[Fic] What You Really, Really Want | J2 | Art by dauntdraws
WHAT YOU REALLY, REALLY WANT.
pairing. Jensen/Jared.
rating. ADULT.
words. 15,000
summary. College doesn't change Jensen and Jared. It only changes what they are to each other. A continuation of That's Not Our Song and reading that first is suggested.
Art by the incomparable dauntdraws. I was so lucky to win her talent for help_haiti and to collaborate with her on this story. Definitely check out her art post [because everything she made for this story was phenomenal!] and leave her all kinds of wonderful feedback! She brought these two characters-absolute favorites of mine-to life in such an awesome way.
Wonderful and invaluable beta services by dugindeep. Seriously, y'all, this would not have been half as plotty or good without her help on multiple occasions! Remaining flaws are mine.
Jensen knows there's a good reason Jared never drank much during high school. He may have the physical mass of a gorilla-because boy, did Jared fill out over the summer-but he's a total lightweight with his liquor.
Tonight, Jensen's seen him with three different colors of plastic cups, and that's just when Jensen has managed to track him down amongst the throngs of people. The frat house is filled to the brim with alcohol-abusing freshmen who are going to spend tomorrow morning throwing up and realizing how bad hangovers can be. Jensen doesn't want his boyfriend to join the ranks of the totally smashed, so he finally corners Jared and pushes him against the hallway wall. His senses vibrate with the bass of the music being pumped through the house, his hips bumping Jared's.
"Jen-JenJen," Jared slurs. His eyes are slow and hazy but at least he's looking at Jensen, poking him bluntly in the chest with his finger. "Where'd you come from?"
"I've been here all night," he says. Jared's head drops forward so Jensen ends up whispering in his ear. "I think you might be overdoing it."
They get a few strange looks as people shove by in the narrow, downstairs hall. The air's close and damp, smelling of bitter alcohol and cigarettes. Jared's not at all uncomfortable with Jensen right in front of him; he wraps his long arms around Jensen's waist and holds Jensen to him.
"I just wanted to have a good time tonight." That's what Jensen thinks he hears; Jared is mumbling, confusing full words with unintelligible sounds. "And have a good time with you."
"We're having a good time," Jensen reassures, dropping his hands to Jared's hips and tapping his rings on the studs of Jared's jeans. Jared's upper body had reaped the benefits of a summer spent life-guarding at the neighborhood pool. He'd swum easy laps in the morning before the sun started to scorch, and kept kids on their best behavior all afternoon. His hips are lean and trim, tapered up from the long muscles in his thighs, and create perfect grooves for Jensen's fingers. "But aren't you getting tired?"
Jared nods against Jensen's throat, nudging his nose at the thin leather cord running across Jensen's collarbone, when someone much larger than Jensen bumps into them.
"Hey-hey, buddy!" The guy is tall and artificially blond, staring at Jensen like his black clothing is indicative of some disease. Jensen considers cracking a joke about lepers and goths-at least we're allowed to show some skin!-but Jared's unsteady on his feet, swaying obviously against the wall. The frat boy is trying to get Jared's attention, thick fingers pulling at his purple t-shirt. "Dude, is this guy bothering you?"
"Hmm?" Jared raises blurry eyes, forehead wrinkling as he tries to process the scene and can't. "Jen?"
"I'm not bothering him," Jensen hisses. "I'm his b-his best friend. He'll be fine."
"Sure, whatever," the guy says. "Man, are you sure you're okay?"
"M'good with Jen."
That's the best answer the guy's going to get so he moves along through the raucous crowd, leaving a clear path to the door. Jensen's taking more of Jared's weight than he was two minutes ago. Time to get out of here. He pulls back but Jared reaches out and slides his fingers around the thick leather bracelet on Jensen's wrist.
"C'mon Jay, I'm not ditching you."
Following Jensen's lead, Jared stumbles off the wall and into Jensen's hold. He steers them through the tangle, easier to breathe the closer they get to the front door.
"I'll get us home."
Fresh air sobers Jared up a bit and he bounces across the grass back to their dorm, leashed by Jensen's hand in his. A second-wind is the last thing Jensen wants to deal with when he's so close to getting back to his room and crashing, but Jared breathes deep and tries to pull Jensen down to the grass.
"Jay, get up and walk." Jensen doesn't want to attract the attention of Campus Police. Falling in a drunken sprawl across the lawn might do the trick. "We're almost there."
"Where're we goin'?"
"My room." He's forced to drag Jared away from a lamp post. "Ray's gone this weekend."
Though their parents were fine with Jared and Jensen going to the same school, they drew the line at living together. Jensen's dad insisted they spend freshman year in the dorms, in separate rooms, and they could decide after that if moving in together was the right choice.
Ray, Jensen's roommate, has lived in Southern California all his life and spends a lot of time with friends from home, crashing off campus, or devoting time to his intramural soccer team. During Orientation weekend, Ray scrolled through Jensen's music collection and has been trying to turn him on to his own brand of up-and-coming rappers from the West Coast ever since. Hasn't worked yet, but Jensen doesn't hate everything he hears, so Ray earns a small victory every time Jensen asks to download one of his songs.
Matty, Jared's roommate, hails from Chicago. He was skittish around Jensen the first few weeks; a token geek and a Biology major, he tends to look at Jared with a balanced mix of fear and admiration, and has learned that Jensen's all bark and black-clothing.
Getting into their building is a challenge. Jared insists on using his ID card to open the door-chivalry isn't dead, he drawls, ducking ahead of Jensen-but his clumsy fingers keep dropping the flimsy plastic. His movements are sloppy and uncoordinated, and he kicks the card away more than once when he can't pick it up.
"Enough," Jensen says, digging his own card out of his tight back pocket and swiping it through. In a quick move he grabs Jared's card from the cement and shoves him through the door.
"Bossy." Jared falls against the inner door to the stairwell, attempting to grab Jensen for a kiss, his lips parted and drawn up. "I'm surprised your card fit back there." For proof, he digs his fingers into Jensen's pocket and that works as well as anything to keep him close as Jensen heads upstairs.
Jensen's half of the room looks similar to his old bedroom. Black sheets and comforter covering the standard-issue, extra-long twin bed; his own art and canvases mixed with some of Jared's candid photographs; a new laptop buried somewhere under the sketches and assignments on his desk. Ray didn't seem to care how Jensen decorated. His side remains pretty blank except for a standard dorm-starter kit and a few pictures of his enormous extended family-big grins on dozens of dark faces-tacked up on his bulletin board.
Jared teeters down onto Jensen's bed, flailing and pulling Jensen down on top of him. To Jensen, he smells like beer from the party and peach fragrance from his shampoo. Not an appealing combination, but Jensen curls closer.
"You hold me together," Jared whispers, still garbled. "Gonna fly apart, but you keep me together." Then he sniffles, strokes his hand up and down Jensen's back like he's a cat curled on Jared's stomach. Fingers ruck up Jensen's tight black shirt, skimming beneath.
He knows what Jared's feeling. Their first few weeks in San Diego have been overwhelming. Jared wants to see and do everything, Jensen is satisfied just getting his footing. Here, he doesn't stand out as much and he's okay with that. He's met some insanely talented people in his Intro classes, and if some of them happen to appreciate the advantages of an all-black wardrobe, the more power to 'em. The majority of students on campus group the outsiders together whether they're true goths, artists, or just uniquely attired. For the first time, with the exception of Danneel, there are others like Jensen.
But Jared-there's no one else like Jared. People gravitate towards his brightness. In the same way his essence pushed away the darkness in Jensen's high school mural, Jared becomes the focus with his colorful shirts and swaggy hair. The girls on Jared's floor have adopted him as their pal and protector; Jared's willing to walk them to the food hall late at night to keep them safe, or sit with them and discuss the latest Cosmo. Jensen had banned Cosmo from his room after Jared tried to make him take a quiz about which kind of sex he was best at. Fed up, Jensen had thrown the magazine under Ray's bed and opted to show Jared instead. For the record, the answer was all of them.
"Yeah, I keep you together."
It's snuggly and warm in the circle of Jared's arms. When Jared's clearly asleep, Jensen doesn't move right away, too settled to get up. But he does, eventually, when his boots feel too heavy on his feet and his belt digs into the soft skin of his stomach. Stripping them both to underwear and shirts, Jensen climbs back on top of Jared, just enough space for the two of them on Jensen's bed.
As if Jared's been waiting, he cuddles Jensen right back into place without opening his eyes.
Composition is their one class together and they routinely meander to the main cafeteria in the Student Union afterward. The place is a mob scene during lunch, but after 3 p.m., the big booths in the back empty out. Jared claimed one of the biggest-curved like a diner's corner booth-as their own during the first couple weeks of the semester, dropping underneath to carve j2 into the fiberboard. It's large enough for Jared to lay down, his head on Jensen's lap while he works. There, where it's more private than the dorm study rooms, they waste away Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. It's totally theirs.
Today, they're alone after a few lingering freshmen girls take their bags and leave. Jared wakes up earlier on Thursdays for his General Chemistry lab so he's yawning once every two minutes and it's becoming contagious.
"Stop it."
"I can't help it," Jared says, words stretched long over another yawn. "I didn't sleep last night. Matty was finishing a paper."
"Go back to my room and sleep if you want." Jensen lets Jared play idly with the hammered, gun metal ring on his left hand, spinning the band under his knuckle. "Ray's got a late class today."
"Mmm." Jared's non-committal, staring dreamily at Jensen's hand. "I'm good here."
A few students pass through between the lunch and dinner rushes but they don't pay any attention to Jensen and Jared, tucked away as they are. Some stay and claim their own booths but no one bothers them. Jensen uses his free hand to flip absentmindedly through his Art History notes, shaking his head each time he comes to a page with one of Jared's doodles traced in the margins. No matter where Jensen keeps his books-in a drawer, in his bag, or at the bottom of the closet under boots and socks-everything's been touched by Jared's hand and pen.
"Did I tell you Danneel wants to come visit for Fall Break?"
"Seriously?"
"She emailed me this morning," Jensen says. "Her parents are giving her the plane ticket for her birthday so she won't have to take a bus down."
Danneel's making her presence known further north at Berkeley. Jensen's not sure he could have left her behind in Texas but she'd been as eager to flee across state lines as Jared and Jensen. He's grateful to have her in the same state even if they don't have the time to visit much.
"That'll be awesome." Jared perks up. "At least she'll go shopping with me."
Jensen snorts. "You guys have fun with that."
"We will," Jared says confidently, finally giving in to his yawns and scooting down on the booth seat.
Jared's head settles with comfortable pressure on Jensen's left thigh, but he keeps hold of Jensen's hand, settling it over his chest bone and rubbing over Jensen's palm.
"I might need that hand," Jensen whispers, though there's no one close enough to hear.
"Too bad." Jared shuts his eyes. "It's mine now."
"Such a loser," Jensen mutters softly, even as he's thinking Jared's probably right.
It hadn't taken long for Jensen's new friends to discover Jared. His boyfriend was the opposite of a dirty little secret-more like, a giant, glittery intrusion-but their first couple of weeks were so hectic, proper introductions got lost.
One day, Jensen was loitering in the lobby of the main Art Building, Sinclair Hall, with a gang from his required Art History class. Delilah, the petite Graphic Design major whose ruler-straight blond hair clashed with her dark makeup, reached across the bench they were sharing and pushed up Jensen's shirt sleeve.
"Did you get a little bored in class?" The eyeliner she wore made her blue eyes ice-bright, freezing Jensen. A string of Jared's skinny hearts wrapped around his forearm in fading red and black ink.
"Nah, my boyfriend's got this weird habit." Jensen's body was fair game for Jared's idle hands. "He likes to draw on me."
"You're a human palette, huh?" Delilah hummed. "Sounds cool. Is he an art student too?"
"Not really. He's sort of majoring in everything right now. But he's this amazing photographer..."
No matter how Jensen built him up, no one was prepared for Jared's onslaught of friendliness and personality. He and Jensen were in the East Quad, grass cool and air California-warm, with Jensen squashed comfortably between a tree and Jared's back, staring instead of studying.
Delilah and Geoff, another art student, wandered by and found them like that. Jared was oblivious with his eyes closed and headphones on until Jensen nudged his shoulder.
That introduction could have gone much better.
Jared, nearly blending into the quad's elegant landscaping with his highlighter-bright green shirt, jumped up excitedly. He gave Geoff a swinging handshake and smiled a huge grin for tiny, fierce Delilah. They all did their 'heard so much about you' bits, not a hint of feigned enthusiasm on Jared's part. If Geoff and Delilah had come over for a reason they didn't stay to tell Jensen, claiming to be en route to the studio.
Jared watched them walk away then turned to Jensen, expression dimmed.
"Was I too much?"
"No," Jensen said, reaching for his hand and pulling him into the shade again.
Before their next Art History class, Delilah snagged Jensen by his cuff as he squeezed past her in their row.
"I can't believe that guy is your boyfriend." Her low ponytail, tied with a leather strap, swung back and forth accusingly.
Jensen wondered if Jared ever got sick of these conversations. Did people need the two of them to match up perfectly to jive with their expectations? Whatever happened to opposites attracting?
Delilah and Geoff, plus a few other links in the gossip chain they'd clearly been talking to, turned to stare at Jensen. It was deep and penetrating, working out if Jensen's black clothing and attitude were some kind of ploy. He'd never faced the scrutiny of people like this-like him. He'd always been the freak. Now, maybe not freak enough.
"We've been together since high school." Jensen thought he was done with this defense speech when he left Texas. "He's...an amazing guy."
"Well, Geoff has a class with him and calls him the Man-Barbie," Delilah pointed out. Pale and scowling, Geoff wasn't thrilled to be brought into Delilah's argument.
"Jared might take that as a compliment," Jensen said with appropriate sarcasm. "Is it because of all the pink?"
"And his hair," Geoff whispered under their professor's monotone. "It's always perfect." He made it sound like something to be ashamed of. The very idea that Jensen willingly spent his time with someone who wore an excessive amount of pink appeared to nauseate him. The argument that Geoff owned more make-up than Jared-between his heavy eyeliner and purposely pale complexion-wouldn't go over well.
"Whatever." The comeback was as lame as Jensen felt and he feigned a sudden interest in the current slide the professor was explaining.
The next time Delilah came across Jared and Jensen as a couple was in the dorm cafe where Jared was piling rainbow sprinklers on his twisted, low fat fro-yo. Matty and Jensen were waiting not-so-patiently with their food when Delilah walked in. Her thick-soled boots, cartoonishly big given her spindly legs, skidded on the floor when she stopped and looked at the three of them.
"Delilah!" Jared abandoned his candy toppings and rushed over as soon as he spotted her. Jensen saw the shock on her severe face as Jared launched full-tilt into a rave about one of her projects. "-And the way they've got the light hitting your canvas, the shadows it throws ... it's totally awesome. Did you plan that?"
Jensen swore Delilah squeaked. Matty was quiet through the entire encounter, eyes stuck on the elfin blond who was ducking the wide sweep of Jared's gestures. Jensen didn't blame him for checking her out. Delilah was quite a package, not as dark and sultry as Danneel, but definitely pretty and mysterious. And she was clearly terrified of Jared at the moment, no idea how to save herself from his mile-a-minute talking.
"Do you want some frozen yogurt? Jen says it's too much sugar for me to eat late at night, but whatever. I get cravings! You should definitely come back to our common room tonight. We're watching Mean Girls-"
"Again?" Matty whined-Jensen's seen Mean Girls too many times to care-and Delilah's lips twitched.
"What are you talking about?" Jared looked over. "You've only seen it twice, definitely not enough to appreciate its true cinematic value. C'mon, Delilah, I'll have to show you!"
Most likely already devising appropriate retributions, Delilah let herself be towed along by the bubbly guy nearly twice her size. Jensen and Matty trailed after, a mismatched pair themselves, chuckling all the way back to their dorm.
Jensen takes a deep breath. Racing through October, the weather hasn't cooled much; the sunshine entices everyone away from their afternoon classes and dreary study sessions. The quad is dotted with students like a beach in the summer.
"Jared, man." Geoff's elongated shadow falls over Jensen's legs, which are providing Jared's current headrest. "I'm glad you're here."
Geoff drops, leaving Jared blinking against the sun. "What's up?"
"Can you look over my submission for the midterm project again? I took your advice and changed up the focus. What do you think?"
Jensen smiles, no one looking his way to catch it. Once Delilah was turned, unable to resist Jared's boundless and unfettered friendship, Geoff followed easily. No one lasts long against Jared's personality; Jensen could write whole books on its effects. Delilah and Matty are bent close together over the school paper in their own little world. They don't have a whole lot in common, but Jensen's fairly sure it doesn't matter. He's lived in stranger circumstances.
A touch, a faint tickle, draws Jensen out of his thoughts. Jared is listening to Geoff, head turned against the sun to bring his jawline into shadowed relief. A perfect portrait if Jensen had his sketchbook, but he can't even move his arm where Jared's drawing his fingertips slowly up and down. Jared's never needed tools to create pictures.
"Hey!"
Jensen's and Jared's heads turn in sync. There's no reaction from Jared but Jensen groans for them both.
"Better be careful! Don't freaks like you melt in the sunlight?"
Chad might not be pictured alongside sniveling in the dictionary, he could be awaiting the newest edition, but he fits the definition. Weak and whining, Chad embodies everything Jensen hated about high school in a new frat-boy-shaped package. Unfortunately he lives on Jared's floor, never getting it through his skull-all that hair gel must get in the way-that Jared isn't interested in Chad's fraternity or hanging out with his circle of friends. That makes him a freak in Chad's squinty little eyes; a fucking awesome man in Jensen's.
Jared's eyes move back to Geoff's portfolio. "Chad, shouldn't you be studying for our Chem exam?"
"I've got that thing aced," Chad sneers while his Abercrombie and Bitch cronies laugh. "What do you care?"
"Dude, you're failing."
Chad missteps right into one of his Pi Delta Dumb friends. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
Jared yawns. "Man, you leave your papers all over the common room."
"That's cause I have better things to do than study and hang out with the vampires."
"Original, you fucker," Geoff curses under his breath. Jared grins. As generous as Jared is, people sometimes prove themselves unworthy.
"C'mon Jay-red. We're gonna play some Ultimate, then head out for a few drinks." Jensen imagines Chad's trying to make the invitation sound appealing, but he kills it with his next line. "It's gotta be better than hanging out with them."
"Cause that's smarter than studying," Jared mutters. "I'm good, Chad. Thanks."
Now ignored by all five of the freaks, Chad gives up and waves for his friends to follow. At least he possesses enough brain cells to grasp a useless cause. Jared leans back against Jensen's pulled-up knee and makes it easy for Jensen to forget the entire incident.
"Do you have to study for this exam tonight?" Jensen asks after a few minutes.
"Already did." Jared sounds halfway to another nap thanks to his early morning.
"So, no plans?"
Jared tilts his chin up just in time for Jensen to kiss him. Geoff pretends to gag and Matty blushes, trying not to look at Delilah.
"I have plans now."
When Fall Break finally rolls around, Ray takes one look at Danneel and immediately decides not to go home for the weekend.
"You were gonna let her crash in my bed, weren't you?" It doesn't look like Ray knows if he should be offended or turned on.
"I wasn't gonna recommended it to her," Jensen deadpans after Danneel had run upstairs to find Jared.
"Whatev, man," he says, watching the door for Danneel's return. "Can I go out wit' you guys tonight?"
The four of them cab it to a small, out-of-the-way bar Ray knows of that doesn't card. Hell, Danneel and Jared would probably get in even if they did. There's a thin crowd for a Friday night; only half the pool tables have a game going so Ray grabs them a spot in the far corner, waving to a couple of guys watching basketball as they pass by. Beers all around, Jared and Ray rack the balls first.
"Winner plays me," Danneel threatens. Jensen smirks over the rim of his glass-the girl's a shark at the table. Ray looks like his Christmas came early.
"You're on."
Ray beats Jared in less than half an hour and squares off against Danneel. With his back to the wall, Jensen watches the game with Jared leaning forward next to him, elbows on the rickety cocktail table.
"You look ridiculously happy," Jared says, relaxed smile on his face. He's the only guy in the bar not wearing some combination of leather, black, or hard-washed denim, sticking out like a sore, but colorful, thumb. "You're glad to see Danni, huh?"
"Talking and texting isn't the same as seeing her, you know?"
Jared waves for another round. "I can't imagine what it would be like if you went to a different school. Not getting to see you every day? I'd be going crazy."
"We'd still be together, though." Jensen stops to applaud Danneel's skills as she sinks three shots in a row.
"Yeah, but it would have sucked."
Drinking, from experience, can make them both a little maudlin, and though Jared would milk that situation if he could, Jensen likes to avoid being mawkishly sentimental whenever possible. They wisely focus on the game, sneaking a kiss or two when no one in the bar is paying attention. Even though Jensen likes avoiding any sloppy emotional displays, Jared deserves a little extra tipsy affection.
Naturally, Danneel continues to school Ray, their match drawing spectators. A few of the onlookers are more interested in the way Danneel's tight black leggings stretch when she bends for a shot. Several offer to take their chances after Ray is summarily beaten, but Jared, Jensen, and Danneel want to keep the night casual, finishing their round of drinks as they laugh and swap stories.
The last game of the night is between Jared and Jensen-a comical mess since Jensen's never been good at pool. It's totally worth the humiliation to have Jared pressed behind him, guiding his shots, even if Jensen concentrates more on Jared's body than his advice.
"You're killing me, Jay."
"Only 'cause I can't follow through right now," Jared whispers, sliding up against him and neatly sinking the purple 4-ball. "Now come on, pay attention."
Danneel and Ray's applause is lopsided in favor of Jared as he puts the balls away one by one. Jensen stays at the far end of the table, out of the spotlight, and waits for Jared to circle back to him.
"Wanna try another shot?" Jared asks, squeezing between Jensen and the wall, nudging him with the cue.
"If you insist-" But Jared's already bending him over the edge. Danneel sputters, nearly choking on her beer, grateful when Ray hands her a napkin.
"I insist," Jared says, warm breath over his ear. "How else are you gonna learn?"
Jensen wonders how he'll remember any of these lessons when his own name won't come to the tip of his tongue. He moves, bends and stretches the way Jared wants him to, every instruction going in one ear and out the other. What sticks is the shimmy of Jared's hips as he positions Jensen, every touch telegraphed right through Jensen's snug jeans.
He's in the perfect stance, chest low over the green felt, arms steady, and ready to sink his one shot of the night. He pulls back his arm, but his follow through is ambushed by Jared's teeth gently nipping his earlobe, tongue coming out to soothe the bite.
Jensen scratches the shot and flings his cue on the table.
"Dirty cheater," he growls, but Jared's there to catch his complaint in a kiss and Jensen forgets about the indignity.
He fucking sucks at pool anyway.
Later, Danneel crawls under the covers with Jensen, soft fuzz of her pajama pants warm against Jensen's leg. If the bed were big enough, Jared would be there instead of back in his room. The three of them had crashed in piles on various beds over the summer, each too tired or wrecked to make it to their own houses. Jared was the gigantic, warm pillow Jensen and Danneel could tuck around, though they'd usually wake up with Jensen curled against Danneel, Jared wrapping his arms around both of them.
"It's good to see you," she whispers sincerely, trying not to wake up Ray in the other bed.
Jensen's missed her so fucking much-her snark, her attitude, and her willingness to cross every line or authority they came across. He has Jared, but Jensen can't hobble his boyfriend with the weight of everything he needs. Danneel is familiar and amazing like an exquisite piece of art that only he knows the meaning behind.
"Seriously, everything's really okay?"
"Yeah, Danni. We're both good." The room is blurry at the edges without his glasses or contacts. Jensen shuts his eyes and drifts, still hearing the echo of Friday night-life outside. "What do you want to do tomorrow?"
"Go shopping."
"I knew it," he groans. "I'm not going."
"Jen, I need new boots and Jared said he'd help," she says, her voice hitting that pleading tone Jensen can't say no to. Danneel and Jared have perfected it. "And you're coming."
He argues in a hush but Danneel rolls on top of him and gets her fingers under his t-shirt, aiming right for his ribcage. She's known his soft-spots, physically and emotionally, since they were ten.
"If you guys are gettin' dirty, I'm totally gonna listen." Ray's usually deep voice is pitchy; he sounds a little too interested.
"Fuck off, Ray!" Jensen gasps, trying to push Danneel's hands away.
"Fine, whatev. Just keep it down, man."
A minute later, Jensen has agreed to shopping and lunch, now out of breath and yawning. "You're evil," he tells Danneel who's happy with her victory and already curling back under his chin. For some reason, Jensen attracts freaky snugglers.
"I've missed you too."
Halloween is a Big Deal. Over and over for nearly a week after Danneel heads back to school, Jared tells Jensen how awesome it's going to be, and he doesn't let Jensen in on their costumes until the day before.
Jared's idea is brilliant.
Jensen hasn't worn a Halloween costume since the Peter Pan incident when he was eleven years old; he'd pulled every photo from the family albums and summarily burned them. Jensen's mom hadn't so much as let him look at matches for a few years after that.
Halloween falls on a Saturday, giving them plenty of time to prepare. Nervous doesn't do justice to how Jensen's feeling. He's comfortable in his own skin and Jared wouldn't be ashamed even if he were wearing a muumuu and a pineapple headdress, but that's not the costume Jared's picked out and Jensen rolls the tension out of his shoulders, psyching himself up.
It's less traumatic to focus on getting Jared ready than fret over what's in store for him. Jensen uses his own kohl pencils to line Jared's eyes until they're dark and smoky. Jared won't stop giggling and blinking, eyelashes soft on Jensen's fingertips, so the entire process takes longer than it needs to. His hands aren't as adept as Jared's-and it's nowhere near as sexy as the times Jared pulls Jensen between his knees and carefully touches up smears and faded lines. Jensen's pencil line falters under Jared's right eye.
"Can you at least try to hold still?"
"It tickles," Jared whispers, rolling his eyes back up towards the ceiling.
Lorena, a pretty Guatemalan from upstairs, offers to paint Jared's nails black; Jensen's useless when it comes to using polish on anyone other than himself. He watches, scratching at his thumbnail where his black polish has already been rubbed off, sharp smell of acetone lingering. Just to keep him sitting still, Lorena teaches Jared how to swear in Spanish, laughing when his R's don't quite roll off his tongue.
When their work is done, Jared's been transformed into a rock god. Eyes that are deep and dark, their unusual intensity like a vortex drawing Jensen in. Tight black pants and a snug, time-worn charcoal t-shirt, one of Jensen's studded belts holding his pants on his hips, and heavy boots. Jared's hair is styled low over his forehead, casting his face further into shadow.
Jensen's not ready for the impact of how good his stuff looks on Jared. Leather cuffs on each wrist, tighter than they are on Jensen, showing off his musculature. Jensen's heavy silver rings on his fingers, catching the light. The only thing Jensen won't let him wear is his necklace-the thin black cord, worn soft under Jensen's fingers, with the weighty silver bar at his throat. It was Jared's gift to him when they graduated from high school; Jared wouldn't let Jensen take it off anyway.
Jared's transformation goes beyond goth; he looks fucking amazing. He's sex-on-legs, sex-personified-every kind of sex Jensen can think of.
Jensen, on the other hand, looks ridiculous.
Jared produces a pink shirt from his closet. A godfuckingdamn tight pink shirt with a pale, swirling pattern running over Jensen's shoulder and down the right side. It might have a hint of metallic paint in the design, Jensen can't stand to examine it too closely. A shirt that embodies Jared's personality-which is totally the point-but Jensen can't look down without cringing.
The "artfully-ripped" jeans might be worse. Soft in the wrong spots, holes in very wrong spots, the denim hugs Jensen's hips but loosens around his thighs, falling long over his feet. He's borrowing a pair of Jared's flip flops even though they're too big, and Jared gently removes all of Jensen's dark makeup until he feels naked.
Alcohol would be a fan-fucking-tastic idea right now, but Jared won't stand still long enough for Jensen to slip around him and grab one of Ray's beers.
There's nothing left for Jensen to hide behind. Jared won't let him do his own hair, swearing there's a certain way it needs to be gelled. He ends up with softer spikes, tousled by Jared's fingers. It's been weeks since Jensen last dyed his hair and it's so much lighter than he's used to. The rest of Jensen's reflection is utterly foreign. Jared adds his finishing touch with a wide smile: an iridescent, shimmery powder he usually reserves for clubbing, fingers smoothing the shadow above Jensen's eyelids.
"Is this necessary?"
"I'm wearing your lipstick," Jared points out as he debates which silver stickers to press onto Jensen's hands.
"Yeah, but you look hot, and you probably like wearing it."
"No buts. Let it go."
They send Danneel a picture before heading out and she calls to laugh in Jensen's ear for a solid two minutes. As if that's going to help his mood. Ray catches them on their way out to the campus-wide dance party and it takes him a minute of looking between them before he gets it.
"Dude!" Ray smacks Jared on the shoulder. "You're supposed to be Jensen, aren't you?"
"It's awesome!" Jared says; he may have the look down, but no amount of leather or eyeliner is going to curb that personality. "Look at Jensen, isn't that crazy?"
"Wouldn't have recognized you, man," Ray jokes. His own costume required a little less work: khakis and a button down with the blue mesh vest of a Wal-Mart greeter over the top, complete with a roll of bright yellow stickers and thick-framed black glasses. He looks like the older, employed version of Steve Urkel. "I'll see you guys there, cool?"
Three huge tents are set up in the parking lots near the Art and Architecture buildings, music blaring into the night. Jensen can feel the bass vibrating in his steps the closer they get to the mass of students, everyone decked out in silly costumes. Boys dressed like girls and girls dressed like the slutty versions of everything seem to be the over-reaching themes.
No one pays attention to Jensen's costume; he looks so normal but his skin itches under the t-shirt. Jared wastes no time yanking Jensen onto the dance floor, spinning them through the writhing bodies until they're surrounded on all sides, yet still in their own world. Strobe lights cast flashing shadows around them, the deep bass in the music throwing everyone into a trance.
The beat and the waves of heat turn Jensen's mood like flipping a switch. Too long since Jensen's had Jared like this, loose and incandescent under the lights, dancing as they used to in high school. Jared's thigh presses up between Jensen's legs and they move together like it hasn't been months since they've danced. Feels new all over again, fresh and thrilling, especially with Jared looking like he does. So dark even in the polychromatic beams. He's the most beautiful thing Jensen's ever seen.
They kiss there in the middle of everything but no one cares, too lost in their own costumed-and most likely drunken-revelry. People bump into them, shouting and singing, but they barely move apart, grinding until sweat slicks on Jared's upper lip. Jensen tastes it when they kiss again.
The way Jared moves, so confident with Jensen along for the ride, frees them both. It's in these moments that Jensen thinks about luck, or chance-whatever random string of events conspired to shape them and create this perfect fit. Not a matching set on the outside, but beneath their skin where it really counts. Jensen knows it's not so much what's on the canvas, but the meaning behind the strokes and swirls that's important. And at moments like this, Jensen should tell Jared how much he loves him.
But, then again, Jared already knows and kissing him takes all of Jensen's words away.
Dancing is a fever that catches, burning until Jensen pulls Jared off the floor, weaving through crowds and never letting go of his hand. They finally stumble up the steps to Sinclair Hall. It's unlocked, quiet when the doors close behind them. Jensen's ready to have Jared right there amid the benches and sculptures, but Jared tugs on his hand.
"Where're we-"
"Come on," Jared says, pulling him through the oddly broken shadows in the lobby, recessed beams bending around statues and half-walls.
There's a private bathroom in the hallway opposite the darkrooms, useful for late nights at the studio or grabbing a moment alone. Jensen's just grateful it has a lock. No one should be able to barge in and see what's his: Jared, stunning and sweaty, going to his knees on the black tile floor. His dark make-up enhances the sins in his eyes and Jensen's ready to commit every single one right along with him.
Jared's saying something, painted lips moving around words too low for Jensen to hear. One sense dulled from the throb of the music, he relies on the other four to soak up Jared's attention. His long fingers work Jensen's jeans open, so loose they drop past his hips and leave his dick tenting the gray underwear. Nuzzling through the fabric, Jared's warm breath tantalizes before he pulls them carefully down Jensen's thighs, blood-heavy cock straining for Jared's dark lips.
Now that's a fucking picture.
Jared's mouth closes around the tip, tongue playing gently and tasting how close to coming Jensen already is. Eyes blown dark to match his costume, Jared works Jensen inch-by-inch. He savors but Jensen can't process more than wet and pressure and yeah, right there.
He grips Jared's shoulders, squeezes a warning into the muscle and Jared's mouth eases up. In the harsh neon light, Jensen sees spit at the corner of Jared's lips, lipstick smearing off. His fingers comb through Jared's sweaty hair, pushing it up and away from his forehead so Jensen can watch the changes play across his pitch-lined eyes.
If this is what Jared sees when Jensen goes down on him, Jensen doesn't know how he holds it together. Though Jensen couldn't possibly look as good as this. Wrapped in black, Jared is decadence personified, an original sin too tempting to resist. Jensen could never be this beautiful. He wonders if Jared is as affected when their positions are reversed, if Jared's seduced by Jensen folded at his feet like a darkly perfect composition.
Coiled on the bathroom floor, with his erection thick and heavy on Jared's tongue, Jensen's bound by him and can't look away.
Jensen pumps his hips as Jared's mouth goes slack, a tightening in his gut telling him he's close again. He doesn't care that he's barely lasting beyond embarrassing; he wants to come and finally get his chance to worship-or debauch-Jared right there on his knees under the flickering lights.
He comes and Jared swallows with a long moan. Jensen would give anything to hear that sound pure, without the effects of the ear-numbing music from the dance floor.
Jensen's patience burns out while Jared's lips are moving gently over his sensitive dick in slow passes. As soon as his knees feel solid again, Jensen pulls Jared up off of the floor. The kiss is flat and clammy, sweaty hands wiped off on their shirts, but Jensen doesn't stop, letting himself relax in Jared's arms as the rush of his orgasm fades.
Their reflection catches Jensen's eye: one man bright, one dark, wrapped together from knees to noses. Just the way it's meant to be.
He feels Jared's erection, pressed long against his hip under the constricting denim. Mouth-watering and appealing, Jensen lets his lower stomach press against the bulge.
"Jay, let me-"
Jared doesn't let him finish, bringing their lips together as a placation. His lipstick's been reduced to a thin, black smudge across his top lip; Jensen kisses away the last trace.
"Let's go dance some more," Jared says, tilting his mouth away.
"What about ..." Jensen's fingers skim along the snug black denim over Jared's groin.
"It can wait. You can have whatever you want later," Jared promises, taking a step back. "I want to dance with you." He cups his palms under one of the faucets and swallows a few large gulps of water from the sink. His lips are cool when they touch Jensen's cheek. "But that was amazing, Jen."
"You don't need to tell me that," Jensen mutters, head finding its place in the crook between Jared's neck and shoulder. "We'll go clubbing more often, I promise."
Jared hums contentedly, swaying there with Jensen in the bathroom. Then it's back to the heat and the crowds where they get lost in the music all over again.
The tedious stretch of time between Halloween and Thanksgiving break is unbearable.
All of Jensen's professors suffer from the delusion that their class is his only class, piling projects on top of exams on top of presentations. Things aren't any easier for Jared; he's bouncing between the study room and the library like a rat on crack. They text more than they actually talk and the lack of communication has unfortunate consequences.
Alone in their cafeteria booth while Jared meets with one of several study groups, the bleaker cells in Jensen's brain insist Jared is avoiding him. As soon as he sees Jared after a long day, he knows it's not true, but Jensen has always been a slave to the sinister half of his mind, since long before Jared came into his picture.
"This is life," Jensen's mom reminds him when she calls. "You're not going to be with Jared every minute, sweetie." He's too agitated to call her on the affection, a nickname that usually raises hives on Jensen's skin, and he wants to believe her. "All this stress is part of college, and I'm positive that Jared misses you, too."
Jensen doesn't share any of this with Jared, salvaging what little time they manage to get together. Even that gets harder-everyone in the dorms is consumed with work.
But on one random Tuesday when Jared ran off after Composition for office hours, Jensen goes back to the dorm after only spending an hour in the cafeteria, too unfocused to accomplish anything. On the way upstairs, he catches a glimpse of Jared in the study room, bent head-to-head with Jensen's least favorite person.
Chad hasn't been any less of a douche-bag since Fall Break. He sneers at Jensen, tries to get under his skin with derisive whispers to his friends. Jensen lets it all slide because Chad is nothing in the scheme of his life, but seeing him with Jared twists a knife in the blackest chamber of Jensen's heart.
That night, Jared is flung over Jensen's bed reading from a book thicker than his forearm. His soft flannel pants are long enough to tuck under his toes, t-shirt stretched and faded; he's humming along to some unknown song while they study. Ray disappeared after dinner, adamant about locking himself in the library for the rest of the night to cram for an Anthropology test. It's a perfect opportunity to reconnect, but Jensen's got an Art History exam in the morning and Jared's Psych class covers a clinically insane amount of reading.
And even though they've only shared a quick kiss, bringing up Chad would ruin the comfortable night-Jensen trying to soak up the ease of Jared's presence.
"I can't take it anymore. I don't care if I bomb this." Jensen abandons his notes and squeezes onto the bed.
Jared's eyes never come off the page. "You're right, you suck at that class."
"Shut up, I aced the first exam-"
"See?" Jared smirks. "You don't need to study anymore. Get some sleep."
Now that Jensen's on the bed, staying there would be ideal. Jared's nice enough to turn off the lights when he's finished save for the little lamp clamped to Jensen's headboard.
"I set the alarm for your class," Jensen adds around a yawn.
"Thanks." He folds down and lays his mouth softly on Jensen's. His fingers rub Jensen's cheeks, thumbs smudging the makeup shadows left from washing his face. Jensen relaxes with the touch, falling asleep to the sound of Jared's low hum and the weight of his hands.
Jensen completely forgets about Chad until a few days later. Taking the stairs two at-a-time to grab Jared for the only dinner they'll be able to take together this week, Jensen hears hushed voices before he rounds the corner.
Chad is loitering outside Jared's door, whispering, and Jared hunches against the door frame, nodding every few seconds. Seeing Jensen, Chad's eyes go wide and he quickly ducks away. When Jared doesn't immediately explain-and Jensen knows his expression demands an answer-he calls Jared on it.
"Come on, Jen," Jared sighs once Chad hustles back to his own room and Jared's door is closed behind them. "It's no big deal. Chad asked me to help him with Chem, and I said yes."
Jensen seethes. "Are you fucking kidding me? You're wasting your time tutoring him when I barely get to see you?"
"I couldn't say no." His shoulders slump.
"But he's such a dick."
"I know."
"Then why are you helping him?"
"He asked me," Jared says, voice level whereas Jensen's pumps up with his frustration. "I wasn't going to let him keep failing."
"He's just-" Jensen doesn't know what to say. This is a novel feeling-Jensen's used to being someone other people question. The boyfriend other students look at, wondering why Jared's wasting his time with such a freak. "He's such an ass to you, Jay. Why didn't you just tell me about this when he asked?"
"Because I knew we'd have this exact conversation." Jared turns away. Jensen hates not being able to see his eyes. "And he apologized for being a dick all those times."
Jensen switches tactics. "What about me? You've been so busy, and now you're tutoring Chad?" God, he must sound so childish.
Jared's mouth is drawn tight. "It helps me study for Chem, you know? If I can teach him, at least it means I know what I'm doing."
"I get that," Jensen capitulates. "I thought you'd save that extra time for me."
"It's not like you're always around," Jared snaps, sinking his teeth into the argument. "All the time in the studio while you're-" He pauses and shakes his head, his vibrant shirt not at all a reflection of his mood. "Look, we're wasting more time doing this. Yeah, Chad's a dick, but I'm gonna help him, and I'll make it up to you, I swear. Let's just, I don't know ... can we still grab dinner?"
Jensen twists the leather around his wrist, tightening and pulling until his tendons start to protest. "I think I'm gonna grab something quick and take it with me. I need to put more time in on my paintings for-"
"Seriously?" Jared interrupts. "You won't even have dinner with me after accusing me of not spending time with you? Thanks, Jen. Way to be an asshole."
Truth told, Jensen already feels like an asshole, and the longer he stays pinned by Jared's stare, the worse he feels. Cornered, his attitude will prickle even more. He cuts and runs instead. "If I go now, I might be back before you go to bed."
Jared's pinched grin holds little hope for Jensen getting back early and it turns out he's right. It's after midnight by the time Jensen walks back into their dorm. He considers trudging upstairs and knocking on Jared's door anyway, but his texts have gone unanswered for hours and Jensen's exhausted. Nights like these are a mental drain, channeling the emotions needed to paint and really put himself into his work.
When Jensen can't sleep, he attributes it to his creative torment instead of to the guy who's hopefully getting a better night's rest upstairs.
Part Two.