HAI THOSE BOYZ R IN LOFF.
My mouse broke and BLAH, using the touch pad (esp for scrolling and c/p) LOSES. Oh well.
I have fic! The pic from two days back could have inspired any number of porny things, this I know, but. UH. I got caught up on their legs. They look all 'three-legged creature', no?
Title: Bound to You (where I wanna be)
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 2,210
Disclaimer: The guys own themselves, this is just a sweet fantasy.
Summary: Jared & Jensen & the Padalecki Family Picnic!
A/N: Um, they're out and proud here, to make that clear. Thanks to schneestern for getting me to finish and giving it a beta w/ such speed. <3 ALSO, yeah. The fic is as cheesy as the title. WHATEVER, IT MAKES ME SMILE. (the fic, not the title. The title makes me groan, I lose at those)
"Seriously, dude? Your family actually DOES this shit?"
"Hey, not my fault you grew up deprived." Jared bends at the waist and tightens the cord. "Don’t take out your latent issues on me just because you're jealous."
"Not jealous," Jensen huffs. He reaches over and pinches Jared's ass while he's bent over; laughs when Jared gives a startled yelp. "Just didn’t know that by signing on to come to the Great Padalecki Family Picnic I'd end up playing silly kid's games is all."
"Not kid's games," Jared says. "Wanna win the Golden Goose, don’t ya?"
Jensen’s still puzzling over what exactly that means when Jared straightens and shoots him a mock pout, all puppy eyes and shiny pink lips. Instantly, Jensen’s thoughts shift to the desire to pull him in and lick the frown lines around his mouth.
What Jensen really wants to do is use the length of rope for much more nefarious purposes than knotting their calves together. But, being in 1) a public place and 2) surrounded by the entire Padalecki clan, he's not quite sure he can get away with it.
Though - being in public has never stopped them before.
He sighs, long-suffering and dramatic, and Jared's eyes instantly brighten.
"So, here's the deal," Jared says. "Clarice is vicious, watch out for her. Last year she knocked Jeff and I on our ASSES and claimed it was an accident. Accident my behind. More like the little monster tripped us."
His words grow louder with each progressive sentence and Jensen catches Jared shooting a dark glance out the corner of his eye, a petite girl in shiny dark pigtails glaring back.
"Did NOT trip you, Gigantor," she says. “Stop telling lies and tattles.”
Jared actually sticks his tongue out in reply and the kid rolls her eyes. Jensen doesn’t even bother hiding his amusement, just throws his head back and laughs. Jared punches him in the arm.
"What is she, seven?" He says. Wipes at his eyes, gasping for a full breath through his giggles.
"She's the devil," Jared says, loud and clear and pointed. Jensen's still laughing when Clarice stomps over, dragging her partner along. The kid is downright sulking, his pudgy cheeks smeared in chocolate.
“Am NOT,” she says, hands on her hips. She has to crane her neck to glare up at Jared, but it’s a pretty damn good glare, Jensen will give her that.
He’s about to say as much when she turns her attention on him. Her tiny foot slams down on his, pain rocketing through his sneaker and up his shin, and Jensen lets out a startled gasp.
"And I'm ELEVEN," she says, and drags the poor bastard who's tied to her over to the start line. Jensen’s mouth hangs open. Jared laughs.
“Told you man.” Jared shakes his head, watching his cousin’s departure. “So we gonna do this or what?”
“Oh it is on,” Jensen says. “That little bitch is going down.”
“Glad to see you’re in it to win it.” The smile Jared’s sporting cuts from ear to ear and Jensen can’t help but let the smidgen of anger bleed away. He shifts to the side, wriggling his shoulder up under Jared’s armpit.
“You did wear deodorant today, yeah? I don’t wanna wander around the rest of the afternoon with your stink on me.”
Jared pinches the back of Jensen’s neck, twisting his fingers around a bit of flesh before sliding his arm down to loop over Jensen’s shoulder. His fingers dangle over Jensen’s heart.
“Bet you wanna wander around with something of me on you,” he says, the words low and heated and right in Jensen’s ear. Jensen suppresses a shudder, but Jared’s plastered up against his right side and the crack of laughter through the air only proves Jared knows just what he’s doing.
“Thought you wanted to win this,” Jensen grumbles, shifting his weight from foot to foot. The denim of his jeans is heavy against his cock.
“Aye aye, Captain,” Jared says. His grin is somehow even brighter in the fading sunlight, tiny beads of sweat from the Texas heat glistening on the curve of his upper lip. Jensen swallows down a bubble of emotion as Jared salutes with his free hand and bumps his hip into Jensen’s. “C'mon then. Let’s get a move on.”
And, see. The thing is: They have the ‘in tune’ thing down. Stride across the blacktop or grass or where ever they’re shooting in perfect synchronization. Kim is forever calling them over to show them the shots, laughing at how effortlessly Dean and Sam fall in line with one another. So that’s not a problem at all.
But, well. Jensen’s not generally strapped to Jared when this phenomenon naturally takes place. Sure, Jared’s got a few inches on him, but hip to foot ratio? Jensen doesn’t stand a chance.
“Slow - slow down, Freakazoid,” Jensen mumbles. He clenches his fingers deeper into Jared’s shoulder, desperate to keep balance. Falling and looking like a klutz in front of Jared’s family he can deal with. It’s the thought of being asphyxiated when Jared comes tumbling after that has him worried.
“C’mon, c’mon,” Jared urges. His hand slips down Jensen’s back, snaking around Jensen’s side, under his arm. Jared hefts him closer and doesn’t drop the pace a bit. “Know you can spread those legs a lot further than that.”
Jensen would thwap Jared on the back of the head, but as it is, he’s kind of clinging to the giant’s side like some kind of long-legged koala. Or sloth? Whatever, Jensen’s no zoologist.
They somehow get to the start line without incident - well, except for the slight chaffing Jensen feels and just knows will be a bitch later. But that’s not really an issue. Jensen will just milk it later and get Jared to pamper him, which. He sends a silent prayer of thanks up once more for his ability to work the charm and smile he was graced with. Thank the Lord indeed.
An older guy, all of six and a half feet with a beer gut to match, paces back and forth before them on the grass. Jensen catches snickering and slides his eyes over to find Clarice making faces at him while simultaneously poking her designated torture victim in the side.
“Uncle Bernie?” she pipes up. Jensen catches Megan and her newest boyfriend on the other side of the Satan Spawn child. Though, Jensen doesn’t really know exactly WHO the kid belongs to, so. He does know that this guy - Shaun - goes to the University of Texas and answered yes, sir, no, sir to the joint grilling Jared and he had given the kid earlier, so he seems ok.
Even if he did make Jensen feel like an old man.
“Do we get a handicap? They’re bigger and their legs are longer and it’s only fair.” Clarice pouts, all twirl of one pigtail between her fingers, innocence and sunshine.
Jensen wants to point out that a) she, in fact, stomped on HIS foot so maybe HE should be the one getting a head start and b) being short and lower to the ground actually gives her a better center of balance. He bites his tongue though, Jared’s fingers squeezing and settling between his ribs.
“Seriously? Uncle Bernie?” Jensen whispers out the corner of his mouth. Jared’s grinning beside him; jostles Jensen with his whole body.
“Totally. Wait till he gets smashed later. It’s just like that. Maybe I’ll even let you in on the family tradition of positioning him and covering him in random bits of leftover potato salad and stuff. I’ll show you the album when we get home.”
Jensen can’t help but cackle at that. He buries his face against Jared’s shoulder, the fabric salty against his mouth, the scent of fabric softener lingering in the fabric, Jared just beneath. He’s got home right here.
Jared squeezes him in tighter, press-release that makes Jensen’s pulse jump and his heart flutter. He beams, light as air, and catches the last bit of Uncle Bernie’s spiel on rules for the game.
“Gonna beat you into the ground, lil girl!” Jared shouts out. Clarice sticks out her tongue in reply. “They’ll be digging you outta the grass for weeks.”
“Nu-uh, poop-head!”
“Whatever, whatever!”
“Jared Tristan Padalecki, you watch your tongue! Don’t think I won’t tan your hide for your sass,” Jared’s mom calls out. She’s settled into a lawn chair, watching the festivities with a sweating glass of (possibly) spiked tea in her hand, but the pointed look she sends Jared looks nothing less than deadly serious. Jensen snickers into his palm, trying to battle away the images that produces in his mind, Jared’s ass red and bright by is own hand. Jared simply ducks his head and scratches at the back of his neck, blushing. Jensen loves how quickly he turns into an absolute mama’s boy; he should really put her on his speed dial for the nights Jared gets all rambunctious on set.
And as if she can read his mind, she whips around on him. “You too, Jensen Ross. Don’t think I won’t call your mama in a heartbeat if you get outta line!”
“Yes, Mrs. Padalecki,” Jensen says, automatic. Jared snickers.
Uncle Bernie has shuffled off to the side and he raises his hand; drops it down and shouts out a booming GOOO! to which Jared leaps into action. He forcefully drags their connected legs together with no warning and Jensen lets himself follow. Holds on and lets his mind catch up with the movement of their bodies. Step-pause-step and it’s as easy and natural as always to find the rhythm Jared sets and keep pace.
The heat-drenched air starts to clog Jensen’s lungs as Jared takes leaping strides with their conjoined leg. Jensen does his best to hustle along, half-cursing himself for the burn in his chest and half fantasizing about the cigarette he can have when this is all over. The world blurs as they rush along, shouts and cheers filtering through the air over the pounding in his ears.
Jared is steady and sure at his side and the feeling of scampering along, of working together, is exhilarating. Jared doesn’t cater to Jensen’s shorter leg span, not at all, just wraps his fingers into the fabric of Jensen’s shirt and makes him keep up. Doesn’t let him fall behind a step.
There’s some metaphor there, Jensen knows, but for now he’s focused on the post wavering before his eyes. The finish line and they’re in the lead. Jensen never doubted that, together, they would be.
They bulldoze past it, hard shock against his heels as they come screeching to a stop. Jared begins to turn towards Jensen at the same moment that he does the same, throwing his arms up in victory. Their chests crash together, and Jensen’s shout gets buried in Jared’s shirt.
He hears Jared’s shout though. Jensen is kind of shocked that Jared would use such language around his family, especially when he’s always so damn respectful, but the curse makes more sense when the world begins to tip and Jensen finds himself slamming down on top of Jared, ankles and elbows everywhere.
“Shit,” Jensen mumbles. He leverages himself up on one arm; peers down at Jared whose face is twisted in shock and pain, his eyes shut tight. “Shit. Jare, you ok? Shit.”
Jensen runs his fingers over Jared’s face, light brush against his cheeks, across the bridge of his nose. Jared’s breath is steady and strong, huffing across the heel of Jensen’s hand, and his lips quirk, lashes fluttering open.
“Supposed to turn around and go back to the start line,” Jared whispers.
“Oh.”
So maybe Jensen should have paid a little more attention to the rules rather than Jared, but. Well, Jared is always bound to be a distraction.
“Losers!” Jensen hears, and he turns his face to see Clarice ambling back towards the finish line with her partner. Jared’s chest rumbles with laughter beneath Jensen’s and he can’t help but let his cheek rest on that hard, warm and comfortable surface.
“Shoulda stuck with Jeff, man.” Jared teases. “Now we’ll never win the Golden Goose.”
Jensen chuckles again, pressing his hand over Jared’s heart; feeling the steady beat of it travel through him, flood his system. They’re surrounded by grass and heat and family and its fresh and sweet and nothing like Jensen had ever imagined this could be.
“I’m not enough of a prize for you?” Jensen shoots back, settling in and slotting his hips more firmly against Jared’s. Jared gives a startled gasp, scandalized.
“Jen…” he warns, but squeezes Jensen’s bicep with long fingers.
“You could give a guy a complex,” Jensen says, pouting and watching Jared’s eyes shift color in the dying sunlight. The smile that slides over his lips - just for Jensen - is all the prize he needs.
“Wouldn’t wanna do that,” Jared says and slides his palm up the back of Jensen’s neck, tugging him down into a kiss, soft lips and gentle friction.
Jensen can’t help but grin against Jared’s lips when he hears Clarice’s shout of victory shift into a loud, drawn out Ewwwwwwww.
Victory never tasted so sweet.
PS. Want/Take/Have:
I have fic! The pic from two days back could have inspired any number of porny things, this I know, but. UH. I got caught up on their legs. They look all 'three-legged creature', no?
Title: Bound to You (where I wanna be)
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 2,210
Disclaimer: The guys own themselves, this is just a sweet fantasy.
Summary: Jared & Jensen & the Padalecki Family Picnic!
A/N: Um, they're out and proud here, to make that clear. Thanks to schneestern for getting me to finish and giving it a beta w/ such speed. <3 ALSO, yeah. The fic is as cheesy as the title. WHATEVER, IT MAKES ME SMILE. (the fic, not the title. The title makes me groan, I lose at those)
"Seriously, dude? Your family actually DOES this shit?"
"Hey, not my fault you grew up deprived." Jared bends at the waist and tightens the cord. "Don’t take out your latent issues on me just because you're jealous."
"Not jealous," Jensen huffs. He reaches over and pinches Jared's ass while he's bent over; laughs when Jared gives a startled yelp. "Just didn’t know that by signing on to come to the Great Padalecki Family Picnic I'd end up playing silly kid's games is all."
"Not kid's games," Jared says. "Wanna win the Golden Goose, don’t ya?"
Jensen’s still puzzling over what exactly that means when Jared straightens and shoots him a mock pout, all puppy eyes and shiny pink lips. Instantly, Jensen’s thoughts shift to the desire to pull him in and lick the frown lines around his mouth.
What Jensen really wants to do is use the length of rope for much more nefarious purposes than knotting their calves together. But, being in 1) a public place and 2) surrounded by the entire Padalecki clan, he's not quite sure he can get away with it.
Though - being in public has never stopped them before.
He sighs, long-suffering and dramatic, and Jared's eyes instantly brighten.
"So, here's the deal," Jared says. "Clarice is vicious, watch out for her. Last year she knocked Jeff and I on our ASSES and claimed it was an accident. Accident my behind. More like the little monster tripped us."
His words grow louder with each progressive sentence and Jensen catches Jared shooting a dark glance out the corner of his eye, a petite girl in shiny dark pigtails glaring back.
"Did NOT trip you, Gigantor," she says. “Stop telling lies and tattles.”
Jared actually sticks his tongue out in reply and the kid rolls her eyes. Jensen doesn’t even bother hiding his amusement, just throws his head back and laughs. Jared punches him in the arm.
"What is she, seven?" He says. Wipes at his eyes, gasping for a full breath through his giggles.
"She's the devil," Jared says, loud and clear and pointed. Jensen's still laughing when Clarice stomps over, dragging her partner along. The kid is downright sulking, his pudgy cheeks smeared in chocolate.
“Am NOT,” she says, hands on her hips. She has to crane her neck to glare up at Jared, but it’s a pretty damn good glare, Jensen will give her that.
He’s about to say as much when she turns her attention on him. Her tiny foot slams down on his, pain rocketing through his sneaker and up his shin, and Jensen lets out a startled gasp.
"And I'm ELEVEN," she says, and drags the poor bastard who's tied to her over to the start line. Jensen’s mouth hangs open. Jared laughs.
“Told you man.” Jared shakes his head, watching his cousin’s departure. “So we gonna do this or what?”
“Oh it is on,” Jensen says. “That little bitch is going down.”
“Glad to see you’re in it to win it.” The smile Jared’s sporting cuts from ear to ear and Jensen can’t help but let the smidgen of anger bleed away. He shifts to the side, wriggling his shoulder up under Jared’s armpit.
“You did wear deodorant today, yeah? I don’t wanna wander around the rest of the afternoon with your stink on me.”
Jared pinches the back of Jensen’s neck, twisting his fingers around a bit of flesh before sliding his arm down to loop over Jensen’s shoulder. His fingers dangle over Jensen’s heart.
“Bet you wanna wander around with something of me on you,” he says, the words low and heated and right in Jensen’s ear. Jensen suppresses a shudder, but Jared’s plastered up against his right side and the crack of laughter through the air only proves Jared knows just what he’s doing.
“Thought you wanted to win this,” Jensen grumbles, shifting his weight from foot to foot. The denim of his jeans is heavy against his cock.
“Aye aye, Captain,” Jared says. His grin is somehow even brighter in the fading sunlight, tiny beads of sweat from the Texas heat glistening on the curve of his upper lip. Jensen swallows down a bubble of emotion as Jared salutes with his free hand and bumps his hip into Jensen’s. “C'mon then. Let’s get a move on.”
And, see. The thing is: They have the ‘in tune’ thing down. Stride across the blacktop or grass or where ever they’re shooting in perfect synchronization. Kim is forever calling them over to show them the shots, laughing at how effortlessly Dean and Sam fall in line with one another. So that’s not a problem at all.
But, well. Jensen’s not generally strapped to Jared when this phenomenon naturally takes place. Sure, Jared’s got a few inches on him, but hip to foot ratio? Jensen doesn’t stand a chance.
“Slow - slow down, Freakazoid,” Jensen mumbles. He clenches his fingers deeper into Jared’s shoulder, desperate to keep balance. Falling and looking like a klutz in front of Jared’s family he can deal with. It’s the thought of being asphyxiated when Jared comes tumbling after that has him worried.
“C’mon, c’mon,” Jared urges. His hand slips down Jensen’s back, snaking around Jensen’s side, under his arm. Jared hefts him closer and doesn’t drop the pace a bit. “Know you can spread those legs a lot further than that.”
Jensen would thwap Jared on the back of the head, but as it is, he’s kind of clinging to the giant’s side like some kind of long-legged koala. Or sloth? Whatever, Jensen’s no zoologist.
They somehow get to the start line without incident - well, except for the slight chaffing Jensen feels and just knows will be a bitch later. But that’s not really an issue. Jensen will just milk it later and get Jared to pamper him, which. He sends a silent prayer of thanks up once more for his ability to work the charm and smile he was graced with. Thank the Lord indeed.
An older guy, all of six and a half feet with a beer gut to match, paces back and forth before them on the grass. Jensen catches snickering and slides his eyes over to find Clarice making faces at him while simultaneously poking her designated torture victim in the side.
“Uncle Bernie?” she pipes up. Jensen catches Megan and her newest boyfriend on the other side of the Satan Spawn child. Though, Jensen doesn’t really know exactly WHO the kid belongs to, so. He does know that this guy - Shaun - goes to the University of Texas and answered yes, sir, no, sir to the joint grilling Jared and he had given the kid earlier, so he seems ok.
Even if he did make Jensen feel like an old man.
“Do we get a handicap? They’re bigger and their legs are longer and it’s only fair.” Clarice pouts, all twirl of one pigtail between her fingers, innocence and sunshine.
Jensen wants to point out that a) she, in fact, stomped on HIS foot so maybe HE should be the one getting a head start and b) being short and lower to the ground actually gives her a better center of balance. He bites his tongue though, Jared’s fingers squeezing and settling between his ribs.
“Seriously? Uncle Bernie?” Jensen whispers out the corner of his mouth. Jared’s grinning beside him; jostles Jensen with his whole body.
“Totally. Wait till he gets smashed later. It’s just like that. Maybe I’ll even let you in on the family tradition of positioning him and covering him in random bits of leftover potato salad and stuff. I’ll show you the album when we get home.”
Jensen can’t help but cackle at that. He buries his face against Jared’s shoulder, the fabric salty against his mouth, the scent of fabric softener lingering in the fabric, Jared just beneath. He’s got home right here.
Jared squeezes him in tighter, press-release that makes Jensen’s pulse jump and his heart flutter. He beams, light as air, and catches the last bit of Uncle Bernie’s spiel on rules for the game.
“Gonna beat you into the ground, lil girl!” Jared shouts out. Clarice sticks out her tongue in reply. “They’ll be digging you outta the grass for weeks.”
“Nu-uh, poop-head!”
“Whatever, whatever!”
“Jared Tristan Padalecki, you watch your tongue! Don’t think I won’t tan your hide for your sass,” Jared’s mom calls out. She’s settled into a lawn chair, watching the festivities with a sweating glass of (possibly) spiked tea in her hand, but the pointed look she sends Jared looks nothing less than deadly serious. Jensen snickers into his palm, trying to battle away the images that produces in his mind, Jared’s ass red and bright by is own hand. Jared simply ducks his head and scratches at the back of his neck, blushing. Jensen loves how quickly he turns into an absolute mama’s boy; he should really put her on his speed dial for the nights Jared gets all rambunctious on set.
And as if she can read his mind, she whips around on him. “You too, Jensen Ross. Don’t think I won’t call your mama in a heartbeat if you get outta line!”
“Yes, Mrs. Padalecki,” Jensen says, automatic. Jared snickers.
Uncle Bernie has shuffled off to the side and he raises his hand; drops it down and shouts out a booming GOOO! to which Jared leaps into action. He forcefully drags their connected legs together with no warning and Jensen lets himself follow. Holds on and lets his mind catch up with the movement of their bodies. Step-pause-step and it’s as easy and natural as always to find the rhythm Jared sets and keep pace.
The heat-drenched air starts to clog Jensen’s lungs as Jared takes leaping strides with their conjoined leg. Jensen does his best to hustle along, half-cursing himself for the burn in his chest and half fantasizing about the cigarette he can have when this is all over. The world blurs as they rush along, shouts and cheers filtering through the air over the pounding in his ears.
Jared is steady and sure at his side and the feeling of scampering along, of working together, is exhilarating. Jared doesn’t cater to Jensen’s shorter leg span, not at all, just wraps his fingers into the fabric of Jensen’s shirt and makes him keep up. Doesn’t let him fall behind a step.
There’s some metaphor there, Jensen knows, but for now he’s focused on the post wavering before his eyes. The finish line and they’re in the lead. Jensen never doubted that, together, they would be.
They bulldoze past it, hard shock against his heels as they come screeching to a stop. Jared begins to turn towards Jensen at the same moment that he does the same, throwing his arms up in victory. Their chests crash together, and Jensen’s shout gets buried in Jared’s shirt.
He hears Jared’s shout though. Jensen is kind of shocked that Jared would use such language around his family, especially when he’s always so damn respectful, but the curse makes more sense when the world begins to tip and Jensen finds himself slamming down on top of Jared, ankles and elbows everywhere.
“Shit,” Jensen mumbles. He leverages himself up on one arm; peers down at Jared whose face is twisted in shock and pain, his eyes shut tight. “Shit. Jare, you ok? Shit.”
Jensen runs his fingers over Jared’s face, light brush against his cheeks, across the bridge of his nose. Jared’s breath is steady and strong, huffing across the heel of Jensen’s hand, and his lips quirk, lashes fluttering open.
“Supposed to turn around and go back to the start line,” Jared whispers.
“Oh.”
So maybe Jensen should have paid a little more attention to the rules rather than Jared, but. Well, Jared is always bound to be a distraction.
“Losers!” Jensen hears, and he turns his face to see Clarice ambling back towards the finish line with her partner. Jared’s chest rumbles with laughter beneath Jensen’s and he can’t help but let his cheek rest on that hard, warm and comfortable surface.
“Shoulda stuck with Jeff, man.” Jared teases. “Now we’ll never win the Golden Goose.”
Jensen chuckles again, pressing his hand over Jared’s heart; feeling the steady beat of it travel through him, flood his system. They’re surrounded by grass and heat and family and its fresh and sweet and nothing like Jensen had ever imagined this could be.
“I’m not enough of a prize for you?” Jensen shoots back, settling in and slotting his hips more firmly against Jared’s. Jared gives a startled gasp, scandalized.
“Jen…” he warns, but squeezes Jensen’s bicep with long fingers.
“You could give a guy a complex,” Jensen says, pouting and watching Jared’s eyes shift color in the dying sunlight. The smile that slides over his lips - just for Jensen - is all the prize he needs.
“Wouldn’t wanna do that,” Jared says and slides his palm up the back of Jensen’s neck, tugging him down into a kiss, soft lips and gentle friction.
Jensen can’t help but grin against Jared’s lips when he hears Clarice’s shout of victory shift into a loud, drawn out Ewwwwwwww.
Victory never tasted so sweet.
PS. Want/Take/Have: