Fic: Cupid 97 (This ain't your Hallmark Cupid) (3/5)
Title: Cupid 97 (This ain't your Hallmark Cupid)
Characters: Jensen/Jared, Jensen/JDM, Jared/Sandy, Chris Kane, CW cast and cameos from Grey's Anatomy cast
Author: aeroport_art
Rating: R
Warnings: potty mouths, sarcasm, UST/schmoop, AU
Word Count: ~27,500
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money being made, go 'way.
Notes: Written for spn_fairytales. My challenge/inspiration was The Saucy Boy by Hans Christian Andersen. Thanks to mooyoo, insomnia_geek and gestaltrose for the betas!
Summary: Everybody's got a love/hate relationship with their jobs. But for Jensen Ackles, top Cupid in the nation, after a hit goes wrong it's just a long, downhill slide from there. Caution: an ungodly amount of swearing, sarcasm, and schmoop in which Chris Kane is an awesome best friend, Tom Welling's the vacuous son of Zeus, Rosenbaum is Rosenbaum, and Jensen has a penchant for Plans.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
Sandy’s got curry on the side of her mouth, a little blot of red sauce that she unsuccessfully tries to wipe off with the back of her hand. Jared reaches forward with his napkin but before his arm’s halfway across the table-
“Aw, you dork,” Jensen smiles as he thumbs the curry off, then sticks his finger into his mouth to lick it clean. Sandy laughs, embarrassed, and ducks her eyes.
What the-? This is so not on.
“So, you said you work in the government?” Jared pouts, spearing green and red bell peppers onto his fork before looking up to catch Jensen as he licks a stripe up the pad of his thumb. Jesus, how long does it takes to clean off a stupid blob of curry?
“Mmm…” Jensen hums around his thumb before popping it out, shiny wet. “Something like that. Top secret stuff, you shouldn’t even be asking.”
“Ooh, that’s so cool,” Sandy replies, eyes glittering. “Like, FBI or something?”
Jensen lists to the side, bumping her petite shoulder with his own. “Even more classified than that,” he purrs, sending her a hungry look that’s-okay, what the fuck, man? Jared kicks his foot out under the table feels it connect. Jensen’s grin falters a little and then he shoots Jared a dirty look.
Good, he deserved that. After all, what the hell? Jensen’s been hitting on Sandy like it’s going out of style from the moment they got to the restaurant. Seriously, the guy’s pulled out all the stops-isn’t even attempting to hide the fact that he’s trying to charm his way into Sandy’s pants-and while this kind of behavior would normally annoy her to no end, she seems to like it just fine when it’s coming from Jensen, Mr. Schizo-cum-Playboy Extraordinaire.
And what’s Sandy playing at anyway? She’s supposed to be cooler than this-levelheaded, unaffected, and wholly devoted to Jared. She isn’t supposed to be making eyes at Jensen and encouraging him like that. Maybe it was Jared’s distractedness at the bar earlier, or maybe it’s just Jensen, but she’s turned into a quibbling mess of hair-twirling and giggles, and Jensen’s lapping it up and, yeah. Asking him to come out had seemed like a good idea at the time, but watching Sandy (his supposed girlfriend) get wooed by some stranger is not Jared’s idea of a good time.
He shovels a huge forkful of pad thai noodles into his mouth, trying to get this meal over with as quickly as possible, when Jensen leans to the side and whispers something in Sandy’s ear, causing her to burst out laughing. Okay, that’s it.
Jared swallows the half-chewed noodles down his throat, then stands up and edges out of the booth, ignoring Sandy’s look of bewilderment as he grabs Jensen and stalks his way towards the men’s restroom with him in tow.
Jared forcibly throws Jensen into the single room, follows him in and locks the door behind them.
“What the fuck, dude?” Jensen asks, his eyes wide and confused as he straightens his shirt where Jared wrinkled it. “What’s going on?”
What’s going on? Jesus, as if it weren’t completely obvious. Jensen’s been flirting with Sandy right in front of him, all touchy-feely with obscene innuendo punctuating his every sentence, and he has the audacity to ask what’s wrong? He wants to yell at Jensen, wants to maybe punch him in the mouth. He snatches up fistfuls of Jensen’s fancy shirtfront and runs him backwards, taking satisfaction in Jensen’s surprised gasp when his back slams against the tiled wall.
“Jared,” he manages, even though Jared’s fists and knuckles are crowded up against the base of his throat, making him choke a little. Jared’s eyes flick down…landing on Jensen’s eyes, bright and earnest. Jensen turns abashed under the scrutiny and he hesitantly touches his hands to Jared’s elbows, saying “Look, I’m-“
And that look of contrition, of being sorry because he’s been trying woo Sandy all night-Jesus, Jared really doesn’t want to hear it. He doesn’t want to hear any explanation that could possibly come out of Jensen’s mouth, so he ducks his head down and cuts him off with an angry kiss.
-----
Jared tangles his hands in Jensen’s shirt and shoves him backwards, the top buttonholes popping open from the force. When his back meets the cold shock of tile Jensen hisses and arches up, trying to get away from it but Jared crowds in and presses him down. Unless Jensen wants to be plastered against Jared like a second skin (and he doesn’t. Really.), he’s forced to suck it up and touch the wall, ignoring the instant heat loss from his entire back.
Jesus, Jensen was just trying to do Jared a favor, but somehow he’s pissed him off so bad that it’s come to this; at Jared’s sudden movement, Jensen braces himself-
Jared’s lips are tight against his, frozen as if he was expecting Sandy but got a mouthful of Jensen instead. Great, Jensen thinks, unhappy enough already without having to deal with Jared’s hallucinations. He makes for throwing him off when suddenly, Jared’s mouth warms up-turns encouraging as he moves in closer, hands loosening from Jensen’s shirt to smooth out over his shoulders and onto the cool tile behind him. He leans his weight into his palms, flat against the wall, and backs up to take a breath before dipping low to recapture Jensen’s lips.
Jensen tries to say something, though he doesn’t even know what; maybe Jared’s name, or a protest, or something else entirely. But the word gets trapped and lost between their mouths, swept aside by Jared’s teasing tongue. A little groan embarrassingly escapes from Jensen’s throat and he feels Jared smile against him, feels him push his tongue in deeper, sliding against Jensen’s own and drawing him out.
Somewhere between jumbled thoughts of Uhh… this wasn’t how it was supposed to go, Jensen eventually gives up and gives in. He takes a deep breath through his nose and tentatively pushes back with his mouth, hands automatically reaching up to rest against Jared’s solid chest (because he isn’t going to wrap his arms around Jared’s neck, he won’t let himself-Jensen isn’t a fucking girl for chrissakes). But with that slight pressure, with Jensen inching up off the wall and into Jared’s body, Jared lunges back as if he’d been shoved off.
Jared stands there gaping for a moment, looking shocked like Jensen was the one who’d trapped and jumped him in a men’s restroom-he turns around, scrabbles at the finicky lock, and hurriedly leaves the room.
“Jared,” he calls belatedly, following after because for one thing, that’s his ride who’s desperately trying to escape, and for another...well, yeah. Jensen’s not in the right frame of mind to examine his feelings right now.
He doggedly follows Jared back to their booth. When Sandy catches the frazzled sight of them her, eyes widen and she asks, “What’s going on, guys?“ She looks past Jared’s traumatized expression and immediately locks onto Jensen’s mouth, in all its plump, bruised glory. “Jesus Jared, did you punch him? ”
Jared doesn’t answer her, only digs into his back pocket for his wallet to dump a few twenties onto the table as he gathers up her jacket and purse. “C’mon Sandy, let’s go,” he says, helping her up as she shoots the both of them flustered, worried looks.
“What about Jensen-“ she protests, looking back at him but Jared just urges her forward and within a heartbeat, the two of them are gone. Jensen’s left standing alone by the booth, rubbing the back of his neck as other diners curiously turn their heads to look at him.
Eventually he dazedly leaves the restaurant, sits himself down on the front curb, and pulls out his cell phone to see if Mike or Tom are still in the area to pick him up.
Turns out Tom’s nearby. As Jensen waits, he isn’t thinking about anything really. Nothing’s sunk in yet-stubbornly refuses to, even as Jensen tries to approach it from a few different angles…
He gives up after awhile, his mind too cluttered with the sight of Jared, the smell and (god) the taste of Jared to properly assess anything. Settles for touching his fingers to his mouth, thrown off by how raw and warm his lips feel.
This really wasn’t what Jensen had in mind for his plan.
-----
Downstairs in the lobby of the Bureau, school’s out and Cupids, Muses, and Mercurys alike are clumped in twos and threes, chit-chatting before they all break for the long weekend.
Chad leans against a marbled wall, mussing the gel out of his hair and loosening his tie as next to him Jensen warily looks on, deciding that Chad’s doing ‘sexy-disheveled’ a little too well for comfort-that’s supposed to be Jensen’s signature look. He runs his hand through his own hair and pops open the cuff buttons on his sleeves for good measure, shifting his weight as he wonders what’s taking the others so damned long to get out of work.
Across the floor an elevator touches down, rolling back brass doors to reveal Tom as he moves along with the crowd that tumbles out. Tom catches sight of them and starts to make his way over, looking uncharacteristically unkempt with his hair sticking up and his collar rumpled and Jensen wonders if he’s finally jumpstarted some fashion consciousness into the other Cupids. Halfway across the room Tom glances down at himself and panic quickly flits through features when he realizes his shirt buttons are done up wrong-oh, wait. Oh.
“Are they finally fucking?” Jensen asks incredulously, feeling the pieces slide into place as Tom walks over, blushing furiously while fixing his shirt.
“Yeah, I think so,” Chad replies, giving Jensen a curious sidelong glance. “You knew about it?”
“Who didn’t?” Jensen replies. “It’s about time, too.”
“Amen,” Chad agrees just as Tom reaches them.
“Hey guys!” he says, doing up the last button before straightening his tie. When he looks up Jensen’s struck by Tom’s stupid grin and proverbial tail wagging, and Jensen has to physically keep himself from patting the guy on the head like a puppy.
“Tom,” Chad says, nodding coolly. Jensen rolls his eyes at Chad’s aloofness and pushes off the wall, stepping forward to clap Tom on the back.
“Hey, so I heard you guys are finally banging,” Jensen says with a lopsided grin. “Congratulations, took you guys long enough.”
Tom blinks, eyes comically wide as he says, “Wait, how did you…?” He bites his lip and leans in. “You’re okay with it?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Jensen asks. “Just as long as you guys don’t start…”
In the corner of Jensen’s eye, something catches his attention. He blinks hard, shaking his head a little. Across the room, another elevator’s reached ground level and with it, a small crowd of immortals squeeze out of the small space and he could swear he just saw…
“Guys, tell me I’m seeing things,” Jensen says as his gaze bores into one lone figure, tall and broad-shouldered and slightly out of place in his impeccable, European-styled suit.
Tom swivels around to look. “Oh, that must be C-23, that big shot from New York,” he says.
“The hell’s he doing here all the way from New York?” Chad asks.
“The award ceremony’s next weekend so they’ve started flying in all the top agents from around the country,” Tom explains, frowning at Jensen’s horrified expression. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothin’,” Jensen says, even as the lobby seems to shrink exponentially. He’s struck with a sudden, terrifying need to not be spotted by Jeffrey Dean Morgan, by Jeff-his mentor, ex-lover, or some other ill-fitting description of what they are or aren’t. He can’t handle seeing Jeff right now, not when Jensen’s still sore from everything they’ve never resolved like a wound that’s not scarring quite right.
“Uh, guys, I just remembered,” Jensen says, backpedaling in the direction of the exit. “Gotta run an errand.” Alright, so he’ll readily admit that he’s essentially turning tail to flee, but dignity is non-applicable in a situation like this.
“What about tonight?” Tom asks, slight whine tingeing his voice.
“Give me a call when you guys figure out what we’re doing,” he says before turning around and hightailing it for the front door.
Tom wrinkles his brow and looks worriedly at Jensen’s retreating back. Chad just leans back against the wall and shrugs.
-----
Just outside the double doors, Jensen hurries towards his car when somebody grabs his arm and swings him around.
“Hey, what-“
“Where you headed, cowboy?” Smiling down at him from the top step of the landing is Kristin Bell, a Muse in the same district as Kristin Kreuk. Kristin and Kristin, god they hate that, and the songs people come up with. She snaps her gum loudly and bounces down, blocking Jensen in his path. “I’ve been waiting for you guys for hours.”
“What, serious? We were waiting inside…” he frowns, pausing. This isn’t a good time to make small talk; Jeff could be coming out those doors at any moment, crashing into Jensen with that wide smile of his, that gruff voice sliding into his ears like syrup. “Listen, I’m gonna catch up with you guys later. I gotta, uh, get to the bank first.”
He lopes down the stairs and towards the nearby bank that’s just a few blocks over, not realizing that Kristin’s following him until a particularly loud snap of gum jerks him around. Jensen stares at her.
“What?” she asks. “I have some checks to deposit. Figure I’ll tag along with you until somebody figures out what we’re doing tonight. Geez, you don’t have to look at me like that.”
“Sorry,” Jensen says automatically, even as he’s wondering if he can get rid of her somehow. He needs some space to think about what he’s going to do about Jeff. Jensen likes plans. Plans make him feel sane, even if they don’t always go accordingly, like some recent debacles that will go unnamed. Jared up in his space, trapping him against the wall. Jared’s lips against his, tasting like coconut and spices…
Yeah, so maybe plans don’t always go the way they’re supposed to. But Jensen isn’t even going to get into that right now.
“Oh, stop pretending like you aren’t in love with him,” Kristin says, jogging forward a few paces to keep up with Jensen.
Jensen opens his mouth to tell her to mind her own beeswax when-“Hold on, what? ” How the hell did Kristin know about him and Jared?
He gapes at her and Kristin giggles at Jensen’s supremely amusing expression before stopping to clarify, “It’s obvious you guys have some serious baggage. The other guys told me you used to work with C-23 back in Dallas, and when I was sitting in on the meeting with all the out-of-state Cupids just now. Trust me when I say he would not stop asking about you.”
C-23…oh. She’s talking about Jeff.
Kristin mistakes Jensen’s silence for encouragement, so she continues, “He wanted to know what your numbers looked like, what districts you’re working, stuff like that. Granted, I think all the Cupids in the room wanted to know to see if they were in the running this year, but still.” She wags her finger and says teasingly, “I think somebody wikes you.”
Jensen crosses the sidewalk and hops up to the ATM machine, distractedly rifling through his wallet as he replies, “God, K-Bell, it ain’t even like that. First of all, there’s no way Jeff would…like me,” he wrinkles his nose at the sheer lameness of that phrase. “And second, I’m not even. He’s not.”
Kristin crosses her arms and perches her butt on a nearby railing, smiling at Jensen’s start-stop sentences. “Yes?” she goads.
Jensen takes a deep breath, snatches the cash out of the machine slot, then says decisively, “I’m not even thinking about Jeff right now. There’s way more important stuff to worry about first, like my job.”
Nobody can argue with something as upstanding as that. Jensen tucks his money into his wallet and smirks, satisfied to just be done with Kristin’s uncomfortably astute observations about him and Jeff. “After you,” he gestures towards the ATM.
“Ohh, your job,” Kristin acknowledges, stepping forward. “You mean like how that human being can see you through your cloak, or how the super secret Cupid magic won’t work on him?” She shoots him a wide, innocent look as Jensen scowls. Jesus, she just dissed him and his entire profession in one breath.
“Dude, how did you even hear about all that?” he grumbles.
“A little fairy told me,” Kristin says cheekily. Then she adds, “And don’t tell Mike I called him a fairy.”
Fucking Michael Rosenbaum and his big, gossipy mouth-Jensen grumps, “Okay, so what. I bet if one of your targets could see you all the time, and then suddenly turned rogue and refused to be inspired, you’d be worried too.”
Kristin looks a little contrite as she feeds an envelope into the machine, but Jensen barrels forward, “I mean, seriously, what the hell? I can’t figure this out, Jared, he’s like…” Jensen throws his hands up. “I don’t know. He’s not even human, or something. Nobody can figure out why he can see me in the first place, and now he’s not even falling in love right. And then last week at dinner, the guy up and ki-“ Realizing the direction this is taking, Jensen abruptly shuts up. The fuck’s he running his mouth off for? “You know, never mind. It’s the weekend, and I don’t want to think about all this work crap.”
In the stunned silence that follows, Jensen glances over at Kristin, who’s looking at Jensen like he’s off his rocker. “Sorry, Jensen,” she says uncertainly. “I didn’t mean to bring all that up.”
Jensen sighs. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, trying to get his blood pressure back down with a few deep breaths.
Still, it’s just… Jared’s become this huge, increasingly complicated enigma that won’t go away, no matter what Jensen does to try and fix it. The kid’s giant frame and gangly limbs have permanently latched onto Jensen’s brain, while echoes of Jared’s loud, unbridled laughter rattle through his skull like a song that’s been stuck in his head for weeks.
The two immortals walk back towards the Bureau, Kristin quietly fretting over Jensen while he draws himself inwards, thinking.
He really should’ve called the Charities in at the first sign of turbulence. They’re professionals at cleaning up wonky shit like this, and their steep price tag would’ve been well-earned by now. Maybe Jared and Sandy would’ve stayed in love the first time around and the only trouble they’d cause would be the regular paperwork, long filed away in the January folder by the BAA interns.
Yeah, if Jensen had called in the Charities he’d probably still be miles ahead of all the other Cupids in the nation; a shoo-in for top Cupid, fourth year running. No weird invisibility problems, no mystifying failures of Bureau arsenal, and for god’s sake, no random guys shoving Jensen up against bathroom walls and kissing him.
Except the more Jensen thinks about it, this if only alternate reality doesn’t appeal to him like it would’ve, just a few weeks ago. Sure he’d nab the award again this year. Sure he’d get a great V-Day bonus, and yeah, it’d be awesome to show Jeff what he’d been missing for the last few years but…
Suddenly, saturating Jensen like a heat wave, it dawns on him. Oh, thinks. Oh.
Jensen thinks of twinkly hazel eyes that shift color in the sun, of dopey hair that falls differently every time he sees it. He thinks about having to look up for a change, about huge hands that could probably palm his head like a basketball, and Jensen knits his brows, wondering, Was it like this the whole time?
“Hey, Jensen,” Kristin’s voice cuts him off mid-thought. “Your cell phone just beeped.”
“Oh,” he says, reaching in his back pocket to pull out his phone. There’s a text message from Tom letting him know where they’re at, and Jensen sighs with relief. After all this information that’s only just begun to filter down into his consciousness, he could use a stiff drink or two.
“Looks like it’s the Great Lakes again,” Jensen says, flipping his phone shut and tugging Kristin close to his side. “You’d think there’s only one bar in this whole godforsaken city.” She stumbles a little and laughs, glad to see him breaking out of his funk, if only for a little while.
“I’ll buy you a drink,” she offers.
“You better,” Jensen replies with a lifted eyebrow. “All that stuff you figured out about me n’ Jeff? Make it a scotch. A good one, too.”
She offers him a shrug paired with a sheepish grin. Aw, now Jensen feels guilty for biting her head off earlier. He slings an arm around her petite shoulders as an apology and affectionately pulls her along as they walk back to the parking lot.
-----
Chris, Kristin and Kristin sit opposite Rosenbaum, Tommy, and Chad. Jensen hangs off the side of a bench seat, all his weight on one ass cheek, sunken into well-worn vinyl upholstery. After he’s mulled over his shit, he looks around the table and cuts Chad off mid-sentence.
“So guys, I think I’m gonna tell Jared about this whole Cupid thing,” Jensen says, ignoring Chad’s irritated huff in favor of staring holes into the wooden table, wondering why he’s even bringing this up to his friends, especially seeing as how he’d only barely figured it out in his head not two minutes ago. But maybe that’s why he wants to get it out there. See what other people think about him confessing everything to Jared.
He gets blank stares, followed by Oh, you got me laughter but Jensen just frowns and says, “Guys, this isn’t a joke.”
There’s a significant pause while the immortals wait for Jensen to get on with punch line, but he just stubbornly sets his jaw. Soon a chorus of loud, increasingly rude inquiries along the lines of “What the fuck are you talking about?” crescendoes, wherein his friends pretty much explode into a furor that would get them thrown out of the bar had they not been invisible and imperceptible, but Jensen just calmly covers his ears. It’s his decision, and there isn’t anything illegal or wrong about a mortal/immortal liaison. After all, demi-gods, anyone?
“But he can’t even see you, Jen!”
“Uh, actually he can see me all the time now,” Jensen replies morosely. He bats away a few more indignant rebuttals but it’s no use, nobody at the table’s on his side about this. Not even Kane.
“Jensen,” Chris says seriously, leaning across the table and cornering him into making eye contact. “Get your hands off your ears.”
Wasn’t like Jensen couldn’t hear everything they were saying anyway, so he complies. “What, you gonna tell me I’m crazy too?”
“Well that’s given, but it ain’t just that.” Chris licks his lips. “I mean, you’re into this kid? Really?”
Jensen pauses. Thinks about Jared for a moment and after his pulse quickens and mouth dries, he says, “Yeah. Yeah, Chris, I’m into him.”
If Jensen had thought that would get his buddy to back him up, it doesn’t. Instead, Chris just sighs like Jensen’s signed his own death certificate and says, “Well this sure as hell ain’t the way to make him like you.”
“What do you mean?” Jensen asks suspiciously.
Chris explains, “So let’s say you tell this guy you like him. And then you tell him everything. Being a Cupid, working at the Bureau. Then you tell him about Zeus, gods and immortals, the whole shebang.” Chris waits like Jensen’s gonna catch on but to be honest, he doesn’t have a clue where this is going. Chris finally asks, “Well, what’s Jared to think?”
What’s Jared gonna think? Jensen hadn’t gotten that far yet. Hell, it took him over a month to even figure out that his reactions to Jared were a result of attraction versus job-related stress.
The immortals around the table peter themselves out into silence. In the absence of white noise Jensen looks up to meet the eyes of his friends, who’ve finally decided to wait for his attention before they’d put forth a full, cohesive argument.
“First of all,” Kristin (Kreuk) says, “Jared’s straight.” Kristin (Bell) nods sympathetically, mouthing the words As an arrow.
Tom rattles off some abysmally low statistic of successful mortal/immortal relationships, and Mike just keeps chuckling at everyone like he’s the only one who’s calling Jensen’s bluff. It’s Chris who finally puts it the most convincingly. “Jenny,” he says. “The kid’s gonna think you’re crazy.”
Huh, he may have a point there. In the previous deliberation that’d gone through Jensen’s mind, this issue hadn’t come up. Sure there was some shit-flipping about whether Jared would like him back, or alright, if he was even remotely gay (whereupon Jared’s history was entirely against him). There was even a little freaking out about what Venus might say about breaking up one of the BAA’s registered couples because seriously, there must be so much freaking paperwork that goes into reversing an order that comes down from Destiny herself. But through all of his (he’d thought) thorough consideration, Jensen had never once thought about how Jared would take the information. It’s the truth, so he’d never imagined somebody could ignore all the facts after Jensen had connected the dots for him.
Once he realizes Jensen’s serious about this, Mike pokes Jensen in the neck and says with worry creeping into his voice, “C’mon, Jenny. The kid’s gonna think you’re a lunatic. I mean, what’re you gonna do when we’re around? Just ignore us? ‘Cause otherwise you’re gonna be talking to thin air, in his eyes at least.”
Okay, so maybe Jensen doesn’t have the details of his plan all ironed out just yet. But what else is he supposed to do? “Look, I can’t even function properly anymore,” Jensen grouses. “I just… I need to get this off my chest. If he can’t take the truth, it’s not like it’s gonna work out down the line anyway.”
Hearing the words said aloud, Jensen stiffens his resolve. Because yeah, what else can he do? Feed Jared a long, intricate tale of a fabricated life and career? No, the truth’s gonna come out sooner or later, and Jensen’s a busy guy who ain’t got all day to build a cushion around Jared’s ability or inability to cope with facts. Either he accepts it, or he doesn’t. Simple as that.
“Hey rock star, don’t look now,” Kristin says, taking a sip of her beer and peering up through her blond bangs.
“What?” Jensen replies automatically, distracted as he follows her line of sight. “Oh.”
Whoa, déjà-vu. It takes that same, seemingly interminable stretch of time for Jensen’s gaze to cross miles of rumpled denim and cotton shirt-pink stripes, this time-he feels the same jumble of anticipation and dread in the pit of his stomach. His eyes trip over the same pointed jaw line, squint over a tongue curled between flattened lips, until…
“Jensen,” Jared says, hands in his jacket. “Hey.” Jensen stares, watching him fiddle with the lint in his pockets.
“Jared,” he says stupidly. God, this requires another scotch.
-----
Jared barrels into his truck fifteen minutes later, slamming the door shut with a huge bang that rocks the cabin on its tires.
What the fuck. Seriously, what. The. Fuck. Out of all the-Jesus, Jared’s heard some pretty creative rejections before, but this one takes the cake. Takes the eighteen-layer, airbrushed and frosted cake because what the fuck-he’s never heard anything more outrageous in his entire life.
“So, ” Jensen had said, looking around in that manner of his before saying, “There’s something I gotta tell ya.” And Jared had been nervous at first, muddled in his own thoughts of how he should act after he’d-god, last week at the restaurant-
Jared had been so embroiled in thinking what he should say or do, whether he should apologize or (god) do it again, that he’d almost missed Jensen’s words. Had missed them at first, blinking retardedly as he asked him to repeat himself, when Jensen just stood up and pushed him out the front door, hand on his lower back and making Jared stutter.
“Jared, listen to me, ” Jensen had said, licking his lips and Jared had been entranced by them, taking a trip down memory lane as he remembered how they’d felt under his own. But then Jensen just waited, like he knew Jared wasn’t paying attention, and he eventually had to tear his eyes away from that full mouth to look up.
Jensen looked freaked out, for lack of better wording. Jared could practically make a mattress out of the tension that rolled off of him. Feeling kind of sorry for Jensen, and simultaneously relieved he wasn’t the one worse off, Jared pulled himself together and forced himself to listen to whatever it was Jensen wanted to say.
Kinda wishes he hadn’t, now.
Jared fumbles for his keys, lifting his butt up to wrestle it out of his front pocket. He jams the car key into the ignition and lets the rest jangle angrily in the claustrophobic silence of the car.
It’s just… it’s stupid, Jared knows, but for a moment he swore Jensen was interested. Thought maybe Jensen had been kissing him back the other night. Boy, was Jared deluded. For a guy to say he’s from outer space-or what was it, that he was Cupid or something?-he must’ve been pretty keen on getting Jared off his case.
Well, he ain’t stupid. Jared knows a get away from me when he sees it, so fine. He’ll stay away. Plenty of bars got New Castle on tap, and Great Lakes is a dive, anyway. ‘Sides, he’s got Sandy. Beautiful, gorgeous, perfect, easy Sandy.
Jared fumes some more, attempting to ignore the way Jensen had looked when Jared stomped away. Eyes a little bright like he’d been hoping for Jared to just pack it in and believe him. The guy sure put on a good act, but yeah, no. Jared ain’t stupid.
Once he can see straight again, Jared turns the engine on and pulls out of the parking lot. He keeps pushing the sight of Jensen’s expression (open and hopeful) out of his mind, but it doesn’t work. It doesn’t work, and the finality of Jensen’s dark green eyes as they’d shuttered closed haunts Jared all the way back to his apartment.
-----
The next morning, Jensen gets fired from work.
“Hold on, what? ”
Samantha just shoots him a sympathetic look.
“Wait-“ Jensen walks up to her desk, then paces back towards the door. If this is some sort of, he doesn’t know, joke that Rosenbaum or the Kristins put him up to… “This ain’t funny, Ferris,” Jensen finally growls.
“I didn’t say it was. What I said, was you can’t work at the Bureau of Amorous Affairs anymore but that we’d give you a full recommendation to any other position you see fit to apply for.”
Jensen shoves the fabric of his jacket behind him and places his hands on his hips. “Still ain’t funny.” Samantha says nothing.
When Jensen’s paced through the room three times over, he stops, turns, and looks straight into Samantha’s solemn face. “Oh my god, this isn’t funny,” he says, horror creeping into his voice. “But…” Jensen struggles. “But why? ”
“What do you mean why?” Samantha asks. Jensen looks at her mistrustfully as he walks back to the other corner of the room, but there isn’t a hint of sarcasm in her reply. “And quit pacing. You’re making me dizzy,” she says, kicking out the armchair and pointing at it. Jensen obediently walks over and sits down.
“I mean, why am I being fired?” he repeats, though seriously, is he getting punked? It’s gotta be Rosenbaum, the little asshole. Must’ve been getting back at him for when Jensen switched out his sunglasses for low-prescription ones last Tuesday. Samantha’s expression tells him otherwise though, and Jensen resignedly thinks, Some timing. He feels shitty enough right now, what with Jared running screaming from him on Friday and then spending the rest of the long weekend moping on Chris’ couch. He doesn’t need get fucking fired from his career today.
Samantha takes pity on him and leans in, speaking slowly as if he were a child, “You’re not getting fired. You’re getting discharged because you fell for a client.” Jensen blinks at her, feeling indignant but he’s not sure about which part yet.
Eventually Jensen asks, “Who told you about-”
Samantha rolls her eyes and adds, “C’mon Jensen, nobody has to say anything. How do you think we track all our couples?”
“Point taken. So then, what’s the problem?”
Samantha stares at him. “What, didn’t you go to orientation?”
Of course Jensen went to orientation. He remembers that tiny box of a room, the one without any windows, and all those stupid chairs and tables set up like a middle school science lab. There’d been about fifteen, twenty other rookies that year, and that was where he’d met Chris. Jeff, too.
“Orientation…” Jensen mulls aloud, trying to remember-oh yeah, Jensen remembers.
He remembers checking out Jeff’s ass for the majority of those five days, using the view to temper the excruciating boredom. The elder Cupid had lead the practical as well as theoretical aspects of the introductory program, and though Jensen had been eager to get his hands on the arsenal and gear, he’d pretty much spent the theory lessons trying to catch Jeff’s attention by being a loudmouth and a flirt.
What? It’d worked, hadn’t it?
“I, uh,” Jensen smiles sheepishly. “It was a long time ago…I kind of forget all the rules and details.”
He expects some sort of complaint from Venus but she just overlooks it and wearily explains, “Jensen, you can’t go falling in love with your targets. The magic we use for the bullet formulae works on the target’s susceptibility to proffered love; in this case, yours. His first physical touch with you will immediately imprint him to fall in love right back.”
“So you’re saying…” Jensen frowns, trying to sort through the jargon. “That’s why him and Sandy aren’t staying together, isn’t it?”
“Right.”
“But then, why isn’t he in love with me?” Jensen asks. What? He’s only curious from a scientific point of view.
“The formulae only works on humans,” she answers, reclining in her seat and swiveling back and forth. “So while the love you’re offering has the same properties as a human’s, and therefore works as a sort of jamming device for the next person’s, the physical touch required to spark the reciprocation basically hasn’t happened yet. He’d only be in love if he got hit with the Alpha formulae, but that was used on the girl.”
“So… what? Have the bullets done anything to him?”
“In short, no.”
Dammit, this stuff’s making his head hurt. “Where’d you learn all this, anyway?” Jensen asks grumpily.
“I have a law degree in Mortal Properties and Theory. How else do you think I got to be Venus?” she asks, casting a disparaging look at Jensen.
“I dunno. Fucked someone?”
Samantha’s mouth quirks, like she’s torn between propriety or just giving in and laughing, and she eventually succumbs to the latter, prompting Jensen to smile victoriously. “You little ass,” she huffs between slowing chuckles. “I’d fire you if I could.”
“Yeah, so,” Jensen holds up a finger. “About that.” He’s not really pissed about it, just in shock more like. The more time he has to let it digest though, he realizes he never liked his job much anyway. Just kind of fell into it during his whole Big fucking Romance with Jeff. Then after that got gutted, he’d only stayed on out of convenience since he was so good at it. “Full recommendation, you said?”
“Yeah,” Samantha says, setting her elbows back on the desk. She leans in with a smile on her lips, saying, “Not that you need it with a record like yours. You can do anything you want, Jensen.”
And really, that was all the encouragement he needed. Jensen stands up, dusts himself off and holds out his hand. She clasps it between both her palms and says, “It’s been a pleasure. Even if you are a prima donna.”
Jensen laughs out loud. “Likewise, Venus. ”
He crosses the room once more and reaches the large wooden doors, turning around to say, “I’ll be calling for those glowing references you’re promising.”
“Of course,” Samantha replies.
Jensen turns back around and twists the brass knob. There’s something more he wants to ask for, but it’s stupid, he knows it’s stupid. On the other hand, he hasn’t got a lot to lose. Not his job, certainly.
“Hey, Ferris,” Jensen says timidly.
“Yeah?”
“What about, um…” Jensen meets her curious gaze. “Could you guys like, shoot Jared for me or something?” He feels his ears burning. “As a, uh, I dunno… severance package or something?”
“Oh, honey,” she says, and that’s answer enough for him. “You know that’s not the way it works.”
“Yeah, I know,” he says embarrassedly. “Just figured I’d ask.”
Jensen closes the door behind him. He rings for the elevator and waits, the motions familiar and fluid from years of muscle memory, yet wholly different when he knows it might be the last time he’ll be going through them.
On the ride down, there are no lists of names to memorize or driving routes to map out. It feels weird, like something’s been vacuumed out of his life-and in a sense, it has. Jensen’s been a Cupid for the last six years and his identity’s long been wrapped up in his job description. It’s not the end of the world, though. There’s a shit ton of stuff he can do that’s cooler and hell, higher-paying than being a Cupid.
By the time Jensen’s crossed the Bureau parking lot and getting into his car, he feels okay about it already. He turns on the engine, ignoring the anxiety pressing in on him when outside his window a group of human teenagers glance at him in passing. Panicked, he looks up at the sky to make sure he can still see his fellow immortals and only after watching the cars stream above him for a few minutes does he calm down. You’re still an immortal, Jensen tells himself. Jesus, get a grip.
Of course he’s still an immortal. He’s still him, only now with a kick-ass resume, top-notch references, and all the free time he needs to figure out what he wants to do next. In the end, maybe this whole Jared fiasco was for the better.
I should thank the guy, Jensen thinks, gripping the wheel a little too tight. If he didn’t think I was insane, that is.
Yeah, maybe the Jared thing will work out in the end. But it doesn’t keep Jensen from feeling like shit right now.
Back | Next
Characters: Jensen/Jared, Jensen/JDM, Jared/Sandy, Chris Kane, CW cast and cameos from Grey's Anatomy cast
Author: aeroport_art
Rating: R
Warnings: potty mouths, sarcasm, UST/schmoop, AU
Word Count: ~27,500
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money being made, go 'way.
Notes: Written for spn_fairytales. My challenge/inspiration was The Saucy Boy by Hans Christian Andersen. Thanks to mooyoo, insomnia_geek and gestaltrose for the betas!
Summary: Everybody's got a love/hate relationship with their jobs. But for Jensen Ackles, top Cupid in the nation, after a hit goes wrong it's just a long, downhill slide from there. Caution: an ungodly amount of swearing, sarcasm, and schmoop in which Chris Kane is an awesome best friend, Tom Welling's the vacuous son of Zeus, Rosenbaum is Rosenbaum, and Jensen has a penchant for Plans.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
Sandy’s got curry on the side of her mouth, a little blot of red sauce that she unsuccessfully tries to wipe off with the back of her hand. Jared reaches forward with his napkin but before his arm’s halfway across the table-
“Aw, you dork,” Jensen smiles as he thumbs the curry off, then sticks his finger into his mouth to lick it clean. Sandy laughs, embarrassed, and ducks her eyes.
What the-? This is so not on.
“So, you said you work in the government?” Jared pouts, spearing green and red bell peppers onto his fork before looking up to catch Jensen as he licks a stripe up the pad of his thumb. Jesus, how long does it takes to clean off a stupid blob of curry?
“Mmm…” Jensen hums around his thumb before popping it out, shiny wet. “Something like that. Top secret stuff, you shouldn’t even be asking.”
“Ooh, that’s so cool,” Sandy replies, eyes glittering. “Like, FBI or something?”
Jensen lists to the side, bumping her petite shoulder with his own. “Even more classified than that,” he purrs, sending her a hungry look that’s-okay, what the fuck, man? Jared kicks his foot out under the table feels it connect. Jensen’s grin falters a little and then he shoots Jared a dirty look.
Good, he deserved that. After all, what the hell? Jensen’s been hitting on Sandy like it’s going out of style from the moment they got to the restaurant. Seriously, the guy’s pulled out all the stops-isn’t even attempting to hide the fact that he’s trying to charm his way into Sandy’s pants-and while this kind of behavior would normally annoy her to no end, she seems to like it just fine when it’s coming from Jensen, Mr. Schizo-cum-Playboy Extraordinaire.
And what’s Sandy playing at anyway? She’s supposed to be cooler than this-levelheaded, unaffected, and wholly devoted to Jared. She isn’t supposed to be making eyes at Jensen and encouraging him like that. Maybe it was Jared’s distractedness at the bar earlier, or maybe it’s just Jensen, but she’s turned into a quibbling mess of hair-twirling and giggles, and Jensen’s lapping it up and, yeah. Asking him to come out had seemed like a good idea at the time, but watching Sandy (his supposed girlfriend) get wooed by some stranger is not Jared’s idea of a good time.
He shovels a huge forkful of pad thai noodles into his mouth, trying to get this meal over with as quickly as possible, when Jensen leans to the side and whispers something in Sandy’s ear, causing her to burst out laughing. Okay, that’s it.
Jared swallows the half-chewed noodles down his throat, then stands up and edges out of the booth, ignoring Sandy’s look of bewilderment as he grabs Jensen and stalks his way towards the men’s restroom with him in tow.
Jared forcibly throws Jensen into the single room, follows him in and locks the door behind them.
“What the fuck, dude?” Jensen asks, his eyes wide and confused as he straightens his shirt where Jared wrinkled it. “What’s going on?”
What’s going on? Jesus, as if it weren’t completely obvious. Jensen’s been flirting with Sandy right in front of him, all touchy-feely with obscene innuendo punctuating his every sentence, and he has the audacity to ask what’s wrong? He wants to yell at Jensen, wants to maybe punch him in the mouth. He snatches up fistfuls of Jensen’s fancy shirtfront and runs him backwards, taking satisfaction in Jensen’s surprised gasp when his back slams against the tiled wall.
“Jared,” he manages, even though Jared’s fists and knuckles are crowded up against the base of his throat, making him choke a little. Jared’s eyes flick down…landing on Jensen’s eyes, bright and earnest. Jensen turns abashed under the scrutiny and he hesitantly touches his hands to Jared’s elbows, saying “Look, I’m-“
And that look of contrition, of being sorry because he’s been trying woo Sandy all night-Jesus, Jared really doesn’t want to hear it. He doesn’t want to hear any explanation that could possibly come out of Jensen’s mouth, so he ducks his head down and cuts him off with an angry kiss.
-----
Jared tangles his hands in Jensen’s shirt and shoves him backwards, the top buttonholes popping open from the force. When his back meets the cold shock of tile Jensen hisses and arches up, trying to get away from it but Jared crowds in and presses him down. Unless Jensen wants to be plastered against Jared like a second skin (and he doesn’t. Really.), he’s forced to suck it up and touch the wall, ignoring the instant heat loss from his entire back.
Jesus, Jensen was just trying to do Jared a favor, but somehow he’s pissed him off so bad that it’s come to this; at Jared’s sudden movement, Jensen braces himself-
Jared’s lips are tight against his, frozen as if he was expecting Sandy but got a mouthful of Jensen instead. Great, Jensen thinks, unhappy enough already without having to deal with Jared’s hallucinations. He makes for throwing him off when suddenly, Jared’s mouth warms up-turns encouraging as he moves in closer, hands loosening from Jensen’s shirt to smooth out over his shoulders and onto the cool tile behind him. He leans his weight into his palms, flat against the wall, and backs up to take a breath before dipping low to recapture Jensen’s lips.
Jensen tries to say something, though he doesn’t even know what; maybe Jared’s name, or a protest, or something else entirely. But the word gets trapped and lost between their mouths, swept aside by Jared’s teasing tongue. A little groan embarrassingly escapes from Jensen’s throat and he feels Jared smile against him, feels him push his tongue in deeper, sliding against Jensen’s own and drawing him out.
Somewhere between jumbled thoughts of Uhh… this wasn’t how it was supposed to go, Jensen eventually gives up and gives in. He takes a deep breath through his nose and tentatively pushes back with his mouth, hands automatically reaching up to rest against Jared’s solid chest (because he isn’t going to wrap his arms around Jared’s neck, he won’t let himself-Jensen isn’t a fucking girl for chrissakes). But with that slight pressure, with Jensen inching up off the wall and into Jared’s body, Jared lunges back as if he’d been shoved off.
Jared stands there gaping for a moment, looking shocked like Jensen was the one who’d trapped and jumped him in a men’s restroom-he turns around, scrabbles at the finicky lock, and hurriedly leaves the room.
“Jared,” he calls belatedly, following after because for one thing, that’s his ride who’s desperately trying to escape, and for another...well, yeah. Jensen’s not in the right frame of mind to examine his feelings right now.
He doggedly follows Jared back to their booth. When Sandy catches the frazzled sight of them her, eyes widen and she asks, “What’s going on, guys?“ She looks past Jared’s traumatized expression and immediately locks onto Jensen’s mouth, in all its plump, bruised glory. “Jesus Jared, did you punch him? ”
Jared doesn’t answer her, only digs into his back pocket for his wallet to dump a few twenties onto the table as he gathers up her jacket and purse. “C’mon Sandy, let’s go,” he says, helping her up as she shoots the both of them flustered, worried looks.
“What about Jensen-“ she protests, looking back at him but Jared just urges her forward and within a heartbeat, the two of them are gone. Jensen’s left standing alone by the booth, rubbing the back of his neck as other diners curiously turn their heads to look at him.
Eventually he dazedly leaves the restaurant, sits himself down on the front curb, and pulls out his cell phone to see if Mike or Tom are still in the area to pick him up.
Turns out Tom’s nearby. As Jensen waits, he isn’t thinking about anything really. Nothing’s sunk in yet-stubbornly refuses to, even as Jensen tries to approach it from a few different angles…
He gives up after awhile, his mind too cluttered with the sight of Jared, the smell and (god) the taste of Jared to properly assess anything. Settles for touching his fingers to his mouth, thrown off by how raw and warm his lips feel.
This really wasn’t what Jensen had in mind for his plan.
-----
Downstairs in the lobby of the Bureau, school’s out and Cupids, Muses, and Mercurys alike are clumped in twos and threes, chit-chatting before they all break for the long weekend.
Chad leans against a marbled wall, mussing the gel out of his hair and loosening his tie as next to him Jensen warily looks on, deciding that Chad’s doing ‘sexy-disheveled’ a little too well for comfort-that’s supposed to be Jensen’s signature look. He runs his hand through his own hair and pops open the cuff buttons on his sleeves for good measure, shifting his weight as he wonders what’s taking the others so damned long to get out of work.
Across the floor an elevator touches down, rolling back brass doors to reveal Tom as he moves along with the crowd that tumbles out. Tom catches sight of them and starts to make his way over, looking uncharacteristically unkempt with his hair sticking up and his collar rumpled and Jensen wonders if he’s finally jumpstarted some fashion consciousness into the other Cupids. Halfway across the room Tom glances down at himself and panic quickly flits through features when he realizes his shirt buttons are done up wrong-oh, wait. Oh.
“Are they finally fucking?” Jensen asks incredulously, feeling the pieces slide into place as Tom walks over, blushing furiously while fixing his shirt.
“Yeah, I think so,” Chad replies, giving Jensen a curious sidelong glance. “You knew about it?”
“Who didn’t?” Jensen replies. “It’s about time, too.”
“Amen,” Chad agrees just as Tom reaches them.
“Hey guys!” he says, doing up the last button before straightening his tie. When he looks up Jensen’s struck by Tom’s stupid grin and proverbial tail wagging, and Jensen has to physically keep himself from patting the guy on the head like a puppy.
“Tom,” Chad says, nodding coolly. Jensen rolls his eyes at Chad’s aloofness and pushes off the wall, stepping forward to clap Tom on the back.
“Hey, so I heard you guys are finally banging,” Jensen says with a lopsided grin. “Congratulations, took you guys long enough.”
Tom blinks, eyes comically wide as he says, “Wait, how did you…?” He bites his lip and leans in. “You’re okay with it?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Jensen asks. “Just as long as you guys don’t start…”
In the corner of Jensen’s eye, something catches his attention. He blinks hard, shaking his head a little. Across the room, another elevator’s reached ground level and with it, a small crowd of immortals squeeze out of the small space and he could swear he just saw…
“Guys, tell me I’m seeing things,” Jensen says as his gaze bores into one lone figure, tall and broad-shouldered and slightly out of place in his impeccable, European-styled suit.
Tom swivels around to look. “Oh, that must be C-23, that big shot from New York,” he says.
“The hell’s he doing here all the way from New York?” Chad asks.
“The award ceremony’s next weekend so they’ve started flying in all the top agents from around the country,” Tom explains, frowning at Jensen’s horrified expression. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothin’,” Jensen says, even as the lobby seems to shrink exponentially. He’s struck with a sudden, terrifying need to not be spotted by Jeffrey Dean Morgan, by Jeff-his mentor, ex-lover, or some other ill-fitting description of what they are or aren’t. He can’t handle seeing Jeff right now, not when Jensen’s still sore from everything they’ve never resolved like a wound that’s not scarring quite right.
“Uh, guys, I just remembered,” Jensen says, backpedaling in the direction of the exit. “Gotta run an errand.” Alright, so he’ll readily admit that he’s essentially turning tail to flee, but dignity is non-applicable in a situation like this.
“What about tonight?” Tom asks, slight whine tingeing his voice.
“Give me a call when you guys figure out what we’re doing,” he says before turning around and hightailing it for the front door.
Tom wrinkles his brow and looks worriedly at Jensen’s retreating back. Chad just leans back against the wall and shrugs.
-----
Just outside the double doors, Jensen hurries towards his car when somebody grabs his arm and swings him around.
“Hey, what-“
“Where you headed, cowboy?” Smiling down at him from the top step of the landing is Kristin Bell, a Muse in the same district as Kristin Kreuk. Kristin and Kristin, god they hate that, and the songs people come up with. She snaps her gum loudly and bounces down, blocking Jensen in his path. “I’ve been waiting for you guys for hours.”
“What, serious? We were waiting inside…” he frowns, pausing. This isn’t a good time to make small talk; Jeff could be coming out those doors at any moment, crashing into Jensen with that wide smile of his, that gruff voice sliding into his ears like syrup. “Listen, I’m gonna catch up with you guys later. I gotta, uh, get to the bank first.”
He lopes down the stairs and towards the nearby bank that’s just a few blocks over, not realizing that Kristin’s following him until a particularly loud snap of gum jerks him around. Jensen stares at her.
“What?” she asks. “I have some checks to deposit. Figure I’ll tag along with you until somebody figures out what we’re doing tonight. Geez, you don’t have to look at me like that.”
“Sorry,” Jensen says automatically, even as he’s wondering if he can get rid of her somehow. He needs some space to think about what he’s going to do about Jeff. Jensen likes plans. Plans make him feel sane, even if they don’t always go accordingly, like some recent debacles that will go unnamed. Jared up in his space, trapping him against the wall. Jared’s lips against his, tasting like coconut and spices…
Yeah, so maybe plans don’t always go the way they’re supposed to. But Jensen isn’t even going to get into that right now.
“Oh, stop pretending like you aren’t in love with him,” Kristin says, jogging forward a few paces to keep up with Jensen.
Jensen opens his mouth to tell her to mind her own beeswax when-“Hold on, what? ” How the hell did Kristin know about him and Jared?
He gapes at her and Kristin giggles at Jensen’s supremely amusing expression before stopping to clarify, “It’s obvious you guys have some serious baggage. The other guys told me you used to work with C-23 back in Dallas, and when I was sitting in on the meeting with all the out-of-state Cupids just now. Trust me when I say he would not stop asking about you.”
C-23…oh. She’s talking about Jeff.
Kristin mistakes Jensen’s silence for encouragement, so she continues, “He wanted to know what your numbers looked like, what districts you’re working, stuff like that. Granted, I think all the Cupids in the room wanted to know to see if they were in the running this year, but still.” She wags her finger and says teasingly, “I think somebody wikes you.”
Jensen crosses the sidewalk and hops up to the ATM machine, distractedly rifling through his wallet as he replies, “God, K-Bell, it ain’t even like that. First of all, there’s no way Jeff would…like me,” he wrinkles his nose at the sheer lameness of that phrase. “And second, I’m not even. He’s not.”
Kristin crosses her arms and perches her butt on a nearby railing, smiling at Jensen’s start-stop sentences. “Yes?” she goads.
Jensen takes a deep breath, snatches the cash out of the machine slot, then says decisively, “I’m not even thinking about Jeff right now. There’s way more important stuff to worry about first, like my job.”
Nobody can argue with something as upstanding as that. Jensen tucks his money into his wallet and smirks, satisfied to just be done with Kristin’s uncomfortably astute observations about him and Jeff. “After you,” he gestures towards the ATM.
“Ohh, your job,” Kristin acknowledges, stepping forward. “You mean like how that human being can see you through your cloak, or how the super secret Cupid magic won’t work on him?” She shoots him a wide, innocent look as Jensen scowls. Jesus, she just dissed him and his entire profession in one breath.
“Dude, how did you even hear about all that?” he grumbles.
“A little fairy told me,” Kristin says cheekily. Then she adds, “And don’t tell Mike I called him a fairy.”
Fucking Michael Rosenbaum and his big, gossipy mouth-Jensen grumps, “Okay, so what. I bet if one of your targets could see you all the time, and then suddenly turned rogue and refused to be inspired, you’d be worried too.”
Kristin looks a little contrite as she feeds an envelope into the machine, but Jensen barrels forward, “I mean, seriously, what the hell? I can’t figure this out, Jared, he’s like…” Jensen throws his hands up. “I don’t know. He’s not even human, or something. Nobody can figure out why he can see me in the first place, and now he’s not even falling in love right. And then last week at dinner, the guy up and ki-“ Realizing the direction this is taking, Jensen abruptly shuts up. The fuck’s he running his mouth off for? “You know, never mind. It’s the weekend, and I don’t want to think about all this work crap.”
In the stunned silence that follows, Jensen glances over at Kristin, who’s looking at Jensen like he’s off his rocker. “Sorry, Jensen,” she says uncertainly. “I didn’t mean to bring all that up.”
Jensen sighs. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, trying to get his blood pressure back down with a few deep breaths.
Still, it’s just… Jared’s become this huge, increasingly complicated enigma that won’t go away, no matter what Jensen does to try and fix it. The kid’s giant frame and gangly limbs have permanently latched onto Jensen’s brain, while echoes of Jared’s loud, unbridled laughter rattle through his skull like a song that’s been stuck in his head for weeks.
The two immortals walk back towards the Bureau, Kristin quietly fretting over Jensen while he draws himself inwards, thinking.
He really should’ve called the Charities in at the first sign of turbulence. They’re professionals at cleaning up wonky shit like this, and their steep price tag would’ve been well-earned by now. Maybe Jared and Sandy would’ve stayed in love the first time around and the only trouble they’d cause would be the regular paperwork, long filed away in the January folder by the BAA interns.
Yeah, if Jensen had called in the Charities he’d probably still be miles ahead of all the other Cupids in the nation; a shoo-in for top Cupid, fourth year running. No weird invisibility problems, no mystifying failures of Bureau arsenal, and for god’s sake, no random guys shoving Jensen up against bathroom walls and kissing him.
Except the more Jensen thinks about it, this if only alternate reality doesn’t appeal to him like it would’ve, just a few weeks ago. Sure he’d nab the award again this year. Sure he’d get a great V-Day bonus, and yeah, it’d be awesome to show Jeff what he’d been missing for the last few years but…
Suddenly, saturating Jensen like a heat wave, it dawns on him. Oh, thinks. Oh.
Jensen thinks of twinkly hazel eyes that shift color in the sun, of dopey hair that falls differently every time he sees it. He thinks about having to look up for a change, about huge hands that could probably palm his head like a basketball, and Jensen knits his brows, wondering, Was it like this the whole time?
“Hey, Jensen,” Kristin’s voice cuts him off mid-thought. “Your cell phone just beeped.”
“Oh,” he says, reaching in his back pocket to pull out his phone. There’s a text message from Tom letting him know where they’re at, and Jensen sighs with relief. After all this information that’s only just begun to filter down into his consciousness, he could use a stiff drink or two.
“Looks like it’s the Great Lakes again,” Jensen says, flipping his phone shut and tugging Kristin close to his side. “You’d think there’s only one bar in this whole godforsaken city.” She stumbles a little and laughs, glad to see him breaking out of his funk, if only for a little while.
“I’ll buy you a drink,” she offers.
“You better,” Jensen replies with a lifted eyebrow. “All that stuff you figured out about me n’ Jeff? Make it a scotch. A good one, too.”
She offers him a shrug paired with a sheepish grin. Aw, now Jensen feels guilty for biting her head off earlier. He slings an arm around her petite shoulders as an apology and affectionately pulls her along as they walk back to the parking lot.
-----
Chris, Kristin and Kristin sit opposite Rosenbaum, Tommy, and Chad. Jensen hangs off the side of a bench seat, all his weight on one ass cheek, sunken into well-worn vinyl upholstery. After he’s mulled over his shit, he looks around the table and cuts Chad off mid-sentence.
“So guys, I think I’m gonna tell Jared about this whole Cupid thing,” Jensen says, ignoring Chad’s irritated huff in favor of staring holes into the wooden table, wondering why he’s even bringing this up to his friends, especially seeing as how he’d only barely figured it out in his head not two minutes ago. But maybe that’s why he wants to get it out there. See what other people think about him confessing everything to Jared.
He gets blank stares, followed by Oh, you got me laughter but Jensen just frowns and says, “Guys, this isn’t a joke.”
There’s a significant pause while the immortals wait for Jensen to get on with punch line, but he just stubbornly sets his jaw. Soon a chorus of loud, increasingly rude inquiries along the lines of “What the fuck are you talking about?” crescendoes, wherein his friends pretty much explode into a furor that would get them thrown out of the bar had they not been invisible and imperceptible, but Jensen just calmly covers his ears. It’s his decision, and there isn’t anything illegal or wrong about a mortal/immortal liaison. After all, demi-gods, anyone?
“But he can’t even see you, Jen!”
“Uh, actually he can see me all the time now,” Jensen replies morosely. He bats away a few more indignant rebuttals but it’s no use, nobody at the table’s on his side about this. Not even Kane.
“Jensen,” Chris says seriously, leaning across the table and cornering him into making eye contact. “Get your hands off your ears.”
Wasn’t like Jensen couldn’t hear everything they were saying anyway, so he complies. “What, you gonna tell me I’m crazy too?”
“Well that’s given, but it ain’t just that.” Chris licks his lips. “I mean, you’re into this kid? Really?”
Jensen pauses. Thinks about Jared for a moment and after his pulse quickens and mouth dries, he says, “Yeah. Yeah, Chris, I’m into him.”
If Jensen had thought that would get his buddy to back him up, it doesn’t. Instead, Chris just sighs like Jensen’s signed his own death certificate and says, “Well this sure as hell ain’t the way to make him like you.”
“What do you mean?” Jensen asks suspiciously.
Chris explains, “So let’s say you tell this guy you like him. And then you tell him everything. Being a Cupid, working at the Bureau. Then you tell him about Zeus, gods and immortals, the whole shebang.” Chris waits like Jensen’s gonna catch on but to be honest, he doesn’t have a clue where this is going. Chris finally asks, “Well, what’s Jared to think?”
What’s Jared gonna think? Jensen hadn’t gotten that far yet. Hell, it took him over a month to even figure out that his reactions to Jared were a result of attraction versus job-related stress.
The immortals around the table peter themselves out into silence. In the absence of white noise Jensen looks up to meet the eyes of his friends, who’ve finally decided to wait for his attention before they’d put forth a full, cohesive argument.
“First of all,” Kristin (Kreuk) says, “Jared’s straight.” Kristin (Bell) nods sympathetically, mouthing the words As an arrow.
Tom rattles off some abysmally low statistic of successful mortal/immortal relationships, and Mike just keeps chuckling at everyone like he’s the only one who’s calling Jensen’s bluff. It’s Chris who finally puts it the most convincingly. “Jenny,” he says. “The kid’s gonna think you’re crazy.”
Huh, he may have a point there. In the previous deliberation that’d gone through Jensen’s mind, this issue hadn’t come up. Sure there was some shit-flipping about whether Jared would like him back, or alright, if he was even remotely gay (whereupon Jared’s history was entirely against him). There was even a little freaking out about what Venus might say about breaking up one of the BAA’s registered couples because seriously, there must be so much freaking paperwork that goes into reversing an order that comes down from Destiny herself. But through all of his (he’d thought) thorough consideration, Jensen had never once thought about how Jared would take the information. It’s the truth, so he’d never imagined somebody could ignore all the facts after Jensen had connected the dots for him.
Once he realizes Jensen’s serious about this, Mike pokes Jensen in the neck and says with worry creeping into his voice, “C’mon, Jenny. The kid’s gonna think you’re a lunatic. I mean, what’re you gonna do when we’re around? Just ignore us? ‘Cause otherwise you’re gonna be talking to thin air, in his eyes at least.”
Okay, so maybe Jensen doesn’t have the details of his plan all ironed out just yet. But what else is he supposed to do? “Look, I can’t even function properly anymore,” Jensen grouses. “I just… I need to get this off my chest. If he can’t take the truth, it’s not like it’s gonna work out down the line anyway.”
Hearing the words said aloud, Jensen stiffens his resolve. Because yeah, what else can he do? Feed Jared a long, intricate tale of a fabricated life and career? No, the truth’s gonna come out sooner or later, and Jensen’s a busy guy who ain’t got all day to build a cushion around Jared’s ability or inability to cope with facts. Either he accepts it, or he doesn’t. Simple as that.
“Hey rock star, don’t look now,” Kristin says, taking a sip of her beer and peering up through her blond bangs.
“What?” Jensen replies automatically, distracted as he follows her line of sight. “Oh.”
Whoa, déjà-vu. It takes that same, seemingly interminable stretch of time for Jensen’s gaze to cross miles of rumpled denim and cotton shirt-pink stripes, this time-he feels the same jumble of anticipation and dread in the pit of his stomach. His eyes trip over the same pointed jaw line, squint over a tongue curled between flattened lips, until…
“Jensen,” Jared says, hands in his jacket. “Hey.” Jensen stares, watching him fiddle with the lint in his pockets.
“Jared,” he says stupidly. God, this requires another scotch.
-----
Jared barrels into his truck fifteen minutes later, slamming the door shut with a huge bang that rocks the cabin on its tires.
What the fuck. Seriously, what. The. Fuck. Out of all the-Jesus, Jared’s heard some pretty creative rejections before, but this one takes the cake. Takes the eighteen-layer, airbrushed and frosted cake because what the fuck-he’s never heard anything more outrageous in his entire life.
“So, ” Jensen had said, looking around in that manner of his before saying, “There’s something I gotta tell ya.” And Jared had been nervous at first, muddled in his own thoughts of how he should act after he’d-god, last week at the restaurant-
Jared had been so embroiled in thinking what he should say or do, whether he should apologize or (god) do it again, that he’d almost missed Jensen’s words. Had missed them at first, blinking retardedly as he asked him to repeat himself, when Jensen just stood up and pushed him out the front door, hand on his lower back and making Jared stutter.
“Jared, listen to me, ” Jensen had said, licking his lips and Jared had been entranced by them, taking a trip down memory lane as he remembered how they’d felt under his own. But then Jensen just waited, like he knew Jared wasn’t paying attention, and he eventually had to tear his eyes away from that full mouth to look up.
Jensen looked freaked out, for lack of better wording. Jared could practically make a mattress out of the tension that rolled off of him. Feeling kind of sorry for Jensen, and simultaneously relieved he wasn’t the one worse off, Jared pulled himself together and forced himself to listen to whatever it was Jensen wanted to say.
Kinda wishes he hadn’t, now.
Jared fumbles for his keys, lifting his butt up to wrestle it out of his front pocket. He jams the car key into the ignition and lets the rest jangle angrily in the claustrophobic silence of the car.
It’s just… it’s stupid, Jared knows, but for a moment he swore Jensen was interested. Thought maybe Jensen had been kissing him back the other night. Boy, was Jared deluded. For a guy to say he’s from outer space-or what was it, that he was Cupid or something?-he must’ve been pretty keen on getting Jared off his case.
Well, he ain’t stupid. Jared knows a get away from me when he sees it, so fine. He’ll stay away. Plenty of bars got New Castle on tap, and Great Lakes is a dive, anyway. ‘Sides, he’s got Sandy. Beautiful, gorgeous, perfect, easy Sandy.
Jared fumes some more, attempting to ignore the way Jensen had looked when Jared stomped away. Eyes a little bright like he’d been hoping for Jared to just pack it in and believe him. The guy sure put on a good act, but yeah, no. Jared ain’t stupid.
Once he can see straight again, Jared turns the engine on and pulls out of the parking lot. He keeps pushing the sight of Jensen’s expression (open and hopeful) out of his mind, but it doesn’t work. It doesn’t work, and the finality of Jensen’s dark green eyes as they’d shuttered closed haunts Jared all the way back to his apartment.
-----
The next morning, Jensen gets fired from work.
“Hold on, what? ”
Samantha just shoots him a sympathetic look.
“Wait-“ Jensen walks up to her desk, then paces back towards the door. If this is some sort of, he doesn’t know, joke that Rosenbaum or the Kristins put him up to… “This ain’t funny, Ferris,” Jensen finally growls.
“I didn’t say it was. What I said, was you can’t work at the Bureau of Amorous Affairs anymore but that we’d give you a full recommendation to any other position you see fit to apply for.”
Jensen shoves the fabric of his jacket behind him and places his hands on his hips. “Still ain’t funny.” Samantha says nothing.
When Jensen’s paced through the room three times over, he stops, turns, and looks straight into Samantha’s solemn face. “Oh my god, this isn’t funny,” he says, horror creeping into his voice. “But…” Jensen struggles. “But why? ”
“What do you mean why?” Samantha asks. Jensen looks at her mistrustfully as he walks back to the other corner of the room, but there isn’t a hint of sarcasm in her reply. “And quit pacing. You’re making me dizzy,” she says, kicking out the armchair and pointing at it. Jensen obediently walks over and sits down.
“I mean, why am I being fired?” he repeats, though seriously, is he getting punked? It’s gotta be Rosenbaum, the little asshole. Must’ve been getting back at him for when Jensen switched out his sunglasses for low-prescription ones last Tuesday. Samantha’s expression tells him otherwise though, and Jensen resignedly thinks, Some timing. He feels shitty enough right now, what with Jared running screaming from him on Friday and then spending the rest of the long weekend moping on Chris’ couch. He doesn’t need get fucking fired from his career today.
Samantha takes pity on him and leans in, speaking slowly as if he were a child, “You’re not getting fired. You’re getting discharged because you fell for a client.” Jensen blinks at her, feeling indignant but he’s not sure about which part yet.
Eventually Jensen asks, “Who told you about-”
Samantha rolls her eyes and adds, “C’mon Jensen, nobody has to say anything. How do you think we track all our couples?”
“Point taken. So then, what’s the problem?”
Samantha stares at him. “What, didn’t you go to orientation?”
Of course Jensen went to orientation. He remembers that tiny box of a room, the one without any windows, and all those stupid chairs and tables set up like a middle school science lab. There’d been about fifteen, twenty other rookies that year, and that was where he’d met Chris. Jeff, too.
“Orientation…” Jensen mulls aloud, trying to remember-oh yeah, Jensen remembers.
He remembers checking out Jeff’s ass for the majority of those five days, using the view to temper the excruciating boredom. The elder Cupid had lead the practical as well as theoretical aspects of the introductory program, and though Jensen had been eager to get his hands on the arsenal and gear, he’d pretty much spent the theory lessons trying to catch Jeff’s attention by being a loudmouth and a flirt.
What? It’d worked, hadn’t it?
“I, uh,” Jensen smiles sheepishly. “It was a long time ago…I kind of forget all the rules and details.”
He expects some sort of complaint from Venus but she just overlooks it and wearily explains, “Jensen, you can’t go falling in love with your targets. The magic we use for the bullet formulae works on the target’s susceptibility to proffered love; in this case, yours. His first physical touch with you will immediately imprint him to fall in love right back.”
“So you’re saying…” Jensen frowns, trying to sort through the jargon. “That’s why him and Sandy aren’t staying together, isn’t it?”
“Right.”
“But then, why isn’t he in love with me?” Jensen asks. What? He’s only curious from a scientific point of view.
“The formulae only works on humans,” she answers, reclining in her seat and swiveling back and forth. “So while the love you’re offering has the same properties as a human’s, and therefore works as a sort of jamming device for the next person’s, the physical touch required to spark the reciprocation basically hasn’t happened yet. He’d only be in love if he got hit with the Alpha formulae, but that was used on the girl.”
“So… what? Have the bullets done anything to him?”
“In short, no.”
Dammit, this stuff’s making his head hurt. “Where’d you learn all this, anyway?” Jensen asks grumpily.
“I have a law degree in Mortal Properties and Theory. How else do you think I got to be Venus?” she asks, casting a disparaging look at Jensen.
“I dunno. Fucked someone?”
Samantha’s mouth quirks, like she’s torn between propriety or just giving in and laughing, and she eventually succumbs to the latter, prompting Jensen to smile victoriously. “You little ass,” she huffs between slowing chuckles. “I’d fire you if I could.”
“Yeah, so,” Jensen holds up a finger. “About that.” He’s not really pissed about it, just in shock more like. The more time he has to let it digest though, he realizes he never liked his job much anyway. Just kind of fell into it during his whole Big fucking Romance with Jeff. Then after that got gutted, he’d only stayed on out of convenience since he was so good at it. “Full recommendation, you said?”
“Yeah,” Samantha says, setting her elbows back on the desk. She leans in with a smile on her lips, saying, “Not that you need it with a record like yours. You can do anything you want, Jensen.”
And really, that was all the encouragement he needed. Jensen stands up, dusts himself off and holds out his hand. She clasps it between both her palms and says, “It’s been a pleasure. Even if you are a prima donna.”
Jensen laughs out loud. “Likewise, Venus. ”
He crosses the room once more and reaches the large wooden doors, turning around to say, “I’ll be calling for those glowing references you’re promising.”
“Of course,” Samantha replies.
Jensen turns back around and twists the brass knob. There’s something more he wants to ask for, but it’s stupid, he knows it’s stupid. On the other hand, he hasn’t got a lot to lose. Not his job, certainly.
“Hey, Ferris,” Jensen says timidly.
“Yeah?”
“What about, um…” Jensen meets her curious gaze. “Could you guys like, shoot Jared for me or something?” He feels his ears burning. “As a, uh, I dunno… severance package or something?”
“Oh, honey,” she says, and that’s answer enough for him. “You know that’s not the way it works.”
“Yeah, I know,” he says embarrassedly. “Just figured I’d ask.”
Jensen closes the door behind him. He rings for the elevator and waits, the motions familiar and fluid from years of muscle memory, yet wholly different when he knows it might be the last time he’ll be going through them.
On the ride down, there are no lists of names to memorize or driving routes to map out. It feels weird, like something’s been vacuumed out of his life-and in a sense, it has. Jensen’s been a Cupid for the last six years and his identity’s long been wrapped up in his job description. It’s not the end of the world, though. There’s a shit ton of stuff he can do that’s cooler and hell, higher-paying than being a Cupid.
By the time Jensen’s crossed the Bureau parking lot and getting into his car, he feels okay about it already. He turns on the engine, ignoring the anxiety pressing in on him when outside his window a group of human teenagers glance at him in passing. Panicked, he looks up at the sky to make sure he can still see his fellow immortals and only after watching the cars stream above him for a few minutes does he calm down. You’re still an immortal, Jensen tells himself. Jesus, get a grip.
Of course he’s still an immortal. He’s still him, only now with a kick-ass resume, top-notch references, and all the free time he needs to figure out what he wants to do next. In the end, maybe this whole Jared fiasco was for the better.
I should thank the guy, Jensen thinks, gripping the wheel a little too tight. If he didn’t think I was insane, that is.
Yeah, maybe the Jared thing will work out in the end. But it doesn’t keep Jensen from feeling like shit right now.
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