Fic: Jensen and the Seven Dwarfs PG15 - AU RPS - J2 Crack!fic 1/2
Title: Jensen and the Seven Dwarfs
Pairing, Characters: J2/The usual suspects and Surprise Guest
Rating: PG 15 for suggestive language and scenarios involving certain tabloid miscreants that may make you puke a little in your mouth
Warnings/Spoilers: 8000 words of crack. This fic contains trace amounts of Chad Michael Murray.
Disclaimers: Fiction. Look it up. Heavily influenced by the original tale of “Snow White” as told by the Brothers Grimm and some verbatim rip-offs from the Disney script. Not for profit though, please don’t sue.
Summary: Substitute the word “Snow White” for “Jensen” and it should be pretty self evident
Once upon a time, in La-la-land, there lived a handsome little Prince named Jensen Ackles. His mother died when he was young, and his father remarried. His stepmother turned out to be a gold-digger who had married the King for the fame and wealth and a total witch. (And by witch I mean an honest to goodness witch who is into the dark arts and potions and shit.) Shortly after their honeymoon, the King took ill and died, leaving poor little Jensen alone in the castle with this hateful woman. The vain bitch was afraid that one day Jensen’s beauty would eclipse her own. Not to be outdone, she dressed the little boy in rags and forced him to work as servant in the castle.
The evil Queen was so obsessed with her looks she constantly primped and preened, starved herself, and had radical new plastic surgery procedures to keep her looking young and beautiful. She was extremely jealous of anyone that she perceived as a threat to her status as the hottest hottie in all the lands. She was willing to do anything in her power to always be the belle of the ball, including dabbling in the dark arts.
Each day the Queen consulted her Magic Mirror chanting “Mirror Mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?” and as long as the Mirror answered, “You are the fairest one of all” Jensen was relatively safe from the Queen’s jealousy.
Things went on like this for years, until one day, when the Queen approached her Magic Mirror to ask who is the fairest of them all, and the mirror replied: “I cannot lie I must confess that there is someone else other than my Queen who is the fairest in the land.”
“And who might this be?” the Queen demanded, flummoxed by this new development.
“Famed is thy beauty, majesty. Behold, a lovely lad I see. Rags cannot hide his gentle grace. Alas, he is fairer than thee.”
“He? Oh really? We’ll see about that,” said the Queen acidly. “Reveal his name to me.”
“Lips as pink as the rose, plump as a bee’s sting, golden skin and freckles…,” said the mirror, reflecting an image of a young man, clad in rags, scrubbing steps in a garden.
The Queen’s worst fear had been confirmed. The mirror revealed none other than her stepson, Jensen. Horrified, the Queen watched the boy, singing as he worked. His shabby clothes could not conceal his dashing looks - full pink lips, a smattering of freckles across his cheeks, skin golden and tan, with sandy hair. Despite his terrible mistreatment at the hands of his hateful stepmother, the boy had managed to remain cheerful and gay. A small flock of birds twittered around him, listening to his song, as if enchanted by his voice.
“Want to know a secret?” Jensen whispered to the birds. “Promise you won’t tell anyone? This right here that I’m scrubbing? It’s a wishing well. Did you know that if you make a wish at a wishing well, someday it will come true?” The birds chirped and twittered in delight.
“What? You think I should make a wish?” Jensen smiled at his feathered friends. “Alright then, what should I wish for?” He leant over the well, humming, and examined his reflection in the calm water.
“I’m wishing - for the one I love,” he sang. “To find me, today.” He danced around the well, the birds flying over his head. “I’m hoping and dreaming of - the nice things, he’ll say.” He paused and held his hand out for one of the birds to perch there. “I hope that a handsome young man will someday come and rescue me.” The bird nodded for him to go on. “He’ll be tall, with dark hair, a brilliant smile, and the deepest dimples you’ve ever seen!”
At that moment, a charming Prince, (who just so happened to be tall, dark haired, with a brilliant smile and the deepest dimples that ever was) rode by and heard the song. Eager to find the owner of the voice, the Prince climbed over the castle wall. Jensen caught sight of the mysterious stranger and blushed furiously. Startled, frightened and ashamed of his unkempt appearance, Jensen hid.
The Prince called out to him, to no avail. “This sucks,” the charming Prince pouted. “I finally find the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen, who apparently like boys too, and he runs away!” Jared climbed back over the wall, shouting one last time to the castle, hoping the object of his affection would hear: “Only one love has possessed me, my heart sings for you! My love for you will be constant and true.”
Off he rode, promising: “I’ma find you and make you mine!”
~@~
Unbeknownst to Jensen and his suitor, the evil Queen had watched the entire scene. Jealous of the charming Prince’s affection for her stepson, she flew into a rage. Formulating an evil plan, she called for her most trusted henchman/bodyguard/lover.
“Jeffrey,” she cried. “You must take Jensen far into the forest - some place secluded. There, you must kill him!”
“What?” Jeff exclaimed. “You want me to kill your stepson the Prince?”
“Shut it Jeff!” she screamed in reply. “It’s not like he’s my own kid or something. Just take the stupid brat into the woods and kill him. Don’t question it, just do it!”
Jeff sighed and turned to leave. He didn’t want to kill Jensen, he seemed like a nice enough boy.
“If you fail, I’ll never have sex with you again… And I’ll cut up all your credit cards,” threatened the Queen.
Horrified at the prospect of losing his free meal-ticket, he relented. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
“And Jeff?”
“Yes my Queen?”
“Bring me back his heart as proof,” she said, handing him a box adorned with a heart-shaped latch.
Sufficiently threatened by her majesty, Jeff sought out the boy and asked him to help gather some firewood. He lead Jensen deep in to woods far from the castle (and everything else) where they came upon a small clearing where a little bluebird was perched in a tree.
“Hello pretty,” Jensen called to the bird. “Aren’t you a sweet little thing?”
Meanwhile, Jeff pulled out a rather menacing looking hunting knife and crept up on Jensen from behind, ready to attack. Distracted by the woodland creature, Jensen didn’t notice until Jeff was right upon him, breath moist upon his neck.
Jensen turned and shrieked at the sight of the blade. He kicked Jeff and knocked him to the ground. “Mother of Pearl!” he cried. “What is going on here?”
“I’m sorry Jennybean,” Jeff said, groaning as he sat up. “Your mother ordered me to kill you.”
“That woman is not my mother!” Jensen said. “Now tell me why does she want me dead?”
“I dunno,” Jeff shrugged. “I don’t wanna do it you know, I just can’t afford to lose this job.”
“Hey, no worries,” Jensen said. “I know you’re a pretty good guy, you’re just pussy-whipped. I mean, she might be an evil witch, but she is attractive. No heterosexual male could really say no to a woman that beautiful.”
“True enough,” Jeff replied. “Not only is she hot, but she’s a real tiger in the sack too.”
“Ugh,” Jensen said, cutting him off. “Too. Much. Information.”
“Right.”
“So, what now?” Jensen asked.
Jeff scratched the back of his head and thought about what he could do. “I know,” he said. “Look, let me take care of it. I’ll go back and tell her I did it, so long as you promise to go far away from here and never come back.”
“Ok,” Jensen agreed. “I’ll just be on my way then.”
“Great, you take care of yourself Jen,” Jeff called after him.
“You too,” the younger man replied, and wandered further into the woods. It was dark in the forest, and Jensen really had no idea where he was going. As the hours passed, it grew colder and the poor boy got hungrier. Once the night fell, the moon cast forbidding shadows on everything and Jensen’s imagination grew wild with fear.
The tree branches appeared as claws, catching at his clothes. The wind shrieked through the hollows. Frogs in a nearby creek croaked out “ich-a-bod” and “head-less-horse-man”. Leaves rustled around him in a whirlwind. Terrified and alone, Jensen tripped over a root and bumped his head, passing out unconscious.
In the light of dawn, Jensen awoke to the anxious twittering of birds and the sounds of the animals in the forest who sniffed at him curiously. “Please don’t be afraid,” he called out to them. “I’m sorry if I’ve frightened you. I’m not going to hurt you.”
A small bunny hopped over to him, tentatively accepting his touch. “I’m lost and I don’t know where to go,” he told the bunny. “Even if I knew where home was, I’m no longer welcome there. Can you help me?”
Rising to his feet and humming a happy tune to himself, Jensen followed the bunny as it (and many other woodland creatures) lead him to a path between the trees. “Thank you,” he said to his new friends. “Do you know somewhere I might be able to stay? Could you take me there?”
The animals lead him to a small cottage. “Oh, how lovely,” he marveled. “What a lovely, cozy place. I wonder who lives here?” He knocked softly on the door, but there was no reply. He peeked in the windows, but there were no lights on and the curtains were closed. “It seems that no one is home.”
Desperate for a place to wash up, use a toilet and find some food, he tried the door, only to discover that the cottage wasn’t locked. Inside he found seven chairs seated around a long table. The place was a mess, every surface stacked with dirty dishes, sheets of paper, dirty clothing and such. Musical instruments and scripts lay about the room. There were photos and posters tacked to the wall showing smiling people dressed in costumes, on stages, playing music. He concluded the owners must be patrons of the arts.
“There are seven chairs, so there must be seven people living here,” he reasoned. “No wonder the place is so untidy.” Looking around he couldn’t believe how dusty and unclean it was. His stepmother would never have tolerated such conditions. “I can’t imagine what kind of mother would permit this mess… unless they don’t have a mother? Maybe they are orphans?” he considered.
“Oh well, never the matter, in exchange for letting me use their washroom and kitchen and pantry, I’ll just tidy up the place,” Jensen decided. After using the facilities and raiding the larder, Jensen (and his new animal friends) set to work cleaning the cottage from top-to-bottom.
“Maybe, if we do a really fantastic job, they’ll let me stay,” Jensen hoped. After several hours of hard labor, the cottage sparkled and gleamed; Jensen was exhausted. He stood in the bedroom, adjusting the knick-knacks on the dresser, contemplating the single bed. Now, it wasn’t a single bed in the sense that it was a ‘single/one-man’ bed, but a single in that it was the only bed in the cottage. In fact, it was huge. Never in his life had he seen such a big mattress, but considering that there were seven names carved into the massive headboard, he figured it was about the right size for seven people. “Curious,” he said. “What kind of people are they, to share their bed?” With that thought, he fell asleep.
~@~
Meanwhile, some distance from the cottage, an odd assortment of actors and musicians bundled into a van to return home. They had just finished a successful presentation of their latest production “Dark Angel: The Musical” and were eager to get home and relax. During the ride, some strummed guitar, others sang while some read sides and muttered to themselves. The driver was involved in an animated discussion about blocking and lighting, and cracking rude jokes. Little did these seven people know that a stranger was in their home.
~@~
After parking the van and unloading the gear, Michael Rosenbaum entered the house first, and noticed the changes immediately. “Holy Fuck!” he exclaimed. “Look, our house… it’s different!”
“No shit,” the rest of the group agreed.
“Maybe we were robbed?” suggested Chad, who was quickly cuffed upside the head by Christian. “Ouch! What?”
“We weren’t robbed you dick, it’s clean in here. Thieves ain’t gonna clean up your house for you!” Chris explained. “Be careful folks, I can smell trouble. Felt in comin’ all day in fact. Something ain’t right in here.”
“Ok,” Rosenbaum stated. “Be careful. Search every nook and cranny, every hole, snatch and muff.” He grinned evilly at Tom, who was smiling and listening intently. “Leave no crevice unexplored.” Noticing the blush spreading across Jason’s cheeks, he got back on track. “Uh, just search everywhere, alright?”
“Well, the floor has been swept,” Tom said cheerfully.
“And the chairs have all been - achoo! - dusted,” Allie added with a sneeze.
“The window’s have been washed,” Jason said quietly.
“All the cobwebs are gone, the whole place looks pretty clean,” noted Rosenbaum.
“The sink is empty too,” Chad added. “They stole our dishes!”
“They ain’t stole our dishes you idiot,” Chris snapped. “They’re in the cupboard. And someone washed my Jack Daniels mug, what the hell? Who breaks into houses to clean up?”
“Maybe it was a secret admirer?” Tom suggested.
“Maybe a psychotic stalker fan, more like,” snorted Chris.
“Well, Chris was right, he did smell something, but it isn’t trouble. Whoever it was, they left something on the stove that smells great!” Allie said before breaking into a fit of sneezes.
Chris glared at the pot on the stove. The scent of delicious stew wafted in the air. “Humph, how do we know that some crazy fangirl didn’t come in here and boil our pet bunny and leave it there for us to find, huh?”
“We don’t even have a pet rabbit,” Mike clarified, opening the lid on the pot. “Omigod!” he shrieked, jumping back from the stove and dropping the lid. “Fluffy!” He laughed long and hard. “I’m just shitting you. It’s stew.”
“I’d love to thank whoever made this for us,” Tom smiled. “Too bad they aren’t around.”
“Lucky thing for them, ‘cause I’d kick their ass,” Chris muttered.
“What-the fuck-ever man,” yawned Steve. “I’m wiped. I’m gonna go hit the sack.”
“Me too,” said the others, following him up the stairs to the bedroom.
As they approach the landing at the top of the stairs, Mike said “hey, wouldn’t it be funny if whoever broke into our house was hiding upstairs? And they’re like, waiting under the bed to kill us?”
“Wh-achoo-at?” sneezed Allie nervously. “What?
“Oh Mike, you’re just being silly,” Tom said.
“Hmm,” muttered Steve. “I’m too tired for this shit. If someone wants to kill me, let ‘em try. Heck, he can kill all of you, so long as I’m asleep when he does it.”
“Fine then, lead the way,” Rosie said.
“Are you kidding? I’m not going to die first.”
“Fine, Chad’ll do it,” Chris said, shoving Chad into the room. “Don’t be afraid, sissy-boy, we’re right behind you.”
Chad crept into the room and saw a figure stretched out across the bed. He moved closer and pulled the sheet back carefully. He saw smooth caramel skin lightly sprinkled with freckles, soft pink lips and sandy hair. He felt the blood rush from his head to his groin, his mind entertaining thoughts of what he’d like to see that mouth do.
“Well?” whispered Rosenbaum. “Anyone in there, other than you?”
Chad crept back through the door nodding. “Yep, there’s definitely someone in there.”
“Oh no,” whispered the group.
“Who is it?”
“What is it?”
“Is it a fangirl?”
“Can we kill it?”
“It’s beautiful,” Chad breathed. “I want to ask it to marry me.”
“Oh no,” Chris said. “You are not gonna ask some random stranger to marry you again. Didn’t you learn your lesson the last two times you got engaged?”
“Would you two just shut up and answer the question?” Mike demanded.
“I was trying to,” Chad whined. “It’s a sleeping beauty, that’s what it is.”
“Boy or girl?”
“I dunno.” Chad said dreamily. “But, it looks like an angel.
“An angel huh? Must be a chick then,” Chris groaned. “All chicks are trouble man. They’ll get you by the balls and steal your truck and your dog and…”
“Hey,” Allie called with a sneeze. “I’m a chick!”
“No you’re not.”
“Yes I am.”
“Yeah, but you’re like, a total dyke, so it doesn’t count.”
“I’m not a lesbian,” Allie insisted.
“Come on, admit it, it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Mike soothed.
“I’m not ashamed, because I’m straight. Why does everyone assume I’m a lesbian? I live with six men. I have sex with them. How does that make me gay?”
“Good point,” Tom said. “Although, I thought you were just a pre-op transsexual with a really tiny penis… so, sorry.”
“Could we stop talking about this and just figure out who the heck is in our bed?” piped Jason, his ears turning bright red at the mention of the word ‘penis’.
“Yeah, I just really wanna hit the sack guys,” Steve added.
“Fine,” sighed Michael. “Follow me.” He lead the group into the room and they all gathered at the foot of the bed to stare at the handsome young man sprawled across the sheets. They were whispering and shoving each other and the noise and commotion woke the sleeping stranger.
Stretching softly and turning over, Jensen looked up to see seven curious faces staring at him. “Oh! Hello!” he blinked. “You’re home!”
“Imagine that, us being home,” Chris groused, folding his arms across his chest and glaring. “Considering this is our house and all.”
“No need to be rude, Chris,” chided Tom.
Rosenbaum rolled his eyes and stuck his hand out in greeting. “So, who are you exactly?”
“Oh,” Jensen sat up to shake his hand. “I’m Jensen. Jensen Ackles.”
“Tell us Jensen, what the hell are you doing here?” Chris demanded.
Jensen explained that his evil stepmother had ordered a hit on him, but the would-be killer had taken pity on him and sent him off to hide in the woods, and now he had no home to return to. “Please don’t send me away,” he pleaded. “If you do, and my evil stepmother finds me, I’m dead!”
“Wait,” said Chris. “Jensen Ackles. Ackles as in the Queen of this land?”
“Yeah,” nodded Jensen.
“Oh ho ho,” Chris shook his head. “No way.”
“I think he should stay,” Allie said.
“The Queen is a massive bitch,” Chris warned. “If she finds out that we’re keeping him here, she’ll ruin our lives. I say we send him out to fend for himself.”
“I think we should keep him, he seems nice,” said Tom.
“Achoo!” sneezed Allison. “It’d be nice to have someone kind of feminine around here to talk to.”
“Look, let’s take a vote,” suggested Mike. “All who want Jensen to stay, say aye”
“Aye” six voices called.
“All who say nay, he goes?”
“Nay,” shouted Chris.
“That settles it, six to one, he stays,” Mike said smugly.
“Fine. But I’m not sharing my bed with the pretty boy here. It’s bad enough I have to share with Chad,” Chris pouted.
“That’s fine, we won’t make you share,” Tom said.
“Yeah, Chris can go sleep on the couch and Jensen, you can stay here with us!” Mike announced with a wink that made Jensen blush, before leering: “We’ll make you feel real welcome.”
“Thank you so much!” Jensen replied. “Just one question: who are you?”
“I’m Mike Rosenbaum.” Jensen assumed he was the unofficial leader of the bunch, seeing as he’d kind of taken charge of the whole situation.
“I’m Tom Welling.” Jensen noted that the tall brunet looked really, really happy. Vacuous, but happy.
“I’m Allison Mack - achoo!” Jensen smiled at the perky blonde. “I’ve got hay fever, sorry!”
“I’m Steve Carlson, and I’m fucking sleepy. Can I go to bed now?” Everyone laughed in response as Steve collapsed on the bed and began to snore.
“I’m Chad Michael Murray,” announced the skinny blonde boy.
“You’re a fucking dope, that’s what you are,” spat Chris.
“The grumpy one is Chris,” Mike clarified. Jensen smiled at Chris, who returned daggers with his glare. Jensen gulped and looked over at the last man to be identified instead.
“This here’s Jason Manns,” Mike said. “He’s just a little bashful, but real sweet.”
“Nice to meet you all,” Jensen ducked his head politely.
“Together, we’re known as the Seven Dwarfs,” exclaimed Mike.
“You look pretty tall for Dwarfs,” Jensen said.
“No, not that kind of Dwarf. We’re the Seven Dwarfs - a performance company. We do productions, plays, musicals? You know… theatre? We’re actors,” he explained.
“And musicians,” Jason added, blushing.
“That’s cool, but your name seems kind of silly.”
“That’s what happens when you drink a shitload of tequila and smoke a lot of weed and watch a Red Dwarf marathon on PBS when you’re trying to come up with names,” Mike shrugged. “What can you do?”
“Come up with something better?” Jensen suggested.
“Nah,” Michael shrugged.
“Now that we’re all introduced, I say we hit the sack,” Allie yawned. The rest of the Dwarfs, save Steve (because he was already asleep) and Chris (because he was exiled to sleep down on the couch), agreed.
~@~
The next morning, Jensen awoke before the others and went downstairs to start breakfast. He thought it was only fair, since they were letting him stay (even though they knew that there was a risk that the evil Queen would find out about the arrangement and wreak vengeance on them). He made pancakes and waffles and crepes and eggs and bacon and ham and biscuits, because he didn’t know what anyone liked. Plus he was bored waiting for them to get up and he didn’t have anything else to do.
After they’d woken up and eaten their breakfast, the Dwarfs thanked Jensen profusely. “It’s nothing,” he insisted. They headed off to the theatre to work on their act, and Jensen stayed home and kept house. He didn’t feel lonely even when the others were gone, not one bit, because he had his friends the animals to keep him company and helped him with the chores. For the first time in his life, out from the servitude of his evil Stepmother, he felt happy.
Though sometimes, when he was doing the laundry, trying to clean the stains from the previous night’s orgy out of the linens, he would catch his reflection in the dirty water of the laundry tub and would remember the wish he’d made at the well and the Charming Prince who had climbed the castle wall, pledging his love. To cheer himself up he would sing a little song and pray that someday his Prince would come.
Continued in part 2