CWRPS Fic: Jim Beam, Jack, Tequila and Lime
Title: Jim Beam, Jack, Tequila and Lime
Author: D. (namegoeshere)
Rating: NC17.
Genre: Um, fluff, I think. It's mostly cute and funny.
Fandom: CWRPS
Pairing: Jensen Ackles/Christian Kane
Wordcount: 4216
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and is completely untrue.
Summary: Chris is almost never actually, honestly drunk, usually just buzzed as hell and faking the rest for amusement, but this time he's loaded, mouth brushing Jensen's ear when he speaks, and he reeks of alcohol and sweat. It's bitter and really fucking good.
A/N: I'm pretty sure waterofthemoon prompted me to write this. The prompt, which I don't exactly remember, was something along the lines of Chris and Jensen get drunk and make out. In any case, she beta'd it. My first RPS ever posted! Probably not the best thing I've ever written, but it's adorable, so there. Enjoy.
†
They've all had a lot to drink. Tequila, a little Jager, a little too much whiskey, and some cheap, nasty-tasting scotch. It's a recipe for getting sick later, for the world's worst hangover in the morning. Chad's already given up for the night, having been sick in the bathroom one too many times, and he's laying on his back on the couch, looking at them through bleary eyes.
Jensen can't quite remember whose idea this was, but he thinks it was a good one. The leather chair he's on is comfortable, or maybe that's just Chris, who's stroking a hand down Jen's spine, muttering something in a whiskey-rough voice; Jen's not entirely sure what.
"Did you jus' call me pretty?" he slurs, and Chris breathes out hot against his neck.
"Naw," Chris tells him, and he's lying. The bastard's fucking lying, because Jensen's not so drunk that he can't figure it out, not yet.
"Sunnovabitch." Chris just laughs and works a hand under Jensen's shirt, and his fingers are warm and rough, calloused from playing guitar. "Know I hate that."
"I know." He's really drunk, which is weird. Chris is almost never actually, honestly drunk, usually just buzzed as hell and faking the rest for amusement, but this time he's loaded, mouth brushing Jensen's ear when he speaks, and he reeks of alcohol and sweat. It's bitter and really fucking good.
Jensen glances over at Jared, who's having some animated conversation with Mike. Mike is just staring at him with glassy eyes, nodding and smiling every so often. He tries to remember where they are-he thinks it might be Jared's house, but-no, wait, it's his apartment. He recognises the ugly carpeting.
Chris murmurs, "Jenny," in his ear. When he turns to see what he wants, Christian kisses him, sliding his mouth easily over Jensen's.
Chris tastes like black licorice and honey, sweet and bitter all at once, his tongue working past Jensen's lips and one hand cradling his head. In the background, someone whistles, and Jensen just moans, tilting his head and gripping Chris's shoulders.
He's not sure if it's the kiss or the alcohol that's making him so dizzy, but he doesn't mind it so much. As long as Chris keeps his hands-oh, there, one of them down the back of Jensen's jeans, damn it feels good-it's all right, as long as he doesn't stop.
†
He thinks he got hit by a truck. His head is throbbing, and there's something wet and cold on his neck. He tries to shift backwards and ends up on the floor, glancing up at the big leather chair where he'd been so comfortably curled up with Chris just a second ago.
Oh. Oh, fuck. With Chris. Who he made out with last night for like two hours, curled up in that fucking leather chair, practically dry-humping each other.
Jared stands over him, wobbling uncertainly, and whispers, "G'morning." He looks bleary-eyed and miserable too, and Jensen twists around to try and get to his feet. He stumbles, nearly falls back on Chris (oh shit, oh shit, what the fuck did he do?) before lurching towards Jared.
"What time is it?" he asks as Jared steadies him.
"'Bout 8 am."
"Fuck," Jensen says. "I need a shower."
"You can't have one," Jared tells him. "Unless you wanna wake up Mike. He's sleeping in your tub."
"Fuck."
"You okay?"
Jensen shakes his head. "Can alcohol cause hallucinations?" he asks. "Really, really vivid hallucinations of making out with a guy?"
Jared actually grins, the fucker. "Sorry, no cigar," he says.
"Fuck." He sighs. "Come on, let's go get some breakfast or something, let the rest of these motherfuckers fend for themselves."
†
He doesn't know what he expects.
They eat breakfast, Jared teasing him over their double portions of eggs, toast and ham steaks, saying, "So, how was he?"
"God, I can't believe I did that," Jensen complains bitterly at his plate.
"You guys were really going at it."
"I practically dry-fucked him."
Jared smirks. "Practically? I'd say literally."
"You're not helping, and I hate you."
The thing is, that Chris doesn't call. He doesn't call while they eat breakfast or while they stop at Jared's place to shower and clean up and so Jared can put on clean clothes. It's noon by the time they head back to Jensen's, and Chris still hasn't called. And Jensen's thinking that maybe he's asleep, except that when they get back to the apartment, Chris is gone.
Tom says he left around ten, two hours earlier, and that Mike is still asleep in the tub.
†
"Chris."
He groans, burying his head in his pillow.
"Chris, get up."
Steve shoves at his shoulder.
"Jesus, it's three in the afternoon. Get up already."
"Lemme the fuck alone." For a minute, it's blessedly, peacefully quiet. Steve leaves the door open, but at least he leaves, and Chris settles comfortably back into place, nuzzling into his pillow.
When he hears Steve approach his bed again, he grumbles and waves him off vaguely with one hand. He's still hung over, he doesn't want to wake up.
"If you don't get out of bed right now," Steve says, "I'm going to dump this pot of water on you."
"Yeah, right."
Chris really should have believed him, because it's not even three seconds later when he bolts upright, water soaking through his blankets, cold and definitely wet.
"FUCK! You son of a bitch!"
Steve stands there with the huge pot Chris uses for spaghetti sauce held between his hands. He's grinning broadly. "Hey, I warned you."
"You better run, bitch."
†
The couch is wet, which is understandable because Chris's entire back is soaked.
"I fucking hate you so much, man." His breathing is just levelling out, and his head is pounding.
Steve is sitting on the other end of the couch, grinning. It's annoying. Chris wants to hit him, but somehow he suspects it will lead to another run around the living room, and he's too fucking tired. And hung over. Definitely much too hung over.
Steve says, "So, I guess you had a little too much fun at Jen's party last night, huh?"
Chris throws a pillow at him. It lands on the floor at Steve's feet. "Don't remind me. Please god, don't even."
Steve grins. "Don't tell me. Chad hired hookers again."
"I wish. No, worse."
His bandmate's actually looking concerned now-concerned, and maybe just a little suspicious. "Chris. What'd you do?"
"Why do you always assume I did something?"
"Because you usually do!"
Chris crosses his arms, looking at him. "Yeah, like what?"
"Huh, let's see-remember the time you tried to make out with Sandy?"
He looks at the carpet. "Uh-maybe? Kinda? It's a little vague." He waves a hand illustratively.
"How about the time you spiked the punch, and Chad nearly got himself hit by a truck?"
"That was not my fault! ... Really. Exactly. Sorta." He pauses for a second. "Okay, it kinda was. But you shouldn't have let him leave the hotel room!"
"You are so not pinning that on me, Chris." Steve heaves a long-suffering sigh. "So, like I said. What did you do this time?"
"Uh. It's kinda possible that I kissed Jensen."
Steve arches an eyebrow. "First off, when you say something is 'kinda possible,' it usually means you did something horribly wrong, and second-haven't you kissed Jensen before? What's the big deal?"
Chris suddenly remembers Jensen practically in his lap, grinding against him, tugging at his hair; the soft sounds that Jensen made when Chris palmed his cock through his jeans, aroused and desperate. "By kinda sorta, I mean... I made out with him on the couch. Complete with, uh, heavy petting and a lot of grinding." He swallows. "God, he's never gonna talk to me again."
"You know, you probably shouldn't have done that," Steve remarks blandly. "Generally, it's not a good idea to make out with your straight friends."
Chris groans. "Did I mention that I fucking hate you?" He drags himself to his feet and looks down at the huge wet spot on the couch. "I'm gonna go take a shower." There's a brief pause before he adds, "You know, he did kiss me back. That generally implies not entirely straight."
"Huh," Steve says. "Well, go figure."
†
By seven, Chris still hasn't called. Jensen sits dejectedly in front of the TV, flipping through channels, eating cold pizza left over from the night before. His head is still throbbing dully, and the greasy pizza makes him kind of queasy, but he's hungry.
He's just drifting off when the phone rings.
"Chris?" he answers.
"He hasn't called, huh?" Jared asks, and Jensen heaves a sigh.
"No."
"I'm sorry, Jen." He sounds sympathetic.
"It's not a big deal. It's Chris, you know? It's what he does. He gets drunk and makes out with the nearest warm body. Lucky me." He knows he sounds like he's feeling sorry for himself. He is. "I shouldn't be surprised."
"Still," Jared says, "you've been harbouring a secret crush on the guy for how long? And you have hot, steamy clothed sex with him in front of four of your closest friends, and he doesn't even call after. It sucks."
It does. It really fucking does.
"Hang tight. I'm gonna pick up some Chinese food and a couple six-packs. I'll be right over."
Jensen smiles. "Have I mentioned that you're my best best friend?"
"That's because Chris is an asshole. I'll see you in an hour or less."
†
Jensen's been in love with Chris pretty much the entire time Jared's known him. Jared can't remember a time that Jensen didn't talk about Chris with this mix of friendly affection and outright awe that pretty much completely gives away exactly how much he wants the midget country singer. Jared suspects the reason behind the dissolution of Jensen's relationships over the past couple years has been Chris pretty much each and every time.
It's kinda sweet, but mostly fairly pathetic. Especially considering that Jensen's asleep with his head in Jared's lap after drinking three beers and spending an hour being miserable. He finally got something he wanted, only dimly remembers it, and Chris hasn't called to extend a second offer. It's a lousy situation, and Jared pats Jensen's hair and thinks about what an awesome friend he is for putting up with this crap.
"Jensen?" Jared murmurs. "Man, not that I don't appreciate your love, but-my leg's falling asleep."
Jensen murmurs "Chris" in his sleep and snuggles closer. It's sad. Jared's half-tempted to show up on Christian's doorstep and kick his ass. Maybe he'd actually do it if he didn't have Jensen sleeping in his lap.
It's an hour of watching crappy MTV reality shows before Jared finally wakes Jensen up, shoving at his shoulder and saying, "Hey. Let's get you into bed, man."
"I fucked everything up," is what Jensen tells him.
Jared decides not to spare him the truth. "It was already fucked up, man. Chris is a great guy, but he's kind of a dick, you know?"
"Yeah, I know."
"C'mon, on your feet. I'm gonna crash on your couch. I don't trust you not to try and hang yourself in the shower in the morning, that's how much of a whiny bitch you're being."
"I'm sorry," Jensen murmurs, leaning on Jared's shoulder.
Jared helps him up, starts guiding him towards the bedroom. "It's okay, Jen."
†
"You should call him," Steve says when he arrives with a breakfast of Egg McMuffins from the McDonalds down the street. He shoves the paper bag into Chris's hands, balancing two cups of coffee in his other hand as best he can, and brushes past Chris to go sit in the living room.
"Remind me again why I gave you a key to my place?" Chris asks from the doorway, frowning and following Steve to the couch. "'Cause I'm pretty sure it wasn't so you could harass me about Jensen."
"Or dump water on you to get you out of bed when you're hung over," Steve reminds him. He takes a sip of his coffee. "I'm serious, though. Why don't you call him?"
Chris roots through the bag, pulling out two of the nasty, greasy hash browns and three of the wax-paper encased English muffins. He starts busily smearing ketchup on everything, and Steve pulls a face. "What? I like ketchup," Chris says. "Anyway, I'm not calling him because it'd be stupid. I doubt he wants to hear from me anyway."
"You're disgusting," Steve observes. "And you're crazy about him. If you were a woman, you'd be begging to have his babies. As it is, you should call him and tell him you want to have sex with him."
"That's a great plan. Right up until the part where he laughs his ass off and hangs up on me."
"We talked about this. He spent two hours sucking on your tongue and grinding against your dick. I don't know, Chris, I think that might be a hint that he likes you." Christian throws one of the Egg McMuffin wrappers at him. "I'm serious."
"He was drunk, he probably thought I was that chick he dated-what's her face, the bitch, you know the one I mean."
Steve smirks. "You mean, the one he broke up with because you didn't like her?"
Chris glares at him, reaching for the coffee. "Have I mentioned how much I fucking hate you?"
"You know," Steve says conversationally. "I'm gonna put it this way. If you don't call him or go see him, I'm going to call him and start telling him which of your songs are actually about him."
†
Jared wakes up because someone is knocking on the door. It's not a very loud knock-it's the kind of quiet tapping of someone who is hoping no one will hear, so they can go away without anyone knowing they were ever there.
He drags himself to his feet and gets to the door. Chris is already walking away.
"Hey!" Jared calls after him. "You better turn right the fuck back around. I'll wake Jensen up."
Chris goes as stiff as a board, just for a second, then slumps in defeat. He comes into the apartment and sits down on the couch. "Fuck."
"Damn straight. You're lucky I don't kick your ass." But Chris looks nervous, and he's twisting one of the silver bracelets he's wearing. "Uh, the coffee started brewing about twenty minutes ago, if you want any. I'll get Jensen outta bed, and then I'll be on my way. Just-lemme find my pants."
"Thanks," Chris says.
†
When Jensen comes out of the bedroom, he makes a beeline for the coffee pot. He sits down on the couch without seeming to realise Chris is even there. It's not until he's had a few gulps that he notices who's sitting next to him, and then he promptly spew coffee all over himself.
"Chris?"
"Hey."
"What the hell are you doing here?"
Chris isn't sure what to say. Well, Steve insists that I have to tell you I'm in love with you and ask if you wanna finish what we started while we were totally wasted. 'Cause that'd go over real well. "Uh."
"Christian?"
"I, uh. Wanted to apologise," he says lamely. "About last night."
"What about last night?"
"I mean-the night before that. When we got really-and-yeah."
"Oh, yeah. That. Right."
Somebody's cell phone rings. Chris reaches for his pocket even though he knows it isn't his-after all, he doesn't have "Who Let The Dogs Out?" set as one of his ringtones.
Behind them, Jared says, "Hey, Steve. What's goin' on, dude?"
Chris groans, muttering, "Oh, fuck." Jensen shoots him a look.
"Yeah, I crashed at Jen's place." A pause. "Uh huh, he's here. Yeah, he just got here. They're sitting on the couch." Jared laughs. "Yeah, I kinda thought that might be the case."
Chris twists to look back at Jared, who has a very alarmingly happy smile on his face. "Yeah, sure, I'll give 'em the message," he says. "Uh huh. Hey, wanna grab some coffee? There's that place off Sunset, you know the one, with the cute-yeah, that's the name, I'll meet you there in an hour or so."
He hangs up and beams at them.
"Somehow," Jensen remarks dryly, "I'm suddenly worried."
"Me too."
Jared is still grinning. "Steve told me to tell you both to shut up and fuck already. I'm gonna give y'all some space. Have fun."
†
"I don't know why he said that," Jensen lies.
Chris is staring at him, and Jensen is fucking blushing, which is ridiculous because he never blushes. He looks away, down at the carpet, anywhere except at Chris. Chris, who looks really gorgeous with his hair still a little messy and wearing a pair of too-loose jeans and a tight John Deere t-shirt.
Fuck, he was supposed to be not looking.
"Jenny," Chris says softly, a little rough, and Jensen hates being called Jenny, except for when it comes out of Christian's mouth.
"Yeah," he says, but he looks over at the television set.
He doesn't fight it when Chris reaches out to take his chin, and then Chris kisses him, and it's soft and perfect and everything a first kiss should be. This isn't the first time Chris has kissed him; it isn't even the second, but fuck, it's perfect.
"I, uh," Chris says, and then shakes his head. Jensen swallows thickly and pulls him up for another kiss.
He mutters, "I think I get it," against the softness of Chris's mouth.
"This is okay?"
Jensen tangles his fingers in Christian's long hair and smiles. "Fuck, yeah. Just don't vanish on me after."
When Chris grins, it's slow and full of mischief. "I was sorta plannin' on stickin' around."
†
Jensen tastes like spit, like coffee and morning breath. It's a foul combination, but fuck, it's Jensen, Jensen who fists his hands in Chris's hair and leans back against the arm of the couch, pulling Chris down on top of him.
He can make Jen brush his teeth later. Right now, he bites at his mouth, and Jen makes this sound-moaning softly, and his hips buck up against Chris', and-holy shit, this is really fucking happening.
"How far you wanna take this, Jen?" Chris murmurs, pressing a kiss against his throat and sliding a hand up under his shirt. Jensen's still rumpled from sleep, wearing a worn-in Cowboys shirt and a pair of sweatpants, his hair adorably ruffled. His pupils are blown, and he turns his head to find Chris's mouth again, kissing him quickly.
"I was thinking," he says, interrupting himself to bite at Christian's jaw, "that when we find the energy, maybe we could take it to my room."
"Yeah," Chris pants. "We could-we could do that." But right now, he just wants to press open-mouthed kisses along Jensen's throat, feeling Jensen's pulse hammering beneath his mouth.
"Fuck," Jensen gasps, arching up under him, and he can feel the hard line of Chris's erection pressing against his thigh. "God, I-please." His voice is rough and torn with need, one hand sliding to rub between Chris's shoulder blades, worrying at the cotton of his t-shirt.
Chris rolls off him, lands in a heap on the floor. Jensen laughs, startled, reaching for him at the same time. "Bed," Chris manages, getting to his feet, pulling Jensen with him. "I'll blow you, c'mon."
†
They stumble through the open door into Jensen's bedroom, tugging at one another's clothes. Chris manages to get Jensen's jeans and boxers down around his thighs, and Jensen trips backwards onto the bed.
"I," Jensen groans. Chris clambers onto the bed, straddling his hips and kissing his throat. "Fuck, I just. Chris, god."
"Yeah," Chris breathes. "I know." Jensen's so hard it hurts, and he thinks maybe he should feel ridiculous, his dick curving up towards his belly, legs still tangled in his jeans. "Can't believe," he mutters.
And suddenly feeling ridiculous doesn't really matter, because Chris is crawling down his body. Jensen's suddenly glad for the king-sized bed because there's space for Chris to lie down between his legs, pressing his mouth into the wiry hair. He fails utterly at stifling a gasp, and Chris grins up at him.
"Holy fuck," Jensen groans, and Chris smoothes a hand over his hip, thumb pressing in just below his hipbone.
And then Chris swallows his cock, no real prep, no warning, just sucks Jen into his mouth like he's done this a thousand times before, like God made him without a gag reflex. "Shit, Chris." And there's nothing-nothing hotter than the sight of Christian Kane laid out on the bed between his thighs, his mouth stretched around Jensen's cock.
He pulls up slowly, stroking absently at Jensen's thigh, pausing to suck at the tip before his sinks back down. So maybe Chris isn't quite as straight as Jensen expected, which is fine by him, because holy shit.
He doesn't last as long as he might like. It's Christian's fault, really. One of his hands slips down between Jensen's legs, cupping his balls gently, and he sinks down again, slurping obscenely as he swallows around his dick. He moans when he pulls back up, the sound muffled, his eyes closed like he doesn't want to focus on anything but the taste and feel of Jensen's cock on his tongue.
"I'm gonna," Jensen whimpers. "Fuck, Chris, I'm tryin'-"
Chris pulls off his cock with a pop. "Let it go, Jen. C'mon."
He swallows it down when Jensen comes, mostly, groaning his approval as Jensen arches up off the bed, fucking into his mouth in shallow thrusts. When he comes up, there's come on his chin and his t-shirt, and he's grinning like this is the best thing that's ever happened.
"Can't believe I lost it that quick," Jensen says, panting, and Chris climbs back up the bed to collapse on the mattress next to him.
"Man, I shot my load while I was blowing you," Chris says, squirming like he's trying to get comfortable in his jeans. "So I'm not exactly gonna complain, y'know?"
†
They lie there for all of a minute before Jensen scrambles out of his jeans. He leans over Chris then, pops open the buttons of his fly and starts tugging him down. He tosses Chris's boots, boxers, and pants onto the floor, then strips out of his own t-shirt.
"Fuck," Jensen breathes. "Take your shirt off."
Chris sits up and throws his shirt onto the floor with the rest of his clothes, then settles back onto the mattress.
"So, uh, guess you're not exactly straight then, huh?"
"Fuck, no," Jensen says. He's still breathing kinda hard, and he leans over and kisses Chris on the mouth-there's still come on Chris's chin, and Jensen pulls away and licks it off, which is way hotter than it has any right to be. "I take it you're not, either."
Chris grins. "Man, I'm an equal opportunist."
Jensen laughs, then leans over to press a kiss into Chris's neck. "I kinda wanted to jerk you off," he admits into the salty skin, "but you already came and everything, without me even doing anything."
"Might be able to figure something out," Christian murmurs, taking Jensen's hand and guiding it down. His cock twitches with interest as Jensen's fingers close around it, and he breathes out a quiet moan. "Give it a second," he breathes. "Just a second."
"I want you to fuck me later," Jensen murmurs, and suddenly Chris is fully, achingly hard. Jen grins, kissing him softly, fingers tightening around his length. "Guess you like that idea, huh?" he murmurs, and Chris closes his eyes, arching up under Jensen's hand
"Fuck, yeah." Jensen's palm is soft, uncalloused, and he tugs lazily at Christian's cock, pressing kisses on his shoulder and neck. It's incredible, his thumb stroking expertly over the tip, stroking a little harder every time Chris moans or shifts beneath him. "God, Jenny, fuck, c'mon."
"I hate it when anybody but you calls me that," Jen murmurs. Chris opens his eyes as Jensen shifts up, leans in to bite at his mouth, the kiss gentle. "Christian." And his tongue slides along Chris's, soft and warm, leaving him breathless.
"Jen-Jenny." It's hard to get the words out, the warning, his hips stuttering as Jensen's hand sweeps over him. "I'm-fuck, right there."
Jen leans in close, brushing his mouth along Chris's jaw. "C'mon, Chris. Please."
†
Chris comes hard, hot and sticky all over his belly and thighs and Jensen's hand. Jensen grins and nuzzles in against him, wiping his hand off on the sheets before slinging his arm over Chris's waist.
"You don't expect me to cuddle, do ya?" Chris murmurs, but he turns into the warmth of Jensen's body, reaching down for the blanket to wipe himself off and tugging it over them both.
"Mmm, no." Jensen yawns, presses a kiss against Chris's jaw. "You stay on your side. Don't touch me." It's ridiculous, and Chris leans in for a kiss.
"I'll make you lunch later."
"Dinner," Jensen corrects. "I'm so not getting out of bed until dinner."
Author: D. (namegoeshere)
Rating: NC17.
Genre: Um, fluff, I think. It's mostly cute and funny.
Fandom: CWRPS
Pairing: Jensen Ackles/Christian Kane
Wordcount: 4216
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and is completely untrue.
Summary: Chris is almost never actually, honestly drunk, usually just buzzed as hell and faking the rest for amusement, but this time he's loaded, mouth brushing Jensen's ear when he speaks, and he reeks of alcohol and sweat. It's bitter and really fucking good.
A/N: I'm pretty sure waterofthemoon prompted me to write this. The prompt, which I don't exactly remember, was something along the lines of Chris and Jensen get drunk and make out. In any case, she beta'd it. My first RPS ever posted! Probably not the best thing I've ever written, but it's adorable, so there. Enjoy.
†
They've all had a lot to drink. Tequila, a little Jager, a little too much whiskey, and some cheap, nasty-tasting scotch. It's a recipe for getting sick later, for the world's worst hangover in the morning. Chad's already given up for the night, having been sick in the bathroom one too many times, and he's laying on his back on the couch, looking at them through bleary eyes.
Jensen can't quite remember whose idea this was, but he thinks it was a good one. The leather chair he's on is comfortable, or maybe that's just Chris, who's stroking a hand down Jen's spine, muttering something in a whiskey-rough voice; Jen's not entirely sure what.
"Did you jus' call me pretty?" he slurs, and Chris breathes out hot against his neck.
"Naw," Chris tells him, and he's lying. The bastard's fucking lying, because Jensen's not so drunk that he can't figure it out, not yet.
"Sunnovabitch." Chris just laughs and works a hand under Jensen's shirt, and his fingers are warm and rough, calloused from playing guitar. "Know I hate that."
"I know." He's really drunk, which is weird. Chris is almost never actually, honestly drunk, usually just buzzed as hell and faking the rest for amusement, but this time he's loaded, mouth brushing Jensen's ear when he speaks, and he reeks of alcohol and sweat. It's bitter and really fucking good.
Jensen glances over at Jared, who's having some animated conversation with Mike. Mike is just staring at him with glassy eyes, nodding and smiling every so often. He tries to remember where they are-he thinks it might be Jared's house, but-no, wait, it's his apartment. He recognises the ugly carpeting.
Chris murmurs, "Jenny," in his ear. When he turns to see what he wants, Christian kisses him, sliding his mouth easily over Jensen's.
Chris tastes like black licorice and honey, sweet and bitter all at once, his tongue working past Jensen's lips and one hand cradling his head. In the background, someone whistles, and Jensen just moans, tilting his head and gripping Chris's shoulders.
He's not sure if it's the kiss or the alcohol that's making him so dizzy, but he doesn't mind it so much. As long as Chris keeps his hands-oh, there, one of them down the back of Jensen's jeans, damn it feels good-it's all right, as long as he doesn't stop.
†
He thinks he got hit by a truck. His head is throbbing, and there's something wet and cold on his neck. He tries to shift backwards and ends up on the floor, glancing up at the big leather chair where he'd been so comfortably curled up with Chris just a second ago.
Oh. Oh, fuck. With Chris. Who he made out with last night for like two hours, curled up in that fucking leather chair, practically dry-humping each other.
Jared stands over him, wobbling uncertainly, and whispers, "G'morning." He looks bleary-eyed and miserable too, and Jensen twists around to try and get to his feet. He stumbles, nearly falls back on Chris (oh shit, oh shit, what the fuck did he do?) before lurching towards Jared.
"What time is it?" he asks as Jared steadies him.
"'Bout 8 am."
"Fuck," Jensen says. "I need a shower."
"You can't have one," Jared tells him. "Unless you wanna wake up Mike. He's sleeping in your tub."
"Fuck."
"You okay?"
Jensen shakes his head. "Can alcohol cause hallucinations?" he asks. "Really, really vivid hallucinations of making out with a guy?"
Jared actually grins, the fucker. "Sorry, no cigar," he says.
"Fuck." He sighs. "Come on, let's go get some breakfast or something, let the rest of these motherfuckers fend for themselves."
†
He doesn't know what he expects.
They eat breakfast, Jared teasing him over their double portions of eggs, toast and ham steaks, saying, "So, how was he?"
"God, I can't believe I did that," Jensen complains bitterly at his plate.
"You guys were really going at it."
"I practically dry-fucked him."
Jared smirks. "Practically? I'd say literally."
"You're not helping, and I hate you."
The thing is, that Chris doesn't call. He doesn't call while they eat breakfast or while they stop at Jared's place to shower and clean up and so Jared can put on clean clothes. It's noon by the time they head back to Jensen's, and Chris still hasn't called. And Jensen's thinking that maybe he's asleep, except that when they get back to the apartment, Chris is gone.
Tom says he left around ten, two hours earlier, and that Mike is still asleep in the tub.
†
"Chris."
He groans, burying his head in his pillow.
"Chris, get up."
Steve shoves at his shoulder.
"Jesus, it's three in the afternoon. Get up already."
"Lemme the fuck alone." For a minute, it's blessedly, peacefully quiet. Steve leaves the door open, but at least he leaves, and Chris settles comfortably back into place, nuzzling into his pillow.
When he hears Steve approach his bed again, he grumbles and waves him off vaguely with one hand. He's still hung over, he doesn't want to wake up.
"If you don't get out of bed right now," Steve says, "I'm going to dump this pot of water on you."
"Yeah, right."
Chris really should have believed him, because it's not even three seconds later when he bolts upright, water soaking through his blankets, cold and definitely wet.
"FUCK! You son of a bitch!"
Steve stands there with the huge pot Chris uses for spaghetti sauce held between his hands. He's grinning broadly. "Hey, I warned you."
"You better run, bitch."
†
The couch is wet, which is understandable because Chris's entire back is soaked.
"I fucking hate you so much, man." His breathing is just levelling out, and his head is pounding.
Steve is sitting on the other end of the couch, grinning. It's annoying. Chris wants to hit him, but somehow he suspects it will lead to another run around the living room, and he's too fucking tired. And hung over. Definitely much too hung over.
Steve says, "So, I guess you had a little too much fun at Jen's party last night, huh?"
Chris throws a pillow at him. It lands on the floor at Steve's feet. "Don't remind me. Please god, don't even."
Steve grins. "Don't tell me. Chad hired hookers again."
"I wish. No, worse."
His bandmate's actually looking concerned now-concerned, and maybe just a little suspicious. "Chris. What'd you do?"
"Why do you always assume I did something?"
"Because you usually do!"
Chris crosses his arms, looking at him. "Yeah, like what?"
"Huh, let's see-remember the time you tried to make out with Sandy?"
He looks at the carpet. "Uh-maybe? Kinda? It's a little vague." He waves a hand illustratively.
"How about the time you spiked the punch, and Chad nearly got himself hit by a truck?"
"That was not my fault! ... Really. Exactly. Sorta." He pauses for a second. "Okay, it kinda was. But you shouldn't have let him leave the hotel room!"
"You are so not pinning that on me, Chris." Steve heaves a long-suffering sigh. "So, like I said. What did you do this time?"
"Uh. It's kinda possible that I kissed Jensen."
Steve arches an eyebrow. "First off, when you say something is 'kinda possible,' it usually means you did something horribly wrong, and second-haven't you kissed Jensen before? What's the big deal?"
Chris suddenly remembers Jensen practically in his lap, grinding against him, tugging at his hair; the soft sounds that Jensen made when Chris palmed his cock through his jeans, aroused and desperate. "By kinda sorta, I mean... I made out with him on the couch. Complete with, uh, heavy petting and a lot of grinding." He swallows. "God, he's never gonna talk to me again."
"You know, you probably shouldn't have done that," Steve remarks blandly. "Generally, it's not a good idea to make out with your straight friends."
Chris groans. "Did I mention that I fucking hate you?" He drags himself to his feet and looks down at the huge wet spot on the couch. "I'm gonna go take a shower." There's a brief pause before he adds, "You know, he did kiss me back. That generally implies not entirely straight."
"Huh," Steve says. "Well, go figure."
†
By seven, Chris still hasn't called. Jensen sits dejectedly in front of the TV, flipping through channels, eating cold pizza left over from the night before. His head is still throbbing dully, and the greasy pizza makes him kind of queasy, but he's hungry.
He's just drifting off when the phone rings.
"Chris?" he answers.
"He hasn't called, huh?" Jared asks, and Jensen heaves a sigh.
"No."
"I'm sorry, Jen." He sounds sympathetic.
"It's not a big deal. It's Chris, you know? It's what he does. He gets drunk and makes out with the nearest warm body. Lucky me." He knows he sounds like he's feeling sorry for himself. He is. "I shouldn't be surprised."
"Still," Jared says, "you've been harbouring a secret crush on the guy for how long? And you have hot, steamy clothed sex with him in front of four of your closest friends, and he doesn't even call after. It sucks."
It does. It really fucking does.
"Hang tight. I'm gonna pick up some Chinese food and a couple six-packs. I'll be right over."
Jensen smiles. "Have I mentioned that you're my best best friend?"
"That's because Chris is an asshole. I'll see you in an hour or less."
†
Jensen's been in love with Chris pretty much the entire time Jared's known him. Jared can't remember a time that Jensen didn't talk about Chris with this mix of friendly affection and outright awe that pretty much completely gives away exactly how much he wants the midget country singer. Jared suspects the reason behind the dissolution of Jensen's relationships over the past couple years has been Chris pretty much each and every time.
It's kinda sweet, but mostly fairly pathetic. Especially considering that Jensen's asleep with his head in Jared's lap after drinking three beers and spending an hour being miserable. He finally got something he wanted, only dimly remembers it, and Chris hasn't called to extend a second offer. It's a lousy situation, and Jared pats Jensen's hair and thinks about what an awesome friend he is for putting up with this crap.
"Jensen?" Jared murmurs. "Man, not that I don't appreciate your love, but-my leg's falling asleep."
Jensen murmurs "Chris" in his sleep and snuggles closer. It's sad. Jared's half-tempted to show up on Christian's doorstep and kick his ass. Maybe he'd actually do it if he didn't have Jensen sleeping in his lap.
It's an hour of watching crappy MTV reality shows before Jared finally wakes Jensen up, shoving at his shoulder and saying, "Hey. Let's get you into bed, man."
"I fucked everything up," is what Jensen tells him.
Jared decides not to spare him the truth. "It was already fucked up, man. Chris is a great guy, but he's kind of a dick, you know?"
"Yeah, I know."
"C'mon, on your feet. I'm gonna crash on your couch. I don't trust you not to try and hang yourself in the shower in the morning, that's how much of a whiny bitch you're being."
"I'm sorry," Jensen murmurs, leaning on Jared's shoulder.
Jared helps him up, starts guiding him towards the bedroom. "It's okay, Jen."
†
"You should call him," Steve says when he arrives with a breakfast of Egg McMuffins from the McDonalds down the street. He shoves the paper bag into Chris's hands, balancing two cups of coffee in his other hand as best he can, and brushes past Chris to go sit in the living room.
"Remind me again why I gave you a key to my place?" Chris asks from the doorway, frowning and following Steve to the couch. "'Cause I'm pretty sure it wasn't so you could harass me about Jensen."
"Or dump water on you to get you out of bed when you're hung over," Steve reminds him. He takes a sip of his coffee. "I'm serious, though. Why don't you call him?"
Chris roots through the bag, pulling out two of the nasty, greasy hash browns and three of the wax-paper encased English muffins. He starts busily smearing ketchup on everything, and Steve pulls a face. "What? I like ketchup," Chris says. "Anyway, I'm not calling him because it'd be stupid. I doubt he wants to hear from me anyway."
"You're disgusting," Steve observes. "And you're crazy about him. If you were a woman, you'd be begging to have his babies. As it is, you should call him and tell him you want to have sex with him."
"That's a great plan. Right up until the part where he laughs his ass off and hangs up on me."
"We talked about this. He spent two hours sucking on your tongue and grinding against your dick. I don't know, Chris, I think that might be a hint that he likes you." Christian throws one of the Egg McMuffin wrappers at him. "I'm serious."
"He was drunk, he probably thought I was that chick he dated-what's her face, the bitch, you know the one I mean."
Steve smirks. "You mean, the one he broke up with because you didn't like her?"
Chris glares at him, reaching for the coffee. "Have I mentioned how much I fucking hate you?"
"You know," Steve says conversationally. "I'm gonna put it this way. If you don't call him or go see him, I'm going to call him and start telling him which of your songs are actually about him."
†
Jared wakes up because someone is knocking on the door. It's not a very loud knock-it's the kind of quiet tapping of someone who is hoping no one will hear, so they can go away without anyone knowing they were ever there.
He drags himself to his feet and gets to the door. Chris is already walking away.
"Hey!" Jared calls after him. "You better turn right the fuck back around. I'll wake Jensen up."
Chris goes as stiff as a board, just for a second, then slumps in defeat. He comes into the apartment and sits down on the couch. "Fuck."
"Damn straight. You're lucky I don't kick your ass." But Chris looks nervous, and he's twisting one of the silver bracelets he's wearing. "Uh, the coffee started brewing about twenty minutes ago, if you want any. I'll get Jensen outta bed, and then I'll be on my way. Just-lemme find my pants."
"Thanks," Chris says.
†
When Jensen comes out of the bedroom, he makes a beeline for the coffee pot. He sits down on the couch without seeming to realise Chris is even there. It's not until he's had a few gulps that he notices who's sitting next to him, and then he promptly spew coffee all over himself.
"Chris?"
"Hey."
"What the hell are you doing here?"
Chris isn't sure what to say. Well, Steve insists that I have to tell you I'm in love with you and ask if you wanna finish what we started while we were totally wasted. 'Cause that'd go over real well. "Uh."
"Christian?"
"I, uh. Wanted to apologise," he says lamely. "About last night."
"What about last night?"
"I mean-the night before that. When we got really-and-yeah."
"Oh, yeah. That. Right."
Somebody's cell phone rings. Chris reaches for his pocket even though he knows it isn't his-after all, he doesn't have "Who Let The Dogs Out?" set as one of his ringtones.
Behind them, Jared says, "Hey, Steve. What's goin' on, dude?"
Chris groans, muttering, "Oh, fuck." Jensen shoots him a look.
"Yeah, I crashed at Jen's place." A pause. "Uh huh, he's here. Yeah, he just got here. They're sitting on the couch." Jared laughs. "Yeah, I kinda thought that might be the case."
Chris twists to look back at Jared, who has a very alarmingly happy smile on his face. "Yeah, sure, I'll give 'em the message," he says. "Uh huh. Hey, wanna grab some coffee? There's that place off Sunset, you know the one, with the cute-yeah, that's the name, I'll meet you there in an hour or so."
He hangs up and beams at them.
"Somehow," Jensen remarks dryly, "I'm suddenly worried."
"Me too."
Jared is still grinning. "Steve told me to tell you both to shut up and fuck already. I'm gonna give y'all some space. Have fun."
†
"I don't know why he said that," Jensen lies.
Chris is staring at him, and Jensen is fucking blushing, which is ridiculous because he never blushes. He looks away, down at the carpet, anywhere except at Chris. Chris, who looks really gorgeous with his hair still a little messy and wearing a pair of too-loose jeans and a tight John Deere t-shirt.
Fuck, he was supposed to be not looking.
"Jenny," Chris says softly, a little rough, and Jensen hates being called Jenny, except for when it comes out of Christian's mouth.
"Yeah," he says, but he looks over at the television set.
He doesn't fight it when Chris reaches out to take his chin, and then Chris kisses him, and it's soft and perfect and everything a first kiss should be. This isn't the first time Chris has kissed him; it isn't even the second, but fuck, it's perfect.
"I, uh," Chris says, and then shakes his head. Jensen swallows thickly and pulls him up for another kiss.
He mutters, "I think I get it," against the softness of Chris's mouth.
"This is okay?"
Jensen tangles his fingers in Christian's long hair and smiles. "Fuck, yeah. Just don't vanish on me after."
When Chris grins, it's slow and full of mischief. "I was sorta plannin' on stickin' around."
†
Jensen tastes like spit, like coffee and morning breath. It's a foul combination, but fuck, it's Jensen, Jensen who fists his hands in Chris's hair and leans back against the arm of the couch, pulling Chris down on top of him.
He can make Jen brush his teeth later. Right now, he bites at his mouth, and Jen makes this sound-moaning softly, and his hips buck up against Chris', and-holy shit, this is really fucking happening.
"How far you wanna take this, Jen?" Chris murmurs, pressing a kiss against his throat and sliding a hand up under his shirt. Jensen's still rumpled from sleep, wearing a worn-in Cowboys shirt and a pair of sweatpants, his hair adorably ruffled. His pupils are blown, and he turns his head to find Chris's mouth again, kissing him quickly.
"I was thinking," he says, interrupting himself to bite at Christian's jaw, "that when we find the energy, maybe we could take it to my room."
"Yeah," Chris pants. "We could-we could do that." But right now, he just wants to press open-mouthed kisses along Jensen's throat, feeling Jensen's pulse hammering beneath his mouth.
"Fuck," Jensen gasps, arching up under him, and he can feel the hard line of Chris's erection pressing against his thigh. "God, I-please." His voice is rough and torn with need, one hand sliding to rub between Chris's shoulder blades, worrying at the cotton of his t-shirt.
Chris rolls off him, lands in a heap on the floor. Jensen laughs, startled, reaching for him at the same time. "Bed," Chris manages, getting to his feet, pulling Jensen with him. "I'll blow you, c'mon."
†
They stumble through the open door into Jensen's bedroom, tugging at one another's clothes. Chris manages to get Jensen's jeans and boxers down around his thighs, and Jensen trips backwards onto the bed.
"I," Jensen groans. Chris clambers onto the bed, straddling his hips and kissing his throat. "Fuck, I just. Chris, god."
"Yeah," Chris breathes. "I know." Jensen's so hard it hurts, and he thinks maybe he should feel ridiculous, his dick curving up towards his belly, legs still tangled in his jeans. "Can't believe," he mutters.
And suddenly feeling ridiculous doesn't really matter, because Chris is crawling down his body. Jensen's suddenly glad for the king-sized bed because there's space for Chris to lie down between his legs, pressing his mouth into the wiry hair. He fails utterly at stifling a gasp, and Chris grins up at him.
"Holy fuck," Jensen groans, and Chris smoothes a hand over his hip, thumb pressing in just below his hipbone.
And then Chris swallows his cock, no real prep, no warning, just sucks Jen into his mouth like he's done this a thousand times before, like God made him without a gag reflex. "Shit, Chris." And there's nothing-nothing hotter than the sight of Christian Kane laid out on the bed between his thighs, his mouth stretched around Jensen's cock.
He pulls up slowly, stroking absently at Jensen's thigh, pausing to suck at the tip before his sinks back down. So maybe Chris isn't quite as straight as Jensen expected, which is fine by him, because holy shit.
He doesn't last as long as he might like. It's Christian's fault, really. One of his hands slips down between Jensen's legs, cupping his balls gently, and he sinks down again, slurping obscenely as he swallows around his dick. He moans when he pulls back up, the sound muffled, his eyes closed like he doesn't want to focus on anything but the taste and feel of Jensen's cock on his tongue.
"I'm gonna," Jensen whimpers. "Fuck, Chris, I'm tryin'-"
Chris pulls off his cock with a pop. "Let it go, Jen. C'mon."
He swallows it down when Jensen comes, mostly, groaning his approval as Jensen arches up off the bed, fucking into his mouth in shallow thrusts. When he comes up, there's come on his chin and his t-shirt, and he's grinning like this is the best thing that's ever happened.
"Can't believe I lost it that quick," Jensen says, panting, and Chris climbs back up the bed to collapse on the mattress next to him.
"Man, I shot my load while I was blowing you," Chris says, squirming like he's trying to get comfortable in his jeans. "So I'm not exactly gonna complain, y'know?"
†
They lie there for all of a minute before Jensen scrambles out of his jeans. He leans over Chris then, pops open the buttons of his fly and starts tugging him down. He tosses Chris's boots, boxers, and pants onto the floor, then strips out of his own t-shirt.
"Fuck," Jensen breathes. "Take your shirt off."
Chris sits up and throws his shirt onto the floor with the rest of his clothes, then settles back onto the mattress.
"So, uh, guess you're not exactly straight then, huh?"
"Fuck, no," Jensen says. He's still breathing kinda hard, and he leans over and kisses Chris on the mouth-there's still come on Chris's chin, and Jensen pulls away and licks it off, which is way hotter than it has any right to be. "I take it you're not, either."
Chris grins. "Man, I'm an equal opportunist."
Jensen laughs, then leans over to press a kiss into Chris's neck. "I kinda wanted to jerk you off," he admits into the salty skin, "but you already came and everything, without me even doing anything."
"Might be able to figure something out," Christian murmurs, taking Jensen's hand and guiding it down. His cock twitches with interest as Jensen's fingers close around it, and he breathes out a quiet moan. "Give it a second," he breathes. "Just a second."
"I want you to fuck me later," Jensen murmurs, and suddenly Chris is fully, achingly hard. Jen grins, kissing him softly, fingers tightening around his length. "Guess you like that idea, huh?" he murmurs, and Chris closes his eyes, arching up under Jensen's hand
"Fuck, yeah." Jensen's palm is soft, uncalloused, and he tugs lazily at Christian's cock, pressing kisses on his shoulder and neck. It's incredible, his thumb stroking expertly over the tip, stroking a little harder every time Chris moans or shifts beneath him. "God, Jenny, fuck, c'mon."
"I hate it when anybody but you calls me that," Jen murmurs. Chris opens his eyes as Jensen shifts up, leans in to bite at his mouth, the kiss gentle. "Christian." And his tongue slides along Chris's, soft and warm, leaving him breathless.
"Jen-Jenny." It's hard to get the words out, the warning, his hips stuttering as Jensen's hand sweeps over him. "I'm-fuck, right there."
Jen leans in close, brushing his mouth along Chris's jaw. "C'mon, Chris. Please."
†
Chris comes hard, hot and sticky all over his belly and thighs and Jensen's hand. Jensen grins and nuzzles in against him, wiping his hand off on the sheets before slinging his arm over Chris's waist.
"You don't expect me to cuddle, do ya?" Chris murmurs, but he turns into the warmth of Jensen's body, reaching down for the blanket to wipe himself off and tugging it over them both.
"Mmm, no." Jensen yawns, presses a kiss against Chris's jaw. "You stay on your side. Don't touch me." It's ridiculous, and Chris leans in for a kiss.
"I'll make you lunch later."
"Dinner," Jensen corrects. "I'm so not getting out of bed until dinner."