fratboy verse: 8/9
If any of you can tear yourselves away from trollprincess's amazingly awesome big bang, I've got the next installment of fratboy ready! Last part will be coming early tomorrow. I'm dragging it out juuust a bit longer, guys. *g* Sorry!
And since we're getting so close to the end, I'd like to go ahead and dedicate this 'verse to mkitty3. Michelle's been very encouraging about this project from the beginning, and I just, today's her birthday and these boys belong to her. The end. <3
--
Title: 'til you’re old enough to know things ain't as they appear [8/9]
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating/Warnings: NC-17 overall | graphic m/m sex, real person fiction, spanking, rimming, delayed orgasm, and various other kinks.
Word Count: 2,671 [this part]
Summary: Jensen dives into the seedy underbelly of Pledge Week at UT for a news article and gets more than he bargained for. Completely cliché and totally AU, but y’know, it could’ve happened. If the universe was, like, alternate.
Notes: This story’s going to be told in a non-linear fashion, therefore things will not unfold chronologically. So basically, pay attention to the time-frame at the beginning of each section, and you’ll be able to follow along just fine. You don’t need to know everything that’s going on just yet.
Also, this is all fiction. I've never been in a fraternity, obviously, so I apologize for any inconsistencies herein. *hugs*
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7
'til you’re old enough to know things ain't as they appear: Part 8.
By keepaofthecheez.
Previously:
The article is sitting on his desk in the other room, saved to his hard drive and ready for delivery at his earliest convenience. It’s damn good--his best work, he knows it, isn’t playing at being modest--and it’ll probably get picked up by every paper in the local area once everything comes to light. It’ll be his entrance to everything he wants, throw his name into the newsroom mix, and.
The Deltas, and all of them alike, will finally go down. Tom’ll be out, and it isn’t until then that Jensen realizes it isn’t even Tom he’s trying to save anymore. Hasn’t been, not for a long time.
And now:
Jensen’s Apartment.
Pledge Week.
Day 10.
Jensen wakes up to the hot press of tongue on his balls. The groan that spills past his lips is more of sleep, confusion, and he drops a hand. Finds shaggy curls and sinks down into relief, pleasure. “Goddamn.”
“Mornin’, pretty,” Jared says, light and easy. Jensen blinks fog from his eyes and stares down at Jared’s smug grin. He props his chin on Jensen’s lower belly, rubs absent circles along his thigh. “Look, I gotta get outta here…class and some other stuff. Jus’ didn’t want you waking up and thinkin’, well.”
Jensen knows. Warmth spirals through, and has his lips curving in answer. “Yeah.” Jared watches him a moment longer, eyes slowly growing more lidded and Jensen finally huffs out a laugh, stretches his arms behind his head. Satisfaction is a slur in his voice. “Take a fucking picture, dude.”
At that, Jared blinks. Sits up, expression back to normal and mischief burning hot. “Oh, I did. Gonna wallpaper my room with your sweet ass, Ackles.” He mimes a camera click with two fingers, then slides off the bed with a wink while Jensen’s still digesting his words. Trying to figure out if there’s any way Jared could’ve actually done something untoward while Jensen was asleep. Well, besides sucking his balls. He flushes a little, not completely turned-off by the idea of it…just him, Jared, a blinking red light and…action!
Jared kisses him, wet and slow, muttering something under his breath about “fuck, ll’just drop out instead”, and Jensen’s mouth, then groans and backs away from the bed. “Later.” He points at Jensen and shakes his head on a laugh. “I’ll see you later.”
Jensen lifts his hand in a half-wave, still a little dazed himself. Christ, he’s turned into…he doesn’t even recognize what anymore. Ten days. That’s all it took for Jared Padalecki to turn him completely upside down and destroy any semblance of control Jensen ever thought he possessed.
His cell phone rings, flashing Mike’s name like a branding iron, and Jensen hears the front door slam shut behind Jared. All at once, lazy contentment falls to a niggling guilt threatening to curdle Jensen’s stomach as he thinks about the night before. He’s suddenly not half as sure that Jared will understand he’s done the right thing. Hasn’t he?
“Got your email,” Mike says without preamble the minute Jensen picks up. Jensen plucks at the bedsheets and thinks of Jared’s grin, fucking wide open and trustworthy.
Christ.
“Oh. Yeah, about that…” he swallows, Jared’s taste still lingering on his tongue, in the air. He shifts, hears his bandage scrape against the sheets. A triumphant victory mark, war wound. Now it’s just a not-so-subtle reminder of what will soon become his betrayal. He speaks before he can think better of it, a steady thrum of doubt and confusion. “I’m thinking we can go slow on it, you know? Make sure we cross-ref some more and maybe get Chris’s side in there before--”
“Too late,” Mike cuts him off, talking over Jensen in quick, jittery excitement. “We did a rush on the print, but there’s…a problem.”
Jensen’s not too out of it to miss the weird sway of Michael’s voice. “What’s up?”
Mike pauses, then clears his throat. “Something stupid, but I need to see you, okay? Meet me in the journalism office in thirty.”
Jensen’s eyes flicker to the clock.
A half hour later, he’s padding through the Journalism building with a thousand excuses on his tongue, a complete turn-around in mind. None of it matters anymore--not the Deltas, not Tom, not his stupid need for vengeance against something that was never tangible to begin with.
“A student reporter wrote that piece, you have to submit it!”
He hears Michael’s furious tone, turns toward it.
“This isn’t a report on the football team taking nationals, Rosenbaum,” another, deeper voice replies with an edge to it, and Jensen recognizes the university provost with a niggle of concern. “This gets out, we’ve got a hell of a problem on our hands. I want the story, straight.”
“You’ve got it all, right there--”
Jensen steps inside, and Mike trails off. There are others in the room, someone speaks, but Jensen can’t hear through the roar in his head when he catches sight of the figure slumped into a seat in the corner. A million apologies immediately rear up on his tongue, anything to get rid of the look that flashes across Jared’s face when Jensen closes the door behind himself.
“Mr…Ackles?” The provost glances down at a copy of what Jensen now sees is the Texan, and Jensen’s heart sinks through his stomach. The provost’s expression is pleasant enough, but there’s a warning behind gray eyes that’s impossible to misinterpret. “This is quite a story, son.”
Everyone’s staring at him. Everyone but Jared, who’s watching a June bug crawl across the Berber carpet. His face is carefully blank now, but there’s a tic in that hard jaw that digs down deep in Jensen’s insides. Twists. Once the bug gets close enough, Jared’s foot comes down with a meaningful squish. Jensen winces.
“I…” His gaze travels from Jared, to Mike, to Christian standing behind Jared with chin held high and war on his features. Their eyes lock and Christian drops a hand to Jared’s shoulder, squeezing reassuredly. Jensen recognizes the gesture for what it is, the meaning is simple: gotta get through me first. His first instinct is denial, resentment, and an urge to remove Christian with bodily force. His fingers curl inward, tongue against his teeth, desperation rising to choke him when Jared still won’t look at him.
“Jensen, is this true?” Kathleen, the director of journalism and Jensen’s faculty advisor, asks. They’ve gotten to know one another fairly well during his years at UT, and he’s disgusted with himself when he glimpses the mixture of wariness and worry across her pretty features. Reporter at heart, teacher in hand. “You’re making quite an accusation.”
“It’s true,” Michael speaks up before Jensen can open his mouth, and Jensen glances back at Jared again. Helpless. “The Greeks have been getting away with murder on campus, Kate. Jensen and Miss Mack’s research is sound. It’s all laid out there in black and white, the Deltas are abusing the system, their pledges--”
Chris snorts, voice quiet and calm. “Bullshit.”
It’s almost comical, the way Mike’s neck twists, the look of shock on his face as he stares at Christian. Chris raises a brow in retort--what’re you gonna do about it?--and Jensen’s lips twitch with muted hysteria.
“I’ve been presiding over Alpha chapter for a year and a half, sir,” Chris says, but all Jensen can understand is that his hand is still on Jared. He sees the tremor racing down between Jared’s shoulders, and again he wants to put himself between the two men. Do something to make it all stop. “I came in myself to prove what Jensen’s claiming, but. Those guys…my boys are good guys, sir. I’d vouch for every one, and I’ve approved every fraternity rite, overseen several in action. Nothing’s happening that would put any of our pledges at risk--”
“Oh, and when your lackey here’s trying to assault my reporter, harassing him in front of your boys,” Mike spits out, hand waving in Jared’s direction, and Jensen blinks.
“I didn’t--” His voice cracks, and he feels familiar eyes stroking him for the first time since he’d stepped inside the office. He can’t look at Jared, can’t fucking think. He isn’t sure what the answer is anymore. “Jared never.” He stops again, breath shallow and too loud in the small room.
The provost looks down, shuffles a few pages, lifts an uncomfortable brow. “Says here Mr. Padalecki is responsible for worrisome attempts of…‘systematical emotional and borderline-physical abuse’. You’ve given several detailed descriptions of such, including a rather disturbing scene in the East Mall--”
“No,” Jensen says, snaps, watching Jared’s reaction to the words with more than a little anxiety. “No, Jared wasn’t. That wasn’t Jared, it was--”
“Mr. Padalecki was your Pledgemaster, was he not, Mr. Ackles?”
Jensen doesn’t speak, can’t remember what he fucking wrote, but it was nothing like this. “It wasn’t Jared,” he repeats weakly, and sees Michael frowning at him from the corner of his eye. The provost opens his mouth again, but another voice rings out.
“He’s telling the truth.” Jared’s words are a hollow hole in Jensen’s chest, and he snaps his gaze over to find brown-green eyes trained straight ahead. Avoiding him. “It’s all true, sir.”
“Jared,” Chris starts sharply, but Jared shakes his head. Stands up and thrusts his chin out with a dull look in his eyes.
The provost looks over at Jared in confusion. “Mr. Padalecki?”
I…” Jared swallows, appearing small for the first time since Jensen ever laid eyes on him. His voice shakes, and something inside of Jensen goes thick and tremulous. “I was given a, a power over others and I took advantage of it. I let things happen that shouldn’t have, I. I’m responsible.” He pauses. Jensen’s head spins. The next words come out almost too quiet, but hoarse with emotion. “I’m sorry.”
“No.” It comes out before Jensen realizes he’s spoken, but Jared doesn’t look over. His expression doesn’t change at all, and Jensen presses on anyway, suddenly not giving a fuck that anyone else is in the room. Everything’s on the line, and he’s so close to falling off the wire. “No, that’s not what I wrote. It’s not the truth!”
The provost ignores Jensen in favor of watching Jared, no one else speaks a word. Even Mike looks utterly bewildered by the whirlwind of events, and Jensen’s breath hitches on a laugh that’s not amused at all.
“Mr. Padalecki, you realize what your admission could cost you?” the provost finally asks, and Jensen’s fists tighten at the implication. Jared looks a little scared, but stands tall. Nods.
“Well.” The provost clears his throat, staring at the newspaper issue for a moment that stretches on much too long. Jensen’s ready to scream by the time he finally looks back up. “If Mr. Ackles won’t corroborate his claims, then I’m afraid we’re all at an impasse. This issue will end now, Mr. Rosenbaum. I want Mr. Ackles’ story pulled from this week’s edition immediately. And Mr. Padalecki, well, it might prove best if you were to…”
The words hang in the air, unsaid, and Jared’s lips tighten at the corners. “Yes, sir,” he says, and Jensen wonders what? From the furious look on Christian’s face, whatever’s going to happen isn’t going to win Jensen any popularity points.
“I think we’re done here,” the provost says with an edge of fatigue. “In light of this case and despite the outcome, I do believe it’s time the university took a more active role in its Fraternity life. I’ll be in touch, Mr. Kane. Things will be changing.”
“Yes, sir,” Christian says, all politeness, but Jensen feels the bite underneath. The provost nods, dismissing them all, and Mike curses, walks out with a single frustrated look Jensen’s way.
“Got what you wanted,” Chris mutters, pushing past with a hard brush of shoulder. “Now lay the fuck off. Go be Rosenbaum’s bitch-boy for another cause, all right?”
Jared barely catches his eye before he follows, and Jensen lists forward. Isn’t sure what he wants to say, but knows he has to do something. Fast. But he gets sidelined by his journalism teacher, who sends him a slightly disappointed look that tears into Jensen’s already guilty conscience.
“Jensen, what happened?” she asks, an urgent murmur, and Jensen locks his jaw. Looks over her shoulder to see Jared disappear through the door.
“I…” His throat works. “I can’t right now, I’m sorry, I have to...” He makes a sound in the back of his throat, hurries out into the hallway after Jared, ignoring his teacher’s voice as she calls his name. “Jared!” he blurts out, hand around his neck as Jared goes still, turns around.
It takes a second, but then there’s a soft, “Beauty.” It’s nothing like the many times he’s said it with playful intention, or even like the beginning when it was a provocation more than anything else. This time, there’s a razor’s edge to the name, and yet something akin to admiration lurks behind the betrayal in Jared’s eyes. “Tamed the beast after all, yeah?”
Shut up, Jensen wants to say. Instead, he just repeats Jared’s name, a plea scoring his voice. “I’m sorry, I just thought…I just wanted to...” He cuts himself off, bites his tongue. Tries again, low, fervent tone. “It was never about you.”
Jared’s wince is theatrical, voice a bitter pill for Jensen to swallow. “Well, I feel better.”
“Jared, c’mon. Just let me explain, okay?” Jensen reaches out, afraid to touch but more afraid that Jared will slip away.
Jared smiles at him, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He drops his big hand on Jensen’s arm, and his words feel like a goodbye. “Congratulations, Jensen. You’ve finally earned the name of Delta.”
Jensen thinks about that long after the sound of Jared’s footsteps fade away, and finally squeezes his eyes shut tight.
xxx
Austin, Texas.
True Blue Tattoo Parlor.
Day 9.
His ass is numb. There’s no two ways about it, and Jensen gives a little grunt when the guy currently drilling holes in his left buttcheek--just call me Dave--goes a little too deep.
Jared rests his hand lightly on Jensen’s head, voice a study in sympathy and amusement. “Delta for life, right?”
“What I wanna know,” Jensen manages, glancing up to find pretty pink lips curved toward him, “is where the hell you’re--fuck--hiding yours.”
Jared laughs, raps his chest a few times. “Right here, Beauty. Where it counts.”
Jensen should’ve known. “So, all the pledges don’t have to get a crest tattoo,” he says flatly, laying his head on his forearm and flinching when Dave reaches an area not yet numbed by constant pinprick.
“Well, no.” Jared crouches down, looks Jensen in the eye. “But watching you get one’s pretty fucking hot. I could apologize, but I’d be lying.”
Jensen shudders when that voice dips low, washing warm against his ear. “Whatever,” he manages on a gruff breath, trying not to let Jared see the effect he has and failing miserably. “You’re such a fucking jerk.”
“Hey, I’m right there with you, baby,” Jared purrs, not in the least put out by Jensen’s less than heated insult. “At least it’s not a dozen girls, ya know?”
Jensen can’t help but snort a little. “Taking your revenge on the innocent?”
Jared’s teeth flash at that, and something in Jensen perks up with sudden interest. “Interesting choice of words,” Jared drawls, tapping his chin and then crouching lower until he’s at Jensen’s eye-level. “Considering the stuff that came out of your innocent mouth when I was riding your ass yesterday.”
“Jesus.” Jensen chokes, glancing back at Dave and blushing bright red. The tattoo artist isn’t paying them the slightest attention, and Jensen bites his lip. “Jesus, Jared,” he says again, softer.
Jared chews his lip, expression contrite but gaze glittering with unrepentance. “Sorry, sorry, it’s just. I mentioned how fucking hot you look right now, didn’t I?”
Jensen isn’t quite sure how to answer that…not when Jared’s words have evoked images his mind’s having trouble getting rid of. “I think we should talk,” he finally hears himself saying, and can’t really believe it. “What happened yesterday was--”
“Fucking fantastic,” Jared interrupts calmly. “And it’ll happen again.”
Goddamn if the cocky bastard’s not damn well right.
“I told you what I want,” Jared continues, just a whisper against Jensen’s ear. “And I think you showed me what you want. I can wait for the rest, okay?”
No, it’s not okay. Because none of this is real and I don’t want what you want.
But Jensen only nods, and wonders when he started to believe Jared’s words over his own.
And since we're getting so close to the end, I'd like to go ahead and dedicate this 'verse to mkitty3. Michelle's been very encouraging about this project from the beginning, and I just, today's her birthday and these boys belong to her. The end. <3
--
Title: 'til you’re old enough to know things ain't as they appear [8/9]
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating/Warnings: NC-17 overall | graphic m/m sex, real person fiction, spanking, rimming, delayed orgasm, and various other kinks.
Word Count: 2,671 [this part]
Summary: Jensen dives into the seedy underbelly of Pledge Week at UT for a news article and gets more than he bargained for. Completely cliché and totally AU, but y’know, it could’ve happened. If the universe was, like, alternate.
Notes: This story’s going to be told in a non-linear fashion, therefore things will not unfold chronologically. So basically, pay attention to the time-frame at the beginning of each section, and you’ll be able to follow along just fine. You don’t need to know everything that’s going on just yet.
Also, this is all fiction. I've never been in a fraternity, obviously, so I apologize for any inconsistencies herein. *hugs*
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7
'til you’re old enough to know things ain't as they appear: Part 8.
By keepaofthecheez.
Previously:
The article is sitting on his desk in the other room, saved to his hard drive and ready for delivery at his earliest convenience. It’s damn good--his best work, he knows it, isn’t playing at being modest--and it’ll probably get picked up by every paper in the local area once everything comes to light. It’ll be his entrance to everything he wants, throw his name into the newsroom mix, and.
The Deltas, and all of them alike, will finally go down. Tom’ll be out, and it isn’t until then that Jensen realizes it isn’t even Tom he’s trying to save anymore. Hasn’t been, not for a long time.
And now:
Jensen’s Apartment.
Pledge Week.
Day 10.
Jensen wakes up to the hot press of tongue on his balls. The groan that spills past his lips is more of sleep, confusion, and he drops a hand. Finds shaggy curls and sinks down into relief, pleasure. “Goddamn.”
“Mornin’, pretty,” Jared says, light and easy. Jensen blinks fog from his eyes and stares down at Jared’s smug grin. He props his chin on Jensen’s lower belly, rubs absent circles along his thigh. “Look, I gotta get outta here…class and some other stuff. Jus’ didn’t want you waking up and thinkin’, well.”
Jensen knows. Warmth spirals through, and has his lips curving in answer. “Yeah.” Jared watches him a moment longer, eyes slowly growing more lidded and Jensen finally huffs out a laugh, stretches his arms behind his head. Satisfaction is a slur in his voice. “Take a fucking picture, dude.”
At that, Jared blinks. Sits up, expression back to normal and mischief burning hot. “Oh, I did. Gonna wallpaper my room with your sweet ass, Ackles.” He mimes a camera click with two fingers, then slides off the bed with a wink while Jensen’s still digesting his words. Trying to figure out if there’s any way Jared could’ve actually done something untoward while Jensen was asleep. Well, besides sucking his balls. He flushes a little, not completely turned-off by the idea of it…just him, Jared, a blinking red light and…action!
Jared kisses him, wet and slow, muttering something under his breath about “fuck, ll’just drop out instead”, and Jensen’s mouth, then groans and backs away from the bed. “Later.” He points at Jensen and shakes his head on a laugh. “I’ll see you later.”
Jensen lifts his hand in a half-wave, still a little dazed himself. Christ, he’s turned into…he doesn’t even recognize what anymore. Ten days. That’s all it took for Jared Padalecki to turn him completely upside down and destroy any semblance of control Jensen ever thought he possessed.
His cell phone rings, flashing Mike’s name like a branding iron, and Jensen hears the front door slam shut behind Jared. All at once, lazy contentment falls to a niggling guilt threatening to curdle Jensen’s stomach as he thinks about the night before. He’s suddenly not half as sure that Jared will understand he’s done the right thing. Hasn’t he?
“Got your email,” Mike says without preamble the minute Jensen picks up. Jensen plucks at the bedsheets and thinks of Jared’s grin, fucking wide open and trustworthy.
Christ.
“Oh. Yeah, about that…” he swallows, Jared’s taste still lingering on his tongue, in the air. He shifts, hears his bandage scrape against the sheets. A triumphant victory mark, war wound. Now it’s just a not-so-subtle reminder of what will soon become his betrayal. He speaks before he can think better of it, a steady thrum of doubt and confusion. “I’m thinking we can go slow on it, you know? Make sure we cross-ref some more and maybe get Chris’s side in there before--”
“Too late,” Mike cuts him off, talking over Jensen in quick, jittery excitement. “We did a rush on the print, but there’s…a problem.”
Jensen’s not too out of it to miss the weird sway of Michael’s voice. “What’s up?”
Mike pauses, then clears his throat. “Something stupid, but I need to see you, okay? Meet me in the journalism office in thirty.”
Jensen’s eyes flicker to the clock.
A half hour later, he’s padding through the Journalism building with a thousand excuses on his tongue, a complete turn-around in mind. None of it matters anymore--not the Deltas, not Tom, not his stupid need for vengeance against something that was never tangible to begin with.
“A student reporter wrote that piece, you have to submit it!”
He hears Michael’s furious tone, turns toward it.
“This isn’t a report on the football team taking nationals, Rosenbaum,” another, deeper voice replies with an edge to it, and Jensen recognizes the university provost with a niggle of concern. “This gets out, we’ve got a hell of a problem on our hands. I want the story, straight.”
“You’ve got it all, right there--”
Jensen steps inside, and Mike trails off. There are others in the room, someone speaks, but Jensen can’t hear through the roar in his head when he catches sight of the figure slumped into a seat in the corner. A million apologies immediately rear up on his tongue, anything to get rid of the look that flashes across Jared’s face when Jensen closes the door behind himself.
“Mr…Ackles?” The provost glances down at a copy of what Jensen now sees is the Texan, and Jensen’s heart sinks through his stomach. The provost’s expression is pleasant enough, but there’s a warning behind gray eyes that’s impossible to misinterpret. “This is quite a story, son.”
Everyone’s staring at him. Everyone but Jared, who’s watching a June bug crawl across the Berber carpet. His face is carefully blank now, but there’s a tic in that hard jaw that digs down deep in Jensen’s insides. Twists. Once the bug gets close enough, Jared’s foot comes down with a meaningful squish. Jensen winces.
“I…” His gaze travels from Jared, to Mike, to Christian standing behind Jared with chin held high and war on his features. Their eyes lock and Christian drops a hand to Jared’s shoulder, squeezing reassuredly. Jensen recognizes the gesture for what it is, the meaning is simple: gotta get through me first. His first instinct is denial, resentment, and an urge to remove Christian with bodily force. His fingers curl inward, tongue against his teeth, desperation rising to choke him when Jared still won’t look at him.
“Jensen, is this true?” Kathleen, the director of journalism and Jensen’s faculty advisor, asks. They’ve gotten to know one another fairly well during his years at UT, and he’s disgusted with himself when he glimpses the mixture of wariness and worry across her pretty features. Reporter at heart, teacher in hand. “You’re making quite an accusation.”
“It’s true,” Michael speaks up before Jensen can open his mouth, and Jensen glances back at Jared again. Helpless. “The Greeks have been getting away with murder on campus, Kate. Jensen and Miss Mack’s research is sound. It’s all laid out there in black and white, the Deltas are abusing the system, their pledges--”
Chris snorts, voice quiet and calm. “Bullshit.”
It’s almost comical, the way Mike’s neck twists, the look of shock on his face as he stares at Christian. Chris raises a brow in retort--what’re you gonna do about it?--and Jensen’s lips twitch with muted hysteria.
“I’ve been presiding over Alpha chapter for a year and a half, sir,” Chris says, but all Jensen can understand is that his hand is still on Jared. He sees the tremor racing down between Jared’s shoulders, and again he wants to put himself between the two men. Do something to make it all stop. “I came in myself to prove what Jensen’s claiming, but. Those guys…my boys are good guys, sir. I’d vouch for every one, and I’ve approved every fraternity rite, overseen several in action. Nothing’s happening that would put any of our pledges at risk--”
“Oh, and when your lackey here’s trying to assault my reporter, harassing him in front of your boys,” Mike spits out, hand waving in Jared’s direction, and Jensen blinks.
“I didn’t--” His voice cracks, and he feels familiar eyes stroking him for the first time since he’d stepped inside the office. He can’t look at Jared, can’t fucking think. He isn’t sure what the answer is anymore. “Jared never.” He stops again, breath shallow and too loud in the small room.
The provost looks down, shuffles a few pages, lifts an uncomfortable brow. “Says here Mr. Padalecki is responsible for worrisome attempts of…‘systematical emotional and borderline-physical abuse’. You’ve given several detailed descriptions of such, including a rather disturbing scene in the East Mall--”
“No,” Jensen says, snaps, watching Jared’s reaction to the words with more than a little anxiety. “No, Jared wasn’t. That wasn’t Jared, it was--”
“Mr. Padalecki was your Pledgemaster, was he not, Mr. Ackles?”
Jensen doesn’t speak, can’t remember what he fucking wrote, but it was nothing like this. “It wasn’t Jared,” he repeats weakly, and sees Michael frowning at him from the corner of his eye. The provost opens his mouth again, but another voice rings out.
“He’s telling the truth.” Jared’s words are a hollow hole in Jensen’s chest, and he snaps his gaze over to find brown-green eyes trained straight ahead. Avoiding him. “It’s all true, sir.”
“Jared,” Chris starts sharply, but Jared shakes his head. Stands up and thrusts his chin out with a dull look in his eyes.
The provost looks over at Jared in confusion. “Mr. Padalecki?”
I…” Jared swallows, appearing small for the first time since Jensen ever laid eyes on him. His voice shakes, and something inside of Jensen goes thick and tremulous. “I was given a, a power over others and I took advantage of it. I let things happen that shouldn’t have, I. I’m responsible.” He pauses. Jensen’s head spins. The next words come out almost too quiet, but hoarse with emotion. “I’m sorry.”
“No.” It comes out before Jensen realizes he’s spoken, but Jared doesn’t look over. His expression doesn’t change at all, and Jensen presses on anyway, suddenly not giving a fuck that anyone else is in the room. Everything’s on the line, and he’s so close to falling off the wire. “No, that’s not what I wrote. It’s not the truth!”
The provost ignores Jensen in favor of watching Jared, no one else speaks a word. Even Mike looks utterly bewildered by the whirlwind of events, and Jensen’s breath hitches on a laugh that’s not amused at all.
“Mr. Padalecki, you realize what your admission could cost you?” the provost finally asks, and Jensen’s fists tighten at the implication. Jared looks a little scared, but stands tall. Nods.
“Well.” The provost clears his throat, staring at the newspaper issue for a moment that stretches on much too long. Jensen’s ready to scream by the time he finally looks back up. “If Mr. Ackles won’t corroborate his claims, then I’m afraid we’re all at an impasse. This issue will end now, Mr. Rosenbaum. I want Mr. Ackles’ story pulled from this week’s edition immediately. And Mr. Padalecki, well, it might prove best if you were to…”
The words hang in the air, unsaid, and Jared’s lips tighten at the corners. “Yes, sir,” he says, and Jensen wonders what? From the furious look on Christian’s face, whatever’s going to happen isn’t going to win Jensen any popularity points.
“I think we’re done here,” the provost says with an edge of fatigue. “In light of this case and despite the outcome, I do believe it’s time the university took a more active role in its Fraternity life. I’ll be in touch, Mr. Kane. Things will be changing.”
“Yes, sir,” Christian says, all politeness, but Jensen feels the bite underneath. The provost nods, dismissing them all, and Mike curses, walks out with a single frustrated look Jensen’s way.
“Got what you wanted,” Chris mutters, pushing past with a hard brush of shoulder. “Now lay the fuck off. Go be Rosenbaum’s bitch-boy for another cause, all right?”
Jared barely catches his eye before he follows, and Jensen lists forward. Isn’t sure what he wants to say, but knows he has to do something. Fast. But he gets sidelined by his journalism teacher, who sends him a slightly disappointed look that tears into Jensen’s already guilty conscience.
“Jensen, what happened?” she asks, an urgent murmur, and Jensen locks his jaw. Looks over her shoulder to see Jared disappear through the door.
“I…” His throat works. “I can’t right now, I’m sorry, I have to...” He makes a sound in the back of his throat, hurries out into the hallway after Jared, ignoring his teacher’s voice as she calls his name. “Jared!” he blurts out, hand around his neck as Jared goes still, turns around.
It takes a second, but then there’s a soft, “Beauty.” It’s nothing like the many times he’s said it with playful intention, or even like the beginning when it was a provocation more than anything else. This time, there’s a razor’s edge to the name, and yet something akin to admiration lurks behind the betrayal in Jared’s eyes. “Tamed the beast after all, yeah?”
Shut up, Jensen wants to say. Instead, he just repeats Jared’s name, a plea scoring his voice. “I’m sorry, I just thought…I just wanted to...” He cuts himself off, bites his tongue. Tries again, low, fervent tone. “It was never about you.”
Jared’s wince is theatrical, voice a bitter pill for Jensen to swallow. “Well, I feel better.”
“Jared, c’mon. Just let me explain, okay?” Jensen reaches out, afraid to touch but more afraid that Jared will slip away.
Jared smiles at him, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He drops his big hand on Jensen’s arm, and his words feel like a goodbye. “Congratulations, Jensen. You’ve finally earned the name of Delta.”
Jensen thinks about that long after the sound of Jared’s footsteps fade away, and finally squeezes his eyes shut tight.
xxx
Austin, Texas.
True Blue Tattoo Parlor.
Day 9.
His ass is numb. There’s no two ways about it, and Jensen gives a little grunt when the guy currently drilling holes in his left buttcheek--just call me Dave--goes a little too deep.
Jared rests his hand lightly on Jensen’s head, voice a study in sympathy and amusement. “Delta for life, right?”
“What I wanna know,” Jensen manages, glancing up to find pretty pink lips curved toward him, “is where the hell you’re--fuck--hiding yours.”
Jared laughs, raps his chest a few times. “Right here, Beauty. Where it counts.”
Jensen should’ve known. “So, all the pledges don’t have to get a crest tattoo,” he says flatly, laying his head on his forearm and flinching when Dave reaches an area not yet numbed by constant pinprick.
“Well, no.” Jared crouches down, looks Jensen in the eye. “But watching you get one’s pretty fucking hot. I could apologize, but I’d be lying.”
Jensen shudders when that voice dips low, washing warm against his ear. “Whatever,” he manages on a gruff breath, trying not to let Jared see the effect he has and failing miserably. “You’re such a fucking jerk.”
“Hey, I’m right there with you, baby,” Jared purrs, not in the least put out by Jensen’s less than heated insult. “At least it’s not a dozen girls, ya know?”
Jensen can’t help but snort a little. “Taking your revenge on the innocent?”
Jared’s teeth flash at that, and something in Jensen perks up with sudden interest. “Interesting choice of words,” Jared drawls, tapping his chin and then crouching lower until he’s at Jensen’s eye-level. “Considering the stuff that came out of your innocent mouth when I was riding your ass yesterday.”
“Jesus.” Jensen chokes, glancing back at Dave and blushing bright red. The tattoo artist isn’t paying them the slightest attention, and Jensen bites his lip. “Jesus, Jared,” he says again, softer.
Jared chews his lip, expression contrite but gaze glittering with unrepentance. “Sorry, sorry, it’s just. I mentioned how fucking hot you look right now, didn’t I?”
Jensen isn’t quite sure how to answer that…not when Jared’s words have evoked images his mind’s having trouble getting rid of. “I think we should talk,” he finally hears himself saying, and can’t really believe it. “What happened yesterday was--”
“Fucking fantastic,” Jared interrupts calmly. “And it’ll happen again.”
Goddamn if the cocky bastard’s not damn well right.
“I told you what I want,” Jared continues, just a whisper against Jensen’s ear. “And I think you showed me what you want. I can wait for the rest, okay?”
No, it’s not okay. Because none of this is real and I don’t want what you want.
But Jensen only nods, and wonders when he started to believe Jared’s words over his own.