[wbrps] JA: Bigger, Boned. Hard R. J/J.
Title: Jensen Ackles: Bigger, boned. [or Go Downstairs and Get Me Some More Sugar For My Coffee.]
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: Hard R [for language and boysex].
AN: for ashphuttel who was looking for Jensen-gains-weight!fic. it sparked interest, in me and others, so I’m throwing my hat into the ring. For all the fangirls whose endless love for these boys make them impossible enablers, and for all my gorgeous flisters who need a laugh. I hope this helps some.
&^*
Barely a week into filming, Kripke approaches, small steps and scratching at his neck, hunched. When he mutters, “Does Jensen look kind of …fleshy to you?” the bread roll half eaten in Jared’s mouth topples out.
When Jared spits, “What?” little pieces scatter on Eric’s coat. King of Distasteful, he doesn’t blink.
“Did something happen? Did he break up with his girl? Is he having a tri-life crisis?”
“Is he what?”
“Is he unhappy?” Kripke says in an undertone. They’re at the trestle tables for lunch, crowded, Hannah from effects proposing ideas for what’s best to use as fake intestines. Everything seems normal.
“I don’t …” Jared’s mind can’t help wander to the night before and the sounds Jensen had made, writhing beneath him. There were a few, oh fucking god yess, and don’t stop never stops thrown in there, so. “I don’t think so, no. What is this about, what do you mean fleshy?”
Eric rolls his eyes. “That’s right, David over here doesn’t understand what flesh is. Not all of us are chiselled from marble you know.”
“You mean fat?”
“Yes, Jared. Fat.”
“Jensen’s not fat!” Jared protests, too-high pitch like a whistle, drawing everyone to attention. Eric fake laughs, to cover his slip, and pulls Jared round.
“I didn’t say he was fat, I said he was fleshy.”
“What’s the difference?”
“The difference is I can cover up fleshy with a leather jacket and a sidearm. If the weight gain is going to be a trend then I’m going to have to bring it up with him. So, could you, I don’t know. Suss it out?”
“Suss it out? Who am I, Nancy Drew?”
“What, you think I should be the one to tell him to pull back on the Haagen-Dazs? Just to have him turn around and tell me he has a thyroid problem, or his grandma died?”
“Dude.” Jared giggles, a little too hysterical. “This is ridiculous. Jensen’s no different to when we finished up last season.”
Eric pulls one of his usual why-did-I-cast-you-again? faces. “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and say you’re too damn tall to notice. Trust me, from this angle, Jensen’s … well, there’s flab.”
Jared doesn’t say, Trust me, I’ve seen him from every angle. He just scoffs. “Whatever man, you’re the boss.”
&^*
If it were up to Jared, he’d ignore the fat-fable. There’s few ways you can approach that topic without seriously damaging somebodies psyche. Or, more to the point, without having said somebody dump your ass and go back to their ex-girlfriend. They’ve been fucking for less than three months, and Jared’s not ready to move on yet, thanks.
“What’s with Ackles? Is he filming a new movie or something?”
Rosenbaum settles down beside Jared with his a beer and his sunglasses on. Never mind the fact they’re inside; never mind the fact it’s 10pm. Diva. Jared tosses a peanut in the air and catches it in his mouth, easy. “Uh, no? Why?”
“Well he’s kinda letting himself go, don’t ya reckon?”
“What do you mean?”
Michael makes a spinning motion at his stomach. “Putting weight on?”
“Oh. My. God.” Jared snaps. “You too?”
“You don’t see it?”
“See what?” Jared looks over, to where Jensen’s playing pool with Tom. Still those blazing white teeth, impossible lips, those goddamn twinkle-eyes that should set up camp in the sky. Brusque Texas voice and grainy sugar laugh - Jensen’s turned Jared into a flaming homo. That’s what Jared sees.
“Well, the chin for starters.”
“We all have chins, Mikey.”
“Yeah one, not two.”
“Douche, Jensen doesn’t have two chins.”
“One and a half then.”
“You’re fuckin’ crazy.”
“You’re fuckin’ blind.”
“Jensen’s not fat!” Jared’s lucky that a wall of sound - Wilson Pickett’s Mustang Sally, to be exact - separates his voice from Jensen’s ears. He’s a pouty, petulant child; banging his fist on the table while Mikey looks on with knowing amusement.
“I never said fat.”
“You insinuated.”
“I’d never insinuate. It sounds painful.” Jared just flips him the bird, grabbing another handful of peanuts. Jensen’s bent over the pool table taking his shot and Jared’s enjoying the view. “So you’re fucking him then?”
Jared pulls a breath in while a peanut tries to go down and it’s messy; he’s choking on it while Mikey pounds him on the back, laughing like a hyena, the son of a bitch. When Jared looks up with tear-glazed eyes, Jensen’s sitting beside him rubbing his back.
“Still kicking?” Jensen asks, and grabs a handful of peanuts, shoving them in his mouth.
&^*
Pedal to the metal. Foot to the floor. Chris Kane cuts to the chase.
“Have you told Jenny Craig he’s gotta slow down on those cheesy poofs?”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Not today, sunshine.”
Jared collapses on the steps to his trailer. “I can’t believe you people.”
“Who? Rednecks?”
“Bastards.” Jared’s frustrated. If they’re not going to face Jensen so that he can stand up for himself; then Jared will have to do it. It’s not Jensen’s fault he’s God’s gift to the red-blooded. It’s not Jensen’s fault he’s Brad Pitt without the wife and kids. “He’s not fat.”
“Oh, so you’ve noticed. Seriously, man, when he was here the other week? I thought he was rehearsing for a gig at Krispy Kreme. Usually that boy measures every last thing he puts in his mouth. Well …”
“Did you call me for any special reason?” Jared cuts in. That’s a conversation he’s never having with Kane.
“Just checkin’ on my boy.”
“Then call him.”
“Oh, yeah, great, n’say what exactly? Hey, Jensen, put on any weight today?” There’s a click, and Chris’ voice is muffled with cigarette. “I just need you to give me an update.”
“There’s nothing to update. He’s normal. He is like he always is.”
There’s a rough, gravel laugh that’s only half amused. “You’re tellin’ me you don’t see it?”
“There’s nothing to see.”
“Do me a favour, son. Go find him, and tell me where he is.”
Jared sighs, exasperated, but he’s not stupid. The quicker he complies, the quicker he can end this conversation. He starts making his way around set. “What is this, orienteering?”
“Yeah and Jenny’s the big white-boy balloon. You won’t miss him.”
“You know, just because he has a dick doesn’t mean he doesn’t have -“
Jared finds Jensen by the lunch tables. He has two meals balanced in one hand, the other rubbles in the dessert pile. Someone from catering starts to tell him her secret recipe for chocolate mousse cake, and he munches on loose grapes while he listens.
“You find him?”
Jared coughs. “Yeah … he’s reading.”
“I call bullshit.”
“Asshole.”
“Do me a favour, Big Jay. Hide the Cookies ‘n’ Cream.”
Jared hangs up, looking over to see Jensen with his head thrown back and laughing. Fuck. He’s perfect.
&^*
With a messy rush to the bed, they’re still half clothed; Jared taking Jensen’s legs round him and thrusting deeper in, to the heart. Jared has a hand under Jensen’s tee, clenched in; grabbing, and holding like a buoy. There’s nothing but their ragged, desperate moans, the groaning bed; and whispered words like the rustle of the dirty, twisted sheets. Jared’s other hand closes around Jensen’s dick, revelling in the shattered mewling noises that he’s not afraid to share.
Jensen’s bucking up, taking him, smothering; back arched and head back as he talks nonsense. “Christ, hell, Jared, please, god, yes, fuck.” There’s time for slow, gentle sex later, when they’re coming down; but now it’s a goddamn race to the finish line and they’ve been running circles all day. Jensen gropes his hands out blindly to pull on Jared’s shirt, to pull him down; and when they meet half way to kiss, and shift, they’re done for. Spilling out, sinking in, blown apart.
Afterwards, time dawdles for their kisses; slow motion mouths, tongues, saying things without words. Jensen pulls away.
“Fuck, I’m starving.”
Jared can barely believe what he’s hearing. “Dude.”
“What? That’s tough work.”
“It’s 2am.”
“Your point?”
Without thinking, Jared lifts up Jensen’s tee and pokes firmly into his belly. “Jensen, half my finger disappeared in there!”
“Seriously? You can usually get two in, easy.”
“Man,” Jared splays out his hand and grabs, shifting it round like it’s play dough he’s trying to mould. Jensen’s just giggling, squirming beneath him, as Jared moves it to his waist. “You have love handles.”
Jensen lifts an eyebrow, smirking. “Excuse you?”
“I didn’t …” Jared pushes Jensen back so that he can sit up on him; the slip slide of Jensen like his second skin. Jared pulls at the tee shirt. “Take it off, Pooh Bear.”
“Did you just call me Pooh Bear?”
“Would you prefer Yogi? Take it off.”
Jensen doesn’t really object, save an eye roll and a grunt. Soon he’s naked, sprawled out for Jared to see. It’s not that Jared doesn’t pay attention to Jensen - he’s watching him all the time. Usually he can tell you where Jensen is, who he’s with, what he’s doing - and not because he’s stalking him. Jared sees Jensen more than anyone.
It’s just in a different way.
“You are fleshy!”
“Jared, please. I have feelings you know.”
“Right, right, sorry, it’s just. You’ve gained weight, haven’t you?”
“No, Jared. I’m svelte.”
“I didn’t notice!”
Things aren’t going the way Jared had expected them to. Jensen isn’t offended; he isn’t scowling and muttering about Hollow Legs Padalecki, which was how he always used to be. Instead he’s lying there giggling, his one and a half chins squished against his neck. Jared’s really, really confused. “I told people they were full of crap!”
“People have been talking?”
“Everybody has. They’re just telling me instead of you. I thought they were talking out their asses.”
Jensen still giggling. “You seriously didn’t know?”
“No! You’re just … you.” Jensen’s feature softens as he snakes a hand round to the back of Jared’s neck and pulls him back down. They kiss, just. “So what’s going on?” Jared asks the crook of Jensen’s arm. “You’re depressed? You have an oral fixation? You’re pregnant?”
Jensen’s laugh is breathy, fingers twisted in Jared’s hair. “No, no and no.”
“So what is it?”
“It’s you.”
Jared makes a sudden move and yelps, caught on Jensen. When he wrestles out enough to turn and face him, Jensen’s grinning. “Me? You’re blaming me? What the fuck did I do?”
“Jared,” Jensen says in that, ‘come now, don’t be stupid’ voice. “What happened three months ago?”
“You got fat?”
Jensen curls a hand around Jared’s thigh. When he speaks it’s low, and hot on Jared’s cheek. “And?”
The trickle of blood left in his brain decides, “We started fucking,” while the rest is on its way back down.
“If you want to use a term that defiles the beauty of our love then yeah. That.”
It takes Jared a moment, but he thinks he’s catching on. When you’re involved with someone you start imitating them. Words they say, music they like … In their case, Jensen adopted Jared’s appetite. Jared scoffs. “I can’t believe you’re blaming me.”
“You’re an idiot.” This time, Jensen rolls Jared onto his back, skimming their bodies together. Starting with his mouth at Jared’s hip he wriggles up, up, the friction almost enough for a one way trip to bliss. “I don’t care,” Jensen tells his stomach, and “I’m with you,” he tells his breastbone, “and you don’t care and I don’t care and …” Jensen gets to his neck, bites, says, “fuck me,” like it’s a plea for his life.
Jared groans, lifting up his legs and swinging them around. “You have to care.” He grunts, grabbing at Jensen’s sides. “Kripke’s going to fire you and you’ll end up as a donut boy for Krispy Kreme.” Jensen’s hands grab at his cock but Jared reluctantly stops him, looking Jensen in the eye. “You stupid idiot. You have to care.”
Jensen sighs, grins. “Alright, alright. I’ll start a three step program in the morning.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Number one, you need a fresh out look on life.”
“New glasses, got it.”
“Number Two, you need to start eating better.”
“No cold pizza for breakfast? I’ll manage.”
“Number three, you need to exercise more.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Simmons.” Jensen says, repositioning, and kissing Jared’s neck. “Only, can we start with Number Three and work backwards?”
“Trust,” Jared jokes, grabbing Jensen’s side - flesh- and holding on. “You love taking it from behind.”
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: Hard R [for language and boysex].
AN: for ashphuttel who was looking for Jensen-gains-weight!fic. it sparked interest, in me and others, so I’m throwing my hat into the ring. For all the fangirls whose endless love for these boys make them impossible enablers, and for all my gorgeous flisters who need a laugh. I hope this helps some.
&^*
Barely a week into filming, Kripke approaches, small steps and scratching at his neck, hunched. When he mutters, “Does Jensen look kind of …fleshy to you?” the bread roll half eaten in Jared’s mouth topples out.
When Jared spits, “What?” little pieces scatter on Eric’s coat. King of Distasteful, he doesn’t blink.
“Did something happen? Did he break up with his girl? Is he having a tri-life crisis?”
“Is he what?”
“Is he unhappy?” Kripke says in an undertone. They’re at the trestle tables for lunch, crowded, Hannah from effects proposing ideas for what’s best to use as fake intestines. Everything seems normal.
“I don’t …” Jared’s mind can’t help wander to the night before and the sounds Jensen had made, writhing beneath him. There were a few, oh fucking god yess, and don’t stop never stops thrown in there, so. “I don’t think so, no. What is this about, what do you mean fleshy?”
Eric rolls his eyes. “That’s right, David over here doesn’t understand what flesh is. Not all of us are chiselled from marble you know.”
“You mean fat?”
“Yes, Jared. Fat.”
“Jensen’s not fat!” Jared protests, too-high pitch like a whistle, drawing everyone to attention. Eric fake laughs, to cover his slip, and pulls Jared round.
“I didn’t say he was fat, I said he was fleshy.”
“What’s the difference?”
“The difference is I can cover up fleshy with a leather jacket and a sidearm. If the weight gain is going to be a trend then I’m going to have to bring it up with him. So, could you, I don’t know. Suss it out?”
“Suss it out? Who am I, Nancy Drew?”
“What, you think I should be the one to tell him to pull back on the Haagen-Dazs? Just to have him turn around and tell me he has a thyroid problem, or his grandma died?”
“Dude.” Jared giggles, a little too hysterical. “This is ridiculous. Jensen’s no different to when we finished up last season.”
Eric pulls one of his usual why-did-I-cast-you-again? faces. “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and say you’re too damn tall to notice. Trust me, from this angle, Jensen’s … well, there’s flab.”
Jared doesn’t say, Trust me, I’ve seen him from every angle. He just scoffs. “Whatever man, you’re the boss.”
&^*
If it were up to Jared, he’d ignore the fat-fable. There’s few ways you can approach that topic without seriously damaging somebodies psyche. Or, more to the point, without having said somebody dump your ass and go back to their ex-girlfriend. They’ve been fucking for less than three months, and Jared’s not ready to move on yet, thanks.
“What’s with Ackles? Is he filming a new movie or something?”
Rosenbaum settles down beside Jared with his a beer and his sunglasses on. Never mind the fact they’re inside; never mind the fact it’s 10pm. Diva. Jared tosses a peanut in the air and catches it in his mouth, easy. “Uh, no? Why?”
“Well he’s kinda letting himself go, don’t ya reckon?”
“What do you mean?”
Michael makes a spinning motion at his stomach. “Putting weight on?”
“Oh. My. God.” Jared snaps. “You too?”
“You don’t see it?”
“See what?” Jared looks over, to where Jensen’s playing pool with Tom. Still those blazing white teeth, impossible lips, those goddamn twinkle-eyes that should set up camp in the sky. Brusque Texas voice and grainy sugar laugh - Jensen’s turned Jared into a flaming homo. That’s what Jared sees.
“Well, the chin for starters.”
“We all have chins, Mikey.”
“Yeah one, not two.”
“Douche, Jensen doesn’t have two chins.”
“One and a half then.”
“You’re fuckin’ crazy.”
“You’re fuckin’ blind.”
“Jensen’s not fat!” Jared’s lucky that a wall of sound - Wilson Pickett’s Mustang Sally, to be exact - separates his voice from Jensen’s ears. He’s a pouty, petulant child; banging his fist on the table while Mikey looks on with knowing amusement.
“I never said fat.”
“You insinuated.”
“I’d never insinuate. It sounds painful.” Jared just flips him the bird, grabbing another handful of peanuts. Jensen’s bent over the pool table taking his shot and Jared’s enjoying the view. “So you’re fucking him then?”
Jared pulls a breath in while a peanut tries to go down and it’s messy; he’s choking on it while Mikey pounds him on the back, laughing like a hyena, the son of a bitch. When Jared looks up with tear-glazed eyes, Jensen’s sitting beside him rubbing his back.
“Still kicking?” Jensen asks, and grabs a handful of peanuts, shoving them in his mouth.
&^*
Pedal to the metal. Foot to the floor. Chris Kane cuts to the chase.
“Have you told Jenny Craig he’s gotta slow down on those cheesy poofs?”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Not today, sunshine.”
Jared collapses on the steps to his trailer. “I can’t believe you people.”
“Who? Rednecks?”
“Bastards.” Jared’s frustrated. If they’re not going to face Jensen so that he can stand up for himself; then Jared will have to do it. It’s not Jensen’s fault he’s God’s gift to the red-blooded. It’s not Jensen’s fault he’s Brad Pitt without the wife and kids. “He’s not fat.”
“Oh, so you’ve noticed. Seriously, man, when he was here the other week? I thought he was rehearsing for a gig at Krispy Kreme. Usually that boy measures every last thing he puts in his mouth. Well …”
“Did you call me for any special reason?” Jared cuts in. That’s a conversation he’s never having with Kane.
“Just checkin’ on my boy.”
“Then call him.”
“Oh, yeah, great, n’say what exactly? Hey, Jensen, put on any weight today?” There’s a click, and Chris’ voice is muffled with cigarette. “I just need you to give me an update.”
“There’s nothing to update. He’s normal. He is like he always is.”
There’s a rough, gravel laugh that’s only half amused. “You’re tellin’ me you don’t see it?”
“There’s nothing to see.”
“Do me a favour, son. Go find him, and tell me where he is.”
Jared sighs, exasperated, but he’s not stupid. The quicker he complies, the quicker he can end this conversation. He starts making his way around set. “What is this, orienteering?”
“Yeah and Jenny’s the big white-boy balloon. You won’t miss him.”
“You know, just because he has a dick doesn’t mean he doesn’t have -“
Jared finds Jensen by the lunch tables. He has two meals balanced in one hand, the other rubbles in the dessert pile. Someone from catering starts to tell him her secret recipe for chocolate mousse cake, and he munches on loose grapes while he listens.
“You find him?”
Jared coughs. “Yeah … he’s reading.”
“I call bullshit.”
“Asshole.”
“Do me a favour, Big Jay. Hide the Cookies ‘n’ Cream.”
Jared hangs up, looking over to see Jensen with his head thrown back and laughing. Fuck. He’s perfect.
&^*
With a messy rush to the bed, they’re still half clothed; Jared taking Jensen’s legs round him and thrusting deeper in, to the heart. Jared has a hand under Jensen’s tee, clenched in; grabbing, and holding like a buoy. There’s nothing but their ragged, desperate moans, the groaning bed; and whispered words like the rustle of the dirty, twisted sheets. Jared’s other hand closes around Jensen’s dick, revelling in the shattered mewling noises that he’s not afraid to share.
Jensen’s bucking up, taking him, smothering; back arched and head back as he talks nonsense. “Christ, hell, Jared, please, god, yes, fuck.” There’s time for slow, gentle sex later, when they’re coming down; but now it’s a goddamn race to the finish line and they’ve been running circles all day. Jensen gropes his hands out blindly to pull on Jared’s shirt, to pull him down; and when they meet half way to kiss, and shift, they’re done for. Spilling out, sinking in, blown apart.
Afterwards, time dawdles for their kisses; slow motion mouths, tongues, saying things without words. Jensen pulls away.
“Fuck, I’m starving.”
Jared can barely believe what he’s hearing. “Dude.”
“What? That’s tough work.”
“It’s 2am.”
“Your point?”
Without thinking, Jared lifts up Jensen’s tee and pokes firmly into his belly. “Jensen, half my finger disappeared in there!”
“Seriously? You can usually get two in, easy.”
“Man,” Jared splays out his hand and grabs, shifting it round like it’s play dough he’s trying to mould. Jensen’s just giggling, squirming beneath him, as Jared moves it to his waist. “You have love handles.”
Jensen lifts an eyebrow, smirking. “Excuse you?”
“I didn’t …” Jared pushes Jensen back so that he can sit up on him; the slip slide of Jensen like his second skin. Jared pulls at the tee shirt. “Take it off, Pooh Bear.”
“Did you just call me Pooh Bear?”
“Would you prefer Yogi? Take it off.”
Jensen doesn’t really object, save an eye roll and a grunt. Soon he’s naked, sprawled out for Jared to see. It’s not that Jared doesn’t pay attention to Jensen - he’s watching him all the time. Usually he can tell you where Jensen is, who he’s with, what he’s doing - and not because he’s stalking him. Jared sees Jensen more than anyone.
It’s just in a different way.
“You are fleshy!”
“Jared, please. I have feelings you know.”
“Right, right, sorry, it’s just. You’ve gained weight, haven’t you?”
“No, Jared. I’m svelte.”
“I didn’t notice!”
Things aren’t going the way Jared had expected them to. Jensen isn’t offended; he isn’t scowling and muttering about Hollow Legs Padalecki, which was how he always used to be. Instead he’s lying there giggling, his one and a half chins squished against his neck. Jared’s really, really confused. “I told people they were full of crap!”
“People have been talking?”
“Everybody has. They’re just telling me instead of you. I thought they were talking out their asses.”
Jensen still giggling. “You seriously didn’t know?”
“No! You’re just … you.” Jensen’s feature softens as he snakes a hand round to the back of Jared’s neck and pulls him back down. They kiss, just. “So what’s going on?” Jared asks the crook of Jensen’s arm. “You’re depressed? You have an oral fixation? You’re pregnant?”
Jensen’s laugh is breathy, fingers twisted in Jared’s hair. “No, no and no.”
“So what is it?”
“It’s you.”
Jared makes a sudden move and yelps, caught on Jensen. When he wrestles out enough to turn and face him, Jensen’s grinning. “Me? You’re blaming me? What the fuck did I do?”
“Jared,” Jensen says in that, ‘come now, don’t be stupid’ voice. “What happened three months ago?”
“You got fat?”
Jensen curls a hand around Jared’s thigh. When he speaks it’s low, and hot on Jared’s cheek. “And?”
The trickle of blood left in his brain decides, “We started fucking,” while the rest is on its way back down.
“If you want to use a term that defiles the beauty of our love then yeah. That.”
It takes Jared a moment, but he thinks he’s catching on. When you’re involved with someone you start imitating them. Words they say, music they like … In their case, Jensen adopted Jared’s appetite. Jared scoffs. “I can’t believe you’re blaming me.”
“You’re an idiot.” This time, Jensen rolls Jared onto his back, skimming their bodies together. Starting with his mouth at Jared’s hip he wriggles up, up, the friction almost enough for a one way trip to bliss. “I don’t care,” Jensen tells his stomach, and “I’m with you,” he tells his breastbone, “and you don’t care and I don’t care and …” Jensen gets to his neck, bites, says, “fuck me,” like it’s a plea for his life.
Jared groans, lifting up his legs and swinging them around. “You have to care.” He grunts, grabbing at Jensen’s sides. “Kripke’s going to fire you and you’ll end up as a donut boy for Krispy Kreme.” Jensen’s hands grab at his cock but Jared reluctantly stops him, looking Jensen in the eye. “You stupid idiot. You have to care.”
Jensen sighs, grins. “Alright, alright. I’ll start a three step program in the morning.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Number one, you need a fresh out look on life.”
“New glasses, got it.”
“Number Two, you need to start eating better.”
“No cold pizza for breakfast? I’ll manage.”
“Number three, you need to exercise more.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Simmons.” Jensen says, repositioning, and kissing Jared’s neck. “Only, can we start with Number Three and work backwards?”
“Trust,” Jared jokes, grabbing Jensen’s side - flesh- and holding on. “You love taking it from behind.”