RPS Fic: Can't Point the Way to Your Heart (J2, NC-17)
Title: Can’t Point the Way to Your Heart
Pairing: J2
Rating: NC-17
Summary: AU in the vein of movies like Hitch - Jensen's an unofficial advice guru, and Jared's his latest project. Except while Jensen's supposed to be helping Jared end up with the woman of his dreams, he falls for him instead.
Notes: Written for spn_holidays for delicatelight, who requested a first-time J2 AU. Title from Cary Brothers.
Wordcount: ~33,000 words
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Not mine, never happened.
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five
(and thanks to
too_rational, pdf version here!)
(podfic by juice817 here!)
Jensen’s good at giving advice. It’s not something he learned or something he set out to do, just something he’s always been good at, ever since he was little. He was never the most popular kid in the neighborhood - he wasn’t picked first for kickball teams or invited to every birthday party or the kid with the best pudding at lunch - but when it was time to build a treehouse or plan a snowball attack on the Mason twins or talk Miss Kuhn into five more minutes of recess, it was Jensen all the kids came to.
It’s just something inside of him, some innate ability to analyze the world around him and turn possibilities into a plan. His mind works in probabilities, always calculating options, and even from a young age, he could see past all the loops and snarls and to the heart of a problem, where the tangled strands could be unwound. It unnerved his parents and the adults in his life - they remarked on his quiet stillness like it was a problem, something to be wary of - but Jensen knew how to use silence, how to sink into a calm that was like time slowing down, slow motion making decisions clear.
It’s just one of those things, the one thing he’s better at than everybody else, and as a result, Jensen’s given out a lot of advice in his life, on everything from fashion to feng shui. Always weighing pros and cons to every decision, though, always analyzing and projecting ahead for possible futures and considering repercussions, has its consequences. Jensen’s an observer, forever watching from the outside, distanced. He thinks about things differently, sees the world through a different lens, and he comes off as cold or dispassionate because he doesn’t let himself become entangled with the problems he solves. He can’t - he can’t afford to put his heart and soul into every issue he thinks about It’s easier on his sanity to stay distant, to analyze and resolve without the distraction of constant empathy.
It’s probably why he’s so good at his job - as a financial adviser, he analyzes trends and gives people advice on what to do with their money, and he’s usually right. His clients don’t need someone to care about every dollar they invest, or a friend who’ll encourage them to buy stock they choose at random or because of a sentimental reason. They just want someone to tell them what their money’s going to do, someone who can spread out their options and predict the success, and occasionally, someone they can blame if everything goes wrong.
It’s also the reason why Jensen doesn’t often give advice to the people close to him, unless they specifically ask for it. It’s harder for him to speculate on something when he’s involved, when it’s personal. He was reluctant when his best friend asked for dating advice, not willing to risk their friendship on the success of his predictions, but it turns out that while Jensen has very little idea what women want in a man, he’s got a firm grip on logic, and he’s pretty good at guessing what will help the process along. Tom’s engaged now, ridiculously happy with Jamie, and he and Jensen are closer than ever. It’s that, more than anything, that makes Jensen agree to the whole stupid idea.
Besides, it should be easy. He doesn’t have any reason to care about this kid- he’s just some guy Tom knows who needs some tips on snagging the woman of his dreams. Jensen doesn’t have to be his best friend, he just has to help him solidify his approach, refine his technique, maybe organize some areas of his life, and then let him go. If the whole thing crashes and burns, it’s not Jensen’s fault - he was just doing a favor for Tom, after all, and this isn’t his normal thing.
At least that’s what he tells himself. And when he finally meets the kid and gets a good look at him (all six foot and then some, Christ), gets a hug instead of a handshake, and a warm, friendly smile with a flash of dimples that makes his stomach flutter and he realizes with a shock that he actually likes this kid, which might make detachment difficult, he smiles at Jared and says yes anyway.
Jensen’s always been kind of bad at following his own advice.
* * *
“Thank you so much for doing this,” Jared says for the millionth time in the fifteen minutes they’ve been sitting in the coffee shop. “I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t say yes. I’m normally not this clueless, but I’ve never felt like this about someone before. It’s like I suddenly realized that everything I thought I knew was useless, and now I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing.”
“Relax,” Jensen says, leaning back in his chair. “It’s not a big deal.”
“No, it is,” Jared insists. “I know you’re just doing this as a favor, but I really appreciate it, man. This girl, she’s just - “ He sighs, tracing the edges of a coffee stain on the table with long fingers and blunt nails. “I’ll do anything to get her to feel the same way about me.”
Jensen takes a sip of his Americano to hide a smile. He clears his throat. “Well, why don’t we start there? Tell me how the whole thing started.”
Jared sighs again. “It was love at first sight,” he says earnestly. “I was at the library, looking for a pathology book and she came over to help me.” He blushes. “I got a little speechless when she asked what I was looking for, though, and I think she thought I was kind of lame. She was just so beautiful, though.”
Jensen doesn’t really believe in love at first sight - hell, he has a hard time just liking most people based on a first impression - but it’s kind of cute how obviously head-over-heels Jared is for this girl. He nods for Jared to go on.
“And smart,” Jared says fervently. “She found what I was looking for right away - well, once I stopped stammering enough to tell her - and then she told me about this study she was reading on dogs that can sense cancer, and we got to talking.”
“Okay, so you connected over a common interest,” Jensen says. “You both like animals.”
“Well, not really,” Jared says. “She’s studying to get her Master’s in psychology, so I think she was interested in the neurology part, not so much the dogs. But she did say she did an internship where they studied slices of rat brains, so she’s at least interested in animal brains.”
“Uh, okay,” Jensen says. “Maybe not so much of a common interest, then.”
“Well, I like animal brains, too,” Jared says quickly. “It’s just that I kind of like them better when they’re in the actual animal, you know, because that way they’re not dead.” He pauses. “Unless it’s an MRI, or something. We could both enjoy a scan of a still-living animal’s brain.”
“Yeah, that’d be a hot date,” Jensen mutters. “Okay. So you talked for a while. Then what happened?”
“Well, I already knew she was the woman of my dreams,” Jared says, and once again it takes Jensen a moment to realize Jared’s being completely unsarcastic. “But I didn’t want to scare her off, so I just hung around at the library for the next few days and checked out a lot of books.”
Jensen makes a mental note to cover stalking in his list of dating don’ts later, nodding for Jared to go on.
“And then, after a week, I got up the nerve to ask her out,” Jared finishes. “And that’s when the whole thing went to hell.”
“She said no?” Jensen guesses.
“No, she said yes,” Jared says morosely. “It’s just - she’s so smart. She knows all this awesome stuff about how brains work and reads these incredibly complex books, and she totally has the Dewey decimal system memorized. So I wanted to impress her by doing something better than the usual dinner-and-a-movie. I figured she’d want to do something more intellectually stimulating.”
Jensen winces. “Please say you didn’t take her to a poetry reading.”
“Foreign film,” Jared says flatly.
“A little clichéd, but not that bad,” Jensen reassures him. “Is she interested in film?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, did she enjoy the movie?”
“I don’t know,” Jared repeats.
“You were there, weren’t you? Was it any good?”
Jared flushes. “I’m not really good at movies where you have to read instead of just watching.”
Jensen raises an eyebrow.
“I always get distracted watching the people, and then I miss what’s being said, and then I get bored and just start making things up in my head,” Jared confesses. “And I’d had a long week at work, and I’d been on my feet all day, and I, uh. I kind of fell asleep.” He winces. “And I might have snored a little.”
“Okay, that’s not good,” Jensen says frankly. “But it’s not necessarily fatal. What did she say?”
“Nothing. I only woke up when the movie was over and people were starting to leave, and she wasn’t there.”
Jensen winces. “Yeah, that’s pretty bad.”
Jared moans and drops his forehead onto the table, narrowly missing his coffee cup. “I know. She’s just so beautiful and classy and brilliant, and I wanted to take her on the perfect date so she’d fall in love with me, but I fucked it all up.”
Jensen sighs. “Jared, you didn’t fuck it all up.”
Jared raises his head a little. “Really?”
“Really,” Jensen reassures him, smiling a little. “You made some mistakes, but I don’t think it’s anything you can’t fix. She obviously liked you enough to go out with you, and I think if you make a few improvements in your approach, she’ll give you a second chance.”
Jared’s face is all hope, that bright grin showing up again with a cautious edge. It turns a little shy when he asks, “And you’ll help me? Even after I told you how badly I messed it all up?”
“I’m not afraid of a little hard work,” Jensen teases lightly. “Besides, you’ve got a lot of potential.”
This time Jared’s grin is all out, no holds barred, and Jensen very pointedly does not notice how it lights up his entire face, or what that does to his stomach. Detached people don’t notice that kind of stuff, so he obviously just imagined it.
“Thank you so much,” Jared says again, the million-and-first time, and Jensen waves him off again.
“Thank me later. Right now, let’s just get to work.”
* * *
Jared’s aware that he’s gushing, and he’s also aware how pathetic he sounds, describing Sandy like some lovesick idiot. But that’s the problem, he really is a lovesick idiot over her, and he needs someone to slap some sense into him so he doesn’t write her an epic poem or try to serenade her outside her window, because the sad thing is that he’s actually considered both things. He even wrote a few lines of that poem before he realized he’d rhymed Sandy with randy and ripped the whole thing up.
But he can’t help it. It’s not so much that it was love at first sight, although he noticed right away how beautiful she was. It’s more that every word that came out of her mouth after that initial moment revealed something even more appealing about her, and every time Jared thought she couldn’t get any higher in his opinion, she came out with something even more amazing that just made him wonder how anyone so perfect could exist, much less want to talk to him. And that’s kind of the thing - Sandy is this amazing, gorgeous, perfect person, and it’s suddenly making Jared question everything about himself, from his own attractiveness to his job to his intelligence. He’s never doubted himself before in a situation like this - he can tell when someone’s interested, and he’s not afraid to make the first move. But with Sandy, he has no idea what to do or say or think, and it’s driving him crazy, because he can’t walk away. Even a failed date hasn’t deterred him - he just feels an even more urgent need to fix things, because if he can’t be with her, he doesn’t know what he’ll do. Die, maybe.
And that’s why Jensen is such a godsend. Jared had been lamenting the Sandy disaster to all of his friends, most of whom were sympathetic (well, not Chad, but when he called Jared a ridiculous douche, it was said with affection, so that’s something), but Tom was the only one who really understood. He told Jared that Jensen had saved his life when he met Jamie, and he even said he’d convince Jensen to help Jared.
And okay, Jensen is a little standoffish and reserved, but he at least thinks Jared isn’t a totally lost cause, and even better, he has a plan. They stay at the coffee shop for another half hour, working out the details. Jensen says he wants an idea of what Jared wants to accomplish, so he can plan accordingly.
“Does it have to be a realistic goal?” Jared asks. “Because if I could just choose the fairy tale, happily-ever-after ending where we get married and have three kids and two dogs and live in the suburbs so we can commute to the city for work but still raise our kids with a yard to play in and a porch swing out front where we’d enjoy the summer evenings, I’d totally take it.”
Jensen blinks, and Jared reminds himself that it’s good to think about words before he lets them go rampaging out of his mouth, especially with someone he barely knows. Blushing, he amends, “Or, you know, we could work on me getting another date with her.”
“Yeah,” Jensen says. “I think that would be a good thing to concentrate on first. Before you name your hypothetical children.”
“Come on, I’m not that bad,” Jared protests, although he’s pretty sure Jensen is joking. “I don’t have the children named. And three was just a rough estimate, not a requirement.”
Jensen raises an eyebrow. “And the house in the suburbs with the yard and porch swing?”
“That’s just a possibility,” Jared says. “Something Sandy and I might theoretically choose to have in our theoretical future.”
“And the dogs? Are those theoretical too?”
“Of course,” Jared says. “Well, I mean, they’d have to be big dogs, because dogs that are smaller than cats weird me out. And we’d adopt them from a shelter, not buy them from a breeder, and you can’t just get one, you need two so they have someone to keep them company.” He pauses. “And I might have put a little thought into their names, because wouldn’t it be awesome to have two dogs named Sonny and Rico? They could keep the neighborhood safe from drug cartels. It would be seriously cool.”
Jensen just looks at him.
Jared groans and slides down in his seat. “Okay, okay, I know a have a problem. Stop judging me.”
Jensen laughs. “I’m not judging you. It’s great that you’re thinking big, man. Just - you do know that it’s probably best to keep these things to yourself for now, right?”
“That’s why I need you, to make sure I don’t just run up to Sandy and tell her that I fantasize about owning two Miami Vice dogs with her someday.”
“Yeah, that’s the thing about women,” Jensen says. “I’m pretty sure 99% of them would not find that romantic.”
“Seriously?” Jared asks. “Because co-ownership of a pet is a pretty big thing. It shows a lot of trust in your partner. It’s like adopting a kid together.” He knows he’d think long and hard about getting a pet with a girlfriend, even Sandy. Pets aren’t like the rest of the stuff you can just send back after a breakup - they end up on the streets or in animal shelters, and that’s not fair. “It’d be like me telling her I trust her enough to walk and feed and groom my children.”
“Now that’s romantic.”
Jared sighs. “See? This is what I mean. I know I haven’t been this completely clueless over a woman before. I didn’t spend nights awake trying to figure out what to say to my previous girlfriends, and I never totally ruined a date. There’s just something about Sandy that turns me into an idiot who’s only capable of saying extremely stupid things.” He pauses. “She’s like my Kryptonite. Really hot Kryptonite.”
Jensen clears his throat. “Right. But since you can’t keep her in a lead-lined box for the rest of your lives, you’re going to have to face her.” He flips over a napkin and pulls a pen out of his briefcase. “And the best way to do that is have a plan. We’ll divide it into three parts - the approach, the apology, and the argument. The approach is crucial, because you don’t want her to be busy or stressed or upset when you talk to her, so you’ll have to read her body language to make sure she wants to talk to you. The apology is where you tell her what an idiot you are, and the argument is where you’re going to convince her she should give you another chance.”
Jensen’s even sketching a diagram to go with his explanation, and Jared tries to follow the convoluted arrows for a second before completely giving up. “Dude, I thought this was just something you were doing as a favor for Tom,” he interrupts. “I didn’t know you had a whole scientific method for dating.”
“It never hurts to be methodical,” Jensen says defensively. “I’m just a very organized person.”
“Okay,” Jared says, taking a deep breath. “Hit me. Let’s plan this thing.”
* * *
The plan they come up with isn’t foolproof, but Jensen thinks it’s pretty close. If Jared just follows the outline they made and applies a liberal amount of charm, he should be fine. He insists he needs Jensen there, though, so Jensen finds himself in the library after work, wandering through the stacks in search of his advisee. He’s not sure if he’s supposed to be Jared’s moral support or emergency rescue or icebreaker, but whatever. He kind of wants to see the whole plan in action, anyway, because he has a feeling Jared might go off-script without warning, and that could cause trouble. He might need Jensen doing those air traffic control signals in the background to avoid completely embarrassing himself.
That possibility only looks more likely when Jensen finds Jared, at a circular table near the front desk, and sees what he’s doing.
Jared looks up from his book with a smile when Jensen sits down across from him. “Hey.”
“Hi,” Jensen says. “What’re you reading?”
Jared glances down like he’s surprised to find out there’s a book in front of him. “Oh, I don’t really know. It was on the table when I got here. I was just pretending to be reading while I was watching for Sandy.”
“Good plan,” Jensen says, taking the book. “Except you should probably read the cover first.” He shows Jared where it says Blow His Mind (and more!): Fifty Ways to Wow Your Man in Bed in hot pink letters.
“Oh,” Jared says, blushing.
“Yeah,” Jensen says. “Probably not the best signal to be sending when you’re asking a girl for a date.”
Jared drops his head down onto his folded arms. “I think I’m seriously cursed.”
“You’re not,” Jensen says, pushing the book aside. “If she walked up when you were in the middle of reading it, then I’d say you were cursed. As it is, I just think you might have some bad karma.”
“I did steal a traffic cone on a dare during my freshman year of college,” Jared says thoughtfully. “You think that’s coming back to haunt me?”
“Definitely,” Jensen replies. “Heinous crimes against humanity like that never go unpunished. You’ll probably be struck down by lightning soon and fast-tracked to hell.”
Jared laughs. “Yeah, probably. And there were so many things I wanted to do with my life.”
Jensen lifts up the book. “Like finding out how to give a man a mind-blowing orgasm?” He leafs through a few pages. “In case you were wondering, putting the condom on with your mouth adds an extra-sexy touch to any foreplay.”
Jared chokes, and of course, it’s right at that moment that Sandy walks by their table. She was clearly intending to talk to Jared, already slowing down, but she stutters to an awkward stop when she hears what they’re discussing.
Jensen revises his opinion on Jared being cursed.
“Hey, Sandy!” Jared says loudly, like he can ignore the whole thing if he smiles bright enough.
“Um, hi,” Sandy says. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I was just wondering if we could talk for a minute.”
“Yeah, no problem,” Jared says eagerly. “You’re not interrupting at all, we were just…” He gives Jensen a pleading look.
“Uh, we were just reading this screenplay someone wrote for a creative writing class I’m in,” Jensen ad-libs awkwardly, shoving the book under his folded arms. “People write the weirdest stuff, huh?”
“Oh, you’re a writer?” Sandy asks politely.
“Are you kidding?” Jared asks, before Jensen can reply. “He’s amazing. He wrote this one story that was funny and sad and touching, all at the same time. He’s like the next…uh. The next really great writer.”
Jensen glares at Jared, but nods and smiles when Sandy looks his way. “Yeah, but I don’t write about giving men great orgasms or sexy ways to put condoms on,” he says, just to clarify. “That’s the other people in my class.”
Sandy blinks, and Jensen starts to think that him coming along on this thing is really not helping Jared at all. He decides to shut up now, and just stick to hand signals.
“Anyway,” Jared says quickly, “You wanted to talk?” He stands up and motions to a quieter area, away from the crowded tables, and Sandy walks ahead of him. Before he follows, he sends Jensen a glare, which Jensen assumes means something like Dude, you’re supposed to be helping me, not convincing her I have crappy taste in friends.
Jensen shrugs helplessly, and shoos him toward Sandy with a weak thumbs-up. Jared shakes his head, but goes.
* * *
Sandy’s still pretty weirded out by the conversation she stepped into, but she listens to Jared’s explanation for the disaster that was their date, and she accepts his apology. Her demeanor softens a little when Jared explains just how nervous he was, even though she tells him he shouldn’t have been, that she just wanted to get to know him, not evaluate him.
Jared’s more than relieved that she’s not still angry, so he cautiously asks if he can make it up to her with dinner. She considers it for a long, terrifying second, but then she nods, and Jared can barely keep his elation from spiraling to inappropriate levels. It would be really bad to pick her up and hug her right now, he reminds himself. Jensen would not approve.
Sandy suggests a restaurant she likes, something fancy that Jared’s only heard of, but he’d take her to the middle of the desert for freshly-squeezed cactus juice if that was what she wanted, at this point, so he agrees and lets her choose the date and time.
It’s still hard to contain his excitement, and he slips a little when Sandy writes her cell phone number down on the back of someone’s receipt, grabbing her fingers for a quick squeeze when she hands him the scrap of paper.
She looks a little startled, but smiles before excusing herself to get back to work. Jared nearly bounds across the room back to Jensen, because this is officially the best day of his life. Every fear he had about Sandy totally hating him is gone, and he’s got a date with her in four days, which will be the perfect chance to convince her that he’s an awesome guy that she wants to marry and own two vice cop dogs with. In less than 96 hours, he’ll be sitting at a table with her in a romantic restaurant, leaning over the candlelit dinner to say something clever, and she’ll be smiling at him adoringly, maybe even holding his hand, looking absolutely gorgeous in a fancy dress, and -
But that’s where Jared’s brain hits a snag, because he can picture Sandy perfectly, hair up in an elegant twist and curves sheathed in something silk or satin, but when he turns his mind’s eye to himself, all he can see is a giant blank.
“Jared?” Jensen interrupts, hovering anxiously. “How did it go?”
“Good,” Jared says woodenly.
“She said yes? Awesome!” Jensen lifts a palm for a high-five, but Jared pushes his hand down and says, “Not awesome, because I’m totally screwed.”
“What? Why?”
“Because she wants to go to a fancy restaurant, and I said yes without thinking, and this?” - Jared motions to his button-down, jeans, and sandals - “This is about as fancy as I get.” His voice is rising, but he can’t help it, he’s panicking. “And what am I going to do with my hair? I can spend hours trying to get it to behave, and then as soon as I look away, it just ignores me and does whatever it wants anyway, like some kind of devious cat. And shoes, Jensen! I don’t even know what kind of shoes you wear to a fancy dinner, much less own any!”
Jensen’s mouth has been quirking all through Jared’s diatribe, and he finally loses control and bursts out laughing.
Jared sighs and glares at him. “What?”
“I’m sorry,” Jensen wheezes. “But did you just compare your hair to a cat?”
Jared blushes, shrugging. “I spend a lot of time with animals. I can’t help it.”
“I get that,” Jensen says, wiping his eyes. “But now I can’t stop picturing a cat on your head, and it’s really distracting.”
“Shut up,” Jared says half-heartedly, but he’s smiling. It is kind of funny, especially if you imagine those stubborn little turned-up pieces at the sides making that chirruping “Mrow?” curious cats do. He doesn’t mention that to Jensen, though.
“Okay,” Jensen says, regaining control of himself. “Jared, aside from your seriously weird hair similes, we can fix all that. It’s not a big deal.”
“Really? Even though we only have 96 hours to work with?”
“Really,” Jensen assures him, patting him on the shoulder. “One shopping trip and a haircut, and you’ll be fine.”
“So I didn’t really need to have a breakdown in the middle of the library?” Jared asks sheepishly.
“Well, it was pretty entertaining,” Jensen says. “And I think Sandy enjoyed it as much as I did.”
“What?” Jared’s looking around him in horror when Jensen says, “Just kidding, man. She went in the back room right after you two talked. She missed the entire cat-hair rant.”
“Don’t do that to me!” He smacks Jensen on the shoulder. “Jesus, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“Yeah, well, consider if payback for telling really unconvincing lies about me being a writer. We should probably leave before she really does come back,” Jensen says, and Jared nods, grabbing his jacket from the chair.
Jensen holds up the Blow His Mind book. “You sure you don’t want to check this out?”
“Fuck you,” Jared says, flushing. “You were the one actually reading it - you check it out.”
“I don’t need the help,” Jensen says, winking.
Jared splutters a little at that, totally failing at a comeback, so he just knocks the book out of Jensen’s hand and pushes him toward the door.
* * *
When Jensen actually sees Jared’s closet, however, he starts to think Jared was right to freak out in the middle of the library.
It’s not like Jensen is the most fashion-forward person on the planet. He doesn’t obsessively track every trend or try to stay two steps ahead of the rush, and he has no idea what’s coming out in whose winter line or why fashion shows feature such over-the-top clothing. What he does know, however, is what looks good on people, and how to find something that will flatter a person’s features. It’s not some innate talent or gift, it’s just an awareness of the way clothes fit and how they complement someone’s coloring. Anyone could read a couple of magazines and know the same things, but most men wouldn’t bother.
And Jared looks like he hasn’t bothered with much in the way of fashion in a very, very long time. Jensen doesn’t claim to be any expert on haute couture, but even he can see that Jared’s wardrobe is kind of a disaster. For one thing, it consists entirely of jeans and t-shirts, with the odd sweater or button-down hiding in the mix. The jeans, which come in states of wear varying from ‘mostly intact’ to ‘paper thin’, are all of the baggy, shapeless, impersonal variety, and the t-shirts are either random or meant to be funny. Jensen appreciates the humor of The Simpsons, but that doesn’t mean Homer’s witticisms should be plastered on anyone’s chest, especially not anyone over the age of twelve.
Basically, what it amounts to, is that if Jared wants to go anywhere less casual than his apartment or a college campus, he’s got nothing to wear.
When he points this out, Jared just shrugs. “I work all day with animals,” he points out. “Then I come home and live with animals. It doesn’t make sense to own nice clothes when they’re just going to get puked or drooled or shed on anyway.”
“Are you telling me you purposely buy ugly clothes so you don’t care when they get ruined?” Jensen asks. “’Cause that’s actually kind of a relief.”
“I don’t own ugly clothes,” Jared protests.
Jensen leans in and pulls out a brown shirt with random colorful shapes that looks like it could be a fingerpainting project in some first grade class. “Jared, this shirt is so ugly that it makes Dick Cheney look like Miss America.”
“It’s unique! It’s original.”
“It’s terrifying. It looks like some kind of sewing machine experiment gone freakishly wrong. I think Dr. Frankenstein might have been behind its design.”
“It’s not a monster!” Jared argues, clutching the shirt protectively. “And besides, Frankenstein’s monster was just misunderstood, not evil.”
Jensen raises an eyebrow. “I think you missed some parts of that story.”
“He just needed a brain transplant. And to get laid,” Jared says, grinning. “I totally saw the movie.”
“Yeah, well, we’re hoping to get you laid,” Jensen points out, yanking the shirt away. “And that’s not going to happen without some serious shopping. So let’s go.”
* * *
Jared’s restless and awkward at the store, fidgeting when Jensen holds things up against him and wandering off to look at belt buckles or cufflinks or anything shiny every time Jensen turns his back. When Jensen’s finally accumulated an armful of possibilities, including pants that aren’t jeans and shirts that aren’t having identity crises, Jared tries to convince him there’s no need to try any of it on.
“I know my size,” he insists. “So just pick whatever you think will be good, and we’ll be done.”
“First of all, I’m not picking clothes for you,” Jensen feels obligated to clarify. “I’m just suggesting things, and then you can pick what you like or try something else. And second, trying things on is not optional.”
A passing sales assistant gives Jensen a pitying look, obviously used to this sort of conversation. Jensen sighs and puts on his sternest nonnegotiable face.
“But it takes such a long time,” Jared whines. “We’ll be here forever.”
“But you’ll leave with clothes that actually fit you, not a mannequin,” Jensen says. “Dressing room. Now. Go.”
Jared pouts and mutters under his breath, but he takes the pile of clothes and disappears into a changing room.
Jensen leans against the wall near a set of mirrors and waits. He can see Jared’s feet under the stall doors, which allows him to monitor Jared’s exact state of undress. He watches a shirt hit the floor, shoes get kicked off, and jeans slide down, belt buckle thudding against carpet. Then there’s the clanking of hangers and a pair of slacks go on, looking a little ridiculous over Jared’s fuzzy grey socks. Jared’s feet move in front of the mirror, doing a slow three-sixty, and then pause for an awkward shuffle.
“How’s it going?” Jensen calls out.
“Um,” Jared says. “Jensen, are these pants supposed to fit like this?”
“Like what?”
“Like…I don’t know.”
Jensen rolls his eyes. “Well, if you come out here, I could tell you.”
“Uh, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Jared, just get out here.”
He can hear Jared sigh, but then the door swings open, and Jensen’s mouth goes a little dry, because the answer to Jared’s question is yes, a thousand times yes, that is exactly how pants are supposed to fit. Good God.
“Aren’t they kind of tight?” Jared asks, fidgeting uncomfortably. “They’re really kind of tight, Jensen.”
Exactly, Jensen wants to say, but instead, he corrects, “No, they’re just pants that fit a person, instead of a piece of plywood.” He leans around Jared. “Hey, you actually have an ass. I was starting to wonder.”
Jared looks, too, twisting in front of the mirror on the wall next to Jensen. Then his head snaps up. “Wait, you’ve been checking out my ass?”
“How could I?” Jensen asks, smirking. “I only just found out it exists.”
“I have a fabulous ass, I’ll have you know,” Jared says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Michelangelo’s David? He’s got nothing on me.”
“And you’re so modest, too,” Jensen says. “Take your sculpted ass back into the dressing room and try on the other pants.”
Halfway through obeying, Jared turns and says accusingly, “So you are checking out my ass!”
Jensen rolls his eyes.
Jared gets bored halfway through the trying-on process and wanders out into the store, regardless of the fact that he’s barefoot and trailing price tags, claiming he wants to pick out a shirt he actually likes, not the boring choices Jensen picked.
“Boring?” Jensen demands, following Jared from rack to rack. “They’re perfectly nice shirts, Jared. I hate to break it to you, but you are supposed to be the exciting part of this date, not the shirt.”
“They’re all just so - “ Jared flaps his hands. “Shirts need to have character.”
“They really, really don’t,” Jensen protests, because this is how someone ends up with a closet full of monstrosities, and he cannot in good conscience allow Jared out of the store with anything more in questionable pastels or loud patterns.
Jared holds up a silky bright yellow button-down. “See? Like this. This shirt says I’m bold and adventurous.”
“Really? To me, it screams, Help! I was attacked by mustard!” Jensen says. “Or possibly, my cat mistook this for the litterbox. Neither of which is really the impression I think you want to make.”
Jared makes a face. “Come on, it’s not that bad.”
“Jared, one of my ex-boyfriends had a dog that was a mix between a Chihuahua and a Pomeranian and had alopecia,” Jensen says. “And that dog was still less ugly than that shirt.”
“There’s no such thing as an ugly dog,” Jared says automatically, but he puts the shirt back. He traces a hand over the metal rod above it, not looking at Jensen, and asks, “So, you’re gay?”
“Uh, yeah,” Jensen says slowly. All of his friends know, especially Tom, so he hadn’t even thought that Jared might not. “You didn’t - “
“I thought maybe, but I didn’t want to assume,” Jared says quickly. He meets Jensen’s eyes and smirks. “So this is kind of like Queer Eye for the Straight Guy.”
Jensen rolls his eyes. “Well, it would be. But judging by the number of pink shirts in your closet, the straight part is in question.”
“Pink is a good color on me!” Jared says indignantly.
“No offense, Jared, but whoever told you that was blind and stupid, desperate for a commission, or hates you. Maybe all three.”
Jared glares at him. “It was my mom!”
There’s a long, terrifying second where Jensen thinks he might have just crossed a very bad line and he might need to run for his life, but then Jared’s mouth twitches and he bursts out laughing, bumping Jensen’s shoulder with his own.
“I did give her an ironing board for Christmas last year,” he admits, ducking his head. “She was probably trying to find a way to get back at me.” He gives Jensen a stern look. “No more talking smack about my mom, though, or I’ll kick your ass.”
“Deal,” Jensen says. “Now would you pick some shirts that aren’t loud and exciting? Maybe some that say, I’m just here to make this dork look good?”
Jared sticks out his tongue, but turns back to the racks.
* * *
They leave the store two hours later, armed with everything Jared needs to look amazing on his date. His hair is still an issue, though, so even though Jared complains about being exhausted from all the shopping, Jensen drags him to a salon and turns him over to a stylist. He doesn’t know that much about hair, but the stylist nods when he asks if she can do something to maybe make it neater and easier to manage.
Jared starts to look nervous as she sketches out what she can do with her hands, reaching for a scissors to illustrate, and his hand creeps protectively to the back of his head when her fingers near a set of clippers.
“Relax,” Jensen says. “She’s just going to trim it and take a little of the weight off. More wavy, less Wookie.”
“Fuck you,” Jared says, shoving him, but he goes willingly to the chair and lets the stylist tie a cape around his neck. Jensen waves and heads next door for a cup of coffee he desperately needs.
What he’s not expecting, though, is to run into Sandy. But there she is, sitting at a table with a latte and books spread out in front of her, and she looks up right when Jensen picks up his drink, so it’s not like he can walk by.
“Hi,” she says. “You’re Jared’s friend, right? The writer who doesn’t write strange porn?”
Trust her to remember that. “Uh, yeah,” he says. “Jensen.”
“Nice to meet you.”
Jensen nods to the books. “What’s all this?”
She sighs. “Just some studying. I’ve got a big exam coming up, so I thought I’d get some caffeine and reading out of the way at the same time.”
“Nice,” Jensen says awkwardly. “So, I hear you and Jared have a date this week.”
“Yeah,” she says, looking down and then up through her lashes. “Dinner.”
“He’s really excited,” Jensen tells her. “Kind of like a little kid with candy.”
She smiles a little. “I’m just hoping it goes better than the last one.”
“I’m sure it will be,” Jensen rushes to say. “You know, he was just really tired that time, and he picked the wrong thing to do. But I’m sure this time will be great. Jared’s a really good guy.”
“You don’t have to convince me,” Sandy says with a faint smile. “I already agreed to go out with him.”
“Yeah, I just wanted you to know how much he likes you,” Jensen says lamely. He shifts, the coffee heating his fingers uncomfortably through the cardboard cup. “Well, I should go. Have fun studying.”
She nods. “See you.”
* * *
Jensen has to leave after that, of course, so instead of enjoying the peace and quiet of the coffee shop, he goes back to the hair salon and sits in the waiting area, pretending to read some magazine that was sitting on a chair.
He’s actually thinking, because that whole encounter with Sandy was just weird. Maybe he’s just used to Jared and his enthusiasm over everything, but Sandy seemed extremely reserved and not very excited at all about their upcoming date. She could just be one of those people who doesn’t show much in the way of emotion - Jensen’s had people say the same thing about him, so he more than understands - but if that’s true, it seems weird that Jared’s so hung up on her. She doesn’t seem like the type to appreciate exuberant outbursts, which is generally Jared’s primary mode of communication, so to Jensen, it seems like they wouldn’t get along very well.
But maybe she needs to get to know someone before warming up to them, or maybe she was just having a stressful day. Jensen reminds himself that he barely knows anything about her, and that it isn’t up to him to determine her compatibility with Jared. Jared thinks she’s the best thing since the Internet, so Jensen’s going to help him pick the right clothes and say the right things and hopefully win her over.
Besides, why does he care if Jared and Sandy are a perfect match, anyway? Jensen’s just here for the material parts, just doing a favor, and the logistics of their relationship are really none of his business. He doesn’t need to get involved in all this. All right, he likes Jared, but it’s not like they’re best friends or anything. And yeah, he’s noticed that Jared’s maybe a very attractive guy, but that’s just an impersonal observation. It’s objective - Jared has the qualities of a physically pleasing human being. It’s not like Jensen spends a lot of time daydreaming about Jared’s eyes or his smile or has a crush on him or something.
Jared startles him out of his thoughts, sitting down next to him and flicking a page of the magazine on Jensen’s lap. “Didn’t know you were a big Seventeen reader, Jen,” he says.
“What?” Jensen asks, then looks down at the lurid pink cover. Shit. “Oh, uh. Yeah. Well, I have to keep up with all my teen heartthrobs somehow, you know.” He flips it closed. “And the quizzes are so relevant. Apparently that hottie sitting behind me in social studies has totally been checking me out.”
“Oh my God,” Jared says. “You should slip a note in his locker to find out if he likes you.”
“Well, first I have to tell my BFF everything,” Jensen corrects. “And maybe have a sleepover and buy a cute new shirt. But then, yes.”
“Wait, I’m not your BFF?” Jared pouts. “I’m still invited to the sleepover, right?”
“Only if you bring A Walk To Remember and let me give you a makeover.”
Jared cracks up at that. “God, my sister loves that movie, but I can’t watch it without laughing my ass off, which kind of ruins the parts where you’re supposed to be all sad that Mandy Moore’s dying and stuff.” He grins. “And you’re already giving me a makeover, remember?” He shakes his head, which makes his hair fly around.
“Oh, yeah. Hey, it looks good,” Jensen says, tilting his head to see the back.
“It’s awesome!” Jared says, pushing his bangs off his face. “Gloria did something totally amazing that made it not so all over the place, and she put this stuff in that made it really soft.” He leans toward Jensen. “Feel.”
“Uh, that’s okay,” Jensen says, but Jared grabs his hand and plants it on his head, and Jensen can’t help it, he lets his fingers sink in and stroke along Jared’s head. He was right, it’s soft and silky, and Jensen feels something warm curl in his stomach when his fingers catch in the curls at the back of Jared’s neck, bringing their faces closer together.
Jared just grins, though, bright and friendly, and Jensen reminds himself that he’s not actually a seventeen-year-old girl, and he doesn’t have a crush on Jared. He’s just observing, impersonally and objectively, that Jared has really nice, really soft hair, that feels good under his hands. That’s all.
Jared goes up to pay for his haircut, and Jensen groans. He needs help.
Part Two
Pairing: J2
Rating: NC-17
Summary: AU in the vein of movies like Hitch - Jensen's an unofficial advice guru, and Jared's his latest project. Except while Jensen's supposed to be helping Jared end up with the woman of his dreams, he falls for him instead.
Notes: Written for spn_holidays for delicatelight, who requested a first-time J2 AU. Title from Cary Brothers.
Wordcount: ~33,000 words
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Not mine, never happened.
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five
(and thanks to
too_rational, pdf version here!)
(podfic by juice817 here!)
Jensen’s good at giving advice. It’s not something he learned or something he set out to do, just something he’s always been good at, ever since he was little. He was never the most popular kid in the neighborhood - he wasn’t picked first for kickball teams or invited to every birthday party or the kid with the best pudding at lunch - but when it was time to build a treehouse or plan a snowball attack on the Mason twins or talk Miss Kuhn into five more minutes of recess, it was Jensen all the kids came to.
It’s just something inside of him, some innate ability to analyze the world around him and turn possibilities into a plan. His mind works in probabilities, always calculating options, and even from a young age, he could see past all the loops and snarls and to the heart of a problem, where the tangled strands could be unwound. It unnerved his parents and the adults in his life - they remarked on his quiet stillness like it was a problem, something to be wary of - but Jensen knew how to use silence, how to sink into a calm that was like time slowing down, slow motion making decisions clear.
It’s just one of those things, the one thing he’s better at than everybody else, and as a result, Jensen’s given out a lot of advice in his life, on everything from fashion to feng shui. Always weighing pros and cons to every decision, though, always analyzing and projecting ahead for possible futures and considering repercussions, has its consequences. Jensen’s an observer, forever watching from the outside, distanced. He thinks about things differently, sees the world through a different lens, and he comes off as cold or dispassionate because he doesn’t let himself become entangled with the problems he solves. He can’t - he can’t afford to put his heart and soul into every issue he thinks about It’s easier on his sanity to stay distant, to analyze and resolve without the distraction of constant empathy.
It’s probably why he’s so good at his job - as a financial adviser, he analyzes trends and gives people advice on what to do with their money, and he’s usually right. His clients don’t need someone to care about every dollar they invest, or a friend who’ll encourage them to buy stock they choose at random or because of a sentimental reason. They just want someone to tell them what their money’s going to do, someone who can spread out their options and predict the success, and occasionally, someone they can blame if everything goes wrong.
It’s also the reason why Jensen doesn’t often give advice to the people close to him, unless they specifically ask for it. It’s harder for him to speculate on something when he’s involved, when it’s personal. He was reluctant when his best friend asked for dating advice, not willing to risk their friendship on the success of his predictions, but it turns out that while Jensen has very little idea what women want in a man, he’s got a firm grip on logic, and he’s pretty good at guessing what will help the process along. Tom’s engaged now, ridiculously happy with Jamie, and he and Jensen are closer than ever. It’s that, more than anything, that makes Jensen agree to the whole stupid idea.
Besides, it should be easy. He doesn’t have any reason to care about this kid- he’s just some guy Tom knows who needs some tips on snagging the woman of his dreams. Jensen doesn’t have to be his best friend, he just has to help him solidify his approach, refine his technique, maybe organize some areas of his life, and then let him go. If the whole thing crashes and burns, it’s not Jensen’s fault - he was just doing a favor for Tom, after all, and this isn’t his normal thing.
At least that’s what he tells himself. And when he finally meets the kid and gets a good look at him (all six foot and then some, Christ), gets a hug instead of a handshake, and a warm, friendly smile with a flash of dimples that makes his stomach flutter and he realizes with a shock that he actually likes this kid, which might make detachment difficult, he smiles at Jared and says yes anyway.
Jensen’s always been kind of bad at following his own advice.
* * *
“Thank you so much for doing this,” Jared says for the millionth time in the fifteen minutes they’ve been sitting in the coffee shop. “I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t say yes. I’m normally not this clueless, but I’ve never felt like this about someone before. It’s like I suddenly realized that everything I thought I knew was useless, and now I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing.”
“Relax,” Jensen says, leaning back in his chair. “It’s not a big deal.”
“No, it is,” Jared insists. “I know you’re just doing this as a favor, but I really appreciate it, man. This girl, she’s just - “ He sighs, tracing the edges of a coffee stain on the table with long fingers and blunt nails. “I’ll do anything to get her to feel the same way about me.”
Jensen takes a sip of his Americano to hide a smile. He clears his throat. “Well, why don’t we start there? Tell me how the whole thing started.”
Jared sighs again. “It was love at first sight,” he says earnestly. “I was at the library, looking for a pathology book and she came over to help me.” He blushes. “I got a little speechless when she asked what I was looking for, though, and I think she thought I was kind of lame. She was just so beautiful, though.”
Jensen doesn’t really believe in love at first sight - hell, he has a hard time just liking most people based on a first impression - but it’s kind of cute how obviously head-over-heels Jared is for this girl. He nods for Jared to go on.
“And smart,” Jared says fervently. “She found what I was looking for right away - well, once I stopped stammering enough to tell her - and then she told me about this study she was reading on dogs that can sense cancer, and we got to talking.”
“Okay, so you connected over a common interest,” Jensen says. “You both like animals.”
“Well, not really,” Jared says. “She’s studying to get her Master’s in psychology, so I think she was interested in the neurology part, not so much the dogs. But she did say she did an internship where they studied slices of rat brains, so she’s at least interested in animal brains.”
“Uh, okay,” Jensen says. “Maybe not so much of a common interest, then.”
“Well, I like animal brains, too,” Jared says quickly. “It’s just that I kind of like them better when they’re in the actual animal, you know, because that way they’re not dead.” He pauses. “Unless it’s an MRI, or something. We could both enjoy a scan of a still-living animal’s brain.”
“Yeah, that’d be a hot date,” Jensen mutters. “Okay. So you talked for a while. Then what happened?”
“Well, I already knew she was the woman of my dreams,” Jared says, and once again it takes Jensen a moment to realize Jared’s being completely unsarcastic. “But I didn’t want to scare her off, so I just hung around at the library for the next few days and checked out a lot of books.”
Jensen makes a mental note to cover stalking in his list of dating don’ts later, nodding for Jared to go on.
“And then, after a week, I got up the nerve to ask her out,” Jared finishes. “And that’s when the whole thing went to hell.”
“She said no?” Jensen guesses.
“No, she said yes,” Jared says morosely. “It’s just - she’s so smart. She knows all this awesome stuff about how brains work and reads these incredibly complex books, and she totally has the Dewey decimal system memorized. So I wanted to impress her by doing something better than the usual dinner-and-a-movie. I figured she’d want to do something more intellectually stimulating.”
Jensen winces. “Please say you didn’t take her to a poetry reading.”
“Foreign film,” Jared says flatly.
“A little clichéd, but not that bad,” Jensen reassures him. “Is she interested in film?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, did she enjoy the movie?”
“I don’t know,” Jared repeats.
“You were there, weren’t you? Was it any good?”
Jared flushes. “I’m not really good at movies where you have to read instead of just watching.”
Jensen raises an eyebrow.
“I always get distracted watching the people, and then I miss what’s being said, and then I get bored and just start making things up in my head,” Jared confesses. “And I’d had a long week at work, and I’d been on my feet all day, and I, uh. I kind of fell asleep.” He winces. “And I might have snored a little.”
“Okay, that’s not good,” Jensen says frankly. “But it’s not necessarily fatal. What did she say?”
“Nothing. I only woke up when the movie was over and people were starting to leave, and she wasn’t there.”
Jensen winces. “Yeah, that’s pretty bad.”
Jared moans and drops his forehead onto the table, narrowly missing his coffee cup. “I know. She’s just so beautiful and classy and brilliant, and I wanted to take her on the perfect date so she’d fall in love with me, but I fucked it all up.”
Jensen sighs. “Jared, you didn’t fuck it all up.”
Jared raises his head a little. “Really?”
“Really,” Jensen reassures him, smiling a little. “You made some mistakes, but I don’t think it’s anything you can’t fix. She obviously liked you enough to go out with you, and I think if you make a few improvements in your approach, she’ll give you a second chance.”
Jared’s face is all hope, that bright grin showing up again with a cautious edge. It turns a little shy when he asks, “And you’ll help me? Even after I told you how badly I messed it all up?”
“I’m not afraid of a little hard work,” Jensen teases lightly. “Besides, you’ve got a lot of potential.”
This time Jared’s grin is all out, no holds barred, and Jensen very pointedly does not notice how it lights up his entire face, or what that does to his stomach. Detached people don’t notice that kind of stuff, so he obviously just imagined it.
“Thank you so much,” Jared says again, the million-and-first time, and Jensen waves him off again.
“Thank me later. Right now, let’s just get to work.”
* * *
Jared’s aware that he’s gushing, and he’s also aware how pathetic he sounds, describing Sandy like some lovesick idiot. But that’s the problem, he really is a lovesick idiot over her, and he needs someone to slap some sense into him so he doesn’t write her an epic poem or try to serenade her outside her window, because the sad thing is that he’s actually considered both things. He even wrote a few lines of that poem before he realized he’d rhymed Sandy with randy and ripped the whole thing up.
But he can’t help it. It’s not so much that it was love at first sight, although he noticed right away how beautiful she was. It’s more that every word that came out of her mouth after that initial moment revealed something even more appealing about her, and every time Jared thought she couldn’t get any higher in his opinion, she came out with something even more amazing that just made him wonder how anyone so perfect could exist, much less want to talk to him. And that’s kind of the thing - Sandy is this amazing, gorgeous, perfect person, and it’s suddenly making Jared question everything about himself, from his own attractiveness to his job to his intelligence. He’s never doubted himself before in a situation like this - he can tell when someone’s interested, and he’s not afraid to make the first move. But with Sandy, he has no idea what to do or say or think, and it’s driving him crazy, because he can’t walk away. Even a failed date hasn’t deterred him - he just feels an even more urgent need to fix things, because if he can’t be with her, he doesn’t know what he’ll do. Die, maybe.
And that’s why Jensen is such a godsend. Jared had been lamenting the Sandy disaster to all of his friends, most of whom were sympathetic (well, not Chad, but when he called Jared a ridiculous douche, it was said with affection, so that’s something), but Tom was the only one who really understood. He told Jared that Jensen had saved his life when he met Jamie, and he even said he’d convince Jensen to help Jared.
And okay, Jensen is a little standoffish and reserved, but he at least thinks Jared isn’t a totally lost cause, and even better, he has a plan. They stay at the coffee shop for another half hour, working out the details. Jensen says he wants an idea of what Jared wants to accomplish, so he can plan accordingly.
“Does it have to be a realistic goal?” Jared asks. “Because if I could just choose the fairy tale, happily-ever-after ending where we get married and have three kids and two dogs and live in the suburbs so we can commute to the city for work but still raise our kids with a yard to play in and a porch swing out front where we’d enjoy the summer evenings, I’d totally take it.”
Jensen blinks, and Jared reminds himself that it’s good to think about words before he lets them go rampaging out of his mouth, especially with someone he barely knows. Blushing, he amends, “Or, you know, we could work on me getting another date with her.”
“Yeah,” Jensen says. “I think that would be a good thing to concentrate on first. Before you name your hypothetical children.”
“Come on, I’m not that bad,” Jared protests, although he’s pretty sure Jensen is joking. “I don’t have the children named. And three was just a rough estimate, not a requirement.”
Jensen raises an eyebrow. “And the house in the suburbs with the yard and porch swing?”
“That’s just a possibility,” Jared says. “Something Sandy and I might theoretically choose to have in our theoretical future.”
“And the dogs? Are those theoretical too?”
“Of course,” Jared says. “Well, I mean, they’d have to be big dogs, because dogs that are smaller than cats weird me out. And we’d adopt them from a shelter, not buy them from a breeder, and you can’t just get one, you need two so they have someone to keep them company.” He pauses. “And I might have put a little thought into their names, because wouldn’t it be awesome to have two dogs named Sonny and Rico? They could keep the neighborhood safe from drug cartels. It would be seriously cool.”
Jensen just looks at him.
Jared groans and slides down in his seat. “Okay, okay, I know a have a problem. Stop judging me.”
Jensen laughs. “I’m not judging you. It’s great that you’re thinking big, man. Just - you do know that it’s probably best to keep these things to yourself for now, right?”
“That’s why I need you, to make sure I don’t just run up to Sandy and tell her that I fantasize about owning two Miami Vice dogs with her someday.”
“Yeah, that’s the thing about women,” Jensen says. “I’m pretty sure 99% of them would not find that romantic.”
“Seriously?” Jared asks. “Because co-ownership of a pet is a pretty big thing. It shows a lot of trust in your partner. It’s like adopting a kid together.” He knows he’d think long and hard about getting a pet with a girlfriend, even Sandy. Pets aren’t like the rest of the stuff you can just send back after a breakup - they end up on the streets or in animal shelters, and that’s not fair. “It’d be like me telling her I trust her enough to walk and feed and groom my children.”
“Now that’s romantic.”
Jared sighs. “See? This is what I mean. I know I haven’t been this completely clueless over a woman before. I didn’t spend nights awake trying to figure out what to say to my previous girlfriends, and I never totally ruined a date. There’s just something about Sandy that turns me into an idiot who’s only capable of saying extremely stupid things.” He pauses. “She’s like my Kryptonite. Really hot Kryptonite.”
Jensen clears his throat. “Right. But since you can’t keep her in a lead-lined box for the rest of your lives, you’re going to have to face her.” He flips over a napkin and pulls a pen out of his briefcase. “And the best way to do that is have a plan. We’ll divide it into three parts - the approach, the apology, and the argument. The approach is crucial, because you don’t want her to be busy or stressed or upset when you talk to her, so you’ll have to read her body language to make sure she wants to talk to you. The apology is where you tell her what an idiot you are, and the argument is where you’re going to convince her she should give you another chance.”
Jensen’s even sketching a diagram to go with his explanation, and Jared tries to follow the convoluted arrows for a second before completely giving up. “Dude, I thought this was just something you were doing as a favor for Tom,” he interrupts. “I didn’t know you had a whole scientific method for dating.”
“It never hurts to be methodical,” Jensen says defensively. “I’m just a very organized person.”
“Okay,” Jared says, taking a deep breath. “Hit me. Let’s plan this thing.”
* * *
The plan they come up with isn’t foolproof, but Jensen thinks it’s pretty close. If Jared just follows the outline they made and applies a liberal amount of charm, he should be fine. He insists he needs Jensen there, though, so Jensen finds himself in the library after work, wandering through the stacks in search of his advisee. He’s not sure if he’s supposed to be Jared’s moral support or emergency rescue or icebreaker, but whatever. He kind of wants to see the whole plan in action, anyway, because he has a feeling Jared might go off-script without warning, and that could cause trouble. He might need Jensen doing those air traffic control signals in the background to avoid completely embarrassing himself.
That possibility only looks more likely when Jensen finds Jared, at a circular table near the front desk, and sees what he’s doing.
Jared looks up from his book with a smile when Jensen sits down across from him. “Hey.”
“Hi,” Jensen says. “What’re you reading?”
Jared glances down like he’s surprised to find out there’s a book in front of him. “Oh, I don’t really know. It was on the table when I got here. I was just pretending to be reading while I was watching for Sandy.”
“Good plan,” Jensen says, taking the book. “Except you should probably read the cover first.” He shows Jared where it says Blow His Mind (and more!): Fifty Ways to Wow Your Man in Bed in hot pink letters.
“Oh,” Jared says, blushing.
“Yeah,” Jensen says. “Probably not the best signal to be sending when you’re asking a girl for a date.”
Jared drops his head down onto his folded arms. “I think I’m seriously cursed.”
“You’re not,” Jensen says, pushing the book aside. “If she walked up when you were in the middle of reading it, then I’d say you were cursed. As it is, I just think you might have some bad karma.”
“I did steal a traffic cone on a dare during my freshman year of college,” Jared says thoughtfully. “You think that’s coming back to haunt me?”
“Definitely,” Jensen replies. “Heinous crimes against humanity like that never go unpunished. You’ll probably be struck down by lightning soon and fast-tracked to hell.”
Jared laughs. “Yeah, probably. And there were so many things I wanted to do with my life.”
Jensen lifts up the book. “Like finding out how to give a man a mind-blowing orgasm?” He leafs through a few pages. “In case you were wondering, putting the condom on with your mouth adds an extra-sexy touch to any foreplay.”
Jared chokes, and of course, it’s right at that moment that Sandy walks by their table. She was clearly intending to talk to Jared, already slowing down, but she stutters to an awkward stop when she hears what they’re discussing.
Jensen revises his opinion on Jared being cursed.
“Hey, Sandy!” Jared says loudly, like he can ignore the whole thing if he smiles bright enough.
“Um, hi,” Sandy says. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I was just wondering if we could talk for a minute.”
“Yeah, no problem,” Jared says eagerly. “You’re not interrupting at all, we were just…” He gives Jensen a pleading look.
“Uh, we were just reading this screenplay someone wrote for a creative writing class I’m in,” Jensen ad-libs awkwardly, shoving the book under his folded arms. “People write the weirdest stuff, huh?”
“Oh, you’re a writer?” Sandy asks politely.
“Are you kidding?” Jared asks, before Jensen can reply. “He’s amazing. He wrote this one story that was funny and sad and touching, all at the same time. He’s like the next…uh. The next really great writer.”
Jensen glares at Jared, but nods and smiles when Sandy looks his way. “Yeah, but I don’t write about giving men great orgasms or sexy ways to put condoms on,” he says, just to clarify. “That’s the other people in my class.”
Sandy blinks, and Jensen starts to think that him coming along on this thing is really not helping Jared at all. He decides to shut up now, and just stick to hand signals.
“Anyway,” Jared says quickly, “You wanted to talk?” He stands up and motions to a quieter area, away from the crowded tables, and Sandy walks ahead of him. Before he follows, he sends Jensen a glare, which Jensen assumes means something like Dude, you’re supposed to be helping me, not convincing her I have crappy taste in friends.
Jensen shrugs helplessly, and shoos him toward Sandy with a weak thumbs-up. Jared shakes his head, but goes.
* * *
Sandy’s still pretty weirded out by the conversation she stepped into, but she listens to Jared’s explanation for the disaster that was their date, and she accepts his apology. Her demeanor softens a little when Jared explains just how nervous he was, even though she tells him he shouldn’t have been, that she just wanted to get to know him, not evaluate him.
Jared’s more than relieved that she’s not still angry, so he cautiously asks if he can make it up to her with dinner. She considers it for a long, terrifying second, but then she nods, and Jared can barely keep his elation from spiraling to inappropriate levels. It would be really bad to pick her up and hug her right now, he reminds himself. Jensen would not approve.
Sandy suggests a restaurant she likes, something fancy that Jared’s only heard of, but he’d take her to the middle of the desert for freshly-squeezed cactus juice if that was what she wanted, at this point, so he agrees and lets her choose the date and time.
It’s still hard to contain his excitement, and he slips a little when Sandy writes her cell phone number down on the back of someone’s receipt, grabbing her fingers for a quick squeeze when she hands him the scrap of paper.
She looks a little startled, but smiles before excusing herself to get back to work. Jared nearly bounds across the room back to Jensen, because this is officially the best day of his life. Every fear he had about Sandy totally hating him is gone, and he’s got a date with her in four days, which will be the perfect chance to convince her that he’s an awesome guy that she wants to marry and own two vice cop dogs with. In less than 96 hours, he’ll be sitting at a table with her in a romantic restaurant, leaning over the candlelit dinner to say something clever, and she’ll be smiling at him adoringly, maybe even holding his hand, looking absolutely gorgeous in a fancy dress, and -
But that’s where Jared’s brain hits a snag, because he can picture Sandy perfectly, hair up in an elegant twist and curves sheathed in something silk or satin, but when he turns his mind’s eye to himself, all he can see is a giant blank.
“Jared?” Jensen interrupts, hovering anxiously. “How did it go?”
“Good,” Jared says woodenly.
“She said yes? Awesome!” Jensen lifts a palm for a high-five, but Jared pushes his hand down and says, “Not awesome, because I’m totally screwed.”
“What? Why?”
“Because she wants to go to a fancy restaurant, and I said yes without thinking, and this?” - Jared motions to his button-down, jeans, and sandals - “This is about as fancy as I get.” His voice is rising, but he can’t help it, he’s panicking. “And what am I going to do with my hair? I can spend hours trying to get it to behave, and then as soon as I look away, it just ignores me and does whatever it wants anyway, like some kind of devious cat. And shoes, Jensen! I don’t even know what kind of shoes you wear to a fancy dinner, much less own any!”
Jensen’s mouth has been quirking all through Jared’s diatribe, and he finally loses control and bursts out laughing.
Jared sighs and glares at him. “What?”
“I’m sorry,” Jensen wheezes. “But did you just compare your hair to a cat?”
Jared blushes, shrugging. “I spend a lot of time with animals. I can’t help it.”
“I get that,” Jensen says, wiping his eyes. “But now I can’t stop picturing a cat on your head, and it’s really distracting.”
“Shut up,” Jared says half-heartedly, but he’s smiling. It is kind of funny, especially if you imagine those stubborn little turned-up pieces at the sides making that chirruping “Mrow?” curious cats do. He doesn’t mention that to Jensen, though.
“Okay,” Jensen says, regaining control of himself. “Jared, aside from your seriously weird hair similes, we can fix all that. It’s not a big deal.”
“Really? Even though we only have 96 hours to work with?”
“Really,” Jensen assures him, patting him on the shoulder. “One shopping trip and a haircut, and you’ll be fine.”
“So I didn’t really need to have a breakdown in the middle of the library?” Jared asks sheepishly.
“Well, it was pretty entertaining,” Jensen says. “And I think Sandy enjoyed it as much as I did.”
“What?” Jared’s looking around him in horror when Jensen says, “Just kidding, man. She went in the back room right after you two talked. She missed the entire cat-hair rant.”
“Don’t do that to me!” He smacks Jensen on the shoulder. “Jesus, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“Yeah, well, consider if payback for telling really unconvincing lies about me being a writer. We should probably leave before she really does come back,” Jensen says, and Jared nods, grabbing his jacket from the chair.
Jensen holds up the Blow His Mind book. “You sure you don’t want to check this out?”
“Fuck you,” Jared says, flushing. “You were the one actually reading it - you check it out.”
“I don’t need the help,” Jensen says, winking.
Jared splutters a little at that, totally failing at a comeback, so he just knocks the book out of Jensen’s hand and pushes him toward the door.
* * *
When Jensen actually sees Jared’s closet, however, he starts to think Jared was right to freak out in the middle of the library.
It’s not like Jensen is the most fashion-forward person on the planet. He doesn’t obsessively track every trend or try to stay two steps ahead of the rush, and he has no idea what’s coming out in whose winter line or why fashion shows feature such over-the-top clothing. What he does know, however, is what looks good on people, and how to find something that will flatter a person’s features. It’s not some innate talent or gift, it’s just an awareness of the way clothes fit and how they complement someone’s coloring. Anyone could read a couple of magazines and know the same things, but most men wouldn’t bother.
And Jared looks like he hasn’t bothered with much in the way of fashion in a very, very long time. Jensen doesn’t claim to be any expert on haute couture, but even he can see that Jared’s wardrobe is kind of a disaster. For one thing, it consists entirely of jeans and t-shirts, with the odd sweater or button-down hiding in the mix. The jeans, which come in states of wear varying from ‘mostly intact’ to ‘paper thin’, are all of the baggy, shapeless, impersonal variety, and the t-shirts are either random or meant to be funny. Jensen appreciates the humor of The Simpsons, but that doesn’t mean Homer’s witticisms should be plastered on anyone’s chest, especially not anyone over the age of twelve.
Basically, what it amounts to, is that if Jared wants to go anywhere less casual than his apartment or a college campus, he’s got nothing to wear.
When he points this out, Jared just shrugs. “I work all day with animals,” he points out. “Then I come home and live with animals. It doesn’t make sense to own nice clothes when they’re just going to get puked or drooled or shed on anyway.”
“Are you telling me you purposely buy ugly clothes so you don’t care when they get ruined?” Jensen asks. “’Cause that’s actually kind of a relief.”
“I don’t own ugly clothes,” Jared protests.
Jensen leans in and pulls out a brown shirt with random colorful shapes that looks like it could be a fingerpainting project in some first grade class. “Jared, this shirt is so ugly that it makes Dick Cheney look like Miss America.”
“It’s unique! It’s original.”
“It’s terrifying. It looks like some kind of sewing machine experiment gone freakishly wrong. I think Dr. Frankenstein might have been behind its design.”
“It’s not a monster!” Jared argues, clutching the shirt protectively. “And besides, Frankenstein’s monster was just misunderstood, not evil.”
Jensen raises an eyebrow. “I think you missed some parts of that story.”
“He just needed a brain transplant. And to get laid,” Jared says, grinning. “I totally saw the movie.”
“Yeah, well, we’re hoping to get you laid,” Jensen points out, yanking the shirt away. “And that’s not going to happen without some serious shopping. So let’s go.”
* * *
Jared’s restless and awkward at the store, fidgeting when Jensen holds things up against him and wandering off to look at belt buckles or cufflinks or anything shiny every time Jensen turns his back. When Jensen’s finally accumulated an armful of possibilities, including pants that aren’t jeans and shirts that aren’t having identity crises, Jared tries to convince him there’s no need to try any of it on.
“I know my size,” he insists. “So just pick whatever you think will be good, and we’ll be done.”
“First of all, I’m not picking clothes for you,” Jensen feels obligated to clarify. “I’m just suggesting things, and then you can pick what you like or try something else. And second, trying things on is not optional.”
A passing sales assistant gives Jensen a pitying look, obviously used to this sort of conversation. Jensen sighs and puts on his sternest nonnegotiable face.
“But it takes such a long time,” Jared whines. “We’ll be here forever.”
“But you’ll leave with clothes that actually fit you, not a mannequin,” Jensen says. “Dressing room. Now. Go.”
Jared pouts and mutters under his breath, but he takes the pile of clothes and disappears into a changing room.
Jensen leans against the wall near a set of mirrors and waits. He can see Jared’s feet under the stall doors, which allows him to monitor Jared’s exact state of undress. He watches a shirt hit the floor, shoes get kicked off, and jeans slide down, belt buckle thudding against carpet. Then there’s the clanking of hangers and a pair of slacks go on, looking a little ridiculous over Jared’s fuzzy grey socks. Jared’s feet move in front of the mirror, doing a slow three-sixty, and then pause for an awkward shuffle.
“How’s it going?” Jensen calls out.
“Um,” Jared says. “Jensen, are these pants supposed to fit like this?”
“Like what?”
“Like…I don’t know.”
Jensen rolls his eyes. “Well, if you come out here, I could tell you.”
“Uh, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Jared, just get out here.”
He can hear Jared sigh, but then the door swings open, and Jensen’s mouth goes a little dry, because the answer to Jared’s question is yes, a thousand times yes, that is exactly how pants are supposed to fit. Good God.
“Aren’t they kind of tight?” Jared asks, fidgeting uncomfortably. “They’re really kind of tight, Jensen.”
Exactly, Jensen wants to say, but instead, he corrects, “No, they’re just pants that fit a person, instead of a piece of plywood.” He leans around Jared. “Hey, you actually have an ass. I was starting to wonder.”
Jared looks, too, twisting in front of the mirror on the wall next to Jensen. Then his head snaps up. “Wait, you’ve been checking out my ass?”
“How could I?” Jensen asks, smirking. “I only just found out it exists.”
“I have a fabulous ass, I’ll have you know,” Jared says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Michelangelo’s David? He’s got nothing on me.”
“And you’re so modest, too,” Jensen says. “Take your sculpted ass back into the dressing room and try on the other pants.”
Halfway through obeying, Jared turns and says accusingly, “So you are checking out my ass!”
Jensen rolls his eyes.
Jared gets bored halfway through the trying-on process and wanders out into the store, regardless of the fact that he’s barefoot and trailing price tags, claiming he wants to pick out a shirt he actually likes, not the boring choices Jensen picked.
“Boring?” Jensen demands, following Jared from rack to rack. “They’re perfectly nice shirts, Jared. I hate to break it to you, but you are supposed to be the exciting part of this date, not the shirt.”
“They’re all just so - “ Jared flaps his hands. “Shirts need to have character.”
“They really, really don’t,” Jensen protests, because this is how someone ends up with a closet full of monstrosities, and he cannot in good conscience allow Jared out of the store with anything more in questionable pastels or loud patterns.
Jared holds up a silky bright yellow button-down. “See? Like this. This shirt says I’m bold and adventurous.”
“Really? To me, it screams, Help! I was attacked by mustard!” Jensen says. “Or possibly, my cat mistook this for the litterbox. Neither of which is really the impression I think you want to make.”
Jared makes a face. “Come on, it’s not that bad.”
“Jared, one of my ex-boyfriends had a dog that was a mix between a Chihuahua and a Pomeranian and had alopecia,” Jensen says. “And that dog was still less ugly than that shirt.”
“There’s no such thing as an ugly dog,” Jared says automatically, but he puts the shirt back. He traces a hand over the metal rod above it, not looking at Jensen, and asks, “So, you’re gay?”
“Uh, yeah,” Jensen says slowly. All of his friends know, especially Tom, so he hadn’t even thought that Jared might not. “You didn’t - “
“I thought maybe, but I didn’t want to assume,” Jared says quickly. He meets Jensen’s eyes and smirks. “So this is kind of like Queer Eye for the Straight Guy.”
Jensen rolls his eyes. “Well, it would be. But judging by the number of pink shirts in your closet, the straight part is in question.”
“Pink is a good color on me!” Jared says indignantly.
“No offense, Jared, but whoever told you that was blind and stupid, desperate for a commission, or hates you. Maybe all three.”
Jared glares at him. “It was my mom!”
There’s a long, terrifying second where Jensen thinks he might have just crossed a very bad line and he might need to run for his life, but then Jared’s mouth twitches and he bursts out laughing, bumping Jensen’s shoulder with his own.
“I did give her an ironing board for Christmas last year,” he admits, ducking his head. “She was probably trying to find a way to get back at me.” He gives Jensen a stern look. “No more talking smack about my mom, though, or I’ll kick your ass.”
“Deal,” Jensen says. “Now would you pick some shirts that aren’t loud and exciting? Maybe some that say, I’m just here to make this dork look good?”
Jared sticks out his tongue, but turns back to the racks.
* * *
They leave the store two hours later, armed with everything Jared needs to look amazing on his date. His hair is still an issue, though, so even though Jared complains about being exhausted from all the shopping, Jensen drags him to a salon and turns him over to a stylist. He doesn’t know that much about hair, but the stylist nods when he asks if she can do something to maybe make it neater and easier to manage.
Jared starts to look nervous as she sketches out what she can do with her hands, reaching for a scissors to illustrate, and his hand creeps protectively to the back of his head when her fingers near a set of clippers.
“Relax,” Jensen says. “She’s just going to trim it and take a little of the weight off. More wavy, less Wookie.”
“Fuck you,” Jared says, shoving him, but he goes willingly to the chair and lets the stylist tie a cape around his neck. Jensen waves and heads next door for a cup of coffee he desperately needs.
What he’s not expecting, though, is to run into Sandy. But there she is, sitting at a table with a latte and books spread out in front of her, and she looks up right when Jensen picks up his drink, so it’s not like he can walk by.
“Hi,” she says. “You’re Jared’s friend, right? The writer who doesn’t write strange porn?”
Trust her to remember that. “Uh, yeah,” he says. “Jensen.”
“Nice to meet you.”
Jensen nods to the books. “What’s all this?”
She sighs. “Just some studying. I’ve got a big exam coming up, so I thought I’d get some caffeine and reading out of the way at the same time.”
“Nice,” Jensen says awkwardly. “So, I hear you and Jared have a date this week.”
“Yeah,” she says, looking down and then up through her lashes. “Dinner.”
“He’s really excited,” Jensen tells her. “Kind of like a little kid with candy.”
She smiles a little. “I’m just hoping it goes better than the last one.”
“I’m sure it will be,” Jensen rushes to say. “You know, he was just really tired that time, and he picked the wrong thing to do. But I’m sure this time will be great. Jared’s a really good guy.”
“You don’t have to convince me,” Sandy says with a faint smile. “I already agreed to go out with him.”
“Yeah, I just wanted you to know how much he likes you,” Jensen says lamely. He shifts, the coffee heating his fingers uncomfortably through the cardboard cup. “Well, I should go. Have fun studying.”
She nods. “See you.”
* * *
Jensen has to leave after that, of course, so instead of enjoying the peace and quiet of the coffee shop, he goes back to the hair salon and sits in the waiting area, pretending to read some magazine that was sitting on a chair.
He’s actually thinking, because that whole encounter with Sandy was just weird. Maybe he’s just used to Jared and his enthusiasm over everything, but Sandy seemed extremely reserved and not very excited at all about their upcoming date. She could just be one of those people who doesn’t show much in the way of emotion - Jensen’s had people say the same thing about him, so he more than understands - but if that’s true, it seems weird that Jared’s so hung up on her. She doesn’t seem like the type to appreciate exuberant outbursts, which is generally Jared’s primary mode of communication, so to Jensen, it seems like they wouldn’t get along very well.
But maybe she needs to get to know someone before warming up to them, or maybe she was just having a stressful day. Jensen reminds himself that he barely knows anything about her, and that it isn’t up to him to determine her compatibility with Jared. Jared thinks she’s the best thing since the Internet, so Jensen’s going to help him pick the right clothes and say the right things and hopefully win her over.
Besides, why does he care if Jared and Sandy are a perfect match, anyway? Jensen’s just here for the material parts, just doing a favor, and the logistics of their relationship are really none of his business. He doesn’t need to get involved in all this. All right, he likes Jared, but it’s not like they’re best friends or anything. And yeah, he’s noticed that Jared’s maybe a very attractive guy, but that’s just an impersonal observation. It’s objective - Jared has the qualities of a physically pleasing human being. It’s not like Jensen spends a lot of time daydreaming about Jared’s eyes or his smile or has a crush on him or something.
Jared startles him out of his thoughts, sitting down next to him and flicking a page of the magazine on Jensen’s lap. “Didn’t know you were a big Seventeen reader, Jen,” he says.
“What?” Jensen asks, then looks down at the lurid pink cover. Shit. “Oh, uh. Yeah. Well, I have to keep up with all my teen heartthrobs somehow, you know.” He flips it closed. “And the quizzes are so relevant. Apparently that hottie sitting behind me in social studies has totally been checking me out.”
“Oh my God,” Jared says. “You should slip a note in his locker to find out if he likes you.”
“Well, first I have to tell my BFF everything,” Jensen corrects. “And maybe have a sleepover and buy a cute new shirt. But then, yes.”
“Wait, I’m not your BFF?” Jared pouts. “I’m still invited to the sleepover, right?”
“Only if you bring A Walk To Remember and let me give you a makeover.”
Jared cracks up at that. “God, my sister loves that movie, but I can’t watch it without laughing my ass off, which kind of ruins the parts where you’re supposed to be all sad that Mandy Moore’s dying and stuff.” He grins. “And you’re already giving me a makeover, remember?” He shakes his head, which makes his hair fly around.
“Oh, yeah. Hey, it looks good,” Jensen says, tilting his head to see the back.
“It’s awesome!” Jared says, pushing his bangs off his face. “Gloria did something totally amazing that made it not so all over the place, and she put this stuff in that made it really soft.” He leans toward Jensen. “Feel.”
“Uh, that’s okay,” Jensen says, but Jared grabs his hand and plants it on his head, and Jensen can’t help it, he lets his fingers sink in and stroke along Jared’s head. He was right, it’s soft and silky, and Jensen feels something warm curl in his stomach when his fingers catch in the curls at the back of Jared’s neck, bringing their faces closer together.
Jared just grins, though, bright and friendly, and Jensen reminds himself that he’s not actually a seventeen-year-old girl, and he doesn’t have a crush on Jared. He’s just observing, impersonally and objectively, that Jared has really nice, really soft hair, that feels good under his hands. That’s all.
Jared goes up to pay for his haircut, and Jensen groans. He needs help.
Part Two