouncing up slightly on his toes.
Chris blinks. "With a woman?" he asks.
Jensen shakes his head. "Nope."
Chris stares at him hard for a moment. "You have a date with a guy?"
Jensen nods, feeling that stupid grin creep up again.
Chris looks down at his coffee like it holds the secret of life. He takes a long sip and sets his mug back down deliberately. "Let me get this straight," he says, and it sounds like he's making a concerted effort to remain calm. Jensen knows that voice. It never means anything good. "You went out for a run and came back with a date?"
"Yes," Jensen says, shifting back and forth on his feet as uncertainty sets in.
"Do you know the guy?"
Jensen bites his lip. "I knocked him down in Wal-Mart last night," he tries.
Uh oh. Chris is standing up and moving away from the coffee. This is worse than he thought.
"Jensen. Really? I thought you knew better than this. You set up a date with some guy you've known for less than twenty-four hours? What do you even know about him?"
Jensen shrugs. "He's a professor at the university. He has dogs. He stopped some punk kid from taking a picture of me."
Chris shakes his head. "He could still be a stalker, Jensen. An obsessed fan or a blogger looking for his next big story. You have no idea."
"Oh, come on, Chris. This is Massachusetts. Even you had a hard time finding me. I really don't think the fansites have caught on." He's not saying Chris doesn't have a point. It is an insanely risky thing to do. He doesn't know what's gotten into him, really. But on the other hand, Chris hasn't met Jared. He's pretty sure nobody could geek out that hard if they weren't actually an academic.
Chris stares at him mulishly. "Still, it's a little bit crazy." Jensen shrugs apologetically. "He must be really hot."
"You have no idea."
"Since when do you go on dates anyway?"
"Since now?"
Chris is still scowling, but Jensen thinks he's softening.
"Whatever, Jennifer. I'm coming with you, though."
Jensen gapes. Chris can't be serious. "You are not chaperoning my date."
"Relax, I just want to meet him, talk to him for a minute, see if I'm getting any crazy stalker vibes. Then you kids can go off and talk dirty all night long for all I care."
"You're not my dad, Chris. And I'm not a seventeen-year-old on my way to prom."
"Nope. But it is my job to make sure you don't do stupid shit like go on dates with strangers who haven't been vetted."
Jensen throws up his hands, knowing he's not going to win this one. "Fine, fine. You can give him the third degree, but when he goes running because you're a scary-ass son of a bitch, I am holding you responsible."
Chris grins in a thoroughly unsettling manner. "Aw, cuddlebear, if he really likes you, he'll stick around."
Jensen glares. "I'm going to take a shower. If there is any evil cackling or rubbing together of hands in my absence, I will know." He eyes Chris warningly.
Chris just waggles his fingers at him, still grinning.
Jensen gives up and stalks into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him with somewhat more force than necessary.
~*~
Jared's closet has exploded, and the debris contains absolutely nothing suitable for wearing on a date. He knows because he's put it all on in every possible combination. As if this crisis situation weren't bad enough, Chad is sitting in the middle of the chaos mocking him. He came over when Jared told him he had a date with a hot guy-no names mentioned-but he’s being the opposite of helpful.
"I hate you," Jared tells him seriously.
Chad just laughs again, wiping tears away from the corners of his stupid, squinty eyes. "Dude. I tried to warn you about your unfortunate love of pink shirts with weird prints, but did you listen? No. And now, you are reaping your just desserts."
Jared sighs. "Must you butcher the English language while you mock me?"
"Absolutely! It makes you make that face. Comedy gold, man."
"I'm so glad my pain amuses you."
Chad grins at him. "You're a giver. And the next thing you should do is box up all this crap and give it to Goodwill."
Jared scowls, and Chad laughs. Again. Jared flips open his phone and punches six on the speed dial, waiting impatiently until Sophia picks up. "Soph! I have a date, and I don't know what to wear, and Chad's being mean to me! Come beat him up and tell me what to wear!" He is not encouraged when she laughs. "Sophia! Help me!"
"Okay, okay, sweetie, calm down. I'll be right over, all right?"
He huffs. "Okay." He is thirty years old, and he is not in any way pouting.
It takes Sophia ten minutes to get there, during which Jared glares with equal heat at Chad and his clothes.
Sophia comes in like a tiny, well-groomed cyclone. She takes in the situation quickly.
"Okay, heartbreaker! Up and out."
Chad splutters. "What? I'm helping!"
"You're being a jackass. Move it." When Chad shows no signs of leaving, she grabs his sleeve and tugs. "Now!"
"All right, all right, I'm going. Jesus."
Chad bitches loudly all the way down the stairs and out the door, but he goes. Jared knows he's too terrified of Sophia to try to cross her.
Once she's satisfied that Chad is really gone, she turns to Jared. "Okay, sweetie. Just take a breath, calm down, and tell me what's going on."
Jared gestures around in despair. "I have nothing to wear!"
Sophia bites her lip, obviously fighting a smile. “Clearly.”
“You know what I mean!” he says, just barely stopping himself from stamping his foot. “This is all-it’s all professor stuff.”
“Well, you are a professor, Jared.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to look like one!”
“So, what do you want to look like?”
“A guy who has any business dating a rock star!”
She stares at him in confusion. “A what? Um. Why?”
Jared considers. He didn't try to convince Chad again after the first disastrous attempt, but Sophia's not Chad. He takes a deep breath. “My date? The one in two hours?”
Sophia nods. “Yes?”
“It’s-it’s, um.” He almost chickens out right there, but he forces the words out. “Imgoingoutwithjensenackles.”
She blinks. “One more time, honey. With breathing this time.”
“I have a date with Jensen Ackles.”
“You’re shitting me, right? Jensen Ackles. Recently outed country singer?”
“That’s the one.”
“Jared. April Fools isn’t for seven months. You know that, right?”
“I’m not kidding, I swear! He’s here in our town. He knocked me down in Wal-Mart on Wednesday night. Then yesterday morning, Harley ran into him when I took the kids out for their walk. And he asked me out.”
Jared’s gearing up for another round of skepticism and convincing, but Sophia just looks at him hard long enough that he starts to fidget under her gaze. He doesn’t know what she’s looking for, but she seems to find it. She nods briskly, suddenly all business.
“You can’t go on a date with a celebrity unless you look absolutely fabulous. I’m sure we can find something,” she says, but her dismayed survey of his wardrobe says she’s not so sure.
Sophia sorts through the wreckage with terrifying efficiency. He can't help but notice that any and all pink shirts are getting tossed into a pile in the corner and it doesn't seem to be a pile that she approves of.
"No pink?" he ventures.
She levels a severe look at him. "No pink. Not tonight, anyway."
She continues her quest, holding up seemingly endless combinations of shirts and pants until she finally comes up with something that has her nodding in approval.
"This is it. Grab your iron." She's holding a pair of slate gray, flat front trousers and a button-down he's only worn a couple of times. It's black with a textured stripe and a bold silver and white airbrushed design over one shoulder.
"Are you sure?" he asks. "It's not too-?"
She shakes her head. "It's not too anything, I promise. It's perfect."
"Okay," he says, still eyeing it skeptically.
"Or I could leave and you could try to pick something else yourself," she says, taking a step toward the door."
He throws out a hand in panic. "No! It's perfect. I believe you."
She gives a small nod. "All right, then. Iron?"
She stays until he's ironed and dressed. Looking in the mirror, Jared has to admit she's right about the outfit.
"Of course I am. Now come here." She gestures for him to bend down and gives his hair a last tousle. "Perfect. Now go get laid."
"Sophia!"
"What? Isn't that the general idea?"
"It's a first date," he mutters.
She laughs and looks at him fondly. "Baby, you're adorable. If he doesn't fall for you in five minutes, there's something wrong with him."
"Thanks, Soph."
"Any time. I've got enough fabulous to go around." She winks at him as she walks out the door.
~*~
Jared is not nervous at all standing outside of Jensen’s apartment building. Why would he be nervous? It’s just a date. He dates. Sometimes.
He pushes the buzzer. After a moment, a voice comes over the speaker.
“Yeah?”
“It’s, um, it’s Jared.”
“Right, come on up!”
The door clicks open, and Jared makes his way to the third floor. He takes a steadying breath before he knocks on Jensen’s door. It sounds confident, if knocks can be said to have personalities. That’s good.
Jensen opens the door looking absolutely delicious. He’s wearing dark wash jeans that fit him like a second skin and an olive green t-shirt with “Sons of Bill” emblazoned on the front. The color brings out his eyes, which are bright behind wire-rimmed glasses, and wow, that shouldn’t be as hot as it is.
“Hi,” Jensen says, giving him a shy grin.
“Hi.”
“Come in, I’ve just got to put my contacts in.”
Jared swallows down a protest as he follows Jensen inside. He’s surprised to see another guy there. He’s a few inches shorter than Jensen with brown hair that brushes his shoulders and bright blue eyes that are sizing Jared in up in a somewhat alarming fashion.
“Jared, this is my friend, Chris. Chris, Jared.” Jensen gestures between them. “I’ll be right back. Chris, be nice.”
“I’m always nice, Jennyboy,” Chris says.
Jensen eyes him skeptically for a moment before disappearing into what Jared assumes is the bedroom. He wonders if he should be scared. When Chris rounds on him, a purposeful gleam in his eyes, he figures he should.
"Do you listen to country music?" Chris asks.
"Well, I was raised in Texas. It's kind of unavoidable," Jared answers.
"Do you own any of Jensen's albums?"
"Um, no. Is that bad?"
"I'm asking the questions,” Chris snaps. “Are you aware of the recent tabloid coverage of Jensen's personal life?"
Jared raises his eyebrows. "Yeah, I don't live under a rock. Occasionally, I go to the grocery store and buy food. It's kind of hard to miss."
Chris looks like he doesn’t think much of that answer. "How did you meet Jensen?"
"He knocked me over in Wal-Mart?"
Chris snorts. "A likely story."
"It's true. Do you talk to your friend?"
Chris acts like he hasn't even spoken. "Are you now or have you ever been a registered member of any of the following websites? JensenAcklesFan.org, Maniackles.com, JensenAcklesIsMyGod.net, or CountryGoneWild.com."
"Um, no? Are those real websites?"
"Tragically, yes. What do you want with Jensen?"
"Right now? Dinner, maybe a movie, maybe stuff that isn't any of your business."
"Jensen is my business."
Jared's starting to get a little tired of the guard dog routine. He gets it. Jensen isn't like regular people, but he isn't a crazy fan. He rubs his temples. "Look, would it make you feel better if I showed you my article on the cult of celebrity? It’s in the summer issue of-some really pretentious academic quarterly. I’ll get you a copy.”
Chris narrows his eyes. "Depends. What's your position on it?"
Just as Jared is about to throw up his hands and give up, Jensen comes back into the room. He seems to grasp the situation instantly.
“Chris, that’s enough.”
“I wasn’t doing anything!”
“You were trying to scare him off!”
Chris stares at the ground mulishly. “Only if he’s a psycho stalker.”
Jensen buries his face in his hands. “I’m never talking to you again. You’re dead to me. Come on, Jared, let’s go.”
“You love me!”
“Dead to me!” Jensen calls over his shoulders as he shoves Jared out the door. Jared is more than happy to get away from the Spanish Inquisition, and maybe a little happy to let Jensen push him around, too.
Part 2
Master Post