Bulletproof: part one
Movie deals are hard to come by. Who knew? Martin Scorsese is not hammering down Jared's door to beg him to star in his next project. And even television work, which is meant to be more plentiful, is not exactly what you'd call 'in ready supply'.
Which is how Jared ends up in the office of what he's pretty damn sure is a high-priced escort agency, an agency that offers all the extras. He thinks he read the advertisement Tom forwarded him right and this isn't about signing up to put his body on the menu. He hopes he read the advertisement right and is actually here about providing 'discreet assistance and security' to those bodies that are on the menu.
It's not exactly what he left San Antonio to do. Los Angeles was supposed to be where he became a famous actor, but the powers that be seem to have missed that memo and Jared's left to do the best he can with what he's got. Looking at the plush elegance of the coffee leather and polished chrome waiting room, he thinks it might not be so awful. And it's not like it's going to be a long-term gig, just enough to pay the rent for a couple of months.
He's grateful for the air-conditioning because he's not used to his suit and it feels scratchy and too hot. Still, he's glad he wore it instead of the more casual outfit he'd considered because standards are obviously sky-high here and Jared feels out of place enough as it is. Necessary qualifications for this kind of job seem a little unclear and Jared thinks there's every chance they're going to laugh him out of the door but the advertisement said 'discreet assistance and security' and Jared is a) able to keep his mouth shut, b) more than happy to help out however he can, and c) six foot and then some of lean muscle.
He'd just feel more comfortable about doing this if the advertisement had also said 'no experience necessary'. It goes without saying that he'd also feel more comfortable if this were an acting gig and didn't feel like the first step on a slip-side into the glamorous world of high-class prostitution.
Trying not to wipe his sweat-damp palms over his thighs for the fiftieth time, Jared glances up as the door opens and a young woman with red hair pulled back into a high ponytail and wearing trendy glasses with thick black frames flashes him a polite but perfunctory smile.
"Mr Padalecki? Ms Ferris will see you now."
Jared stumbles to his feet, tugs at his abruptly uncomfortably tight shirt collar, and goes in the direction he's pointed.
Samantha Ferris, as it turns out, is an attractive woman in her late thirties, with light brown hair and warm dark eyes. Her skin is golden tanned and there's a genuineness about her that Jared immediately likes. From the broad smile she gives him at first sight, it's clear the feeling is mutual. She stands up, leaning forward on her desk to get a better look at Jared, who holds still awkwardly for her appraisal and tries to ignore the display of ample cleavage her position gives him. Leering is one of the big no-no's at interviews.
She nods at what she sees and then looks back up at Jared's face, smiling at him again.
"Let me tell you, honey," she says, her voice smoky and low, "you are exactly the type of guy I was hoping would walk through my door." She looks down at some paperwork on her desk, touching a finger to one of the sheets. "Jared Padalecki, right?"
Jared nods and takes the seat she ushers him towards. Sam's office is as elegant and expensive as the waiting room but there's a vase of carnations on her desk and a few framed photos pointed so she can see them where she's sitting. There are homelier touches around the place that settle his nerves slightly and he finds himself able to relax a bit into the chair. Besides, it's hard to be too nervous about an interview when the interviewer's already welcomed you as 'exactly' what she was looking for.
"So, Jared, you know what we do, right? I don't have to disabuse you of any innocent little notions about what we offer here, right? If you saw the advertisement then it's because someone who knows us thought you were up to the job."
Briefly, Jared has to wonder how Tom - Superman himself - knew about escort agencies. He has to wonder precisely which side of the business had brought Tom into Sam Ferris's office. But he just nods and tries not to flush. Clearly his attempt isn't as successful as he'd hoped, because Sam's lips twitch at the corners and Jared feels his cheeks burn even hotter.
"You're a-" He clears his throat but Sam's already waving a hand at him to stop.
"No, honey, you don't have to say it. That way, you're just doing your job, nice and legal. Let us worry about everything else. 'Sides, your cute red cheeks tell me you're fully clued in."
Jared squirms in his chair and clenches his hands into sweaty fists in order to resist the urge to wipe them off on his pants again. If this is how flustered he gets about the interview, he's not sure he's going to be able to handle the actual job. Sam leans back in her chair and studies him again. It's his face getting the scrutiny this time and it's more serious, more intense.
"You at all homophobic, Jared?"
"No," Jared says slowly. "I'm not homophobic."
She cocks her head at him, registering the care with which he gave his answer. She purses her lips and raises an eyebrow.
"Be honest. Tell me now 'cause otherwise you're gonna be in need of some serous therapy after doing this job for just a few days and policy healthcare won't cover it."
"I'm not homophobic," says Jared more firmly.
She studies him a long minute longer and Jared fiercely refuses to flush or sweat or do anything else to give himself away. His jaw is clenched with the effort it takes to sit entirely still and keep his face blank. It's not enough. She lifts her chin, lips parting in surprise. Then she nods and glances away, giving him a moment to relax without her watching him.
"I believe you." When she looks back at him, Jared meets her gaze with something like stubbornness. "So, can you take care of yourself in a fight, Jared? Can you… let me be straight with you here, okay? The guy I'm looking to hire someone for, he has a bad habit of somehow managing to draw out the deep-seated crazy in people. And Jensen represents a big investment for us. He's a good guy too. I don't wanna see him getting hurt if I can help it."
She stands up and crosses to the window, the morning sun lending her face a subtle softness and catching on the blonde tones in her hair. Her suit is a dusky rose color and fits her perfectly.
"There was a nasty incident a few weeks back," Sam says. "Could have been a hell of a lot nastier too. I'm not asking you to jump in front of bullets for him. You don't have to worry about whether they pay up or not." She pauses and gives a wicked grin. "I handle the money and I make sure we get it before they even lay eyes on my boy, let alone hands."
Jared gives her an anxious smile that she seems to find a little amusing.
"I just want you to be a presence around him that'll make people think twice before they do anything stupid," she says. "Let 'em know that there's someone close by with an interest in his wellbeing. Can you do that, Jared?"
Not for the first time, Jared wonders just what the hell he's getting himself in for. She turns around and catches his uncertain expression. Sinking back behind her desk, she fixes him with a mothering smile. It's a deadly weapon. Telling Sam 'no' suddenly feels like letting his own mom down.
"You drive him to and from appointments. Wait for him when he's with clients. Intervene to get him the hell out if there are problems, which I'm really not expecting all that often. I'm not going to lie to you, Jared, most of the time it's gonna be plenty boring. Learn to like crosswords or Sudoku or something. I just need you to look good and be polite most of the time, and every now and then, get up in people's faces to make 'em back off."
Put like that, it's nothing but a glorified chauffeur with a few extra responsibilities. And the money mentioned in the advertisement is extremely generous for such a position. When it comes down to it, Jared's not a coward. He's been in fights before - Chad's seen to that. It really doesn't sound like anything Jared wouldn't do in his everyday life. Except, this time, he'll be getting paid for it and instead of it being Chad he's dragging out of brawls, it'll be Sam's boy, Jensen.
As big as the thrill is that Jared gets from auditioning for toothpaste commercials and bit-parts on soap operas as 'guy behind counter' or 'Josh, the Math tutor who only appears in this episode and will never be mentioned again', he thinks if he turns this gig down he'll be one hell of an idiot.
He signs the contract, shakes hands with Sam and goes home to his apartment to figure out what he needs to worry about most: having to play bodyguard to a male prostitute who apparently has an uncanny habit of turning people psycho, or just what kind of job he should admit to having to his mom and dad.
:::
"So do you get to sample the merchandise for free?" says Chad.
"No."
"Reduced rate?"
"No."
"Do you get to make some extra cash by selling blowjobs from the back of the car?"
"Chad. Imma disown you if you don't shut your mouth," Jared says, as coherently as he can after half a bottle of tequila on an empty stomach.
Chad snorts but settles for draining his glass instead of pestering Jared some more. It's three days since Jared took the job and sometimes it's like it never happened and he's still waiting for his agent to call with an audition, and other times it's all he can think about. Earlier, Tom called, asking how it went and Jared told him, glad to have someone to talk to about it. Still, it was an awkward conversation and Jared thinks both he and Tom were relieved when it was over. He never intended to tell Chad - because Chad is a douche, a loveable douche but a douche nonetheless - but he was going out of his head with it and it kind of found its way out past his lips.
So now they're dealing with it with alcohol. The pleasant stage of drunkenness, where everything is awesome and all Jared wants to do is properly express just how much he loves Chad and how grateful he is for having such a cool and unique friend like Chad, was over about an hour ago. Now Jared feels like he might puke and the floor is doing its best to jump out from under him, despite the fact he's securely slumped on the couch.
"So… are you like his pimp?" Chad says finally.
"No."
"Do you get a pimp-cane? And a fur coat? And a big, ugly-ass hat with a feather in it?"
"Not unless I decide to buy 'em myself," says Jared. "Now c'mon, shut up 'fore I have to punch your teeth down your throat."
Jared's head hurts very much and he makes a low, pathetic keening sound. He's sincerely suspecting that everything has been a very bad idea, starting right from the day he decided he was going to go to L.A. to be an actor. It was probably even a bad idea to get up that day because if he hadn't then he could have carried on dreaming about mutant toasters, outbreaks of zombies and other freaky shit and his mind wouldn't have had chance to discover that he wanted to be an actor.
"Chad, have I fucked up?"
Chad takes a moment to think this over thoroughly. He nods slowly, rubbing his stubbled jaw.
"Yeah, probably. Too late now though. You signed. Can I call you Lord of the Ho's?"
"No."
"Pimp-Daddy?"
Jared makes a half-hearted, poorly coordinated attempt to carry through on his threat to knock some of Chad's teeth out and ends up falling on the floor. He mouths helplessly at the rug and considers whether he cares enough about being on the floor to try to get back on the couch. He doesn't.
"When do you meet him?" says Chad.
"Tomorrow," says Jared. He manages to get a look at his watch and amends that to, "Today."
:::
When Jared makes it into Sam's office six hours later, he feels like shit and doesn't think he technically qualifies as human right now. He's suffering a good, strong hangover - the kind that makes him want to self-righteously swear off ever drinking again. At least he doesn't stink of alcohol anymore. He's showered and combed his hair and found clothes that aren't crumpled. Still, he's kind of hoping that Jensen isn't someone who puts a lot on first impressions because the one Jared's about to make? He has a sneaking suspicion it's going to be a bad one.
Sam's secretary takes one look at him and fetches him a cup of very strong coffee.
"Oh God," says Jared. "Do I look that bad?"
Tactfully, she doesn't answer, but her small, uncertain smile is sufficient. Draining the cup in a few throat-burning gulps, Jared straightens up, tells himself that this is an audition for the part of a very sober and respectable young man and goes in to Sam.
"Hey, baby," says Sam in greeting as she scribbles something down on a pad of paper. She throws her pen down, looks up and her expression doesn't flicker as she takes Jared in. "Wow, don't you look like shit? Sit down, honey. Need some coffee?"
"Had some, thanks. Uh… just us?"
"Jensen's not here yet. He had a late night." Sam shoots him a wry glance and adds, "Seems like there's a lot of that going around. Now, business. I've spoken to Jensen's regular clients, they're all aware of you. Some of 'em were a little grumpy about it but if they wouldn't agree to the revised terms of the contract, I showed them the door. So expect a little sharpness from a few but no real resistance. Anyone tries to ditch you, you don't let 'em alone in a room with Jensen."
"Wow," says Jared stupidly.
She raises an eyebrow at him and if Jared was feeling smarter this morning he'd make some lame observation about just how fast Sam's mouth goes and had she ever considered an alternative career as a commentator at a horse-race or an auctioneer 'cause they have to talk fast too, don't they? Instead, he just blurts out the first thing that crosses his mind in response to her querying expression.
"He must be earning a shitload if you can afford to throw clients over as easy as that."
He cringes as the observation hangs in the air between them but Sam just shrugs and gives him a conspiratorial smile.
"Jensen's the best, sweetie. People don't get the best without paying for it. 'Sides, if they can't see the need for making sure Jensen's taken care of then I don't much want their business."
It's both surprising and oddly touching just how much Sam appears to care about Jensen's well-being. Not for one minute does Jared forget that Jensen must be responsible for a pretty hefty sum regularly going into Sam's bank account but he doesn't think she's faking the note of concern in her voice when she talks about him either, or the affection in her eyes. Too much time spent with Chad has Jared thinking in terms of pimps, and that concept is entirely unsuitable for what Sam is to Jensen. Not quite a mother, but something not too many steps removed.
There's a light knock and the secretary sticks her head round the door. A look passes between her and Sam, and inexplicably the atmosphere grows sharp. Even more inexplicable, before the secretary ducks back out, she shoots Jared a deeply sympathetic expression. Somehow, Jared just knows he is not clear-headed enough for whatever is coming through the door next.
What comes through the door next is a problem Jared hadn't even considered. He'd considered Jensen being a jerk or crazy or a complete pain in the ass. Maybe a diva type who was going to demand Jared call him 'sir' at all times and fetch copious bottles of a specific brand of mineral water. He had not considered him being stupidly gorgeous. Which, really, when he thinks about what Jensen does for a living and how much it seems people are willing to pay for him, is definitely something Jared should have thought about.
Jensen is so gorgeous that Jared is almost glad that he's so badly hung over because seeing this guy for the first time without some haze of headache and grogginess to dampen the effect could probably cause Jared's head to explode. That speculation leads him to wonder if perhaps Jensen is already bringing out the crazy in him.
He's pretty much the whole package: broad shoulders skimming down to narrow hips and long legs, styled light brownish-blond hair, and a mouth that could play 24/7 on a porn station all by itself. And then he takes his sunglasses off and Jared sees long-lashed green eyes and gives up on not being hopelessly attracted to him. It's hard to decide whether Jensen's biggest flaw is the tight, blank scowl he's wearing or the fact he's not naked and declaring his love at first sight for Jared.
Too much tequila and not enough sense left in his skull is definitely bringing out the idiot in Jared.
Jensen looks Jared over and then snaps a glance at Sam, who is watching anxiously, like she's just introduced a rottweiler to a baby bunny rabbit. Perhaps, Jared thinks cautiously, she's forgotten that she's hired Jared to protect Jensen and that Jared is supposed to be the rottweiler in this relationship.
"This my new babysitter?" Jensen asks shortly. Jared rises to offer him his hand and Jensen backs up a step in surprise, eyes widening as they travel up the full length of Jared. "Whoa! Couldn't you find anyone taller? You know midgets cramp my style."
"Hi," says Jared. "Good to meet you. I'm Jared."
"Jensen," he says, sparing him a moment's attention and then looking back to Sam. "Can I send him back for being too short?"
"You don't get to send him back for any reason, Jen," Sam tells him, sounding tired and unamused.
"Sam-" he starts, moving past Jared to stand directly in front of Sam's desk. Jared feels obscurely like he's walked into the middle of a domestic. Maybe he should wait out with the secretary and lots of coffee until everything's resolved. The set of Sam's face though suggests that, as far as she is concerned, everything is resolved and she's just waiting for Jensen to get with the program. Jared would appreciate that too because he's got way too nasty a headache to watch things escalate the way they seem to be threatening to.
"Jensen," Sam snaps, all softness vanishing like a switch being flicked. "This is not up for discussion. And get that sulky look off your face, boy. You wanna end up in the hospital again? You be grateful I didn't hire you two ugly gorillas to trail around after you. Now, learn to deal, Jensen, 'cause this isn't going away. Jared isn't going away."
Silence reigns in the office, thick and tangled. Tension holds Jensen's body in tight, unhappy lines. Jared edges awkwardly towards the door. Sam doesn't break eye contact with Jensen and the precise moment that Jensen surrenders is signalled by the abrupt slump of his shoulders. He turns away and gives Jared a hard look.
"We have an eleven o'clock appointment."
"Drive safe, boys!" Sam calls after them as Jared follows Jensen out of the office.
:::
Cars aren't really Jared's thing. He likes big bastard trucks that eat up the ground like candy no matter the territory. He likes them marked up with road-dust and scratches to show that he's really been places. That said, the hulking, silver Porsche SUV he's been given to drive Jensen around in is pretty fucking spectacular.
His longer-legged stride brings him to it before Jensen can get there and he holds the rear door open for him with a polite smile. The look Jensen gives him is two parts incredulity and one part disgust. Without a word, he climbs into the front passenger seat and slams the door shut. Jared freezes a moment, still holding the door open, and feels the smile slide off his face.
Taking a deep breath and reminding himself that it was highly likely Jensen had to be that much of a prick in order for his unfathomable prettiness not to cause some kind of rift in the natural laws of the universe due to too much awesome in one place, Jared takes the driver's seat and starts up.
"Hey, look, on the bright side, I'm company, right?" he tries, as they pull out of the calm shade of the underground garage and into the glaring sun and traffic of mid-morning in L.A. His head is throbbing like his brain is trying to force its way out of his skull.
"You think I'm short of company?" Jensen says, shooting him a sidelong look. "They did explain to you what it is I do, right? I know you're new, but please tell me they got that far in your induction."
"Company that's not paying to fuck you," Jared responds with obnoxious cheeriness.
A muscle in Jensen's throat, already taut, flickers tighter. There's a creak of leather as he shifts in his seat to get a better look at Jared. Jared doesn't look back at him, concentrates on navigating through the traffic, but he feels the itch of Jensen's gaze moving over him.
"Okay, listen, I don't need company. I don't need a friend. I don't want your opinions and I don't want to hear how your day's going, how you slept last night, what you thought of whatever trash you watched on TV or your opinion on the political scandal of the day. I don't even really want you driving me around or coming in to vet my clients but apparently I don't get a choice in that. If I need help, which I won't because I'm pretty damn good at taking care of myself, I will let you know. Otherwise, shut up and drive."
Jared lets out a breath and weirdly enough finds his immediate response to Jensen's rant is a smile. It's really very reassuring to discover that that awkward little crush he thought he was going to have to deal with goes away just fine on its own the minute Jensen says more than three words together to him. So Jensen as a human being sucks. It's good to know that so early in the relationship. Saves so much time that might have been spent on uncertainty and angst.
Once Jared is sure Jensen has entirely finished, Jared flips the radio on and they drive the rest of the way with only inane pop mush to break the silence.
:::
Carl is the first client of the day. He has a hotel suite that he probably pays as much for per night as Jared does a month for his apartment. He's a balding, middle-aged businessman with a fastidious manner, suit neat and square. Obviously one of Jensen's regulars if the way his eyes light up when he sees Jensen is anything to go by. Then his gaze moves to Jared and his eyes narrow. He doesn't offer his hand and Jared doesn't offer his. He's not sure what the etiquette is with this; he's simply here to deliver Jensen, safe and sound, and collect him, pretty much in the same condition.
"I assume you're Mr Padalecki." Jared smiles and inclines his head. Carl doesn't smile back. "I think you should know right now that selling your story of this encounter to any one of those sordid gossip rags would be a very bad idea."
"There was a confidentiality clause in my contract," Jared says, civil and unruffled.
Jensen moves past them both, into the spill of sunshine that dapples the cream carpets. He slides his fingers through the trailing green leaves of a lush plant set on the occasional table by the window. He pours himself a drink from the clear jug of water next to it, making a show of putting the glass to his lips, as his fingers come up to flip open the button of his shirt at his collar. Jared catches a glimpse of the intriguing dip of Jensen's collarbone before he turns away.
"I'll be in the lobby," he says.
He closes the hotel room door behind him with a barely audible click, shutting out his view of Carl moving across the room towards Jensen, who's still waiting in the sunshine, shamelessly aware of his own sensuality.
:::
Sudoku is weirdly addictive. Jared gets the hang of it quickly. He takes up a chair in the corner of the lobby, tucking his legs out of the way of the people passing by, and works his way through the number puzzles. So yeah, Sam was right about learning to do Sudoku because Jensen's been up there two hours and Jared's grateful for the distraction it provides. He's trying hard not to think about how weird it is that Jensen and Carl must be having sex right now. The mental image of it is hard to put together, not that he's trying for one.
Jensen, who's a prick, is up there with Carl, who's also a prick.
And they're having sex.
Jared is waiting for the two of them to stop having sex so he can drive Jensen somewhere else so he can have sex with someone else.
This job is seriously messing with his head. So, yeah, thank God for Sudoku.
:::
Two jobs follow and Jensen's all finished by 7pm. They manage to pass the entire time between appointments without speaking. Even better, Jared manages to not stare too much when Jensen finishes an appointment and comes back to him. Realistically, he knew not to expect Jensen to come back looking freshly fucked. He didn't expect just-had-sex hair, or swollen lips, or hickeys along his jaw. Though, yeah, he'd considered how Jensen would look like that and thought it was a damn good thing that Jensen is such a complete asshole because otherwise Jared would be in way too deep over him.
Jensen apparently has a strict rule of showering immediately after an appointment ends - which Jared supposes is just good manners and good practice. So when he climbs back into the car beside Jared, he smells fresh and clean and Jared can only catch the citrus scent of shampoo and soap on his skin.
After Jared drops Jensen off and Jensen curtly informs him that he only has one appointment tomorrow and it's not until 2pm, Jared goes home, sits down on his couch and considers the four voicemail messages Chad has left him. For a long moment, he contemplates deleting them all without listening to them because he's not sure he really needs to add Chad's thoughts on the situation to the overall crappiness of the whole day. It sucks enough as it is without throwing any words of wisdom from Chad into the mix. But before he can make a decision, the phone starts to vibrate and Jared gives in to the inevitable.
"Well? How's your ho?"
"Don't call him that," Jared says, not really expecting it to make much impact on Chad but feeling the need to at least put up a token protest to the term before he gives in. "And he's a jerk."
"Did you fuck him?"
Jared rests his forehead against his cell while he musters up some strength and patience. He rubs at his eyes with the heel of his hand and mentally catalogues the inventory of his fridge, preferring to think about dinner than about Chad right now.
"No. I told you, he's a jerk."
"Are you going to fuck him?"
"No, man, c'mon. I explained to you what my job is. Seriously, there's no fucking involved. Well, none with me and him. Plenty for him."
"He got any famous clients? C'mon, dude, you can tell me!"
There's definitely a big slab of cheese in the fridge, some milk that may not be past sell-by-date and possibly the remnants of some leftover Chinese from a few nights ago. Cheese garnish on stale Chinese takeout sounds pretty foul and Jared moves on to considering whether he's in the mood for pizza. And if so, what kind? These are the important issues he'd much rather be focusing on.
"Chad, you know it wasn't that long ago that I told you about my secret crush on Sandy McCoy and you told everyone. Including her boyfriend. You're gonna need to give me some more time to forget before I'm stupid enough again to trust you with anything I don't want to broadcast to everyone in L.A."
"Hey, Sandy's back in town, y'know. That gig up in Vancouver didn't work out. She's back on the circuit. Still interested? We should call her up and tell her all about your awesome new job."
"Don't even think it," says Jared, low and menacing as he can. He pauses, bites his lip, then tries to sound nonchalant. "She still going out with that guy?"
Chad cackles wickedly on the other end of the line.
:::
It figures somehow that, while Jared's congratulating himself on neatly avoiding falling for Jensen thanks to Jensen being a dick of epic proportions, Jensen has to go and ruin everything.
Jared arrives at Jensen's house at exactly the time they'd agreed on, rings the doorbell and waits, prepared to be infuriatingly civil, ever friendlier the ruder Jensen gets. It's a nice neighborhood, the kind of place you can pull up in a Porche SUV and not attract stares, and the old lady from next door gives Jared a sweet smile when she comes back from walking her dog. It's very pleasant and Jared wonders idly if they have any idea about Jensen's profession, assumes probably not.
Unsurprisingly, Jensen keeps him waiting and Jared refuses to take it badly, simply uses the time to admire the two well-kept hanging baskets on either side of the doorstep. Then Jensen pulls the door wide and actually gives him an honest-to-God smile. His hair is still wet, dark curls on his temples and the nape of his neck. He's wearing faded jeans and a t-shirt, not the same level of smart he had on yesterday. He's also wearing a pair of wire-rimmed glasses that really should not be as hot as they are.
"Hey, Jared. Just give me five minutes." Jared nods and starts to turn away, intending to wait in the car but Jensen pulls the door wide. "No, come on in and wait. Help yourself to coffee."
Warily, Jared follows him inside. The house is cool and sparsely decorated. What decorating there is, though, is tasteful and miles away from the slovenly, lived-in charm of Jared's apartment. Clutching the keys in his sweaty palm, Jared hovers uncertainly in the livingroom. Jensen starts to leave then stops. He takes a breath and scratches awkwardly at his belly, hem of his t-shirt riding up to reveal toned muscle.
"Look, man, I owe you an apology. I was completely out of line yesterday. I was mad but I shouldn't'a taken that out on you." It's so unexpected that Jared just stares at Jensen, who flushes and breaks eye contact. "See, I wasn't consulted about getting you on board. Sam just told me it was happening and it's… well, it's pretty demeaning."
Jared looks confused. Jensen smiles but it's taut and sharp.
"Effectively having it announced to anyone with an interest that I can't take care of myself," he clarifies. He might be about to say more, lips pursing, then he shakes his head and refocuses on Jared. "Anyway, I was a jerk and I'm sorry. Let me make it up to you?"
Obviously, what with Jensen being smoking hot and making a living the way he does, Jared's brain drops straight to the gutter and all thought processing is taken on by his cock. His dazed response must show on his face because Jensen bites down on the tip of his tongue - which so isn't helping with moving Jared's thinking north - and smiles wryly.
"When I finish tonight, let me buy you a beer."
"Oh, you don't have to do that," says Jared. He shifts, feeling uncomfortable and idiotic. Then he manages a smile, surprisingly genuine, and says, "Don't sweat it. You were pissed off. I get it." He claps Jensen on the shoulder and catches sight of his wristwatch. "God, man, you need to haul ass. We're gonna be late for your appointment."
:::
As if the day couldn't get any more awkward, Jared recognises Jensen's client that day. He's a producer. Jared auditioned for him a few months after he first hit Los Angeles. It was some shitty role in a teen drama where Jared, at 24, would still have been the youngest of the 'teens' on set. He didn't even get a callback. Quentin, the producer, doesn't recognise Jared, which is both a relief and thoroughly insulting because Jared freaking rocked in that audition.
He's friendlier than Carl was though, at least. He shakes Jared's hand and tells him he completely understands his position and is glad to hear that Jensen's getting the support he deserves. Out of the corner of his eye, Jared can see Jensen trying hard not to pull a face.
Later, when Jared's waiting in the lobby again - palming the hotel room key from hand to hand and stoically not thinking about Jensen and Quentin fucking - he wonders what he'd have said if Quentin had recognised him. What if he had asked too much about what Jared was doing here in L.A.? Would he have admitted to wanting to be an actor? Would it have scored him another audition? Where on the scale of skeezy behavior did that rate? Jared's got it figured for 'high', he thinks, and he wonders if Jensen would agree or think him a wuss for not taking advantage of the opportunity, even if it came from the fact Jensen was being paid to have sex with Quentin.
It's three hours before Quentin walks out through the lobby. He meets Jared's eye and gives him a smile in acknowledgement. So he's not a complete loser. Being able to afford Jensen's services suggests he's doing something right anyway. Half an hour later, Jensen appears, radiant from the shower, and Jared hands the hotel room's key back to the concierge. As he does so, he notices the guy giving Jensen a once-over, his expression wobbling between curiosity and contempt. Jared makes a point of staring right back at him and giving him his most teeth-flashing smile. The concierge's gaze drops abruptly.
"You get folks like that," says Jensen as they walk out to the car. "Best to ignore 'em."
Jared flicks him a glance. "You noticed that then?"
"He was just wondering if he could afford me." Jensen smirks at him playfully just before he gets into the car. "He knows he couldn't. S'why he got all sour-faced. Funny," he says, pretending to look thoughtful, "there's one hell of a correlation between the guys who can't afford me and the guys who look at me like I'm something they stepped in on the street."
Jared doesn't answer, just starts the car up and drives. He doesn't think it's funny. Then again, he's not exactly comfortable with Jensen talking about who can afford him and who can't. It's like talking about the price of property in a certain district, except it's totally not and Jared's not sure how he feels about Jensen's apparent lack of awareness of the difference. And then he feels hypocritical for pitying the prostitute when he is, in fact, complicit in Jensen's lifestyle by enabling it like this. Jensen is at least committing himself fully, bodily. Jared's just skimming money off the sidelines.
"Dude, you're allowed to talk now," says Jensen, voice tinged with amusement as he watches him. "C'mon, what are you thinking?"
"Nothing, really." Jared says.
"Your face has gone all scrunched up. You're either deep in thought or seriously constipated."
Despite himself, Jared laughs. He shakes his head and shrugs. Screw Jensen for actually being likeable. It would have been so much easier if he could have just been the bastard Jared had thought he was after his behavior yesterday.
"Quentin's a producer."
"I know," says Jensen. He shrugs and adds, "We all come to L.A. to act, Jared. And then most of us find some other way of paying the rent. Why's it matter to you? You want me to make some introductions?"
"God, no!" says Jared and he frowns slightly because he thought he still wasn't sure how he felt about that, but he definitely means what he says. He tries to work out what it is he's trying to get at but gets distracted by the way Jensen keeps watching him. Like he's actually interested in hearing what Jared's thinking.
"Then, what? You think I came to L.A. specifically to get paid to take it up the ass?"
A brilliant flush colors Jared's cheeks and he shakes his head, as much to clear the visual as to deny the suggestion. As it is, what Jensen's said kind of directs him towards what he thinks is bothering him.
"You mean you didn't?"
He says it lightly but there's enough in his tone for Jensen to pick up on what he's actually saying. Jensen sighs and shrugs, flips his sunglasses back on and sinks down in the seat. For all that he protested the idea initially, Jensen seems to be developing a certain fondness for the downtime that being driven between appointments affords him. He's quiet for a long while before answering.
"Yeah, I wanted to be an actor. Came here as a model, couldn't get enough acting work to make the jump. Then I found this. And I'm good at it, Jared."
"Not saying you aren't." Jared is sticky with sweat but determined to keep the awkwardness out of his voice. "S'just… you could be good at a million other things. Like… waiting tables? Or remembering really long complicated orders like 'hold the mayo' and 'double the pickle' and 'gluten-free bread'-"
"Dude, s'almost twenty years since Pretty Woman, it's time to let it go. I don't need rescuing. I'm not doing this because I was abused into having no self-esteem and I'm waiting for some millionaire to carry me off to a nice apartment and some respectable, missionary sex three times a week."
"You're saying you enjoy the job then? Enjoy having sex for money?" Jared says. The traffic's slowed to a crawl and Jared takes the opportunity to take his eyes off the road and fix them squarely on Jensen. He's mildly disconcerted to realise Jensen's looking back at him. His expression is thoughtful, understanding even, but still just a little tired. Maybe he's tired from all that fucking or maybe he's fed up of having this conversation. Jared's willing to bet he's not the first guy who's expected Jensen to explain his life choices to him. He refuses to feel guilty and tells himself that's probably Jensen's fault for having made so many jacked decisions.
"That's the new cliché. Worse than 'tart with a heart'. Sure, there are plenty of jobs I'd prefer to be doing, but I'm not the only guy in the world doing a job he'd give up tomorrow if he wasn't getting paid for it." He smiles at Jared, lazy and sunny. "You telling me you'd still be driving my ass round town if some big shot movie producer offered you a starring role?"
Grin tugging at the corners of his lips, Jared pretends to think it over.
"I dunno. Depends on how good the catering was on set. I'm a growing guy, gotta consider my needs."
It gets a laugh out of Jensen like it was supposed to but Jared just has to silently damn him for not being a total waste of skin like he'd thought he was. Because this job is going to suck out loud if Jensen carries on being so… not bad at all.
:::
Jared's plan for the evening involved his couch, nachos and whatever he could find at the video store. It's a great plan but one that's a total bust because Chad turns up on his doorstep, forces him to take a shower and tells him they're going out.
"Be fucking grateful I'm not letting you go out all sweaty and gross, man," Chad bellows over the thud of the water. "Sandy's gonna be there and the least I can do is not let you totally skeeze her out just with your goddamn appearance."
And Jared is grateful, even if there's no way he's going to admit it, because when he sees Sandy, she's as cute as he remembered and he's really glad he doesn't have to go talk to her looking like he just got off work. She's drinking some frothy pink thing with a sparkly cocktail umbrella still bobbing around in it and her eyes go wide and bright when she sees him. He makes his way through the crowd in the bar towards her but it feels like he knows everyone there tonight and it takes him a while to get through all the exchanging of greetings and wisecracks.
The fact she's still watching him when he finally makes it to her side sends a heady warmth through him.
"Hey, Jared," she says. "Y'know, I knew you were gonna be here tonight so I wore my heels." She points down at the pair of four and a half inch pale blue stilettos she's wearing and Jared grins and drops a kiss on her cheek.
"And I knew you were gonna be here tonight so I specifically didn't wear my heels."
"Shame," she says. "I bet you've got killer legs in heels."
No, she's actually cuter than Jared remembered and easier to talk to and they spend a good hour and a half just chatting. Within the first five minutes of the conversation, Jared's somehow managed to ask and Sandy's somehow managed to answer - yeah, she's single. Pointedly ignoring Chad's obscene leering and face-pulling from the other side of the bar, Jared buys Sandy another drink when she finishes her first.
"How's the acting going?" Sandy says.
"It's not," he tells her with a rueful grin. "Joined the masses. Had to get myself a real, rent-paying job."
She looks sympathetic and pats his arm. It's too much to hope that's that part of the conversation over though and Jared's already braced for it when she says, "Doing what?"
"Chauffeur, basically. Lot of driving, even more sitting around with not a hell of a lot to do."
It's not lying. It just feels like it.
:::
Sam's secretary, the cute redhead with the glasses, is called Melanie and is, Jared discovers as he waits to see Sam a few days later, kind of adorable. She keeps offering him coffee until she realises he's more interested in the bowl of gummi bears on her desk and then she simply pushes it closer to him so he can help himself. She's also polite enough not to ask about Jensen at all.
Melanie's getting married in a couple of months, to a guy called Ben, and is sorely tempted to throttle her sister-in-law, dress her bridesmaids up in shapeless puce organza, ban her fiance's college friends from the wedding or maybe just elope to Las Vegas.
He makes appropriately sympathetic noises and succeeds in not laughing as she launches in to a diatribe about the wandering hands of her minister and whether the murder of a clergyman automatically means a trip to Hell.
He's in the middle of trying to assure her that, whereas murder is out of the question, there's absolutely nothing in the Bible that says she can't break the minister's fingers, and in fact, it might teach the pervert a valuable lesson, when Sam calls him in.
"How's it going then?" she asks, before Jared's even sunk fully into the chair. She perches on the edge of her desk in order to get a closer look at him. Her suit is chocolate brown today.
"With Jensen?" he asks. It's pretty obvious she means with Jensen and Jared's not sure why he's playing for time, only that he's not quite sure which way he wants to answer that question just yet. She treats his stalling with the contempt it deserves and gives him a stern look.
"Yes, Jared," she says with elaborate patience. "With Jensen. How's it going… with Jensen?"
"Yeah," says Jared. Sam goes on looking at him, clearly waiting for something more. Jared shrugs. "Yeah, good."
"This isn't a trick question, darlin'. I'm not trying to trap you. I'm asking if you think you two can work with each other. Can you?"
"Sure! I mean, we have been working with each other and- wait! Has he said something?"
There's a long silence and then Sam stands up and goes to sit behind her desk. Straightening up in his chair, Jared waits anxiously. He thought things had been going well and he doesn't know why Jensen was so nice the last couple of days if he's still trying to get rid of him. It's - Jared flails for a description for this kind of behavior - it's dishonest.
Then again, maybe there's something to be said for Jensen apparently regaining his manners, even if he hasn't actually changed his mind about Jared. But still, there's having manners and there's being so. So freaking nice! Jared's momma brought him up to be polite to people even if they don't deserve it. But being nice is an entirely different question.
"No," Sam says at last. "He hasn't. He hasn't complained at all. And Jen's stubborn as a mule. I was expecting… something from him by now."
All those feelings of irritation and exasperation Jared had been feeling towards Jensen promptly disappear. He feels stupidly pleased with himself and tries to keep the smug grin off his face.
"Guess he must like me," he offers serenely.
"Guess he must," says Sam, but she goes on watching Jared like she's waiting for the punchline.
:::
When he turns up at Jensen's on Tuesday, there are bagels with cream cheese and bacon, some coffee, and a glass of orange juice waiting for him. Jensen lets him in and then waves him airily towards breakfast. It doesn't seem like a big deal but it's been prepared solely for him and Jared stops cursing the job that brings him out at 7-goddamn-am and starts blessing Jensen for being as awesome as he is pretty.
"Seem to remember you saying something about your needs," he says and Jared's belly gives a loud rumble in response. Jensen laughs and claps him on the back, pushing him towards the table. "Eat up. I still got a few things I gotta get done before we can make a move."
By the time Jensen's ready to go, Jared's devoured every single last crumb of bagel and stacked the things neatly in the dishwasher. Jensen yawns hugely as he climbs into the car beside Jared and Jared shoots him a mildly concerned look.
"You got a heavy day ahead?" he says. Only half-joking, he adds, "Any chance you can sleep through some of it? Or are they gonna notice if you're, y'know, kinda lacking consciousness?"
"That would be unprofessional," Jensen says in a smooth drawl, the skin at the corner of his eyes crinkling as he grins. "'Sides, tried it before. Didn't work."
Jared glances at him. "Too much active participation required?"
"Ha! Hell no. Some of 'em really wouldn't notice if I was asleep but it's not exactly easy to doze off when you've got some guy on top of you going at it, y'know?"
From the amused intensity of his gaze, Jared suspects he said it only to make him flush. It works. Heat sweeps across his face and up the back of his neck. He coughs awkwardly but it becomes laughter, catches Jensen too.
Jensen's laugh is warm and low, his lips curling apart around it. It makes him look boyish and strips away all the L.A. sophistication. Their gazes catch and Jared grins, easy and sweet, and sees it given back to him from Jensen. Jensen swipes his thumb over his mouth, as if to hide the smile, and Jared's gaze tracks the move, the air of companionship seeping into intimacy.
Not that Jared has much, or indeed any, experience with prostitutes, but he imagines that Jensen gets bought a lot of the time for his mouth. No doubt Jensen sucks cock beautifully, could probably take a man apart just by getting down on his knees and opening wide. And Jensen probably has the whole moaning and begging for cock like a pornstar down by now.
In Jared's opinion though, that's just missing the full potential of Jensen's mouth. If he'd bought Jensen's mouth - something hot and clenching tugs low down in his belly at the mere thought of it - Jared would kiss it. He might do the other stuff too but top of his list would be to kiss Jensen stupid. To kiss him until his lips went numb and swollen and when he tried to talk he'd sound like he'd just got out of dental surgery.
Jared would kiss him until his money ran out or his tongue dropped off, whichever came first.
Carefully, Jared keeps his gaze focused completely on the traffic as he says, "Do you let clients kiss you?"
When Jensen stays silent, Jared sneaks him a look and realises Jensen's been watching him, waiting for him to do exactly that. Jensen's expression is torn between amusement and exasperation.
"Seriously, dude, enough with the Pretty Woman crap. You know it wasn't a documentary, right?" He rolls his eyes and then reels off something disconcertingly like a menu. A pretty kinky menu. "Pay me enough and there's not much I don't do. Bondage is extra, threesomes and toys beyond your basic dildo or cock-ring are extra. Animals and anything that used to be alive are off-limits. Knives are off-limits. Video and photos are a bad idea but negotiable. Anything that marks me permanently is off-limits."
He scratches his jaw, almost uncomfortably as Jared goes on staring at him, and adds, "There's more but those are the frequently requested specials."
"Specials," Jared repeats dumbly. "Like Chicken Parmesan or New York Strip Steak."
He stoically resists the urge to make a joke about it being a different kind of meat in question though because he's not sure if it's hilarious or soul-crushingly depressing.
There's a long silence and then, "Okay. Right. I'm gonna have to make you a bigger breakfast next time to get food off your mind," Jensen says in a very neutral tone of voice.
:::
Almost all of Jensen's clients are male. There are only two women he sees regularly. One of the women is a sweet-faced brunette, all subtle make-up and designer suits. She gets very flustered whenever Jensen arrives and made some very awkward conversation with Jared when she first met him, asking him the kind of questions a distant aunt might. So do you miss your mom much? Do you talk often on the phone with her? But you've made plenty of friends here, haven't you?
The other woman is wildly bohemian with strings of necklaces that reach her knees and honest to God chopsticks in her hair. She calls Jensen 'precious' and 'treasure' and Jensen won't even meet Jared's eyes that first time. Which is just as well because Jared is having enough trouble not laughing as it is.
The rest are guys. Jared tries to remember their names and the little things he learns about them, simply because it feels like part of his job. Carl's in finance, Dan Williams is an agent for a couple of sports stars and has Jensen brought to his own house when he has an appointment. Makepeace prefers to be called Bob and Nick Buxcey leaves Jensen wincing when he gets back into the Porsche after an appointment. When he's seeing Marco, Jensen goes for ripped jeans, a smudge of eyeliner and a surly pout. When he's seeing Karl L., Jensen wears a suit and tie.
Some people he sees on a weekly basis. Some people have appointments months in advance and others are willing to pay enough that when they call for an appointment the very next day, Sam cancels whatever's in the way.
They fall into a kind of routine. Jared picks Jensen up at his house, and Jensen will usually have some kind of light meal prepared in order to keep Jared busy while he finishes getting ready. Even if they're running late, which isn't often because Jensen is usually pretty damn punctual, Jared will, at the very least, have coffee.
Then Jared will drive Jensen to his first appointment and keep himself occupied with Sudoku and candy until Jensen reappears and Jared will drive him on to the next one. If there's time, they'll stop to grab coffee somewhere because Jensen seems to have an addiction. After the last appointment of the day, Jared will drive Jensen back to his house, make arrangements for when he next needs to be collected, and that will be it.
They're not exactly friends, but Jared thinks they're closer than just two guys who happen to work together.
part two