[J2] Look What We've Got! (A Fairy Tale Plot)
A lot of bad things have been happening lately to people I adore. Beyond telling y'all that I love you, I offer this.
Look What We've Got! (A Fairy Tale Plot)
Jared/Jensen. PG-13. 5,800 words.
Sweet like sugar. Self-indulgent crack. Inspired by this picture.
As far as fairies go, Jensen's pretty elitist and a bit of a show-off. Where mortals are concerned, Jared's got a big heart and the best sense of humor. He'll need them both to deal with everything Jensen throws his way.
Check out the awesome manip stawberynvanila made for the story! Jensen's just perfect here!
Wearing a white sheet out to a crowded bar wasn't the best idea Jared's ever had. Well, it wasn't really his idea in the first place. Thank God he's wearing boxers underneath or all the wet beer stains would be a serious problem.
It's Halloween night and downtown Los Angeles is an absolute mob scene. The bar is packed wall-to-wall with wanna-be starlets and pretty faces and just about everyone is wrecked. Jared's ass has been groped a dozen times and of course, there are the problematic liquor spills.
He's already been ditched by the Double Mint Twins, a zombie, and his date, Cleopatra, who strangely enough ran off with Captain Jack Sparrow. But Marc Antony wouldn't let abandonment ruin his night and there are plenty of possibilities when he looks around. Will Turner (who is way hotter than Jack Sparrow) keeps catching his eye from the corner and one of the Disney Princesses (a slutty version, of course) has sashayed past a few times. She's probably one of Jared's gropers.
And then there's-
"Piss off, Roman."
The table Jared knocks into is occupied by a lone, slurring drinker who's dressed very oddly even considering the holiday.
"Sorry, man! I got bumped. Didn't mean to stumble into-"
"Don't call me man."
Shaking off the rudeness - people are entitled to their bad moods - Jared tries again, throwing on his brightest casting-call smile.
"Sorry," Jared laughs, eyeing the man he's so obviously disturbed (though anyone looking for peace and quiet here, on Halloween, is disturbed). "By the way, I like your costume."
It's the truth even if this young guy's outfit is way more elaborate than any of the other hastily thrown together ensembles in this place. Hell, Jared's wearing a sheet, one of Sophia's silk scarves, and some sort of plastic, leafy crown.
But this man, whose shimmering eyes are narrowed on Jared, clear despite several empty martini glasses on his table, is dressed to the nines. Or undressed as the case may be.
His chest is bare except for a strap woven of twigs and leaves crossing his breast. Pants of rough twine roped with more flora and vines cover from his calves to the narrow span below his navel. Jared doesn't even want to imagine how badly those materials can chafe a guy. His bare feet, soft looking and pale, are tapping an agitated rhythm on the footrest beneath the cocktail table and his ginger hair sports a strange cap made of green fronds and blue petals.
It should look friggin' ridiculous but on the surly, albeit extremely pretty young man, it's almost appropriate.
"My costume?" The man looks up at Jared and huffs. "I do believe your laurels are askew." His gaze then drops. "And your toga is disgustingly soiled. I was not aware that the Roman Empire was in the practice of clothing beasts."
Jared's tipsy enough to avoid being offended. This guy's spiel is actually funny. Instead of glowering and turning back into the writhing fray, he folds himself onto the table's empty high stool, green eyes tracking him.
"So who are you supposed to be?"
Full lips continue pouting over the guy's sickly sweet looking pink martini. Jared thinks hard - too hard for already putting away three beers and two Halloween-themed shots - about what the costume reminds him of.
“Don’t overexert your inebriated mind on my account, Maximus.”
“Marc Antony, actually.”
Jared watches the guy’s eyebrow arch perfectly - he knows a dozen actors who would cream themselves for that talent - before he laughs. Jared’s drunker than he thought since he swears he can hear bells chiming in the sound.
“Marcus Antonius was a droll who possessed less personality than his horse and far less swagger. You costumed yourself as him?”
Peter Pan, or whoever the fuck he is, seems to find this all hilarious. He can’t stop laughing even when he swallows the last of his drink. Jared sends a quick wave to the bartender, momentarily hiding his scowl, for another round. The guy finally shuts up when a fresh martini arrives.
“Now I know you’re not Marcus! That cur would never buy me a drink. The barman swore that this pomegranate concoction was the best he had to offer, and he was not wrong.” His amused, green eyes soften a fraction. “What is your true name then, stranger?”
Jared thinks this guy is definitely an actor and that this is some bizarre test for him to stay in character all night.
“I’m Jared.”
“Ah, the ‘descendant’!”
“Um, I guess.”
Something about the guy’s outfit seems familiar and when it finally hits Jared, the alcohol he’s consumed makes it impossible for him to not blurt it out.
“Oh, I’ve got it! You’re Puck!”
To be honest, Jared’s expecting a smirk and a smile at best, or at worst a scowl and the chance to guess again. So the fact that the other guy slams down his fruity drink and fixes Jared with a look that might as well be accompanied by thunder and lightening is totally unexpected.
“Puck!” He spits, ridiculously pretty even in a tantrum. “I suppose you’re talking about that incompetent knave, Robin Goodfellow?”
Oh shit. Jared’s been stuck in endless arguments with classics majors and Lit. History buffs before. They’re such a touchy group.
“Oh sure, he was good for stroking Oberon’s ego when his former majesty wasn’t getting anything else stroked,” he huffs. “Yet that fool is who everybody knows! He gives us all a bad name.”
“Us?” Jared grins because even ranting, this guy’s anger is kind of adorable. “So you’re a fairy too?”
“I’m a rogue,” he answers with a straight face, like it’s supposed to be quite clear. “A Pan? A knave?” He tries, and then appears to give up with a twitch of his nose and another swallow of his martini. “Fine. Yes, I am a fairy but my name is Jensen.”
It’s not every day Jared gets to have a drunken conversation with someone who thinks he’s a fairy. He surprises himself by just going with it, nodding and listening to Jensen explain exactly what ‘being a puck’ entails. Because seriously, how could Jared not ask?
And Jensen can certainly talk. He empties martinis at a good pace, barely affected beyond his slightly slurred words; Jensen’s eyes are still sharp and unnaturally bright. Jared’s going to go broke from his bar tab but whatever. He’s actually enjoying himself.
Halfway through reciting a very dirty ballad Jensen claims to have made up with the Casanova, Cleopatra slides up behind Jared’s chair and touches his shoulder.
“Hey, Jay,” she slurs, the makeup starting to cross the line into drunken tramp instead of classic, exotic queen. “You ready to head out?”
“What happened to the Captain?”
“Oh, Greg? He already left. Anyway, everyone’s ready to catch a cab to head somewhere else and I thought -“
“Clever harlot,” Jensen pipes up. He looks more pissed off than Jared’s seen yet.
“Excuse me?” Cleopatra - Michelle - shoots back while looking between them.
“I said -“
“Jensen!” Jared gets him to shut up before he can try his strange, witty insults on Jared’s now-former date. “Sorry, Michelle, but I think I’m gonna stay for a while. But I’ll see you on Monday?”
Jensen leans back, looking far too pleased when Michelle walks away from their table.
“Do you mind?”
“Of course not.” Jensen’s cheeks are pink, rosy compared to his flawless, pale face. “Your company is pleasant.”
“Pleasant? That sounds cheesy.”
He gets another arched eyebrow for that and an adorably confused pout.
“So what do you do in L.A.?”
Jensen’s brows scrunch together and the word ‘adorable’ just won’t stop bouncing around in Jared’s head.
“I thought I’d found a new city for my jesting and service, but by the stars, it’s too hard.” The last measures of Jensen’s drink disappear quickly. “Only a century ago my job was so easy, but people don’t fall for the same tricks anymore. I could do any number of things to the simpering drones here and they’d learn nothing from the experience! I mean, just today…”
Jared can’t pretend to know what Jensen’s so frustrated about; he’s floating comfortably in the tipsy-zone. He hears Jensen’s voice - no more bells - but it’s still soothing over the noise in the bar. Jensen either doesn’t notice or doesn’t mind that Jared’s a little spacey.
The “knave” keeps talking and Jared continues to let that voice carry him away from the bar, from the crowd. Away from everything.
Jared blinks.
And then he groans with relief.
He recognizes the black ceiling fan above his head. He’s waking up in his own bed and for the amount he knows he drank last night, Jared’s a little surprised. Grateful, but definitely surprised. Buried under the covers, Jared’s actually in a clean tee shirt and boxers, not still wrapped in a smelly, bar-stained sheet, and there’s no rancid after-smell of cigarette smoke in his hair or on his pillow. He doesn’t remember taking a shower, but there’s no denying the signs.
Or the hangover.
“Oh Jesus fuck.”
“I didn’t know the man personally, but I doubt he’d approve of your language.”
Jared will never cop to the squeal he makes when he hears the smooth voice, and he’ll deny hiding under the covers for a moment when he catches sight of the knave perched contentedly on his dresser.
“I’m glad you woke up on your own, Jared,” Jensen’s voice is melodic and fairly annoying this early. Over the duvet, Jared sees his fine-boned hand hold up some sort of flute. “Because this thing? Is totally for show.”
“What the hell are you doing in my room?!” Jared emerges from the covers. Hiding is not very manly.
“I was merely waiting for you to wake up.”
“Oh okay - no, wait! What the hell are you doing in my house?”
Jared may not remember every detail of his Halloween festivities, but the memory of Jensen’s smile comes through loud and clear. And seeing it now does not do funny things to his anatomy. For a second he wonders if he and Jensen…. No, Jared would certainly remember that - his body would feel differently. A guy can always tell even if the details are fuzzy.
Fuzzy details? Check. That freshly fucked feeling? Unfortunately, no.
Wait, unfortunately? Jared shakes his head. Clearly, the fact that Jensen’s still wearing as little as he was last night is messing with Jared’s mind.
“I remember what you said last night.”
“I don’t,” Jared chuckles humorlessly. “Well, I mean, I do, but not everything.”
The other man doesn’t look surprised. “You were generous enough to listen to my raving and bitterness regarding my job.”
Right. Jensen’s job as a -
“Oh shit.” Jared smacks his face and tries to rub away the memory. “Your job as a freakin’ fairy.”
“Don’t start with that business again, Jared.” He springs lightly from his perch and lands softly on Jared’s carpet. “If you still refuse to believe in my abilities, I’ll have to demonstrate.”
“Will you go away if I say ‘I don’t believe in fairies’?”
“Hah!”
Oh God, Jared’s hearing bells again and they’re not part of his hangover.
“That silly idea was created by his majesty Filanni just after he was elected in 1824,” Jensen laughs, clearly assuming this was something Jared should have learned in kindergarten. “Thank goodness it doesn’t actually work!”
Alongside Jared’s bed, Jensen stops and grins. His strange floral cap is missing - maybe it’s only worn for special occasions such as convincing relatively sane actors that magic exists - but the rest of his odd outfit is in perfect order with barely a twig out of place.
Jensen grabs the duvet and drags it down the bed. “Now get up, lazy mortal! A man needs his breakfast.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“What?”
“You did all this?”
Jared had willingly followed Jensen at the mention of food, and now his eyes dart from the mouth-watering spread laid out on the granite countertop to his dogs. Sadie and Harley are calmly sitting by the kitchen sink and Jared has to blink several times because his dogs are practically sparkling. He’s never seen his babies so clean even when the groomers finish with them every month. Jensen groomed his dogs?
He’s tempted to kick this guy out of his house. No one in their right mind cleans someone else’s pets like this, but the array of breakfast foods is too tempting. If Jensen leaves, he might use his magical powers to take the pancakes, French toast, fruit salad, fluffy scrambled eggs, and crispy bacon with him. And hell no.
“I wanted to repay your chivalry last night since you purchased all those delicious elixirs!”
“You’re welcome?”
“We knaves can be quite generous when it suits our purpose.”
No one’s ever repaid Jared like this just for picking up a bar tab, but he thanks Jensen quickly anyway and grabs a plate. Soon it’s piled high - pancakes at the bottom with Southern hash browns and bacon on top, syrup drizzled over the entire lot. Jensen hops up on a stool and picks at the large bowl of fruit, watching Jared with bemusement he doesn’t bother to conceal.
Full and feeling much more human, Jared pushes his plate away. “Want to tell me again what you’re doing here? Did you bring me home last night?”
“More like ‘this morning’, but yes. I brought you safely to your threshold and figured it would be a kindness not to let you fall asleep in that filthy toga. Although I did misplace your laurels coming back here, I apologize.”
Getting the blanks filled in just keeps getting more and more horrifying. Jensen undressed him and cleaned him, too?
“I thought I might stick around you for a while,” Jensen continues like Jared’s face isn’t beet-red with the combination of embarrassment and mortification. “Your ideas on simplifying my pranks and forgoing the ‘life lessons’ were ingenious. I can only hope that you have many more ideas in your head.”
“Only things in my head right now are jackhammers.”
“I’m afraid I cannot cure a hangover,” Jensen states with true regret, not the sarcasm Jared expects. “What say you, though? I don’t want to be a burden, and I’ve never needed a tutor in these matters, but I think there’s much I can learn from you, Jared.”
It’s ridiculous: the food, his dogs (who are behaving, sitting patiently while Jared eats), his hangover, and the smirking fairy perched on his counter stool looking for all the world like tagging along after Jared is the best prize he could receive.
“If you keep making me breakfast like this, then sure, why not?”
“Very well!”
Jensen’s smile is worse than a 100 watt bulb on Jared’s hangover-pained eyes. He scrunches them closed tightly, and when he opens his eyes, Jensen’s just gone.
The food’s there, and his dogs finally move to lay at his feet hoping for a scrap of bacon, but the fucking fairy - ‘knave’ his brain supplies unhelpfully - has disappeared.
Huh.
While part of him wonders just when hallucinations started being a symptom of his hangovers, the larger part of Jared’s brain is just glad that Jensen didn’t disappear with the food.
“Do you always dress like that?”
Jensen’s wearing the same leafy pants and strap - never complaining of cold or heat - as always. The only thing Jared’s seen change is the color of the blossoms spaced throughout the dark green and brown vines. They’re bright yellow today; yesterday was deep pink. If it’s some sort of mood indicator, Jared hasn’t figured it out yet.
“No one can see me unless I permit it.” That strokes Jared’s plumage a little bit. At least, if he were still hallucinating, it’s only because he’s privileged. “My garb has never been a problem before. Does it bother you?”
More like it makes Jared uncomfortable in ways he’s not really going to examine yet. He doesn’t get the chance to say no, however, before Jensen snaps his fingers and is suddenly sitting next to Jared in a soft, green shirt and faded jeans.
“Is that better?”
“Yeah, whatever. You didn’t have to change.”
He’d love to say Jensen looks normal. It’s better than dressing like a grown up Peter Pan, but the knave - yeah, Jared’s starting to accept it (was hard not to after Jensen’s vanishing act) - could never look normal. Jensen’s green eyes are unnaturally bright; his face is too fair. Even amongst the press of pretty flesh that makes up Southern California, Jensen will always stand out. That is, if anyone could actually see him.
“What about Halloween?”
“Apparently alcohol affects my abilities,” Jensen grumbles. “I was very visible, but you mortals were all dressed like fools regardless.”
Well, at least it hadn’t looked like Jared was talking to himself all night.
“So what sort of tricks did you pull today?”
Jensen sits up. In the week since Halloween, this is almost becoming a routine. In the bar, Jared had apparently encouraged the melancholy rogue to play tricks for his own enjoyment - nothing harmful - instead of using his teases to impart life lessons. Those wouldn’t stick to anyone in Hollywood.
“While downtown, I followed a haughty gentleman who was far too harsh on his employees.”
“And?”
“I conjured a raincloud to follow him around all day, wherever he went. If his scowl was permanent anyway, I thought I’d give him a good reason to be a grouch!”
“Has it worn off yet?”
The knave smirks.
“Jensen!”
“It’s a Cinderella situation,” he laughs. “Midnight and the rain shall cease.”
Jared notices the difference in Jensen already. Excitable and happy, sharing his stories with Jared when he pops in every night. Then he’ll listen to Jared’s antics from set, the pranks he plays on his co-stars and their crew. And Jensen will laugh as if he’s never been so entertained.
He’s never forgotten Jared’s mock promise of food either. Sometimes breakfast is waiting when Jared wakes up. Other times Jensen conjures dinner or desert; they’ll sit together with plates of food Jared’s never heard of.
But there are other things as well. Jensen wasn’t kidding when he said pucks are good with housekeeping favors. With a snap of his fingers, a twitch of his nose, the kitchen is spotless. His living room is cleared of all dog hair tumbleweeds. One morning Jared woke up to find that his garden was in full bloom - in November - with plant species he couldn’t even find on Wikipedia. All those colored flowers reminded him of Jensen’s outfits before tonight.
Of course, those favors only last while Jensen’s in a good mood. Jared figured that out pretty quickly. He cracked one joke about getting Jensen into a maid’s costume for all the work he’d done around the house, and Jared’s den suddenly resembled a frat house after a keg party. Jared never wants sticky floors like that again.
But Jensen’s easy going, you know, for a fairy. This is one friendship Jared never imagined striking up when he left Texas for California.
“One of these days, I’ll get what’s coming to me,” Jared says later on after they’ve annihilated Jensen’s tray of magically-imported gourmet gelato.
“What do you mean?” Jensen’s stretched out over most of Jared’s sofa, bare feet nudging Jared’s thigh.
“I’ve pulled so many practical jokes on my friends and I’m sort of dreading the payback. But I’m kind of looking forward to it too, you know? I want to see if they can beat me at my own game.”
Jensen’s too quiet and when Jared glances over, he doesn’t like the roguish gleam in Jensen’s eyes.
“Jensen…”
“I’m just pondering something.”
“Well, stop.”
But he’s grinning impishly. “As you wish.”
To Jared, that doesn’t sound promising at all.
It starts out small.
Jared wakes up with freckles everywhere and he feels like a farmer made up for a bad porno. The make-up girls laugh when he stammers his explanation that he must have ‘had a bad reaction’ to his new moisturizer.
When they have to cake on foundation to cover his exposed skin, Jared swears he can hear Jensen’s tell-tale chiming laugh.
Damn invisible bastard.
But when he gets home, grumpy and throwing curses to empty air, someone’s already fed Sadie and Harley. There’s a hot, medium-rare rib eye with all the trimmings waiting on his dining room table - a single pale yellow flower sitting in a bud vase next to the feast.
So he forgives Jensen. This time.
Thankfully it’s a Sunday and Jared doesn’t have to work when he wakes up and discovers that everything he touches becomes polka-dotted.
It’s less problematic than having a Midas touch - he gives Jensen points for creativity - but it’s annoying.
Jared ends up with a polka-dotted toothbrush, loofa, bar stool, and an outfit that would be appropriate on a clown. Harley and Sadie look part-Dalmatian by the time a giggling Jensen appears and takes pity on him.
Jensen doesn’t magic any food onto the table - Jared orders them pizza and gives Jensen a slice with extra garlic and anchovies in retaliation - but he does change everything back to normal.
Except for Jared’s now polka-dotted boxers.
“So Goodfellow really couldn’t get anything right, huh?”
“That’s what I was trying to say!”
Jensen brought a copy of A Midsummer Night’s Dream for Jared to read, but after fifteen minutes they gave up on the book. Jensen flicked out and returned with the DVD version and they settled in to watch.
“Plus, you’re much hotter.”
“Well, Robin doesn’t look quite like that,” Jensen nods to Stanley Tucci’s image on the widescreen, “but he behaves exactly the same.”
Jensen’s feet are lying casually across Jared’s lap while the rogue commentates. Jared unconsciously slides his fingers under the hem of Jensen’s soft jeans, across hard ankle bones and smooth, warm skin.
“Oberon was insufferable after William wrote this. It was practically propaganda for his reelection campaigns.” Jensen snorts. “He thought it made him seem more like a God than a mere fairy king. And Robin! Suddenly he was the Puck, never mind the rest of us.”
It’s a week before Thanksgiving - three weeks since this strange fairy was dropped into Jared’s lap. He doesn’t mind; things are actually comfortable. Jensen’s like a roommate - only better and with a wicked sense of humor - and best friend rolled into one, magical package. He’s learning to live with the tricks. They’re mostly harmless, anyway.
His strange fate stopped bothering him days ago.
“I remember how much Titania hated that imbecile,” his trickster laughs. “Or perhaps the former queen was jealous. Oberon did spend an inordinately significant amount of time with his jester.”
“Scandalous!” Jared jokes.
“Oh you have no idea!”
“Jensen!”
Nothing.
“Show your dumb ass right now!”
Still no answer.
“I know you’re here, Jensen!” Jared shouts to the empty living room. He’s probably delusional but he swears he’s gotten to the point where he can feel Jensen’s presence.
“Come on out, I’m not angry,” he lies. He’s pissed.
Jensen’s latest spell - he’s playing dirtier now - wore off half an hour ago and Jared’s been yelling ever since.
“Fine! You want to hide? Be my guest! But I swear, if you ever dose me with a love potion again, you’re a dead fairy!”
Jared turns bright red when Jensen’s tinkling laugh echoes around the room.
Robert, his usual UPS guy - and the first person Jared saw after waking up that morning - is probably filing a harassment charge against Jared this instant and Jensen’s laughing like a naughty school girl.
Payback’s going to be a bitch.
It’s tougher to play a trick on a knave than Jared anticipated.
Jared doesn’t have magical powers or the ability to sneak up on someone like Jensen, but he tries.
Itching powder, hair dye, and disturbing combinations of food are amateur attempts, but Jensen always laughs when he figures out what Jared’s been doing. He’s even a good enough sport to leave his hair pink one day instead of snapping his fingers to change it back.
This all results in more elaborate shenanigans from the fairy, of course. All is fair in trickery and war.
In retaliation for the flamingo hair, Jared wakes up one morning with hair that won’t stop growing. Everyone on set thinks he’s taken some very questionable drugs to produce that result, and he’s finally sent home halfway through the day with a bright red face and bruised ego. He supposes Jensen could have made him bald instead - and he’s seen Mike Rosenbaum, no thank you - so he gets over it when his hair’s back to normal the next day.
On the first of December, Jensen offers a truce but Jared doesn’t take it. He may not be able to beat Jensen in the arena of practical jokes, but that doesn’t mean he can’t keep trying.
Jared needs to accept that he only ever has bad ideas and move on.
Trying to out-prank Jensen was ill-fated (he conceded mastery to the knave when Jensen gave him two left feet) but his current drama is worse. Sick of his friends hounding him for his sudden switch to an antisocial, homebody lifestyle, Jared actually asked Jensen to go out with him.
Not out as in going out, just out of the house - dancing and drinking at one of Jared’s favorite clubs. Jensen’s face lit up at the offer and with a snap, his jeans and tee were traded for sleek grey slacks and a tight, black crew neck.
And now that sharp-dressed fairy is out on the dance floor tormenting Jared. Part of him hopes that this is another joke. Any second Jensen’s going to stop writhing amongst all the dancers and flit over to Jared, shy and laughing.
Ten minutes later that still hasn’t happened.
Jared’s throwing back shots like the party pro he is. The scene on the dance floor reminds him of Jensen’s very bawdy stories of crazy, drunken fairy orgies - ‘we’re not exactly innocent pixies, Jared’ - and rowdy sexcapades with nymphs and what-have-you. Everything Jared never wanted to know about fey creatures. Hearing the stories had been uncomfortable enough. Seeing Jensen in action is worse.
He’s a fair judge of appearances; Jared could never deny how attractive Jensen is, but part of Jensen’s appeal has always been rooted in the rogue’s attitude, his flair, and the way his eyes can flash innocent one minute and impish the next.
But tonight, Jensen looks hot. Hot in ways Jared doesn’t want to think about, hence the shots. Everything’s all right with enough vodka. Enough of them and he won’t care how many guys and girls surround his best friend slash roommate slash his fairy, damn it!
Shit. He needs another shot just for thinking that.
Jensen’s bright eyes catch Jared’s and he waves him over. Friends dance with each other all the time, right? It will totally be fine and not weird - or mind blowingly hot - whatsoever.
So Jared downs the last shot the bartender was kind enough to provide and thunks the glass down on the bar top. Then he moves onto the dance floor where Jensen’s smiling.
Jared blinks.
He can’t see the ceiling but these are definitely his navy blue sheets and squishy goose-down pillows bunched beneath his head.
When he tries to move his legs, there’s an obstruction by his feet. Maybe he was too drunk last night to close his bedroom door - Harley and Sadie love to sneak on the bed - but when keeps kicking, the mass doesn’t budge.
“Do you mind?”
Jared peeks from under the covers and sees that the immovable object is fairy, not canine. Then he groans.
“I told you, I can’t fix hangovers.”
Yeah, Jared’s probably going to have a nasty one of those, too, but that’s not the problem. He looks at Jensen, cross-legged on the end of his bed, wearing his soft jeans and one of Jared’s zip-up hoodies over his bony shoulders. Jared’s iPod is in Jensen’s lap, only one bud in his ears, and he looks snuggly.
He supposes even knaves can get tired, and from what he remembers of last night, Jensen should be exhausted. But that’s not the problem either.
The problem is that when Jared looks over at Jensen, something hits him low and deep in his belly. He wants to drag Jensen under the covers and go back to sleep with the smooth skin of Jensen’s exposed chest pressed to his back. His feet, which are always warm, could rub along and heat up Jared’s cold toes.
Jared would be okay with just wanting to jump Jensen since, well, look at the guy. But wanting to cuddle with him? That’s a big, giant red flag.
Jensen smacks his legs.
“Now get up, I was waiting for you.” Then softer, more enticing. “I’ve got Swedish pancakes with whipped cream and strawberries in the kitchen.”
Not even the realization that Jared might be a little bit in love with Jensen - seriously, it's just affection that's warming Jared's adled brain - can keep him hidden in bed and away from breakfast. Even his headache, throbbing to the beat of last night’s club music, can't keep him out of the kitchen.
Jensen's waiting at the counter, already in the far stool. His spot.
Jesus. Jared's brain needs to shut up. It's not Jensen's spot - it's Jared's stool. His house. His sofa. His life.
"Jared? Aren't you hungry?"
If he kissed Jensen's lips right now - they're as red as the strawberries in their bowl - they'd taste like sweet fruit and something magical.
What the fuck? What the hell is wrong with him?
"Come on, I worked hard making these!" Jensen jokes with a pseudo-whine.
He absolutely did not, of course, but Jared still wants to press up along Jensen's back and thank him with a long swipe of his tongue up -
Jared chokes on a breath and flees the room like a coward even though the pancakes smell amazing. But Jensen, never one to let Jared off the hook when he behaves like a lunatic, is waiting for him in the bedroom with an adorably confused expression. Damn magical bastard.
Jensen's nose scrunches. "Are you feeling all right?"
No.
"I'm fine."
"You're flushed. Maybe you should lay down."
And maybe you should join me so that I can -
"Nope, I'm good." Getting into bed suddenly sounds like the worst idea possible.
"Then why'd you run in here?" The fairy sounds more concerned now. "Did I do something?"
"No, it wasn't -"
And then it hits Jared. He's felt like this before, only he didn't know how to explain it at the time. Jensen is such a bastard.
“Oh God, Jensen. What did you do?”
"I didn't do anything, Jared!"
"I told you!" He yells. "I said no more love spells! Shit, the UPS guy still won't look me in the eye."
"But, I didn't..." Jensen trails off and looks carefully at Jared. "You threatened me - I wouldn't..."
"Then explain why I woke up and wanted to...and you were right there, the first person I saw! It feels exactly the same as when I tried to grope Robert back when..."
"You wanted to what?" Jensen interrupts.
"Huh?"
"What did you want to do?"
"Why does it even matter, aren't you listening?"
"I'm curious!"
"Jesus, Jensen," Jared wants to pace but his feet won't move away from the slighter man who's suddenly a lot closer. "I'm trying to tell you that I woke up in love with you and you're curious?!"
Jared's never seen the fairy at a loss for words. Jensen is always witty, always one step ahead of Jared, but his mouth keeps opening and closing like he doesn't know which way is up.
"I -"
And then Jensen's in his arms, the impact knocking them both back onto the bed, but Jensen's so wrapped around Jared that the mattress bounce doesn't even separate them.
"Jensen..." His whisper hits the fairy's lips, they're so close.
"Oh shut up for once, mortal."
The humor and affection in Jensen's voice has Jared's lips parting for him and this is so very different from the effects of Jensen's love spell. It's warmth instead of insanity and hell, it's clearly mutual. Jensen's not dashing out the front door like Jared's possessed.
Jensen kisses like Jared has never imagined. Centuries of experience make Jensen an expert - Jared can't forget those orgy stories - but he can't help feeling that Jensen's kissing him as if it's the first time for both of them. The knave's mouth doesn't taste like fruit, but it is sweet and the magic sizzles on his tongue like soda bubbles. Jared would laugh at that thought if he wasn't so busy biting into those red, berry lips.
And Jensen is just as distracted with chasing Jared's tongue within and out of his mouth, sliding his slighter frame along Jared's body. Jared's hands get under the sweatshirt, palming Jensen's smooth back, tickling his ribs as they kiss slow and tenderhearted.
It may be crazy - Jared's still in his pajamas and Jensen's soft and warm on top of him - but at the same time, it's absolutely perfect.
"So you didn't..." Jared begins when Jensen's lips pull away. "This isn't just a new and improved love spell?"
"I assure you," Jensen's mellifluous voice is deeper, richer than he's ever heard before. "There is no spell here."
The rogue's body is light atop him, but putting pressure on all the right places. Jared wants everything in that moment and can picture it all: going back to bed, kissing Jensen until they're inseparable, and playing pranks on each other for a long time to come.
Then his stomach growls. Apparently, he wants breakfast with a side of Jensen more than anything else.
"Can we have those pancakes now?"
Jensen laughs and yeah, Jared still hears bells. "I'll warm them up for us."
The next morning, Jared wakes up with Jensen tucked under his arm, the fairy's light breath on his shoulder.
When he shakes his head to clear the sleep from his eyes, the strands of hair that fall across his face are a bright, electric blue. Jensen's smiling even in his sleep.
And it's still pretty damn perfect.
FIN.
I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I love how this turned out, and even though Porn Friday implies PORN, I thought this wrapped itself up in a nice, pretty bow =). Please ignore the way I feel about William Shakespeare and A Midsummer Night's Dream! Seriously, I love the film version Jared and Jensen are watching. And, if J.M. Barrie's fairies could have orgies, so can mine!
Title from 'Wicked' and this was pounced on glanced over by jumpuphigh.
Feedback is ♥. My other stories can be found H E R E.
Look What We've Got! (A Fairy Tale Plot)
Jared/Jensen. PG-13. 5,800 words.
Sweet like sugar. Self-indulgent crack. Inspired by this picture.
As far as fairies go, Jensen's pretty elitist and a bit of a show-off. Where mortals are concerned, Jared's got a big heart and the best sense of humor. He'll need them both to deal with everything Jensen throws his way.
Check out the awesome manip stawberynvanila made for the story! Jensen's just perfect here!
Wearing a white sheet out to a crowded bar wasn't the best idea Jared's ever had. Well, it wasn't really his idea in the first place. Thank God he's wearing boxers underneath or all the wet beer stains would be a serious problem.
It's Halloween night and downtown Los Angeles is an absolute mob scene. The bar is packed wall-to-wall with wanna-be starlets and pretty faces and just about everyone is wrecked. Jared's ass has been groped a dozen times and of course, there are the problematic liquor spills.
He's already been ditched by the Double Mint Twins, a zombie, and his date, Cleopatra, who strangely enough ran off with Captain Jack Sparrow. But Marc Antony wouldn't let abandonment ruin his night and there are plenty of possibilities when he looks around. Will Turner (who is way hotter than Jack Sparrow) keeps catching his eye from the corner and one of the Disney Princesses (a slutty version, of course) has sashayed past a few times. She's probably one of Jared's gropers.
And then there's-
"Piss off, Roman."
The table Jared knocks into is occupied by a lone, slurring drinker who's dressed very oddly even considering the holiday.
"Sorry, man! I got bumped. Didn't mean to stumble into-"
"Don't call me man."
Shaking off the rudeness - people are entitled to their bad moods - Jared tries again, throwing on his brightest casting-call smile.
"Sorry," Jared laughs, eyeing the man he's so obviously disturbed (though anyone looking for peace and quiet here, on Halloween, is disturbed). "By the way, I like your costume."
It's the truth even if this young guy's outfit is way more elaborate than any of the other hastily thrown together ensembles in this place. Hell, Jared's wearing a sheet, one of Sophia's silk scarves, and some sort of plastic, leafy crown.
But this man, whose shimmering eyes are narrowed on Jared, clear despite several empty martini glasses on his table, is dressed to the nines. Or undressed as the case may be.
His chest is bare except for a strap woven of twigs and leaves crossing his breast. Pants of rough twine roped with more flora and vines cover from his calves to the narrow span below his navel. Jared doesn't even want to imagine how badly those materials can chafe a guy. His bare feet, soft looking and pale, are tapping an agitated rhythm on the footrest beneath the cocktail table and his ginger hair sports a strange cap made of green fronds and blue petals.
It should look friggin' ridiculous but on the surly, albeit extremely pretty young man, it's almost appropriate.
"My costume?" The man looks up at Jared and huffs. "I do believe your laurels are askew." His gaze then drops. "And your toga is disgustingly soiled. I was not aware that the Roman Empire was in the practice of clothing beasts."
Jared's tipsy enough to avoid being offended. This guy's spiel is actually funny. Instead of glowering and turning back into the writhing fray, he folds himself onto the table's empty high stool, green eyes tracking him.
"So who are you supposed to be?"
Full lips continue pouting over the guy's sickly sweet looking pink martini. Jared thinks hard - too hard for already putting away three beers and two Halloween-themed shots - about what the costume reminds him of.
“Don’t overexert your inebriated mind on my account, Maximus.”
“Marc Antony, actually.”
Jared watches the guy’s eyebrow arch perfectly - he knows a dozen actors who would cream themselves for that talent - before he laughs. Jared’s drunker than he thought since he swears he can hear bells chiming in the sound.
“Marcus Antonius was a droll who possessed less personality than his horse and far less swagger. You costumed yourself as him?”
Peter Pan, or whoever the fuck he is, seems to find this all hilarious. He can’t stop laughing even when he swallows the last of his drink. Jared sends a quick wave to the bartender, momentarily hiding his scowl, for another round. The guy finally shuts up when a fresh martini arrives.
“Now I know you’re not Marcus! That cur would never buy me a drink. The barman swore that this pomegranate concoction was the best he had to offer, and he was not wrong.” His amused, green eyes soften a fraction. “What is your true name then, stranger?”
Jared thinks this guy is definitely an actor and that this is some bizarre test for him to stay in character all night.
“I’m Jared.”
“Ah, the ‘descendant’!”
“Um, I guess.”
Something about the guy’s outfit seems familiar and when it finally hits Jared, the alcohol he’s consumed makes it impossible for him to not blurt it out.
“Oh, I’ve got it! You’re Puck!”
To be honest, Jared’s expecting a smirk and a smile at best, or at worst a scowl and the chance to guess again. So the fact that the other guy slams down his fruity drink and fixes Jared with a look that might as well be accompanied by thunder and lightening is totally unexpected.
“Puck!” He spits, ridiculously pretty even in a tantrum. “I suppose you’re talking about that incompetent knave, Robin Goodfellow?”
Oh shit. Jared’s been stuck in endless arguments with classics majors and Lit. History buffs before. They’re such a touchy group.
“Oh sure, he was good for stroking Oberon’s ego when his former majesty wasn’t getting anything else stroked,” he huffs. “Yet that fool is who everybody knows! He gives us all a bad name.”
“Us?” Jared grins because even ranting, this guy’s anger is kind of adorable. “So you’re a fairy too?”
“I’m a rogue,” he answers with a straight face, like it’s supposed to be quite clear. “A Pan? A knave?” He tries, and then appears to give up with a twitch of his nose and another swallow of his martini. “Fine. Yes, I am a fairy but my name is Jensen.”
It’s not every day Jared gets to have a drunken conversation with someone who thinks he’s a fairy. He surprises himself by just going with it, nodding and listening to Jensen explain exactly what ‘being a puck’ entails. Because seriously, how could Jared not ask?
And Jensen can certainly talk. He empties martinis at a good pace, barely affected beyond his slightly slurred words; Jensen’s eyes are still sharp and unnaturally bright. Jared’s going to go broke from his bar tab but whatever. He’s actually enjoying himself.
Halfway through reciting a very dirty ballad Jensen claims to have made up with the Casanova, Cleopatra slides up behind Jared’s chair and touches his shoulder.
“Hey, Jay,” she slurs, the makeup starting to cross the line into drunken tramp instead of classic, exotic queen. “You ready to head out?”
“What happened to the Captain?”
“Oh, Greg? He already left. Anyway, everyone’s ready to catch a cab to head somewhere else and I thought -“
“Clever harlot,” Jensen pipes up. He looks more pissed off than Jared’s seen yet.
“Excuse me?” Cleopatra - Michelle - shoots back while looking between them.
“I said -“
“Jensen!” Jared gets him to shut up before he can try his strange, witty insults on Jared’s now-former date. “Sorry, Michelle, but I think I’m gonna stay for a while. But I’ll see you on Monday?”
Jensen leans back, looking far too pleased when Michelle walks away from their table.
“Do you mind?”
“Of course not.” Jensen’s cheeks are pink, rosy compared to his flawless, pale face. “Your company is pleasant.”
“Pleasant? That sounds cheesy.”
He gets another arched eyebrow for that and an adorably confused pout.
“So what do you do in L.A.?”
Jensen’s brows scrunch together and the word ‘adorable’ just won’t stop bouncing around in Jared’s head.
“I thought I’d found a new city for my jesting and service, but by the stars, it’s too hard.” The last measures of Jensen’s drink disappear quickly. “Only a century ago my job was so easy, but people don’t fall for the same tricks anymore. I could do any number of things to the simpering drones here and they’d learn nothing from the experience! I mean, just today…”
Jared can’t pretend to know what Jensen’s so frustrated about; he’s floating comfortably in the tipsy-zone. He hears Jensen’s voice - no more bells - but it’s still soothing over the noise in the bar. Jensen either doesn’t notice or doesn’t mind that Jared’s a little spacey.
The “knave” keeps talking and Jared continues to let that voice carry him away from the bar, from the crowd. Away from everything.
Jared blinks.
And then he groans with relief.
He recognizes the black ceiling fan above his head. He’s waking up in his own bed and for the amount he knows he drank last night, Jared’s a little surprised. Grateful, but definitely surprised. Buried under the covers, Jared’s actually in a clean tee shirt and boxers, not still wrapped in a smelly, bar-stained sheet, and there’s no rancid after-smell of cigarette smoke in his hair or on his pillow. He doesn’t remember taking a shower, but there’s no denying the signs.
Or the hangover.
“Oh Jesus fuck.”
“I didn’t know the man personally, but I doubt he’d approve of your language.”
Jared will never cop to the squeal he makes when he hears the smooth voice, and he’ll deny hiding under the covers for a moment when he catches sight of the knave perched contentedly on his dresser.
“I’m glad you woke up on your own, Jared,” Jensen’s voice is melodic and fairly annoying this early. Over the duvet, Jared sees his fine-boned hand hold up some sort of flute. “Because this thing? Is totally for show.”
“What the hell are you doing in my room?!” Jared emerges from the covers. Hiding is not very manly.
“I was merely waiting for you to wake up.”
“Oh okay - no, wait! What the hell are you doing in my house?”
Jared may not remember every detail of his Halloween festivities, but the memory of Jensen’s smile comes through loud and clear. And seeing it now does not do funny things to his anatomy. For a second he wonders if he and Jensen…. No, Jared would certainly remember that - his body would feel differently. A guy can always tell even if the details are fuzzy.
Fuzzy details? Check. That freshly fucked feeling? Unfortunately, no.
Wait, unfortunately? Jared shakes his head. Clearly, the fact that Jensen’s still wearing as little as he was last night is messing with Jared’s mind.
“I remember what you said last night.”
“I don’t,” Jared chuckles humorlessly. “Well, I mean, I do, but not everything.”
The other man doesn’t look surprised. “You were generous enough to listen to my raving and bitterness regarding my job.”
Right. Jensen’s job as a -
“Oh shit.” Jared smacks his face and tries to rub away the memory. “Your job as a freakin’ fairy.”
“Don’t start with that business again, Jared.” He springs lightly from his perch and lands softly on Jared’s carpet. “If you still refuse to believe in my abilities, I’ll have to demonstrate.”
“Will you go away if I say ‘I don’t believe in fairies’?”
“Hah!”
Oh God, Jared’s hearing bells again and they’re not part of his hangover.
“That silly idea was created by his majesty Filanni just after he was elected in 1824,” Jensen laughs, clearly assuming this was something Jared should have learned in kindergarten. “Thank goodness it doesn’t actually work!”
Alongside Jared’s bed, Jensen stops and grins. His strange floral cap is missing - maybe it’s only worn for special occasions such as convincing relatively sane actors that magic exists - but the rest of his odd outfit is in perfect order with barely a twig out of place.
Jensen grabs the duvet and drags it down the bed. “Now get up, lazy mortal! A man needs his breakfast.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“What?”
“You did all this?”
Jared had willingly followed Jensen at the mention of food, and now his eyes dart from the mouth-watering spread laid out on the granite countertop to his dogs. Sadie and Harley are calmly sitting by the kitchen sink and Jared has to blink several times because his dogs are practically sparkling. He’s never seen his babies so clean even when the groomers finish with them every month. Jensen groomed his dogs?
He’s tempted to kick this guy out of his house. No one in their right mind cleans someone else’s pets like this, but the array of breakfast foods is too tempting. If Jensen leaves, he might use his magical powers to take the pancakes, French toast, fruit salad, fluffy scrambled eggs, and crispy bacon with him. And hell no.
“I wanted to repay your chivalry last night since you purchased all those delicious elixirs!”
“You’re welcome?”
“We knaves can be quite generous when it suits our purpose.”
No one’s ever repaid Jared like this just for picking up a bar tab, but he thanks Jensen quickly anyway and grabs a plate. Soon it’s piled high - pancakes at the bottom with Southern hash browns and bacon on top, syrup drizzled over the entire lot. Jensen hops up on a stool and picks at the large bowl of fruit, watching Jared with bemusement he doesn’t bother to conceal.
Full and feeling much more human, Jared pushes his plate away. “Want to tell me again what you’re doing here? Did you bring me home last night?”
“More like ‘this morning’, but yes. I brought you safely to your threshold and figured it would be a kindness not to let you fall asleep in that filthy toga. Although I did misplace your laurels coming back here, I apologize.”
Getting the blanks filled in just keeps getting more and more horrifying. Jensen undressed him and cleaned him, too?
“I thought I might stick around you for a while,” Jensen continues like Jared’s face isn’t beet-red with the combination of embarrassment and mortification. “Your ideas on simplifying my pranks and forgoing the ‘life lessons’ were ingenious. I can only hope that you have many more ideas in your head.”
“Only things in my head right now are jackhammers.”
“I’m afraid I cannot cure a hangover,” Jensen states with true regret, not the sarcasm Jared expects. “What say you, though? I don’t want to be a burden, and I’ve never needed a tutor in these matters, but I think there’s much I can learn from you, Jared.”
It’s ridiculous: the food, his dogs (who are behaving, sitting patiently while Jared eats), his hangover, and the smirking fairy perched on his counter stool looking for all the world like tagging along after Jared is the best prize he could receive.
“If you keep making me breakfast like this, then sure, why not?”
“Very well!”
Jensen’s smile is worse than a 100 watt bulb on Jared’s hangover-pained eyes. He scrunches them closed tightly, and when he opens his eyes, Jensen’s just gone.
The food’s there, and his dogs finally move to lay at his feet hoping for a scrap of bacon, but the fucking fairy - ‘knave’ his brain supplies unhelpfully - has disappeared.
Huh.
While part of him wonders just when hallucinations started being a symptom of his hangovers, the larger part of Jared’s brain is just glad that Jensen didn’t disappear with the food.
“Do you always dress like that?”
Jensen’s wearing the same leafy pants and strap - never complaining of cold or heat - as always. The only thing Jared’s seen change is the color of the blossoms spaced throughout the dark green and brown vines. They’re bright yellow today; yesterday was deep pink. If it’s some sort of mood indicator, Jared hasn’t figured it out yet.
“No one can see me unless I permit it.” That strokes Jared’s plumage a little bit. At least, if he were still hallucinating, it’s only because he’s privileged. “My garb has never been a problem before. Does it bother you?”
More like it makes Jared uncomfortable in ways he’s not really going to examine yet. He doesn’t get the chance to say no, however, before Jensen snaps his fingers and is suddenly sitting next to Jared in a soft, green shirt and faded jeans.
“Is that better?”
“Yeah, whatever. You didn’t have to change.”
He’d love to say Jensen looks normal. It’s better than dressing like a grown up Peter Pan, but the knave - yeah, Jared’s starting to accept it (was hard not to after Jensen’s vanishing act) - could never look normal. Jensen’s green eyes are unnaturally bright; his face is too fair. Even amongst the press of pretty flesh that makes up Southern California, Jensen will always stand out. That is, if anyone could actually see him.
“What about Halloween?”
“Apparently alcohol affects my abilities,” Jensen grumbles. “I was very visible, but you mortals were all dressed like fools regardless.”
Well, at least it hadn’t looked like Jared was talking to himself all night.
“So what sort of tricks did you pull today?”
Jensen sits up. In the week since Halloween, this is almost becoming a routine. In the bar, Jared had apparently encouraged the melancholy rogue to play tricks for his own enjoyment - nothing harmful - instead of using his teases to impart life lessons. Those wouldn’t stick to anyone in Hollywood.
“While downtown, I followed a haughty gentleman who was far too harsh on his employees.”
“And?”
“I conjured a raincloud to follow him around all day, wherever he went. If his scowl was permanent anyway, I thought I’d give him a good reason to be a grouch!”
“Has it worn off yet?”
The knave smirks.
“Jensen!”
“It’s a Cinderella situation,” he laughs. “Midnight and the rain shall cease.”
Jared notices the difference in Jensen already. Excitable and happy, sharing his stories with Jared when he pops in every night. Then he’ll listen to Jared’s antics from set, the pranks he plays on his co-stars and their crew. And Jensen will laugh as if he’s never been so entertained.
He’s never forgotten Jared’s mock promise of food either. Sometimes breakfast is waiting when Jared wakes up. Other times Jensen conjures dinner or desert; they’ll sit together with plates of food Jared’s never heard of.
But there are other things as well. Jensen wasn’t kidding when he said pucks are good with housekeeping favors. With a snap of his fingers, a twitch of his nose, the kitchen is spotless. His living room is cleared of all dog hair tumbleweeds. One morning Jared woke up to find that his garden was in full bloom - in November - with plant species he couldn’t even find on Wikipedia. All those colored flowers reminded him of Jensen’s outfits before tonight.
Of course, those favors only last while Jensen’s in a good mood. Jared figured that out pretty quickly. He cracked one joke about getting Jensen into a maid’s costume for all the work he’d done around the house, and Jared’s den suddenly resembled a frat house after a keg party. Jared never wants sticky floors like that again.
But Jensen’s easy going, you know, for a fairy. This is one friendship Jared never imagined striking up when he left Texas for California.
“One of these days, I’ll get what’s coming to me,” Jared says later on after they’ve annihilated Jensen’s tray of magically-imported gourmet gelato.
“What do you mean?” Jensen’s stretched out over most of Jared’s sofa, bare feet nudging Jared’s thigh.
“I’ve pulled so many practical jokes on my friends and I’m sort of dreading the payback. But I’m kind of looking forward to it too, you know? I want to see if they can beat me at my own game.”
Jensen’s too quiet and when Jared glances over, he doesn’t like the roguish gleam in Jensen’s eyes.
“Jensen…”
“I’m just pondering something.”
“Well, stop.”
But he’s grinning impishly. “As you wish.”
To Jared, that doesn’t sound promising at all.
It starts out small.
Jared wakes up with freckles everywhere and he feels like a farmer made up for a bad porno. The make-up girls laugh when he stammers his explanation that he must have ‘had a bad reaction’ to his new moisturizer.
When they have to cake on foundation to cover his exposed skin, Jared swears he can hear Jensen’s tell-tale chiming laugh.
Damn invisible bastard.
But when he gets home, grumpy and throwing curses to empty air, someone’s already fed Sadie and Harley. There’s a hot, medium-rare rib eye with all the trimmings waiting on his dining room table - a single pale yellow flower sitting in a bud vase next to the feast.
So he forgives Jensen. This time.
Thankfully it’s a Sunday and Jared doesn’t have to work when he wakes up and discovers that everything he touches becomes polka-dotted.
It’s less problematic than having a Midas touch - he gives Jensen points for creativity - but it’s annoying.
Jared ends up with a polka-dotted toothbrush, loofa, bar stool, and an outfit that would be appropriate on a clown. Harley and Sadie look part-Dalmatian by the time a giggling Jensen appears and takes pity on him.
Jensen doesn’t magic any food onto the table - Jared orders them pizza and gives Jensen a slice with extra garlic and anchovies in retaliation - but he does change everything back to normal.
Except for Jared’s now polka-dotted boxers.
“So Goodfellow really couldn’t get anything right, huh?”
“That’s what I was trying to say!”
Jensen brought a copy of A Midsummer Night’s Dream for Jared to read, but after fifteen minutes they gave up on the book. Jensen flicked out and returned with the DVD version and they settled in to watch.
“Plus, you’re much hotter.”
“Well, Robin doesn’t look quite like that,” Jensen nods to Stanley Tucci’s image on the widescreen, “but he behaves exactly the same.”
Jensen’s feet are lying casually across Jared’s lap while the rogue commentates. Jared unconsciously slides his fingers under the hem of Jensen’s soft jeans, across hard ankle bones and smooth, warm skin.
“Oberon was insufferable after William wrote this. It was practically propaganda for his reelection campaigns.” Jensen snorts. “He thought it made him seem more like a God than a mere fairy king. And Robin! Suddenly he was the Puck, never mind the rest of us.”
It’s a week before Thanksgiving - three weeks since this strange fairy was dropped into Jared’s lap. He doesn’t mind; things are actually comfortable. Jensen’s like a roommate - only better and with a wicked sense of humor - and best friend rolled into one, magical package. He’s learning to live with the tricks. They’re mostly harmless, anyway.
His strange fate stopped bothering him days ago.
“I remember how much Titania hated that imbecile,” his trickster laughs. “Or perhaps the former queen was jealous. Oberon did spend an inordinately significant amount of time with his jester.”
“Scandalous!” Jared jokes.
“Oh you have no idea!”
“Jensen!”
Nothing.
“Show your dumb ass right now!”
Still no answer.
“I know you’re here, Jensen!” Jared shouts to the empty living room. He’s probably delusional but he swears he’s gotten to the point where he can feel Jensen’s presence.
“Come on out, I’m not angry,” he lies. He’s pissed.
Jensen’s latest spell - he’s playing dirtier now - wore off half an hour ago and Jared’s been yelling ever since.
“Fine! You want to hide? Be my guest! But I swear, if you ever dose me with a love potion again, you’re a dead fairy!”
Jared turns bright red when Jensen’s tinkling laugh echoes around the room.
Robert, his usual UPS guy - and the first person Jared saw after waking up that morning - is probably filing a harassment charge against Jared this instant and Jensen’s laughing like a naughty school girl.
Payback’s going to be a bitch.
It’s tougher to play a trick on a knave than Jared anticipated.
Jared doesn’t have magical powers or the ability to sneak up on someone like Jensen, but he tries.
Itching powder, hair dye, and disturbing combinations of food are amateur attempts, but Jensen always laughs when he figures out what Jared’s been doing. He’s even a good enough sport to leave his hair pink one day instead of snapping his fingers to change it back.
This all results in more elaborate shenanigans from the fairy, of course. All is fair in trickery and war.
In retaliation for the flamingo hair, Jared wakes up one morning with hair that won’t stop growing. Everyone on set thinks he’s taken some very questionable drugs to produce that result, and he’s finally sent home halfway through the day with a bright red face and bruised ego. He supposes Jensen could have made him bald instead - and he’s seen Mike Rosenbaum, no thank you - so he gets over it when his hair’s back to normal the next day.
On the first of December, Jensen offers a truce but Jared doesn’t take it. He may not be able to beat Jensen in the arena of practical jokes, but that doesn’t mean he can’t keep trying.
Jared needs to accept that he only ever has bad ideas and move on.
Trying to out-prank Jensen was ill-fated (he conceded mastery to the knave when Jensen gave him two left feet) but his current drama is worse. Sick of his friends hounding him for his sudden switch to an antisocial, homebody lifestyle, Jared actually asked Jensen to go out with him.
Not out as in going out, just out of the house - dancing and drinking at one of Jared’s favorite clubs. Jensen’s face lit up at the offer and with a snap, his jeans and tee were traded for sleek grey slacks and a tight, black crew neck.
And now that sharp-dressed fairy is out on the dance floor tormenting Jared. Part of him hopes that this is another joke. Any second Jensen’s going to stop writhing amongst all the dancers and flit over to Jared, shy and laughing.
Ten minutes later that still hasn’t happened.
Jared’s throwing back shots like the party pro he is. The scene on the dance floor reminds him of Jensen’s very bawdy stories of crazy, drunken fairy orgies - ‘we’re not exactly innocent pixies, Jared’ - and rowdy sexcapades with nymphs and what-have-you. Everything Jared never wanted to know about fey creatures. Hearing the stories had been uncomfortable enough. Seeing Jensen in action is worse.
He’s a fair judge of appearances; Jared could never deny how attractive Jensen is, but part of Jensen’s appeal has always been rooted in the rogue’s attitude, his flair, and the way his eyes can flash innocent one minute and impish the next.
But tonight, Jensen looks hot. Hot in ways Jared doesn’t want to think about, hence the shots. Everything’s all right with enough vodka. Enough of them and he won’t care how many guys and girls surround his best friend slash roommate slash his fairy, damn it!
Shit. He needs another shot just for thinking that.
Jensen’s bright eyes catch Jared’s and he waves him over. Friends dance with each other all the time, right? It will totally be fine and not weird - or mind blowingly hot - whatsoever.
So Jared downs the last shot the bartender was kind enough to provide and thunks the glass down on the bar top. Then he moves onto the dance floor where Jensen’s smiling.
Jared blinks.
He can’t see the ceiling but these are definitely his navy blue sheets and squishy goose-down pillows bunched beneath his head.
When he tries to move his legs, there’s an obstruction by his feet. Maybe he was too drunk last night to close his bedroom door - Harley and Sadie love to sneak on the bed - but when keeps kicking, the mass doesn’t budge.
“Do you mind?”
Jared peeks from under the covers and sees that the immovable object is fairy, not canine. Then he groans.
“I told you, I can’t fix hangovers.”
Yeah, Jared’s probably going to have a nasty one of those, too, but that’s not the problem. He looks at Jensen, cross-legged on the end of his bed, wearing his soft jeans and one of Jared’s zip-up hoodies over his bony shoulders. Jared’s iPod is in Jensen’s lap, only one bud in his ears, and he looks snuggly.
He supposes even knaves can get tired, and from what he remembers of last night, Jensen should be exhausted. But that’s not the problem either.
The problem is that when Jared looks over at Jensen, something hits him low and deep in his belly. He wants to drag Jensen under the covers and go back to sleep with the smooth skin of Jensen’s exposed chest pressed to his back. His feet, which are always warm, could rub along and heat up Jared’s cold toes.
Jared would be okay with just wanting to jump Jensen since, well, look at the guy. But wanting to cuddle with him? That’s a big, giant red flag.
Jensen smacks his legs.
“Now get up, I was waiting for you.” Then softer, more enticing. “I’ve got Swedish pancakes with whipped cream and strawberries in the kitchen.”
Not even the realization that Jared might be a little bit in love with Jensen - seriously, it's just affection that's warming Jared's adled brain - can keep him hidden in bed and away from breakfast. Even his headache, throbbing to the beat of last night’s club music, can't keep him out of the kitchen.
Jensen's waiting at the counter, already in the far stool. His spot.
Jesus. Jared's brain needs to shut up. It's not Jensen's spot - it's Jared's stool. His house. His sofa. His life.
"Jared? Aren't you hungry?"
If he kissed Jensen's lips right now - they're as red as the strawberries in their bowl - they'd taste like sweet fruit and something magical.
What the fuck? What the hell is wrong with him?
"Come on, I worked hard making these!" Jensen jokes with a pseudo-whine.
He absolutely did not, of course, but Jared still wants to press up along Jensen's back and thank him with a long swipe of his tongue up -
Jared chokes on a breath and flees the room like a coward even though the pancakes smell amazing. But Jensen, never one to let Jared off the hook when he behaves like a lunatic, is waiting for him in the bedroom with an adorably confused expression. Damn magical bastard.
Jensen's nose scrunches. "Are you feeling all right?"
No.
"I'm fine."
"You're flushed. Maybe you should lay down."
And maybe you should join me so that I can -
"Nope, I'm good." Getting into bed suddenly sounds like the worst idea possible.
"Then why'd you run in here?" The fairy sounds more concerned now. "Did I do something?"
"No, it wasn't -"
And then it hits Jared. He's felt like this before, only he didn't know how to explain it at the time. Jensen is such a bastard.
“Oh God, Jensen. What did you do?”
"I didn't do anything, Jared!"
"I told you!" He yells. "I said no more love spells! Shit, the UPS guy still won't look me in the eye."
"But, I didn't..." Jensen trails off and looks carefully at Jared. "You threatened me - I wouldn't..."
"Then explain why I woke up and wanted to...and you were right there, the first person I saw! It feels exactly the same as when I tried to grope Robert back when..."
"You wanted to what?" Jensen interrupts.
"Huh?"
"What did you want to do?"
"Why does it even matter, aren't you listening?"
"I'm curious!"
"Jesus, Jensen," Jared wants to pace but his feet won't move away from the slighter man who's suddenly a lot closer. "I'm trying to tell you that I woke up in love with you and you're curious?!"
Jared's never seen the fairy at a loss for words. Jensen is always witty, always one step ahead of Jared, but his mouth keeps opening and closing like he doesn't know which way is up.
"I -"
And then Jensen's in his arms, the impact knocking them both back onto the bed, but Jensen's so wrapped around Jared that the mattress bounce doesn't even separate them.
"Jensen..." His whisper hits the fairy's lips, they're so close.
"Oh shut up for once, mortal."
The humor and affection in Jensen's voice has Jared's lips parting for him and this is so very different from the effects of Jensen's love spell. It's warmth instead of insanity and hell, it's clearly mutual. Jensen's not dashing out the front door like Jared's possessed.
Jensen kisses like Jared has never imagined. Centuries of experience make Jensen an expert - Jared can't forget those orgy stories - but he can't help feeling that Jensen's kissing him as if it's the first time for both of them. The knave's mouth doesn't taste like fruit, but it is sweet and the magic sizzles on his tongue like soda bubbles. Jared would laugh at that thought if he wasn't so busy biting into those red, berry lips.
And Jensen is just as distracted with chasing Jared's tongue within and out of his mouth, sliding his slighter frame along Jared's body. Jared's hands get under the sweatshirt, palming Jensen's smooth back, tickling his ribs as they kiss slow and tenderhearted.
It may be crazy - Jared's still in his pajamas and Jensen's soft and warm on top of him - but at the same time, it's absolutely perfect.
"So you didn't..." Jared begins when Jensen's lips pull away. "This isn't just a new and improved love spell?"
"I assure you," Jensen's mellifluous voice is deeper, richer than he's ever heard before. "There is no spell here."
The rogue's body is light atop him, but putting pressure on all the right places. Jared wants everything in that moment and can picture it all: going back to bed, kissing Jensen until they're inseparable, and playing pranks on each other for a long time to come.
Then his stomach growls. Apparently, he wants breakfast with a side of Jensen more than anything else.
"Can we have those pancakes now?"
Jensen laughs and yeah, Jared still hears bells. "I'll warm them up for us."
The next morning, Jared wakes up with Jensen tucked under his arm, the fairy's light breath on his shoulder.
When he shakes his head to clear the sleep from his eyes, the strands of hair that fall across his face are a bright, electric blue. Jensen's smiling even in his sleep.
And it's still pretty damn perfect.
FIN.
I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I love how this turned out, and even though Porn Friday implies PORN, I thought this wrapped itself up in a nice, pretty bow =). Please ignore the way I feel about William Shakespeare and A Midsummer Night's Dream! Seriously, I love the film version Jared and Jensen are watching. And, if J.M. Barrie's fairies could have orgies, so can mine!
Title from 'Wicked' and this was pounced on glanced over by jumpuphigh.
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