Dolls for Rent, Heroes for Hire (9/9) [NC-17] Jared/Jensen or Jared/Dean (you decide) COMPLETE
Title: Dolls for Rent, Heroes for Hire (9/9)
Author: Disneymagics
Rating: NC17
Pairing: J2 or Jared/Dean depending on how you look at it
Characters: Jared, Jensen, Christian Kane, Alaina Huffman, Aldis Hodge, Ty Olsson, Traci Dinwiddie, (minor roles: Eric Kripke, Beth Riesgraf, and Chad Michael Murray)
Genre: H/C, RPS, AU(set in the Dollhouse universe)
Disclaimer: None of these people belong to me; they all belong to themselves. None of this is true in any way, shape or form. I made it all up.
Warnings: Show level violence
Word Count: 3,700 this part (46,000 in total)
Summary: Jared's life is turned upside down the night he meets an intriguing young man who seems to have multiple personality disorder. Is he Dean - dangerous, charming and troubled? Or Jensen - naive and almost child-like? This chance encounter leads to a job offer with a mysterious organization called the Dollhouse.
A/N: Thank you to my best friend, alpha reader, and biggest cheerleader,
etoile_etiolee. She always has my back! All the beautiful artwork for this story was made by her. Thank you sweetie! My beta reader,
cerului, did an absolutely fantastic job! This story is made better by her wonderful insights. Their enthusiasm has given me the confidence to post a story again after a one year long dry stretch. This story is completly written and betaed. My plan is to post one chapter per week. Comments are very much appreciated. In fact, they are the whole reason I write and post stories instead of keeping them in my head. :)
Epilogue
One month later
Pain so intense that his vision is replaced by pulsing strobe lights, lances through his head. Dean drops his fork, letting it clatter to the table beside his blueberry pie.
The headaches are getting worse and more frequent, each one the precursor to new memories or the disconcerting blackouts. He hates those periods of blankness when he doesn't know what he's doing or saying even more than he hates the excruciating headaches.
His body starts shaking and sweating, his vision goes from blinding white hot light to dull grey. Soon he'll lose control over his mind and his body and there's nothing he can do to stop it. Nothing.
Footsteps alert him that someone has entered the kitchen.
"Hey, Dean," a voice says. Ty. "Pie for breakfast? Really?"
Dean wants to make a snark-filled comment about the nutritional value of pie, but the thought barely forms before it's crushed by what feels like an anvil falling from the sky and connecting solidly with his head. He must moan instead, either that or Ty gets a good look at the pathetic way he's trembling, because he says, "Hang tight, man. I'll get Jared. Just hold on."
Damn, it's cold, Dean thinks.
HUB Mall is covered in snow. Huge drifts of the stuff coat every surface, including the walkways leading to the many restaurants and shops that make up the HUB area. Most students elect later classes on Mondays and haven't emerged from the dorms yet, so the snow is relatively untouched. The mid-morning sun glints off the crystalized ice like solar flares.
Jensen hefts his backpack into a more comfortable position and tilts his head, letting a few fat, powdery flakes land on his face. Snow is a new thing for him and he still finds it magical. Growing up in Texas, he had seen precious little snow and his friends here at the University of Alberta, most of whom have lived in Canada all their lives, tease him mercilessly when he runs outside during a snowstorm to make a snowman. Yeah, they tease him, but they usually end up outside with him, competing to see who can roll the biggest or the roundest or the overall best ball for the snowman's base. These outings usually degenerate into snowball fights right around the time Jensen is looking for sticks to use as arms. He loves it.
His parents hadn't been happy with his decision to go this far away for school, but when he'd explained what a wonderful program U of A had in his field - environmental sciences - his enthusiasm had convinced them it was the right choice.
He looks at his watch and quickens his pace. He has fifteen minutes to get across North Campus. If he doesn't hurry, he'll be late for Professor Singer's forestry class. The man is a gruff, grumpy old cuss, but he knows more about the interrelationships between animal life and the different tree species than anyone else on the planet. In fact, Singer is a very big reason Jensen choose this school. His classes are always packed. Being late means all the seats will be taken and Jensen will be standing for the next hour and a half.
Someone calls his name, grabs his arm from behind. Jensen doesn't recognize the voice. He turns and...
Air floods his lungs as he gasps and shudders into some semblance of awareness. His eyes feel dry and gritty, as though he's been having a staring contest with someone. He blinks a few times. The room comes into focus. He's sitting at the kitchen table, a heavy blanket draped around his shoulders.
A very, very heavy blanket. He shrugs and the blanket lifts slightly, not releasing him, but giving him some breathing space. "Dean? Are you back with us?" the blanket - Jared - asks.
Dean. His name is Dean. He knows that, and yet... Mouth parched, he croaks, "Did I make it to Singer's class on time?"
A hand rubs soothing circles on his back. "Get him some water, will you Aldis?"
The faucet runs and a glass is pressed into his hand.
Everything feels disjointed. He's having a hard time reconciling where he is now with where he was mere seconds ago.
"Drink the water, Dean. You'll feel better in a minute." Jared wraps a big hand around his on the glass and brings it to his lips, helping him tilt it at the right angle.
He's grateful for Jared's concern and annoyed at his own weakness at the same time. He's cold from the snow and warm from Jared's steadying embrace. He's both standing in the snow and sitting in the kitchen. The dichotomy is disconcerting. It's making him dizzy.
He leans into Jared's comforting presence and closes his eyes, letting the world settle around him. Slowly, he regains his equilibrium.
"Well, that was different," he finally manages, opening his eyes and straightening in the chair.
"Yeah," Jared says, his voice catching slightly. "Yeah, it was. Do you remember what happened?"
"I remember..." he hesitates. His memories are a jumble. "I remember hurrying across the HUB. I didn't want to be late for my forestry class."
This thought makes him stop cold. Forestry class? Since when has he been interested in forestry? He doesn't even like camping. Of course, his dislike for nature can most likely be attributed to his father. John Winchester's lessons in surviving the great outdoors had reached legendary status during his young, formative years when he and Adam had been forced to hike the Appalachian Trail for five days, eating only what they could find along the way. He became ill from drinking untreated water. The last day was a torturous uphill climb and he was so weak from dehydration that he passed out. Not before he reached the end of the trail his father had marked out for them though, goddamn it!
But wait, that never really happened, did it? If the events that formed his hatred for camping didn't actually happen, does that mean his hatred isn't real?
"Dean?"
"Hmmm?" he says, distracted by the strange duality caused by loving and hating nature simultaneously. It feels like his mind is fraying, like his memories are sections of an elaborately woven tapestry and the threads are unraveling.
"Hey bud, look at me. Look at me, okay?" Someone shakes his shoulder.
He turns his head toward the voice.
"Do you know who I am?"
He nods. "Christian."
"That's right." Christian looks relieved.
"What about me?"
Smiling, he answers, "Jared." Like he could ever forget those sexy dimples or the sincere concern in those gorgeous, blue-green eyes. Jared is his constant.
"Good. And do you know who you are?"
That question is more difficult. "I'm...Dean." He frowns because it's not as reflexive as it ought to be. It's right. He knows it's right. But there's a wrongness about it too. Or maybe there's just an extra layer laid over the top.
"You are," Jared confirms, correctly interpreting his uncertainly. "But, just now, during and after your blackout, you referred to yourself as Jensen. You said 'I didn't want to be late for my forestry class.' You've never done that before. You would've said 'Jensen didn't want to be late for his forestry class.' Has something changed?"
"I'm-" The words get tangled, as though he's trying to say two things at once and his lips and tongue can't move in more than one direction, so nothing can get past his throat.
This might take some getting used to. He puts a hand against his neck, coughs, and tries again. "I think...I think I'm both."
Silence greets his statement.
With this revelation, the whirlwind in his mind settles somewhat and he uses the clarity to focus on his surroundings. The first thing he notices is the four other men crammed into the kitchen, staring at him intently, the closest one being Jared who still has him encased in a bear hug. Aldis is leaning against the counter near the sink, Ty is standing in the doorway, and Christian is sitting opposite him at the table. Apparently, his blackout had been an all-hands-on-deck event, traumatic enough to bring the entire household running.
Blueberry pie filling is smeared on the tabletop. The congealed, purplish trail leads to the crust and broken plate on the tile floor. Did he do that? He doesn't remember the plate falling. He doesn't remember the crash it must have made. No wonder he has an audience.
"When you say 'both', do you mean parts of Dean and parts of Jensen mixed together or is it more like sometimes you're Dean and sometimes you're Jensen?" Skepticism and curiosity make Aldis's eyes bulge like a frog's, the whites contrasting starkly with his dark skin tone. His inner geek is definitely showing.
The question is a legitimate one, even if Aldis's motives for asking it are based on scientific speculation. He bites on his lower lip as he gives it some thought. The more he thinks about it, the more he believes that layers is the best way to describe it.
"I'm not...it's not like before when there were two completely separate parts fighting for dominance." He absently rubs the back of his head where the skin is still tender, but the lump has long since disappeared. "It's not either one personality or the other. We're both here, all the memories that belong to Dean and all the memories that belong to Jensen, all the experiences that make up a whole person, only there are two sets of everything." Struggling to explain, he holds out his hands, flattens them and then lays one on top of the other. "Let's say this is Dean." He wiggles the fingers on his bottom hand. "And this is Jensen." He wiggles the fingers on his top hand, then he interlaces the fingers together. "I can remember being eight and watching my mom take a huge turkey out of the oven for Thanksgiving dinner. But I can also remember being eight and watching my brother make bologna sandwiches for Thanksgiving dinner because dad was off hunting a nest of chupacabra that year." He looks up, gauging his friends' reactions, hoping for a spark of understanding because he's having a hard enough time dealing with this himself without the third degree. His headache is threatening a comeback tour, starting in his eye sockets.
"Fuck," Christian says, always quick with a witty retort. "That's gotta be...weird."
Weird is one way of putting it. He sighs and leans back against Jared.
"So, what should we call you? Dean or Jensen?" Ty asks.
Another tough question. He identifies as both Dean and as Jensen to equal degrees. Choosing one over the other feels like denying a crucial piece of himself. It can't be done. His memories of Dean's life, even though they're manufactured memories, are just as real to him as his memories of Jensen's life. But Dean's family, his father and brother, even his dead mother, are only actors who were paid to deceive him. What does it matter that he loves them with everything his has? Dean's job - saving people, hunting things - is obsolete since there are no ghosts or monsters for him to hunt. Dean's very way of life no longer holds purpose. It's all fakery and deception.
Whereas, Jensen's family lives in Texas, at least he assumes they're still there, and they'll be overjoyed to see him again when he feels ready for that. Jensen's passion for saving the environment is real and strong and worthwhile.
Eventually, he scrubs a hand down his face and back up through his hair, a mannerism he unconsciously recognizes as Dean's, and says, "Jensen. You should call me Jensen," in a voice that comes out raspy and clogged with emotion.
"Hey, are you alright?" Jared asks, his head bent low and his cheek resting on Jensen's head.
He nods. "Yeah, I'm alright."
He just wants the interrogation to be over. He understands that this is a big deal, for everyone, not just for him, but he doesn't want to think about it anymore. He wants Jared. He wants some reassurance and some peace from the turmoil in his head. Most of all, he wants to show Jared that this doesn't change anything between them as far as he's concerned.
There's one sure-fire way to get rid of the crowd.
He turns his head and nuzzles Jared's neck. "I want you," he whispers.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," he says as he pulls Jared's head down with a hand against his cheek and brushes their lips together.
"Oh jeez, they're kissing again." Aldis sounds disgusted, but there's a hint of amusement there too.
"Outta the way, Olsson," Christian shoves past Ty, anxious to beat a hasty retreat. "And no sex on the table. I hafta eat there, you know," he throws over his shoulder.
Jared chuckles without pulling away. Their faces are so close that the breathy puffs of air make Jensen's lips tingle. "You sure know how to clear a room."
Looking up, Jensen just catches Aldis's back as he disappears around the corner.
"That was the general idea," he murmurs and, standing, he puts his hands under the hem of Jared's shirt to trace the firm indentations made by his abs. Jared's stomach muscles quiver as Jensen caresses the responsive skin. "Doesn't make it any less true though."
"Doesn't make what any less true?" Jared's breath hitches and his eyebrows pucker in that adorable way that means he's trying very hard to concentrate.
"I want you." Jensen's hands find their way below the waistband of Jared's jeans where they massage heated flesh. "I want you to fuck me. Please Jared. I need it." He licks a stripe up Jared's neck and when he reaches the hypersensitive spot behind Jared's ear, he exploits it mercilessly, laving his tongue against the pulse point and sucking until he pulls blood to the surface and a moan from Jared's parted lips.
"You sure?" Jared asks even as he tilts his head to allow Jensen better access.
Jensen's body is thrumming with pent up adrenaline and desire. He can't think of a better way to silence the discord in his head than to find his release with Jared pounding into him so hard he forgets his own name. Both of them.
"I've never been more sure of anything in my whole life," he says, letting go of Jared only long enough to shuck off his clothes. Then, completely naked, he pulls Jared back in for a heated kiss, his hands fisted in Jared's long hair so he can take control.
Jared goes along willingly. He lets Jensen mash their mouths together, lets him devour his lips, his tongue. He tastes like the sour gummy worms he'd been eating earlier, tart and sweet at the same time. It's intoxicating and Jensen feels drunk from lack of oxygen, but he just can't stop.
Out of breath and panting, eyes dilated, Jared finally pulls back and rasps, "Shouldn't we move this into the bedroom so we don't scar Christian for life?"
They probably should, but Jensen doesn't think he can wait that long. The bedroom is way up on the second floor, after all. "He'll survive," he says and, grinning mischievously, he hops onto the kitchen table, heedless of the blueberry pie filling. "Right here, right now. Come on, Jared."
He's well aware of the display he's putting on, hips resting dangerously close to the table's edge, leaning back with his elbows on the table and his hands braced behind his ass, semi-hard cock twitching in anticipation, naked and offering himself up like an exotic banquet.
Jared's mouth opens and closes before he finds his voice which comes out in a winded exhale. "Jesus, you're gonna be the death of me." He's quick to get with the program after that, removing his own clothes so fast that he forgets about his shoes and has to hop on one foot with his pants around his ankles while he kicks them off.
Once Jared is naked, Jensen takes a moment to appreciate the view. He loves Jared's body. His shoulders are broad and his muscles are well-defined without being too bulky. He obviously lifts weights, but it's not to the point where he looks like a gorilla on steroids. The dip of his hipbones accentuates the v-shape made by his lean waist as it tapers down to his groin and the nest of curls surrounding his long, thick shaft. Jensen's mouth waters.
Taking himself in hand, Jared begins a leisurely pumping motion, up down, up, twist. "We're gonna need some stuff - condom, lube." His eyes become hooded with pleasure and Jensen wants some of that action right-the-fuck now.
"There's a condom in my pocket." He points to where his pants are on the floor. "And we can use the cooking oil."
"Kinky. I like it." Jared grins as he rounds up the necessary supplies, his dick hanging heavy and engorged. "Nothing about you is conventional, is it?"
Jensen snorts. "You're just now figuring that out?"
Oil drips from Jared's fingers as he opens Jensen up. He collapses flat onto his back on the table, his legs swinging over the edge. Jared's talented fingers delve deeply inside him and find his prostate. Sparks flash before his eyes. His muscles spasm. Jensen arches off the table, gasping and straining, hips grinding upward, chasing the pleasure. His eyes slam shut.
Then the fingers are gone and Jared is pushing his legs up so they rest on Jared's shoulders. He's completely exposed, vulnerable, his hole open and needy. "Jared, please," he begs, voice wrecked.
The blunt head of Jared's cock presses against his rim and, in one long, excruciatingly slow thrust, he bottoms out. An exquisite pain pulls all the breath from Jensen's lungs. A primal cry tears from his throat. So full, so very full.
"Tell me when," Jared says and it sounds like he's been holding his breath.
Jensen gives his body a few seconds to adjust. "Okay, okay now, Jared."
Jared begins a punishing rhythm, hard and fast, just the way Jensen likes it, pounding his prostate on every thrust. Fingers grip his hips pulling them off the table until his ass is in the air, held up by Jared's brute strength. The angle allows Jared to pump into him deeper and Jensen can barely breathe as Jared slams into him over and over again.
Jensen grips the table, white-knuckled, and uses his stomach muscles to lift his hips even higher, pushing forward on every thrust. Pleasure mixes with pain, electric volts skitter down his spine, heat pools in his groin. All too soon it's over. Jared grunts in exertion, face red and sweat dripping off his nose. Jensen tenses up as pressure coils explosively inside him. He reaches up and strips his cock a couple times and then he's coming. Hot white ropes of come cover his belly. Jared yells, thrusts once more, and shakes as his orgasm takes him.
Sated, Jensen opens his eyes. His body hums with the remnants of his release and he feels at peace. Orgasms are the best. He smiles at Jared. "That was awesome."
Jared gives him a blissed-out smile back.
It's later on that day and Jared seems to have decided a serious conversation is in order. He has Jensen sit on the couch beside him, cups his face and stares him straight in the eyes as though by doing so, he can impart some cosmic knowledge.
"Do you still wanna go through with our plans? You don't have to, you know. The guys will understand if you'd rather forget the whole thing and go back to school. I'm sure Jensen was a student somewhere and if he...I mean, if you would rather go back to your studies, no one will blame you."
Their plans are to destroy the Dollhouse, one facility at a time. Between Aldis and Christian, they know where all the branches are located and what security is like at each one. Christian and Ty have mended some fences between them and Ty has agreed to help out in exchange for favors to be owed and collected at his discretion. They'll tour the Americas as a team, rescuing the Actives and disabling the facilities as they go.
Jensen is sure it won't be as easy as that, but it's a start. They can make up the rest and overcome the obstacles that crop up as need be.
Getting on the road again, saving people, those ideals appeal to his 'Dean' personality. Bringing down a corrupt organization, being part of a team, those are values his 'Jensen' personality can get behind. No, he wouldn't give up those plans for anything in the world.
"School can wait. This is more important," he says. "Although, maybe we can make a detour to Texas. Not right away," he hastens to amend. He's not ready for that yet. Too many things have changed for him. He's not the same boy his family knew, not by a long shot. "But soon." The wistful quality to his own voice is apparent even to him.
"Soon," Jared repeats, kissing him on the nose. "We'll take it at you pace. Whenever you're comfortable." He gives Jensen a long look. "Just remember, your parents love you and nothing can change that."
Moisture gathers on his eyelashes as he blinks furiously. While one half knows what the unconditional love of a mother feels like, the other half has only ever imagined how that would feel. A four year old's memories are hazy at best.
"Hey," Jared says softly, leaning over and kissing his eyelids. "It'll be a good thing, you'll see. And after that, we can go visit my parents. They're gonna love you too."
"Such a sap," Jensen tries to sound gruff, but a fond smile and a fresh tear betray him.
"You think I'm awesome," Jared states confidently.
He does. On that, all sides of his personality are in total sync.
The End.
A/N: This epilogue is dedicated to my best friend, etoile_etiolee, who kept asking about Christian's back story. If not for her, Christian would remain an utter mystery. :D
Well, it's over. Whew! This is by far the most complicated story I have ever written. I hope you enjoyed it.
Now who's ready for some Innocents 'verse? Innocents 'verse time stamp coming up next.
Please leave a comment on your way out.
Start at Chapter 1
Author: Disneymagics
Rating: NC17
Pairing: J2 or Jared/Dean depending on how you look at it
Characters: Jared, Jensen, Christian Kane, Alaina Huffman, Aldis Hodge, Ty Olsson, Traci Dinwiddie, (minor roles: Eric Kripke, Beth Riesgraf, and Chad Michael Murray)
Genre: H/C, RPS, AU(set in the Dollhouse universe)
Disclaimer: None of these people belong to me; they all belong to themselves. None of this is true in any way, shape or form. I made it all up.
Warnings: Show level violence
Word Count: 3,700 this part (46,000 in total)
Summary: Jared's life is turned upside down the night he meets an intriguing young man who seems to have multiple personality disorder. Is he Dean - dangerous, charming and troubled? Or Jensen - naive and almost child-like? This chance encounter leads to a job offer with a mysterious organization called the Dollhouse.
A/N: Thank you to my best friend, alpha reader, and biggest cheerleader,
etoile_etiolee. She always has my back! All the beautiful artwork for this story was made by her. Thank you sweetie! My beta reader,
cerului, did an absolutely fantastic job! This story is made better by her wonderful insights. Their enthusiasm has given me the confidence to post a story again after a one year long dry stretch. This story is completly written and betaed. My plan is to post one chapter per week. Comments are very much appreciated. In fact, they are the whole reason I write and post stories instead of keeping them in my head. :)
Epilogue
One month later
Pain so intense that his vision is replaced by pulsing strobe lights, lances through his head. Dean drops his fork, letting it clatter to the table beside his blueberry pie.
The headaches are getting worse and more frequent, each one the precursor to new memories or the disconcerting blackouts. He hates those periods of blankness when he doesn't know what he's doing or saying even more than he hates the excruciating headaches.
His body starts shaking and sweating, his vision goes from blinding white hot light to dull grey. Soon he'll lose control over his mind and his body and there's nothing he can do to stop it. Nothing.
Footsteps alert him that someone has entered the kitchen.
"Hey, Dean," a voice says. Ty. "Pie for breakfast? Really?"
Dean wants to make a snark-filled comment about the nutritional value of pie, but the thought barely forms before it's crushed by what feels like an anvil falling from the sky and connecting solidly with his head. He must moan instead, either that or Ty gets a good look at the pathetic way he's trembling, because he says, "Hang tight, man. I'll get Jared. Just hold on."
Damn, it's cold, Dean thinks.
HUB Mall is covered in snow. Huge drifts of the stuff coat every surface, including the walkways leading to the many restaurants and shops that make up the HUB area. Most students elect later classes on Mondays and haven't emerged from the dorms yet, so the snow is relatively untouched. The mid-morning sun glints off the crystalized ice like solar flares.
Jensen hefts his backpack into a more comfortable position and tilts his head, letting a few fat, powdery flakes land on his face. Snow is a new thing for him and he still finds it magical. Growing up in Texas, he had seen precious little snow and his friends here at the University of Alberta, most of whom have lived in Canada all their lives, tease him mercilessly when he runs outside during a snowstorm to make a snowman. Yeah, they tease him, but they usually end up outside with him, competing to see who can roll the biggest or the roundest or the overall best ball for the snowman's base. These outings usually degenerate into snowball fights right around the time Jensen is looking for sticks to use as arms. He loves it.
His parents hadn't been happy with his decision to go this far away for school, but when he'd explained what a wonderful program U of A had in his field - environmental sciences - his enthusiasm had convinced them it was the right choice.
He looks at his watch and quickens his pace. He has fifteen minutes to get across North Campus. If he doesn't hurry, he'll be late for Professor Singer's forestry class. The man is a gruff, grumpy old cuss, but he knows more about the interrelationships between animal life and the different tree species than anyone else on the planet. In fact, Singer is a very big reason Jensen choose this school. His classes are always packed. Being late means all the seats will be taken and Jensen will be standing for the next hour and a half.
Someone calls his name, grabs his arm from behind. Jensen doesn't recognize the voice. He turns and...
Air floods his lungs as he gasps and shudders into some semblance of awareness. His eyes feel dry and gritty, as though he's been having a staring contest with someone. He blinks a few times. The room comes into focus. He's sitting at the kitchen table, a heavy blanket draped around his shoulders.
A very, very heavy blanket. He shrugs and the blanket lifts slightly, not releasing him, but giving him some breathing space. "Dean? Are you back with us?" the blanket - Jared - asks.
Dean. His name is Dean. He knows that, and yet... Mouth parched, he croaks, "Did I make it to Singer's class on time?"
A hand rubs soothing circles on his back. "Get him some water, will you Aldis?"
The faucet runs and a glass is pressed into his hand.
Everything feels disjointed. He's having a hard time reconciling where he is now with where he was mere seconds ago.
"Drink the water, Dean. You'll feel better in a minute." Jared wraps a big hand around his on the glass and brings it to his lips, helping him tilt it at the right angle.
He's grateful for Jared's concern and annoyed at his own weakness at the same time. He's cold from the snow and warm from Jared's steadying embrace. He's both standing in the snow and sitting in the kitchen. The dichotomy is disconcerting. It's making him dizzy.
He leans into Jared's comforting presence and closes his eyes, letting the world settle around him. Slowly, he regains his equilibrium.
"Well, that was different," he finally manages, opening his eyes and straightening in the chair.
"Yeah," Jared says, his voice catching slightly. "Yeah, it was. Do you remember what happened?"
"I remember..." he hesitates. His memories are a jumble. "I remember hurrying across the HUB. I didn't want to be late for my forestry class."
This thought makes him stop cold. Forestry class? Since when has he been interested in forestry? He doesn't even like camping. Of course, his dislike for nature can most likely be attributed to his father. John Winchester's lessons in surviving the great outdoors had reached legendary status during his young, formative years when he and Adam had been forced to hike the Appalachian Trail for five days, eating only what they could find along the way. He became ill from drinking untreated water. The last day was a torturous uphill climb and he was so weak from dehydration that he passed out. Not before he reached the end of the trail his father had marked out for them though, goddamn it!
But wait, that never really happened, did it? If the events that formed his hatred for camping didn't actually happen, does that mean his hatred isn't real?
"Dean?"
"Hmmm?" he says, distracted by the strange duality caused by loving and hating nature simultaneously. It feels like his mind is fraying, like his memories are sections of an elaborately woven tapestry and the threads are unraveling.
"Hey bud, look at me. Look at me, okay?" Someone shakes his shoulder.
He turns his head toward the voice.
"Do you know who I am?"
He nods. "Christian."
"That's right." Christian looks relieved.
"What about me?"
Smiling, he answers, "Jared." Like he could ever forget those sexy dimples or the sincere concern in those gorgeous, blue-green eyes. Jared is his constant.
"Good. And do you know who you are?"
That question is more difficult. "I'm...Dean." He frowns because it's not as reflexive as it ought to be. It's right. He knows it's right. But there's a wrongness about it too. Or maybe there's just an extra layer laid over the top.
"You are," Jared confirms, correctly interpreting his uncertainly. "But, just now, during and after your blackout, you referred to yourself as Jensen. You said 'I didn't want to be late for my forestry class.' You've never done that before. You would've said 'Jensen didn't want to be late for his forestry class.' Has something changed?"
"I'm-" The words get tangled, as though he's trying to say two things at once and his lips and tongue can't move in more than one direction, so nothing can get past his throat.
This might take some getting used to. He puts a hand against his neck, coughs, and tries again. "I think...I think I'm both."
Silence greets his statement.
With this revelation, the whirlwind in his mind settles somewhat and he uses the clarity to focus on his surroundings. The first thing he notices is the four other men crammed into the kitchen, staring at him intently, the closest one being Jared who still has him encased in a bear hug. Aldis is leaning against the counter near the sink, Ty is standing in the doorway, and Christian is sitting opposite him at the table. Apparently, his blackout had been an all-hands-on-deck event, traumatic enough to bring the entire household running.
Blueberry pie filling is smeared on the tabletop. The congealed, purplish trail leads to the crust and broken plate on the tile floor. Did he do that? He doesn't remember the plate falling. He doesn't remember the crash it must have made. No wonder he has an audience.
"When you say 'both', do you mean parts of Dean and parts of Jensen mixed together or is it more like sometimes you're Dean and sometimes you're Jensen?" Skepticism and curiosity make Aldis's eyes bulge like a frog's, the whites contrasting starkly with his dark skin tone. His inner geek is definitely showing.
The question is a legitimate one, even if Aldis's motives for asking it are based on scientific speculation. He bites on his lower lip as he gives it some thought. The more he thinks about it, the more he believes that layers is the best way to describe it.
"I'm not...it's not like before when there were two completely separate parts fighting for dominance." He absently rubs the back of his head where the skin is still tender, but the lump has long since disappeared. "It's not either one personality or the other. We're both here, all the memories that belong to Dean and all the memories that belong to Jensen, all the experiences that make up a whole person, only there are two sets of everything." Struggling to explain, he holds out his hands, flattens them and then lays one on top of the other. "Let's say this is Dean." He wiggles the fingers on his bottom hand. "And this is Jensen." He wiggles the fingers on his top hand, then he interlaces the fingers together. "I can remember being eight and watching my mom take a huge turkey out of the oven for Thanksgiving dinner. But I can also remember being eight and watching my brother make bologna sandwiches for Thanksgiving dinner because dad was off hunting a nest of chupacabra that year." He looks up, gauging his friends' reactions, hoping for a spark of understanding because he's having a hard enough time dealing with this himself without the third degree. His headache is threatening a comeback tour, starting in his eye sockets.
"Fuck," Christian says, always quick with a witty retort. "That's gotta be...weird."
Weird is one way of putting it. He sighs and leans back against Jared.
"So, what should we call you? Dean or Jensen?" Ty asks.
Another tough question. He identifies as both Dean and as Jensen to equal degrees. Choosing one over the other feels like denying a crucial piece of himself. It can't be done. His memories of Dean's life, even though they're manufactured memories, are just as real to him as his memories of Jensen's life. But Dean's family, his father and brother, even his dead mother, are only actors who were paid to deceive him. What does it matter that he loves them with everything his has? Dean's job - saving people, hunting things - is obsolete since there are no ghosts or monsters for him to hunt. Dean's very way of life no longer holds purpose. It's all fakery and deception.
Whereas, Jensen's family lives in Texas, at least he assumes they're still there, and they'll be overjoyed to see him again when he feels ready for that. Jensen's passion for saving the environment is real and strong and worthwhile.
Eventually, he scrubs a hand down his face and back up through his hair, a mannerism he unconsciously recognizes as Dean's, and says, "Jensen. You should call me Jensen," in a voice that comes out raspy and clogged with emotion.
"Hey, are you alright?" Jared asks, his head bent low and his cheek resting on Jensen's head.
He nods. "Yeah, I'm alright."
He just wants the interrogation to be over. He understands that this is a big deal, for everyone, not just for him, but he doesn't want to think about it anymore. He wants Jared. He wants some reassurance and some peace from the turmoil in his head. Most of all, he wants to show Jared that this doesn't change anything between them as far as he's concerned.
There's one sure-fire way to get rid of the crowd.
He turns his head and nuzzles Jared's neck. "I want you," he whispers.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," he says as he pulls Jared's head down with a hand against his cheek and brushes their lips together.
"Oh jeez, they're kissing again." Aldis sounds disgusted, but there's a hint of amusement there too.
"Outta the way, Olsson," Christian shoves past Ty, anxious to beat a hasty retreat. "And no sex on the table. I hafta eat there, you know," he throws over his shoulder.
Jared chuckles without pulling away. Their faces are so close that the breathy puffs of air make Jensen's lips tingle. "You sure know how to clear a room."
Looking up, Jensen just catches Aldis's back as he disappears around the corner.
"That was the general idea," he murmurs and, standing, he puts his hands under the hem of Jared's shirt to trace the firm indentations made by his abs. Jared's stomach muscles quiver as Jensen caresses the responsive skin. "Doesn't make it any less true though."
"Doesn't make what any less true?" Jared's breath hitches and his eyebrows pucker in that adorable way that means he's trying very hard to concentrate.
"I want you." Jensen's hands find their way below the waistband of Jared's jeans where they massage heated flesh. "I want you to fuck me. Please Jared. I need it." He licks a stripe up Jared's neck and when he reaches the hypersensitive spot behind Jared's ear, he exploits it mercilessly, laving his tongue against the pulse point and sucking until he pulls blood to the surface and a moan from Jared's parted lips.
"You sure?" Jared asks even as he tilts his head to allow Jensen better access.
Jensen's body is thrumming with pent up adrenaline and desire. He can't think of a better way to silence the discord in his head than to find his release with Jared pounding into him so hard he forgets his own name. Both of them.
"I've never been more sure of anything in my whole life," he says, letting go of Jared only long enough to shuck off his clothes. Then, completely naked, he pulls Jared back in for a heated kiss, his hands fisted in Jared's long hair so he can take control.
Jared goes along willingly. He lets Jensen mash their mouths together, lets him devour his lips, his tongue. He tastes like the sour gummy worms he'd been eating earlier, tart and sweet at the same time. It's intoxicating and Jensen feels drunk from lack of oxygen, but he just can't stop.
Out of breath and panting, eyes dilated, Jared finally pulls back and rasps, "Shouldn't we move this into the bedroom so we don't scar Christian for life?"
They probably should, but Jensen doesn't think he can wait that long. The bedroom is way up on the second floor, after all. "He'll survive," he says and, grinning mischievously, he hops onto the kitchen table, heedless of the blueberry pie filling. "Right here, right now. Come on, Jared."
He's well aware of the display he's putting on, hips resting dangerously close to the table's edge, leaning back with his elbows on the table and his hands braced behind his ass, semi-hard cock twitching in anticipation, naked and offering himself up like an exotic banquet.
Jared's mouth opens and closes before he finds his voice which comes out in a winded exhale. "Jesus, you're gonna be the death of me." He's quick to get with the program after that, removing his own clothes so fast that he forgets about his shoes and has to hop on one foot with his pants around his ankles while he kicks them off.
Once Jared is naked, Jensen takes a moment to appreciate the view. He loves Jared's body. His shoulders are broad and his muscles are well-defined without being too bulky. He obviously lifts weights, but it's not to the point where he looks like a gorilla on steroids. The dip of his hipbones accentuates the v-shape made by his lean waist as it tapers down to his groin and the nest of curls surrounding his long, thick shaft. Jensen's mouth waters.
Taking himself in hand, Jared begins a leisurely pumping motion, up down, up, twist. "We're gonna need some stuff - condom, lube." His eyes become hooded with pleasure and Jensen wants some of that action right-the-fuck now.
"There's a condom in my pocket." He points to where his pants are on the floor. "And we can use the cooking oil."
"Kinky. I like it." Jared grins as he rounds up the necessary supplies, his dick hanging heavy and engorged. "Nothing about you is conventional, is it?"
Jensen snorts. "You're just now figuring that out?"
Oil drips from Jared's fingers as he opens Jensen up. He collapses flat onto his back on the table, his legs swinging over the edge. Jared's talented fingers delve deeply inside him and find his prostate. Sparks flash before his eyes. His muscles spasm. Jensen arches off the table, gasping and straining, hips grinding upward, chasing the pleasure. His eyes slam shut.
Then the fingers are gone and Jared is pushing his legs up so they rest on Jared's shoulders. He's completely exposed, vulnerable, his hole open and needy. "Jared, please," he begs, voice wrecked.
The blunt head of Jared's cock presses against his rim and, in one long, excruciatingly slow thrust, he bottoms out. An exquisite pain pulls all the breath from Jensen's lungs. A primal cry tears from his throat. So full, so very full.
"Tell me when," Jared says and it sounds like he's been holding his breath.
Jensen gives his body a few seconds to adjust. "Okay, okay now, Jared."
Jared begins a punishing rhythm, hard and fast, just the way Jensen likes it, pounding his prostate on every thrust. Fingers grip his hips pulling them off the table until his ass is in the air, held up by Jared's brute strength. The angle allows Jared to pump into him deeper and Jensen can barely breathe as Jared slams into him over and over again.
Jensen grips the table, white-knuckled, and uses his stomach muscles to lift his hips even higher, pushing forward on every thrust. Pleasure mixes with pain, electric volts skitter down his spine, heat pools in his groin. All too soon it's over. Jared grunts in exertion, face red and sweat dripping off his nose. Jensen tenses up as pressure coils explosively inside him. He reaches up and strips his cock a couple times and then he's coming. Hot white ropes of come cover his belly. Jared yells, thrusts once more, and shakes as his orgasm takes him.
Sated, Jensen opens his eyes. His body hums with the remnants of his release and he feels at peace. Orgasms are the best. He smiles at Jared. "That was awesome."
Jared gives him a blissed-out smile back.
It's later on that day and Jared seems to have decided a serious conversation is in order. He has Jensen sit on the couch beside him, cups his face and stares him straight in the eyes as though by doing so, he can impart some cosmic knowledge.
"Do you still wanna go through with our plans? You don't have to, you know. The guys will understand if you'd rather forget the whole thing and go back to school. I'm sure Jensen was a student somewhere and if he...I mean, if you would rather go back to your studies, no one will blame you."
Their plans are to destroy the Dollhouse, one facility at a time. Between Aldis and Christian, they know where all the branches are located and what security is like at each one. Christian and Ty have mended some fences between them and Ty has agreed to help out in exchange for favors to be owed and collected at his discretion. They'll tour the Americas as a team, rescuing the Actives and disabling the facilities as they go.
Jensen is sure it won't be as easy as that, but it's a start. They can make up the rest and overcome the obstacles that crop up as need be.
Getting on the road again, saving people, those ideals appeal to his 'Dean' personality. Bringing down a corrupt organization, being part of a team, those are values his 'Jensen' personality can get behind. No, he wouldn't give up those plans for anything in the world.
"School can wait. This is more important," he says. "Although, maybe we can make a detour to Texas. Not right away," he hastens to amend. He's not ready for that yet. Too many things have changed for him. He's not the same boy his family knew, not by a long shot. "But soon." The wistful quality to his own voice is apparent even to him.
"Soon," Jared repeats, kissing him on the nose. "We'll take it at you pace. Whenever you're comfortable." He gives Jensen a long look. "Just remember, your parents love you and nothing can change that."
Moisture gathers on his eyelashes as he blinks furiously. While one half knows what the unconditional love of a mother feels like, the other half has only ever imagined how that would feel. A four year old's memories are hazy at best.
"Hey," Jared says softly, leaning over and kissing his eyelids. "It'll be a good thing, you'll see. And after that, we can go visit my parents. They're gonna love you too."
"Such a sap," Jensen tries to sound gruff, but a fond smile and a fresh tear betray him.
"You think I'm awesome," Jared states confidently.
He does. On that, all sides of his personality are in total sync.
The End.
A/N: This epilogue is dedicated to my best friend, etoile_etiolee, who kept asking about Christian's back story. If not for her, Christian would remain an utter mystery. :D
Well, it's over. Whew! This is by far the most complicated story I have ever written. I hope you enjoyed it.
Now who's ready for some Innocents 'verse? Innocents 'verse time stamp coming up next.
Please leave a comment on your way out.
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