Fic: Maybe This Time 1/? (Jensen/Jared)
Fandom: Supernatural J2
Pairing: Jensen/Jared (plus, Tom/Mike and maybe a couple of others off to the side)
Rating: R for this part -- Wordcount: 6,800
Warnings: College!AU, UST, boys not getting along
Notes: I'm writing plot. I'm totally freaking out. I may be having an identity crisis.
Summary - There are worse things than being a freshman stuck in the senior dorm. Having three awesomely hot roommates, one of whom can't stand you? Well, that's a whole different ballgame.
Now with Spanish translation by akeste6
There are worse things than being a freshman stuck in the senior dorm. Nuclear warfare, for example. Or dying of scurvy. Or being trapped in a tank filled with two inches worth of hydrochloric acid so you're slowly eaten away from the feet up - and Jared's never going to listen to Chad's ideas for the next Saw movie again... he means it this time!
But yeah, definitely worse things. It's a quad suite after all, so he'll have his own room - even if it is the size of a broom closet - and he'll only be sharing the bathroom with his three roommates instead of the whole floor, so that's awesome. Plus they'll have a kitchen and living room with a TV, so yeah, sweetness. And any second now Jared's going to work up the courage to stop staring at the peeling blue paint on their door and actually go inside.
None of his roommates had moved in yet when Jared's parents had helped him put his stuff in their bland, echoingly-empty room early this morning and they still hadn't arrived by the time he walked his family back to their car and pried his weeping mother off of his chest with assurances that he'd take care of himself and that he knew pizza wasn't a food group and that he'd call at least every other day. He'd gone and picked up his class list and all of his books and supplies at the campus bookstore but now he's pretty much run out of excuses to avoid the dorm any longer and the giant bag of books slung over his arm is kind of heavy.
They're in there now - Jared can hear them through the door, deep voices talking and laughing easily above the soft beat of music. Seriously, any second now, he's gonna go in.
Any second.
Oh fuck this. Jared's a nice guy, a people person, and he's not fucking scared of three senior guys. Either they like him or they don't; they have to share space, not be best friends. Worst case scenario, he can stay in his room and just avoid them for most of the year.
The door slides halfway free when he pushes and he has to shoulder it the rest of the way open with the squeal of metal on metal as the old hinges complain. He nearly tumbles to the floor when it finally gives way, text books hitting the ground with a carpet-muffled thud.
He knows he's screwed pretty much instantly.
Jared's not a loser, ok? He was actually pretty popular in high school; on the soccer team, the newspaper and in drama club. The thing is, he went to magnet school, like a serious one; the kind where you're pretty much guaranteed to get into you first choice college on the school's credentials alone, even if you're only number four in the class. So suffice to say, there weren't a lot of parties or hanging out under the bleachers or whatever the hell regular high schoolers did because that shit could tank your college applications if you got caught doing anything even remotely illegal or against school policy - which means Jared's pretty much the definition of goody-two-shoes by default. And the guy standing in the middle of the living room, staring as Jared fumbles with his books? Definitely not a goody-two-shoes.
The guy is... well, ok, he's hot. Go ahead and get that out of the way because it's kind of distracting as hell. In fact, he's basically the prettiest person Jared's ever seen in real life, male or female. But yeah, not the important part. The important part is the steel-shine of a barbell glinting above disarmingly green eyes, another spanning the cartilage of one ear, not to mention the dark lines of a tattoo across the tight, rippling bicep peeking out from below his tattered grey t-shirt.
This is going to end badly.
Hot Badboy Guy looks Jared up and down for a few seconds, disapproving gaze like a physical weight - why did he decide to wear the pink shirt today? - before he opens up those pillowy lips of his - holy fucking hell, those things should have a porn channel dedicated to them... which is not something Jared needs to be thinking about the guy he's going to be living with all year long and who obviously already dislikes him - and shouts "New meat's here!"
There's a loud crashing from behind the closed door to Jared's far right, while a shiny bald head leans out from one of the open doors across the room. The bald guy smiles broadly - and, hey, he's also hot - like Jared's his favorite person in the whole world. The door to the far right jerks open suddenly, interrupting whatever obviously enthusiastic greeting Bald Dude was about to make as the sound of a steady guitar melody flows out of the room. Leaning with his hands braced on the doorframe like he'd just escaped the pits of hell is another guy, good looking too - wow, what are the freakin' odds? - with spiky, dishwater blond hair and the bluest eyes Jared has ever seen. Those eyes are sharp on Jared, surveying him hungrily and Jared feels himself swallow reflexively and take a step back.
A peal of laughter shakes Jared out of the intensity of the blue-eyed stare, jolting him back to reality when a hand slaps down on his shoulder. It's Bald Dude, still smiling and even better looking up close. This could be a very long year.
"Don't mind Mish," Bald Dude stage whispers, giving Jared a conspiratorial wink, "it's been, like, three hours since he got laid, he's getting desperate. I'm Mike. Hannibal Lecter over there is Misha and the human pincushion is Jensen."
The pierced dude, Jensen, looks sufficiently non-plussed but Jared's not really sure if that's about the pincushion remark or about Jared himself - those green eyes haven't left his face the whole time.
"Jared Padalecki," Jared nods and extends his hand which Bald Dude - Mike - shakes heartily.
"Okay, that one's gonna take some practice," Mike grins.
"What was that, again?" a deep voice inquires from way too close to Jared's ear. He jerks back instinctually so he isn't quite nose to nose with Misha's intense blue stare when he turns around. Man, these guys walk quietly - what are the chances Jared somehow got placed in a room with supermodel ninjas?
Jared clears his throat, trying to regain a little composure before he repeats, "Padalecki".
"I'm sorry?" Misha asks again, head cocked inquisitively to the side.
Jared repeats his last name slowly, going heavy on the enunciation - he's had years of practice teaching people his name. Except Misha doesn't seem to be paying much attention to anything but Jared's mouth, a slightly dazed smile on his face as he watches Jared form the word again.
"Misha, stop perving on the kid's tongue," Jensen growls, flopping down on the ratty couch in the middle of the room, staring at the electronic snow on the TV. He clearly couldn't be less interested in Jared's name or his mouth.
The unjustified rush of disappointment is quickly overcome by the heat of a blush rushing into his cheeks at the realization that this guy he just met had probably been imagining him doing obscene things with his tongue.
"Oh my God, you blush. That's precious," Mike's arm settles around Jared's shoulder and he hands over the last of Jared's spilled textbooks before he begins steering him toward the room Jared had claimed as his own that morning. "And don't worry, we'll protect your tender virtue from Misha. We all agreed to no roommate fucking!" The last part is shot over his shoulder to where Misha is climbing onto the couch beside Jensen, both of them searching the worn beige cushions for the remote since Jensen seems to have suddenly decided static wasn't all that rivetting.
"Like you can talk," Jensen grumbles, peering underneath the couch in search.
"Don't know what you mean, Jenny." Mike eyelashes bat innocently and Jared does a piss poor job of covering a snicker, but it just earns him a grin from the man next to him.
"Call me Jenny and I'll beat your ass, newbie," Jensen glares at Jared, finger pointed in warning and it occurs to him abruptly that that's the first thing the green eyed man has actually said directly to him. "Beat yours too, Mike."
"Yeah, yeah, heard that before." Mike leans against the wall next to Jared's door, still grinning good-naturedly up at him. "So listen, you got anything going this afternoon?"
Jared fidgets with his books, nearly dropping them again when he goes to run his fingers through his hair. He's still kind of reeling from suddenly meeting all three guys and trying to figure out what the hell's going on and how he's supposed to act and is too caught up in the overwhelming rush of it to put much thought in before he says, "Um, no, not exactly..."
"Awesome," Mike enthuses with another clap on Jared's shoulder, "Then drop your stuff off, and get ready for a night of greatness."
"And what qualifies as greatness?" Jared takes step inside his own tiny room, settling the books down on the end of his bare mattress, nearly tripping on the mess of his bags still in the floor. Mike stays just on the outside of the door and Jared finds oddly that he likes the man a little better for not just letting himself into Jared's personal space.
"The holy trinity - beer, pizza and sports! Plus, you'll get to meet my boy toy." Mikes eyes sparkle for a second before they unexpectedly narrow. "That's not a problem for you, right? The gay thing? Because if so, say now, or you're going to have a pretty miserable year around here."
Jared has no idea what to make of that, but he's instantly curious. Are all three of his roommates gay? And how the hell is he going to shut off the running stream of porn featuring the three of them now playing out in his head?
"No. No, not at all," he manages to choke out, sounding only mildly flustered but still blushing fiercely, "I just... you talk really fast."
Mike eyes him for another few seconds, searching Jared face. Then just as fast as it came, the suspicion's gone and Mike spills out a laugh, "Yeah, I guess so. So, come on, get rid of that crap and get out here. If we hurry we can order pineapple on all of the pizzas and watch Jensen turn surly."
Mike melts back into the living room where Jensen and Misha seem to have found the remote since Jared can hear one of the local news anchors talking about the start of football season. He rustles through his bags - most of them just black garbage bags stuffed full with three or four times the clothes he could ever need because his mother insisted - and realizes halfway through one, tossing a pair of black dress pants over his shoulder, that not only did he just agree to hang around with a bunch of guys he literally just met but is also actively stressing about what to wear.
Between that and the uncontrollable realization of how seriously hot his roommates are - even creepy Misha, and God, but he’s going to need some serious shower time if he’s going to keep from popping wood like a fourteen year old this year - Jared has officially hit his girly quota for the day, so he throws on a hoodie over his stupid pink shirt and heads to the living room, shutting his door behind him.
***
Jensen knew it from the very first moment he laid eyes on Jared Fucking Padalecki - he wanted to irreparably sully that kid. It was something about the honest, puppy-dog eyes and that imminently rufflable hair and those goddamn farmboy, slice of Americana dimples that just said 'sure, Mr. Stranger-man, I'd love some candy' and it went directly to Jensen's cock. Yes, it's probably twelve different kinds of fucked up, but it's the truth, and if you can't be honest with your dick, who can you be?
It's all kind of a problem too, because Mike wasn't joking about the 'no roommate fucking' agreement - that was the whole reason the school had refused to let Tom room with them in the first place - and, well, Jensen's not exactly Captain Relationship and the kid's a freshman and all so who knows how he'd handle being a casual fuck for his older, mostly-straight roommate.
All of this, of course, is completely neglecting the fact that Jensen doesn't know if the kid is even open for business on the cock side of the street, but then, like Misha says, everybody's a little bit bi... or maybe that's just everybody Jensen knows.
Either way, it would kind of suck to alienate the guy since Mike and Misha are already getting pretty attached to the little - okay, giant - fucker. You'd think somebody had just handed them a puppy or something, excited as they are.
Of course, Misha he gets; Misha is, to quote, 'sexually omnivorious' and Jared's pretty fucking hot even without the sully-able factor so Mish probably would have been all over him no matter what. Mike's so stupid in love with Tom, though, that there's no freakin’ way he's thinking about doing the new kid dirty and he still looks like he's ready to adopt Jared and buy him some shiny new chew-toys.
It's weird and confusing because, historically, their little group isn't the friendliest to newcomers - hell it took almost a year of living together for Mike to become an official part of their Friday night plans.
And, yeah, maybe Jensen's being kind of a dick about the whole thing, but it's pretty much be a douche or molest the newbie - how can the guy have that much charisma just sitting there, fucking breathing? - and the more he thinks about it, the more Jared pisses him off.
Who the hell is he to just walk in a make everybody like him? Jensen's worked for years to build his group of friends - went through the whole 'I may be gay' drama with Misha when they were goddamn eleven years old! - and there's no fucking way in the world it's right that this new guy can just step in and charm the pants off of everybody without putting in any of the work. It's... it's fucking manipulative is what it is! ... Somehow. Whatever, Jensen's not happy about it and he's not going to just give in to whatever mojo the kid's got working, unlike the sheep his roommates have somehow turned into.
They're all lounging around the living room; Jensen, Tom and Mike taking up the school-supplied couch while Misha crouches on his honest-to-God transparent blue inflatable chair and Jared sprawls his too-long-to-be-allowed limbs across the nubbly brown carpet - Jensen suspects it might have been beige once like the rest of the room. The empty pizza boxes lay dejectedly in the corner - including the pineapple topped one which he know Mike only got to screw with him even though nobody, except for apparently Jared the Wonder Boy, even likes fruit on their pizza - while the empty beer bottles lay pretty much everywhere else.
The kid had even refused a fucking beer until Mike had forced it on him, which was as close to cardinal sin as Jensen could imagine; thou shalt not turn down free beer. The noob has officially made his shit list.
A fair portion of their time - their 'guy's night' time, their 'hang out and reconnect after a long summer apart' time, definitely not their 'let's squee like teenage girls about how cute the new freshman is' time - has been spent asking Jared inane personal questions, so it's not a complete shocker when Mike finally gets around to one of his 'big three' make or break friendship issues.
“Alright, Jay-bird,” Mike says around a mouthful of pizza - he's all class - sweeping his free arm across the back of the sofa behind Tom's shoulders, “this is quite possibly the single most important question you will answer in your entire college career, so think carefully before you answer.” Tom smiles encouragingly and Jensen rolls his eyes and goes to get another beer while Misha watches the proceedings with that calculated intensity that can still make Jensen's skin crawl, even after all these years. “How do you feel… about The Lord of the Rings?”
Jared’s just stares for a few seconds like he's expecting somebody to tell him it's a joke. His eyes flicker briefly to Jensen, and he has to distract himself from the instantaneous, ridiculous, protective instinct those searching eyes bring out in him by cracking open his beer on the blue plastic countertop. Maybe the guy's, like, magic or something. Or maybe Jensen should stop after this beer.
Jared clears his throat a little before he manages to tentatively answer, “I’ve read it seven times.”
The room remains completely silent, whole conversations taking place in the exchange of heated looks and Jared ducks his head, obviously knowing that he may have just gotten himself labeled as an irredeemably loser. Then Tom’s voice calmly breaks through the quiet, fixing Mike with a steady gaze.
“Mike, we had a good run, but I simply cannot deny this powerful connection to my soulmate.” Tom slides onto the floor carpet next to Jared, one thickly muscled arm settling around his narrow waist.
“You realize, Paddywhack, this means war.” Mike says it with the utmost solemnity but his eyes are sparkling.
“Don’t worry about him, baby,” Tom coos, petting over Jared’s chest with one of his giant hands, “it’s just you and me now. It’ll be so refreshing to be with someone who’s an appropriate height for me.”
“Oh that’s it, Welling, your ass is mine.” Mike launches himself off of the couch and Tom vaults over Misha's chair, before they both end up tumbling to the ground with a thump that's probably going to get somebody calling the RA.
“Wait, wait, wait. We need to settle this now,” Misha holds up his hand firmly, dragging their attention away from the impromptu wrestling match that's ended with Mike held firmly in a headlock, Tom’s knuckles rubbing in little pink patch on his boyfriend’s scalp. “Jared - straight, gay or bi?”
It's such a Misha thing to do - wait around for hours trying to suss the kid out and then finally just come right and ask him in no uncertain terms, in front of God and everybody. Jensen barely restrains the urge to hug Misha for making the new guy look so uncomfortable. Jared's bright pink again - which is not cute, no matter what Mike says - and those long, spidery fingers of his slide up into the thatch of wavy softness - not that Jensen's imagining what Jared's hair would feel like - before he grins unsteadily.
“None of the above. I’m asexual, like Godzilla.”
“Dude," Misha says darkly, but Jensen catches the glimmer in his eye - well, so much for Misha just wanting to fuck the kid and forget about him - "you did not just reference the remake.”
“What?" Jared shrugs, mock-naively "I like the idea of Ferris Bueller taking down Godzilla.”
“Now there’s a movie I’d watch!” Mike enthuses, finally slipping free of Tom's grip only to shove the larger man off balance and rush across the room to use Jared as human shield.
That devolves rapidly into a heated debate over the best Godzilla movie, which then slides into monster movies in general and then somehow into a discussion of whether pineapple is, in fact, a morally reprehensible pizza topping - which it clearly is. It doesn't escape Jensen's notice that Jared never actually answered the question - he knew the kid was manipulative.
***
It's edging toward one in the morning, which doesn't seem so late for a college student, but Jared's not quite sure what to do except go to bed. Mike and Tom - who are so cute together Jared thought for a minute he was going to be physically ill - abandoned them half an hour ago, and Jared's suddenly really glad Jensen's room is between his and Mike's because he doesn't even have to strain his imagination to figure out what those sounds are all about. Misha hung out a little while longer - he's kind of like a particularly finicky cat, oscillating between stifling affection and intense, watchful silence but, in a weird way, it's growing on Jared; he's always been an animal lover - before slinking into his room and turning up his music.
Which leaves Jared and Jensen alone to pick up the mess of beer bottles - he's pretty sure there's a rule about drinking in the dorms, but since it's mostly seniors in the building, no one seemed to care that Tom walked all the way up to the third floor with a case of Corona on his shoulder.
Jensen is really a quandary, even more than Misha. Jared's at least pretty sure that Misha likes him; he gets the impression Jensen may be imagining him in various states of brutal murder. The guy seems nice enough really, at least with his friends. Once they settled in with the food and beer and the game started, Jensen was all smiles and jokes - a dry wit, but quick and smart - and seemed completely in his element, not at all the gruff tough-guy Jared had imagined him as. In fact, if it wasn't for the way Jensen kept looking at him in variations of 'fuck off and die' Jared would probably like him.
Actually, he's not entirely sure he doesn't like him anyway, although that's might just be because Jensen's clothes are in danger of bursting into flame from trying to contain all of that hotness. Then again, it might be his lack of beer-drinking expertise catching up with him.
Still, Jared's a friendly guy, and even though he doesn't automatically get along with everybody he meets, he's never had somebody show the kind of instant dislike for him that Jensen's been throwing his way all night. If Jared was smart, he would take it as a signal to shut the hell up and leave the guy alone, but Jared kind of sucks at the awkward silence thing and, well, sure they didn’t have to be friends, but life this year would be a whole lot easier if he and Jensen could just get along.
"So how long have Tom and Mike been together?" he asks. It seems like a nice neutral subject; they both like Tom and Mike. Jensen glares at him though and Jared's pretty sure his sneakers may have melted to the floor under the heat of it.
"Forget about it, newbie, not gonna happen," he says flatly, shoving the last beer bottle into the recycling bin.
That may actually be the longest single phrase Jensen's spoken to him. Now if only he knew what the fuck it meant. "What?"
"The guys might joke around about shit like that, but they're totally gone for each other and nobody's getting in the way of that." His tone makes it pretty clear that Jensen would be more than willing to defend the integrity of Tom and Mike's relationship with his fists if it came to it. His stare makes it pretty clear he'd enjoy it.
"Whoa, whoa! No, that's not what I- I was just making conversation, man." Jared holds up his hands innocently as Jensen stalks past.
Somewhere in the middle of the room, the other man seems to stall out. Jared can't really blame him; if the racket Tom and Mike are making is that loud from out here, he doesn't really want to know what it will sound like in Jensen's room, but staying out here means that Jensen actually has to deal with him and he seems to be really struggling between those two evils.
"Look, whatever I did that pissed you off, I'm sorry," Jared says, chin held up; because, damnit, he can be the bigger man, even if he is pretty sure he didn't do anything at all to justify Jensen's distaste.
"Dude, seriously, back off," Jensen warns as Jared tries to take a affable step forward. And the glare-a-thon continues. "Just because everybody else wants to buy you a friendship bracelet and braid your hair, doesn't mean we're gonna be best-buds. We share a wall, end of story."
The annoyance that has been mellowing under Jared's skin all night bubbles to the surface. Usually he's a pretty calm and collected guy, one who would laugh this kind of shit off. Something about Jensen, though, is climbing right under his skin and slamming each and every one of his buttons. It's one thing if Jensen doesn't like him, but he doesn't have to get antagonistic about it. It's not like Jared can help it if Jensen's friends like him better than some sulky, sullen pseudo-punk who can’t even bother with common manners.
Almost immediately he feels bad for even thinking it. Jensen and his friends are obviously close, and Jared did kind of walk in and hog the spotlight tonight. He hadn't exactly tried to bring Jensen into things either, so maybe this is just Jensen's way of acting out, maybe he just needs a little reassurance that Jared’s not going to swoop in and steal all of his friends or something stupid like that.
"It's not a big deal or anything, you know," he says softly, trying to paste his usual, easy smile on his face, "I'm just the shiny new toy, they'll probably get tired of me by next week." He shrugs and tries for a laugh but the wry grin that spreads across Jensen's pretty face makes him want to look down and check that he didn’t just stick his leg in a bear trap.
"You think I'm jealous?" Jensen chuckles humorlessly, sauntering right into Jared's personal space - which seems completely unfair after he got all snappy with Jared just a minute ago. "No really, you think that I am jealous of you? In your dreams fresh-meat."
It's a wildly inappropriate time to notice that Jensen smells really good; a hint of something clean and citrusy, maybe an aftershave, underlined by the earthy warmth of coffee and something indistinct that he suspects is just Jensen himself. Or that he has little gold flecks in the green of his eyes, or the sugar-fine dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks. And it's a really really shitty time to notice that he moisturizes his gorgeous lips, because they're smooth and full and kissable, none of the rough skin tags that so often mark Jared's own. It all kind of distracts from the fact that Jensen just pretty seriously insulted him until the moment to stomp out in outrage has already past.
So instead he shoves at Jensen's broad shoulders, ignoring the warm firmness of muscles under his hands, and shoves the smaller man, making him stumble backward into the couch.
In retrospect, that was probably a really bad idea because Jensen looks pretty built and Jared’s never actually been in a real fight before. Jensen's eyes flash, molten ager underneath the pools of green, but luckily for Jared, he reins it in just as fast. The sneer he directs Jared's way seems more than justified after that, even if it does make him kind of regret that Jensen didn't start anything - it might just be worth the ass kicking he'd surely take just to get one good shot in right now.
"Touch me again, and I'll make you bleed, kid," Jensen says, and there's no doubt in Jared's mind it's a promise.
He watches the smaller man trudge angrily into his room, the sound of the jamb-rattling door slam momentarily drowning out the noises Tom and Mike are still making.
With a pissed off snort that sounds ineffectual even to Jared, he follows suit, making sure to slam his door just as loudly.
***
"Come on, he can't be that bad," Daneel sighs, twirling her straw the mound of whipped cream on top of her frappuccino.
"And yet, he is." Jensen wipes ferociously at the same brown spot on the counter he's been trying to scrub away for the last couple of minutes. Things are pretty quiet this time of morning, only a couple of early risers brave enough to trek down to the campus bookstore for their morning caffeine jolt. Jensen's already knocked back three espresso shots to get himself into gear this early, but now he's got all of this pent up energy pinging around in his system and nothing to do with it but clean every last inch of the coffee counter.
For right now it's just him and Genevieve splitting the shifts, so he's stuck here with nothing to do while she has an early poli-sci class. But even with the morning shifts, things aren’t usually too bad - Jensen actually likes his job. He's a self-admitted coffee addict - but hey, there are worse things, right? - so the fact that he gets to scam all the java he can drink is kind of a dream come true. And he knows a lot of people get sick of the smell when they work in restaurants and things, but he actually enjoys being able to go home most days smelling like coffee beans and steamed milk; it’s like his own signature scent.
Today though, the job basically sucks ass because the store manager - who also happens to have been one of his best friend since high school, which she thinks somehow entitles her to butt into his personal life - has decided to take up for goddamn Jared, like the guy doesn't have enough people singing his praises.
"Because he's good looking and funny and everybody likes him?" Daneel leans across the counter next to the cash register, watching Jensen scrub as she sips on her frilly sugar-bomb.
"Yes!" he snaps back loudly in frustration.
The harried looking girl who's camped out in one of the back booths glares at Jensen over her mound of books. It does absolutely nothing to quench his urge to shout - it's only the first week of school for crying out loud, quit freaking out already!
"You know what he did yesterday?" Jensen continues, turning his back on the super-stresser to glare at his friend who has now perched herself up on his newly cleaned counter. "He used my chin up bar!"
Daneel cocks her head thoughtfully at him, brushing an errant strand of red hair out of her eyes. "The one over your bedroom door?"
"Yes!"
"And he didn't ask you?"
"No!"
"Were you home so he could have asked you?"
Herein lies the downside of having the same friends for years, they can fucking read you. "Well, no, but that doesn't mean he can just use my shit whenever I'm not there."
"Was your bedroom door open?"
"Daneel," Jensen says warningly.
"So, to recap" Daneel deadpans, flipping her legs over the counter so she's now facing Jensen, "while you weren't home, your roommate used the chin up bar over your open bedroom door - which I think technically qualifies as part of the living room anyway - to exercise. That bastard, I can see why you hate him."
"Forget it," Jensen grumbles. Why is it that nobody understands his problem with Jared?
"I don't know, Jen, the guy seemed pretty nice when I interviewed him."
It takes a few seconds for the caffeine-jittery cogs in Jensen's brain to piece that together enough to screech - in a very manly way - "What?"
"Oh yeah," Daneel breezes, "he interviewed for the clerk position on the book side. Did I forget to mention that? Silly me"
"Tell me you didn't." Jensen braces his hands on the counter on either side of her shapely legs, one fist still wrapped up in the dirty cleaning rag. She couldn't have, she wouldn't have!
"Didn't what? Hire the most qualified person for the job?" Daneel arches a perfectly-plucked eyebrow at him, "Yes, I did. He's worked in a bookstore before, couldn't help that he also happens to be your hot-hot roommate."
"Unhire him!" Jensen doesn’t even try to keep the growl out of his voice, for all the good he knows it’s going to do.
"Too late," she says, daintily sliding off of the counter, which puts her several inches shorter than Jensen, not that you'd notice the disadvantage in the way she's grinning, "already processed his paperwork. Can't fire him without cause."
"Why do you hate me?"
"Jen," Daneel sighs, leaning back next to the cash register and fixing him with her most powerful 'you're being an ass' stare. Which does not make Jensen flinch, not even a little. "You have talked about literally nothing else since this guy moved in - how he laughs, the stuff he wears, the way he hums in the shower which I don't even want to know how you know - it was kind of a pain in the ass until I actually saw him.” She gives him a soft smile which just makes Jensen’s boil boil even harder - he doesn’t need fucking pity! “I get it, okay? Just bone him and put us all out of our misery or else back off and let somebody else have a crack at that sweet ass."
"I don't want to bone him," Jensen glares right back at her. Because really, he doesn't. At all.
She rolls her eyes. "Honey, the espresso machine wants to bone him."
Jensen gives up the whole conversation as a bust and goes back to rubbing away at the stubborn ass sonofabitching brown spot on the counter. "He's probably straight, anyway."
"As if that's ever been an obstacle for you."
"I'm not interested in Sasquatch!" Stupid fucking spot, Jensen hates it, really hates it, marring his perfect counter, horning its way in on his territory like an inescapable force.
"Of course not." She points imperiously at the brown blemish Jensen's now fanatically scrubbing at, "You know that's a part of the laminate, right?"
Jensen stares down at the little splotch he's been scrubbing at. And an identical one a couple of inches away. And another one over there. Crap.
"Shut up."
"So," Daneel flutters her eyelashes, pouting her glossy lips around the straw of her melting drink, "when he was doing these chin ups, was he shirtless?"
"Fuck off, Daneel," Jensen scowls, giving up on the retardedly spotted counter - how had he never noticed those stupid brown splotches before? - and turns around to arrange the stacks of paper cups into perfect symmetry; in no way thinking about Jared's glistening body pumping up and down on that stupid chin up bar, his muscles bulging and straining with effort.
"Was he all hot and sweaty?" she urges, poking at Jensen's leg with the toe of her sandal, "I bet he's stacked."
"I swear to fucking God, I am not above hitting a girl," he snarls. First thing when he gets back to the room, he's ripping out that goddamn bar.
"Aw, come on, Jenny,” Daneel whines, “paint me a word picture."
Jensen grabs the nearest heavy object his hands find - which turns out to be a blender - and threatens with it ominously.
"Nevermind," she chirps, hands help up placatingly, "the genuine article just walked through the door. Time to ogle!"
Sure enough, walking through the front door in his store-issue powder blue t-shirt - which clings to him in ways that Jensen's pretty sure are illegal in public establishments like this and is clearly not something he picked out himself since he actually looks decent for a change - and glances around searchingly. The early sunlight catches on the summer-blond strands in his mop of brown hair and makes it glitter angelically, the soft highlights of it on his creamy skin accentuating his sharp cheekbones. Jensen wonders when his inner monologue turned into a harlequin novel.
"Kisses!" Daneel tosses over her shoulder, rushing to the front of the store to greet Jared. Fuck it, it's not like Jensen needs friends anyway.
"Burn in hell!" he shouts at her retreating figure, definitely not watching when she skips up the front steps and gets scooped into a completely unprofessional hug by Jared's huge arms as if they've been friends even longer than she and Jensen have.
The harried girl shoots him a look again and Jensen flips her off, dumping Daneel’s abandoned drink in the trash a little harder than strictly necessary.
***
"Burn in hell!" is the first thing Jared hears when he walks into the bookstore, and it's no challenge at all to place that voice. Jensen's never actually yelled at him before, but that sex-and-cigarettes voice in pretty distinctive and, as far as Jared's concerned, the dead knoll for his hopes of finding a little tension-free space at school.
Daneel, the store manager, bounces her way the stairs and Jared scoops her into a big hug automatically - they'd gotten along really well in the interview and he was kind of hoping on them being friends, at least until he saw her talking to Jensen. She giggles into his shoulder and beams up at him once she's back on her feet.
"I hope you know you just doomed yourself," she says wistfully, "From here on in, there will be no more box lifting for me." She winks at him, and some of the knots Jared's intestines have tied themselves in loosen.
The powder blue looks good on her, though he feels like he's on his way to a baby shower or something and the polo feels way too tight, like it's bunching around his torso every time he moves. He has a sneaking suspicion from the way Daneel looks him up and down that that may not be an accident.
"So, Jensen works here?" That wasn't going to be his lead in, he's pretty sure, but he can actually feel the guy glaring at him from halfway across the store and it's throwing him off. Daneel just grin, looking particularly pleased about something Jared's not even going to try and decipher.
"Yeah, Jenny works the coffee station. Do you boys know each other?" she asks innocently, though from the daggers coming out of Jensen's eyes in her direction, Jared figures she probably already knows the answer to that. He wonders how very dead he would be if he actually dared to call his roommate Jenny.
"We live together," he replies as blandly as possible. He doesn't have to get dragged into Jensen's elementary school gossip-warfare, Jared can rise above it and be civil. Probably.
"Oh! You're the new roommate!" Daneel peeps delightedly like it's all news to her. Now that he thinks about it, he's pretty sure she said she was majoring in theatre. "Thank God, for a second I was worried Jen had already snapped you up." She hooks her arm through his as she teases, leading him through the stacks toward the register. "Of course, you two would be a cute couple…"
"Yeah," Jared barks a laugh, "the only way Jensen and I are gonna be a couple is if we get handcuffed together."
"Kinky," Daneel purrs right back, her eyes sparkling with humor, "I like it Jay. You are officially approved." Her hand waves out royally, issuing her edict to the essentially empty store.
He can't stop the genuine laugh that worms its way out of him - he's never been very good at holding onto anger, especially when the object of said anger is currently out of his line of sight. "Approved for what?"
She shrugs, opening the little gate behind the register island to let Jared in. "For whatever," is the simple answer she gives before launching into a spiel about how to work the register and the various codes he needs to know. He get so wrapped up in trying to memorize all of the numbers and buttons and discount codes he almost completely forgets about Jensen brooding, not fifty yards away. Except for how he doesn't, like, at all.
On to Part 2
Pairing: Jensen/Jared (plus, Tom/Mike and maybe a couple of others off to the side)
Rating: R for this part -- Wordcount: 6,800
Warnings: College!AU, UST, boys not getting along
Notes: I'm writing plot. I'm totally freaking out. I may be having an identity crisis.
Summary - There are worse things than being a freshman stuck in the senior dorm. Having three awesomely hot roommates, one of whom can't stand you? Well, that's a whole different ballgame.
Now with Spanish translation by akeste6
There are worse things than being a freshman stuck in the senior dorm. Nuclear warfare, for example. Or dying of scurvy. Or being trapped in a tank filled with two inches worth of hydrochloric acid so you're slowly eaten away from the feet up - and Jared's never going to listen to Chad's ideas for the next Saw movie again... he means it this time!
But yeah, definitely worse things. It's a quad suite after all, so he'll have his own room - even if it is the size of a broom closet - and he'll only be sharing the bathroom with his three roommates instead of the whole floor, so that's awesome. Plus they'll have a kitchen and living room with a TV, so yeah, sweetness. And any second now Jared's going to work up the courage to stop staring at the peeling blue paint on their door and actually go inside.
None of his roommates had moved in yet when Jared's parents had helped him put his stuff in their bland, echoingly-empty room early this morning and they still hadn't arrived by the time he walked his family back to their car and pried his weeping mother off of his chest with assurances that he'd take care of himself and that he knew pizza wasn't a food group and that he'd call at least every other day. He'd gone and picked up his class list and all of his books and supplies at the campus bookstore but now he's pretty much run out of excuses to avoid the dorm any longer and the giant bag of books slung over his arm is kind of heavy.
They're in there now - Jared can hear them through the door, deep voices talking and laughing easily above the soft beat of music. Seriously, any second now, he's gonna go in.
Any second.
Oh fuck this. Jared's a nice guy, a people person, and he's not fucking scared of three senior guys. Either they like him or they don't; they have to share space, not be best friends. Worst case scenario, he can stay in his room and just avoid them for most of the year.
The door slides halfway free when he pushes and he has to shoulder it the rest of the way open with the squeal of metal on metal as the old hinges complain. He nearly tumbles to the floor when it finally gives way, text books hitting the ground with a carpet-muffled thud.
He knows he's screwed pretty much instantly.
Jared's not a loser, ok? He was actually pretty popular in high school; on the soccer team, the newspaper and in drama club. The thing is, he went to magnet school, like a serious one; the kind where you're pretty much guaranteed to get into you first choice college on the school's credentials alone, even if you're only number four in the class. So suffice to say, there weren't a lot of parties or hanging out under the bleachers or whatever the hell regular high schoolers did because that shit could tank your college applications if you got caught doing anything even remotely illegal or against school policy - which means Jared's pretty much the definition of goody-two-shoes by default. And the guy standing in the middle of the living room, staring as Jared fumbles with his books? Definitely not a goody-two-shoes.
The guy is... well, ok, he's hot. Go ahead and get that out of the way because it's kind of distracting as hell. In fact, he's basically the prettiest person Jared's ever seen in real life, male or female. But yeah, not the important part. The important part is the steel-shine of a barbell glinting above disarmingly green eyes, another spanning the cartilage of one ear, not to mention the dark lines of a tattoo across the tight, rippling bicep peeking out from below his tattered grey t-shirt.
This is going to end badly.
Hot Badboy Guy looks Jared up and down for a few seconds, disapproving gaze like a physical weight - why did he decide to wear the pink shirt today? - before he opens up those pillowy lips of his - holy fucking hell, those things should have a porn channel dedicated to them... which is not something Jared needs to be thinking about the guy he's going to be living with all year long and who obviously already dislikes him - and shouts "New meat's here!"
There's a loud crashing from behind the closed door to Jared's far right, while a shiny bald head leans out from one of the open doors across the room. The bald guy smiles broadly - and, hey, he's also hot - like Jared's his favorite person in the whole world. The door to the far right jerks open suddenly, interrupting whatever obviously enthusiastic greeting Bald Dude was about to make as the sound of a steady guitar melody flows out of the room. Leaning with his hands braced on the doorframe like he'd just escaped the pits of hell is another guy, good looking too - wow, what are the freakin' odds? - with spiky, dishwater blond hair and the bluest eyes Jared has ever seen. Those eyes are sharp on Jared, surveying him hungrily and Jared feels himself swallow reflexively and take a step back.
A peal of laughter shakes Jared out of the intensity of the blue-eyed stare, jolting him back to reality when a hand slaps down on his shoulder. It's Bald Dude, still smiling and even better looking up close. This could be a very long year.
"Don't mind Mish," Bald Dude stage whispers, giving Jared a conspiratorial wink, "it's been, like, three hours since he got laid, he's getting desperate. I'm Mike. Hannibal Lecter over there is Misha and the human pincushion is Jensen."
The pierced dude, Jensen, looks sufficiently non-plussed but Jared's not really sure if that's about the pincushion remark or about Jared himself - those green eyes haven't left his face the whole time.
"Jared Padalecki," Jared nods and extends his hand which Bald Dude - Mike - shakes heartily.
"Okay, that one's gonna take some practice," Mike grins.
"What was that, again?" a deep voice inquires from way too close to Jared's ear. He jerks back instinctually so he isn't quite nose to nose with Misha's intense blue stare when he turns around. Man, these guys walk quietly - what are the chances Jared somehow got placed in a room with supermodel ninjas?
Jared clears his throat, trying to regain a little composure before he repeats, "Padalecki".
"I'm sorry?" Misha asks again, head cocked inquisitively to the side.
Jared repeats his last name slowly, going heavy on the enunciation - he's had years of practice teaching people his name. Except Misha doesn't seem to be paying much attention to anything but Jared's mouth, a slightly dazed smile on his face as he watches Jared form the word again.
"Misha, stop perving on the kid's tongue," Jensen growls, flopping down on the ratty couch in the middle of the room, staring at the electronic snow on the TV. He clearly couldn't be less interested in Jared's name or his mouth.
The unjustified rush of disappointment is quickly overcome by the heat of a blush rushing into his cheeks at the realization that this guy he just met had probably been imagining him doing obscene things with his tongue.
"Oh my God, you blush. That's precious," Mike's arm settles around Jared's shoulder and he hands over the last of Jared's spilled textbooks before he begins steering him toward the room Jared had claimed as his own that morning. "And don't worry, we'll protect your tender virtue from Misha. We all agreed to no roommate fucking!" The last part is shot over his shoulder to where Misha is climbing onto the couch beside Jensen, both of them searching the worn beige cushions for the remote since Jensen seems to have suddenly decided static wasn't all that rivetting.
"Like you can talk," Jensen grumbles, peering underneath the couch in search.
"Don't know what you mean, Jenny." Mike eyelashes bat innocently and Jared does a piss poor job of covering a snicker, but it just earns him a grin from the man next to him.
"Call me Jenny and I'll beat your ass, newbie," Jensen glares at Jared, finger pointed in warning and it occurs to him abruptly that that's the first thing the green eyed man has actually said directly to him. "Beat yours too, Mike."
"Yeah, yeah, heard that before." Mike leans against the wall next to Jared's door, still grinning good-naturedly up at him. "So listen, you got anything going this afternoon?"
Jared fidgets with his books, nearly dropping them again when he goes to run his fingers through his hair. He's still kind of reeling from suddenly meeting all three guys and trying to figure out what the hell's going on and how he's supposed to act and is too caught up in the overwhelming rush of it to put much thought in before he says, "Um, no, not exactly..."
"Awesome," Mike enthuses with another clap on Jared's shoulder, "Then drop your stuff off, and get ready for a night of greatness."
"And what qualifies as greatness?" Jared takes step inside his own tiny room, settling the books down on the end of his bare mattress, nearly tripping on the mess of his bags still in the floor. Mike stays just on the outside of the door and Jared finds oddly that he likes the man a little better for not just letting himself into Jared's personal space.
"The holy trinity - beer, pizza and sports! Plus, you'll get to meet my boy toy." Mikes eyes sparkle for a second before they unexpectedly narrow. "That's not a problem for you, right? The gay thing? Because if so, say now, or you're going to have a pretty miserable year around here."
Jared has no idea what to make of that, but he's instantly curious. Are all three of his roommates gay? And how the hell is he going to shut off the running stream of porn featuring the three of them now playing out in his head?
"No. No, not at all," he manages to choke out, sounding only mildly flustered but still blushing fiercely, "I just... you talk really fast."
Mike eyes him for another few seconds, searching Jared face. Then just as fast as it came, the suspicion's gone and Mike spills out a laugh, "Yeah, I guess so. So, come on, get rid of that crap and get out here. If we hurry we can order pineapple on all of the pizzas and watch Jensen turn surly."
Mike melts back into the living room where Jensen and Misha seem to have found the remote since Jared can hear one of the local news anchors talking about the start of football season. He rustles through his bags - most of them just black garbage bags stuffed full with three or four times the clothes he could ever need because his mother insisted - and realizes halfway through one, tossing a pair of black dress pants over his shoulder, that not only did he just agree to hang around with a bunch of guys he literally just met but is also actively stressing about what to wear.
Between that and the uncontrollable realization of how seriously hot his roommates are - even creepy Misha, and God, but he’s going to need some serious shower time if he’s going to keep from popping wood like a fourteen year old this year - Jared has officially hit his girly quota for the day, so he throws on a hoodie over his stupid pink shirt and heads to the living room, shutting his door behind him.
***
Jensen knew it from the very first moment he laid eyes on Jared Fucking Padalecki - he wanted to irreparably sully that kid. It was something about the honest, puppy-dog eyes and that imminently rufflable hair and those goddamn farmboy, slice of Americana dimples that just said 'sure, Mr. Stranger-man, I'd love some candy' and it went directly to Jensen's cock. Yes, it's probably twelve different kinds of fucked up, but it's the truth, and if you can't be honest with your dick, who can you be?
It's all kind of a problem too, because Mike wasn't joking about the 'no roommate fucking' agreement - that was the whole reason the school had refused to let Tom room with them in the first place - and, well, Jensen's not exactly Captain Relationship and the kid's a freshman and all so who knows how he'd handle being a casual fuck for his older, mostly-straight roommate.
All of this, of course, is completely neglecting the fact that Jensen doesn't know if the kid is even open for business on the cock side of the street, but then, like Misha says, everybody's a little bit bi... or maybe that's just everybody Jensen knows.
Either way, it would kind of suck to alienate the guy since Mike and Misha are already getting pretty attached to the little - okay, giant - fucker. You'd think somebody had just handed them a puppy or something, excited as they are.
Of course, Misha he gets; Misha is, to quote, 'sexually omnivorious' and Jared's pretty fucking hot even without the sully-able factor so Mish probably would have been all over him no matter what. Mike's so stupid in love with Tom, though, that there's no freakin’ way he's thinking about doing the new kid dirty and he still looks like he's ready to adopt Jared and buy him some shiny new chew-toys.
It's weird and confusing because, historically, their little group isn't the friendliest to newcomers - hell it took almost a year of living together for Mike to become an official part of their Friday night plans.
And, yeah, maybe Jensen's being kind of a dick about the whole thing, but it's pretty much be a douche or molest the newbie - how can the guy have that much charisma just sitting there, fucking breathing? - and the more he thinks about it, the more Jared pisses him off.
Who the hell is he to just walk in a make everybody like him? Jensen's worked for years to build his group of friends - went through the whole 'I may be gay' drama with Misha when they were goddamn eleven years old! - and there's no fucking way in the world it's right that this new guy can just step in and charm the pants off of everybody without putting in any of the work. It's... it's fucking manipulative is what it is! ... Somehow. Whatever, Jensen's not happy about it and he's not going to just give in to whatever mojo the kid's got working, unlike the sheep his roommates have somehow turned into.
They're all lounging around the living room; Jensen, Tom and Mike taking up the school-supplied couch while Misha crouches on his honest-to-God transparent blue inflatable chair and Jared sprawls his too-long-to-be-allowed limbs across the nubbly brown carpet - Jensen suspects it might have been beige once like the rest of the room. The empty pizza boxes lay dejectedly in the corner - including the pineapple topped one which he know Mike only got to screw with him even though nobody, except for apparently Jared the Wonder Boy, even likes fruit on their pizza - while the empty beer bottles lay pretty much everywhere else.
The kid had even refused a fucking beer until Mike had forced it on him, which was as close to cardinal sin as Jensen could imagine; thou shalt not turn down free beer. The noob has officially made his shit list.
A fair portion of their time - their 'guy's night' time, their 'hang out and reconnect after a long summer apart' time, definitely not their 'let's squee like teenage girls about how cute the new freshman is' time - has been spent asking Jared inane personal questions, so it's not a complete shocker when Mike finally gets around to one of his 'big three' make or break friendship issues.
“Alright, Jay-bird,” Mike says around a mouthful of pizza - he's all class - sweeping his free arm across the back of the sofa behind Tom's shoulders, “this is quite possibly the single most important question you will answer in your entire college career, so think carefully before you answer.” Tom smiles encouragingly and Jensen rolls his eyes and goes to get another beer while Misha watches the proceedings with that calculated intensity that can still make Jensen's skin crawl, even after all these years. “How do you feel… about The Lord of the Rings?”
Jared’s just stares for a few seconds like he's expecting somebody to tell him it's a joke. His eyes flicker briefly to Jensen, and he has to distract himself from the instantaneous, ridiculous, protective instinct those searching eyes bring out in him by cracking open his beer on the blue plastic countertop. Maybe the guy's, like, magic or something. Or maybe Jensen should stop after this beer.
Jared clears his throat a little before he manages to tentatively answer, “I’ve read it seven times.”
The room remains completely silent, whole conversations taking place in the exchange of heated looks and Jared ducks his head, obviously knowing that he may have just gotten himself labeled as an irredeemably loser. Then Tom’s voice calmly breaks through the quiet, fixing Mike with a steady gaze.
“Mike, we had a good run, but I simply cannot deny this powerful connection to my soulmate.” Tom slides onto the floor carpet next to Jared, one thickly muscled arm settling around his narrow waist.
“You realize, Paddywhack, this means war.” Mike says it with the utmost solemnity but his eyes are sparkling.
“Don’t worry about him, baby,” Tom coos, petting over Jared’s chest with one of his giant hands, “it’s just you and me now. It’ll be so refreshing to be with someone who’s an appropriate height for me.”
“Oh that’s it, Welling, your ass is mine.” Mike launches himself off of the couch and Tom vaults over Misha's chair, before they both end up tumbling to the ground with a thump that's probably going to get somebody calling the RA.
“Wait, wait, wait. We need to settle this now,” Misha holds up his hand firmly, dragging their attention away from the impromptu wrestling match that's ended with Mike held firmly in a headlock, Tom’s knuckles rubbing in little pink patch on his boyfriend’s scalp. “Jared - straight, gay or bi?”
It's such a Misha thing to do - wait around for hours trying to suss the kid out and then finally just come right and ask him in no uncertain terms, in front of God and everybody. Jensen barely restrains the urge to hug Misha for making the new guy look so uncomfortable. Jared's bright pink again - which is not cute, no matter what Mike says - and those long, spidery fingers of his slide up into the thatch of wavy softness - not that Jensen's imagining what Jared's hair would feel like - before he grins unsteadily.
“None of the above. I’m asexual, like Godzilla.”
“Dude," Misha says darkly, but Jensen catches the glimmer in his eye - well, so much for Misha just wanting to fuck the kid and forget about him - "you did not just reference the remake.”
“What?" Jared shrugs, mock-naively "I like the idea of Ferris Bueller taking down Godzilla.”
“Now there’s a movie I’d watch!” Mike enthuses, finally slipping free of Tom's grip only to shove the larger man off balance and rush across the room to use Jared as human shield.
That devolves rapidly into a heated debate over the best Godzilla movie, which then slides into monster movies in general and then somehow into a discussion of whether pineapple is, in fact, a morally reprehensible pizza topping - which it clearly is. It doesn't escape Jensen's notice that Jared never actually answered the question - he knew the kid was manipulative.
***
It's edging toward one in the morning, which doesn't seem so late for a college student, but Jared's not quite sure what to do except go to bed. Mike and Tom - who are so cute together Jared thought for a minute he was going to be physically ill - abandoned them half an hour ago, and Jared's suddenly really glad Jensen's room is between his and Mike's because he doesn't even have to strain his imagination to figure out what those sounds are all about. Misha hung out a little while longer - he's kind of like a particularly finicky cat, oscillating between stifling affection and intense, watchful silence but, in a weird way, it's growing on Jared; he's always been an animal lover - before slinking into his room and turning up his music.
Which leaves Jared and Jensen alone to pick up the mess of beer bottles - he's pretty sure there's a rule about drinking in the dorms, but since it's mostly seniors in the building, no one seemed to care that Tom walked all the way up to the third floor with a case of Corona on his shoulder.
Jensen is really a quandary, even more than Misha. Jared's at least pretty sure that Misha likes him; he gets the impression Jensen may be imagining him in various states of brutal murder. The guy seems nice enough really, at least with his friends. Once they settled in with the food and beer and the game started, Jensen was all smiles and jokes - a dry wit, but quick and smart - and seemed completely in his element, not at all the gruff tough-guy Jared had imagined him as. In fact, if it wasn't for the way Jensen kept looking at him in variations of 'fuck off and die' Jared would probably like him.
Actually, he's not entirely sure he doesn't like him anyway, although that's might just be because Jensen's clothes are in danger of bursting into flame from trying to contain all of that hotness. Then again, it might be his lack of beer-drinking expertise catching up with him.
Still, Jared's a friendly guy, and even though he doesn't automatically get along with everybody he meets, he's never had somebody show the kind of instant dislike for him that Jensen's been throwing his way all night. If Jared was smart, he would take it as a signal to shut the hell up and leave the guy alone, but Jared kind of sucks at the awkward silence thing and, well, sure they didn’t have to be friends, but life this year would be a whole lot easier if he and Jensen could just get along.
"So how long have Tom and Mike been together?" he asks. It seems like a nice neutral subject; they both like Tom and Mike. Jensen glares at him though and Jared's pretty sure his sneakers may have melted to the floor under the heat of it.
"Forget about it, newbie, not gonna happen," he says flatly, shoving the last beer bottle into the recycling bin.
That may actually be the longest single phrase Jensen's spoken to him. Now if only he knew what the fuck it meant. "What?"
"The guys might joke around about shit like that, but they're totally gone for each other and nobody's getting in the way of that." His tone makes it pretty clear that Jensen would be more than willing to defend the integrity of Tom and Mike's relationship with his fists if it came to it. His stare makes it pretty clear he'd enjoy it.
"Whoa, whoa! No, that's not what I- I was just making conversation, man." Jared holds up his hands innocently as Jensen stalks past.
Somewhere in the middle of the room, the other man seems to stall out. Jared can't really blame him; if the racket Tom and Mike are making is that loud from out here, he doesn't really want to know what it will sound like in Jensen's room, but staying out here means that Jensen actually has to deal with him and he seems to be really struggling between those two evils.
"Look, whatever I did that pissed you off, I'm sorry," Jared says, chin held up; because, damnit, he can be the bigger man, even if he is pretty sure he didn't do anything at all to justify Jensen's distaste.
"Dude, seriously, back off," Jensen warns as Jared tries to take a affable step forward. And the glare-a-thon continues. "Just because everybody else wants to buy you a friendship bracelet and braid your hair, doesn't mean we're gonna be best-buds. We share a wall, end of story."
The annoyance that has been mellowing under Jared's skin all night bubbles to the surface. Usually he's a pretty calm and collected guy, one who would laugh this kind of shit off. Something about Jensen, though, is climbing right under his skin and slamming each and every one of his buttons. It's one thing if Jensen doesn't like him, but he doesn't have to get antagonistic about it. It's not like Jared can help it if Jensen's friends like him better than some sulky, sullen pseudo-punk who can’t even bother with common manners.
Almost immediately he feels bad for even thinking it. Jensen and his friends are obviously close, and Jared did kind of walk in and hog the spotlight tonight. He hadn't exactly tried to bring Jensen into things either, so maybe this is just Jensen's way of acting out, maybe he just needs a little reassurance that Jared’s not going to swoop in and steal all of his friends or something stupid like that.
"It's not a big deal or anything, you know," he says softly, trying to paste his usual, easy smile on his face, "I'm just the shiny new toy, they'll probably get tired of me by next week." He shrugs and tries for a laugh but the wry grin that spreads across Jensen's pretty face makes him want to look down and check that he didn’t just stick his leg in a bear trap.
"You think I'm jealous?" Jensen chuckles humorlessly, sauntering right into Jared's personal space - which seems completely unfair after he got all snappy with Jared just a minute ago. "No really, you think that I am jealous of you? In your dreams fresh-meat."
It's a wildly inappropriate time to notice that Jensen smells really good; a hint of something clean and citrusy, maybe an aftershave, underlined by the earthy warmth of coffee and something indistinct that he suspects is just Jensen himself. Or that he has little gold flecks in the green of his eyes, or the sugar-fine dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks. And it's a really really shitty time to notice that he moisturizes his gorgeous lips, because they're smooth and full and kissable, none of the rough skin tags that so often mark Jared's own. It all kind of distracts from the fact that Jensen just pretty seriously insulted him until the moment to stomp out in outrage has already past.
So instead he shoves at Jensen's broad shoulders, ignoring the warm firmness of muscles under his hands, and shoves the smaller man, making him stumble backward into the couch.
In retrospect, that was probably a really bad idea because Jensen looks pretty built and Jared’s never actually been in a real fight before. Jensen's eyes flash, molten ager underneath the pools of green, but luckily for Jared, he reins it in just as fast. The sneer he directs Jared's way seems more than justified after that, even if it does make him kind of regret that Jensen didn't start anything - it might just be worth the ass kicking he'd surely take just to get one good shot in right now.
"Touch me again, and I'll make you bleed, kid," Jensen says, and there's no doubt in Jared's mind it's a promise.
He watches the smaller man trudge angrily into his room, the sound of the jamb-rattling door slam momentarily drowning out the noises Tom and Mike are still making.
With a pissed off snort that sounds ineffectual even to Jared, he follows suit, making sure to slam his door just as loudly.
***
"Come on, he can't be that bad," Daneel sighs, twirling her straw the mound of whipped cream on top of her frappuccino.
"And yet, he is." Jensen wipes ferociously at the same brown spot on the counter he's been trying to scrub away for the last couple of minutes. Things are pretty quiet this time of morning, only a couple of early risers brave enough to trek down to the campus bookstore for their morning caffeine jolt. Jensen's already knocked back three espresso shots to get himself into gear this early, but now he's got all of this pent up energy pinging around in his system and nothing to do with it but clean every last inch of the coffee counter.
For right now it's just him and Genevieve splitting the shifts, so he's stuck here with nothing to do while she has an early poli-sci class. But even with the morning shifts, things aren’t usually too bad - Jensen actually likes his job. He's a self-admitted coffee addict - but hey, there are worse things, right? - so the fact that he gets to scam all the java he can drink is kind of a dream come true. And he knows a lot of people get sick of the smell when they work in restaurants and things, but he actually enjoys being able to go home most days smelling like coffee beans and steamed milk; it’s like his own signature scent.
Today though, the job basically sucks ass because the store manager - who also happens to have been one of his best friend since high school, which she thinks somehow entitles her to butt into his personal life - has decided to take up for goddamn Jared, like the guy doesn't have enough people singing his praises.
"Because he's good looking and funny and everybody likes him?" Daneel leans across the counter next to the cash register, watching Jensen scrub as she sips on her frilly sugar-bomb.
"Yes!" he snaps back loudly in frustration.
The harried looking girl who's camped out in one of the back booths glares at Jensen over her mound of books. It does absolutely nothing to quench his urge to shout - it's only the first week of school for crying out loud, quit freaking out already!
"You know what he did yesterday?" Jensen continues, turning his back on the super-stresser to glare at his friend who has now perched herself up on his newly cleaned counter. "He used my chin up bar!"
Daneel cocks her head thoughtfully at him, brushing an errant strand of red hair out of her eyes. "The one over your bedroom door?"
"Yes!"
"And he didn't ask you?"
"No!"
"Were you home so he could have asked you?"
Herein lies the downside of having the same friends for years, they can fucking read you. "Well, no, but that doesn't mean he can just use my shit whenever I'm not there."
"Was your bedroom door open?"
"Daneel," Jensen says warningly.
"So, to recap" Daneel deadpans, flipping her legs over the counter so she's now facing Jensen, "while you weren't home, your roommate used the chin up bar over your open bedroom door - which I think technically qualifies as part of the living room anyway - to exercise. That bastard, I can see why you hate him."
"Forget it," Jensen grumbles. Why is it that nobody understands his problem with Jared?
"I don't know, Jen, the guy seemed pretty nice when I interviewed him."
It takes a few seconds for the caffeine-jittery cogs in Jensen's brain to piece that together enough to screech - in a very manly way - "What?"
"Oh yeah," Daneel breezes, "he interviewed for the clerk position on the book side. Did I forget to mention that? Silly me"
"Tell me you didn't." Jensen braces his hands on the counter on either side of her shapely legs, one fist still wrapped up in the dirty cleaning rag. She couldn't have, she wouldn't have!
"Didn't what? Hire the most qualified person for the job?" Daneel arches a perfectly-plucked eyebrow at him, "Yes, I did. He's worked in a bookstore before, couldn't help that he also happens to be your hot-hot roommate."
"Unhire him!" Jensen doesn’t even try to keep the growl out of his voice, for all the good he knows it’s going to do.
"Too late," she says, daintily sliding off of the counter, which puts her several inches shorter than Jensen, not that you'd notice the disadvantage in the way she's grinning, "already processed his paperwork. Can't fire him without cause."
"Why do you hate me?"
"Jen," Daneel sighs, leaning back next to the cash register and fixing him with her most powerful 'you're being an ass' stare. Which does not make Jensen flinch, not even a little. "You have talked about literally nothing else since this guy moved in - how he laughs, the stuff he wears, the way he hums in the shower which I don't even want to know how you know - it was kind of a pain in the ass until I actually saw him.” She gives him a soft smile which just makes Jensen’s boil boil even harder - he doesn’t need fucking pity! “I get it, okay? Just bone him and put us all out of our misery or else back off and let somebody else have a crack at that sweet ass."
"I don't want to bone him," Jensen glares right back at her. Because really, he doesn't. At all.
She rolls her eyes. "Honey, the espresso machine wants to bone him."
Jensen gives up the whole conversation as a bust and goes back to rubbing away at the stubborn ass sonofabitching brown spot on the counter. "He's probably straight, anyway."
"As if that's ever been an obstacle for you."
"I'm not interested in Sasquatch!" Stupid fucking spot, Jensen hates it, really hates it, marring his perfect counter, horning its way in on his territory like an inescapable force.
"Of course not." She points imperiously at the brown blemish Jensen's now fanatically scrubbing at, "You know that's a part of the laminate, right?"
Jensen stares down at the little splotch he's been scrubbing at. And an identical one a couple of inches away. And another one over there. Crap.
"Shut up."
"So," Daneel flutters her eyelashes, pouting her glossy lips around the straw of her melting drink, "when he was doing these chin ups, was he shirtless?"
"Fuck off, Daneel," Jensen scowls, giving up on the retardedly spotted counter - how had he never noticed those stupid brown splotches before? - and turns around to arrange the stacks of paper cups into perfect symmetry; in no way thinking about Jared's glistening body pumping up and down on that stupid chin up bar, his muscles bulging and straining with effort.
"Was he all hot and sweaty?" she urges, poking at Jensen's leg with the toe of her sandal, "I bet he's stacked."
"I swear to fucking God, I am not above hitting a girl," he snarls. First thing when he gets back to the room, he's ripping out that goddamn bar.
"Aw, come on, Jenny,” Daneel whines, “paint me a word picture."
Jensen grabs the nearest heavy object his hands find - which turns out to be a blender - and threatens with it ominously.
"Nevermind," she chirps, hands help up placatingly, "the genuine article just walked through the door. Time to ogle!"
Sure enough, walking through the front door in his store-issue powder blue t-shirt - which clings to him in ways that Jensen's pretty sure are illegal in public establishments like this and is clearly not something he picked out himself since he actually looks decent for a change - and glances around searchingly. The early sunlight catches on the summer-blond strands in his mop of brown hair and makes it glitter angelically, the soft highlights of it on his creamy skin accentuating his sharp cheekbones. Jensen wonders when his inner monologue turned into a harlequin novel.
"Kisses!" Daneel tosses over her shoulder, rushing to the front of the store to greet Jared. Fuck it, it's not like Jensen needs friends anyway.
"Burn in hell!" he shouts at her retreating figure, definitely not watching when she skips up the front steps and gets scooped into a completely unprofessional hug by Jared's huge arms as if they've been friends even longer than she and Jensen have.
The harried girl shoots him a look again and Jensen flips her off, dumping Daneel’s abandoned drink in the trash a little harder than strictly necessary.
***
"Burn in hell!" is the first thing Jared hears when he walks into the bookstore, and it's no challenge at all to place that voice. Jensen's never actually yelled at him before, but that sex-and-cigarettes voice in pretty distinctive and, as far as Jared's concerned, the dead knoll for his hopes of finding a little tension-free space at school.
Daneel, the store manager, bounces her way the stairs and Jared scoops her into a big hug automatically - they'd gotten along really well in the interview and he was kind of hoping on them being friends, at least until he saw her talking to Jensen. She giggles into his shoulder and beams up at him once she's back on her feet.
"I hope you know you just doomed yourself," she says wistfully, "From here on in, there will be no more box lifting for me." She winks at him, and some of the knots Jared's intestines have tied themselves in loosen.
The powder blue looks good on her, though he feels like he's on his way to a baby shower or something and the polo feels way too tight, like it's bunching around his torso every time he moves. He has a sneaking suspicion from the way Daneel looks him up and down that that may not be an accident.
"So, Jensen works here?" That wasn't going to be his lead in, he's pretty sure, but he can actually feel the guy glaring at him from halfway across the store and it's throwing him off. Daneel just grin, looking particularly pleased about something Jared's not even going to try and decipher.
"Yeah, Jenny works the coffee station. Do you boys know each other?" she asks innocently, though from the daggers coming out of Jensen's eyes in her direction, Jared figures she probably already knows the answer to that. He wonders how very dead he would be if he actually dared to call his roommate Jenny.
"We live together," he replies as blandly as possible. He doesn't have to get dragged into Jensen's elementary school gossip-warfare, Jared can rise above it and be civil. Probably.
"Oh! You're the new roommate!" Daneel peeps delightedly like it's all news to her. Now that he thinks about it, he's pretty sure she said she was majoring in theatre. "Thank God, for a second I was worried Jen had already snapped you up." She hooks her arm through his as she teases, leading him through the stacks toward the register. "Of course, you two would be a cute couple…"
"Yeah," Jared barks a laugh, "the only way Jensen and I are gonna be a couple is if we get handcuffed together."
"Kinky," Daneel purrs right back, her eyes sparkling with humor, "I like it Jay. You are officially approved." Her hand waves out royally, issuing her edict to the essentially empty store.
He can't stop the genuine laugh that worms its way out of him - he's never been very good at holding onto anger, especially when the object of said anger is currently out of his line of sight. "Approved for what?"
She shrugs, opening the little gate behind the register island to let Jared in. "For whatever," is the simple answer she gives before launching into a spiel about how to work the register and the various codes he needs to know. He get so wrapped up in trying to memorize all of the numbers and buttons and discount codes he almost completely forgets about Jensen brooding, not fifty yards away. Except for how he doesn't, like, at all.
On to Part 2