Your Disco Needs You
Title: Your Disco Needs You
Pairing: J2
Rating: Flaming
Words: 3,200
Betas: Thanks to linda3m and dramaqueen469
Summary: One day, Jensen wakes up gay. Very gay.
A/N: A remix of the delicious I Wake Up In the Morning (With a Smile Upon My Face) by estrella30. Title is from the song of the same name by that other impossible princess - Kylie. .
One Thursday morning in October, Jensen Ackles woke up gay. He wasn't sure what the feeling was at first, never having actually been of the homosexual persuasion before.
But, I hear you splutter, what about those years in day time soaps - they're a hot bed of sodomy, aren't they? And the topless cowboy, and brick pants photoshoots that looked like a selection from the 1997 Mr Twink Castro? And his lush long lashes and lips obviously meant for pursing around a penis? For fuck's sake, you proclaim, he wears jewelry and is often fashionably dressed - both widely accepted signs of homosexuality.
All fair and reasonable assertions, ones that had occasionally raised rainbow-colored questions over Jensen's possible lifestyle choice in the minds of everyone from his mother to hipster baristas, but the simple fact was that Jensen Ross Ackles was, until that morning, straight.
We are not talking "Hollywood heterosexual" either, where the occasional blow job from someone of the same chromosomal make-up was considered as much a part of being an actor as doing a line of blow to seal a deal. Life in LA-LA land had a way of erasing one's boundaries and replacing them with a "Gone Fishin'" sign. No, Jensen was unambiguously heterosexual - a big fat zero on the Kinsey scale. He watched sports, fucked girls, scratched his balls in public and had never had the slightest interest in cake decorating or musical theatre.
So when Jensen woke up that day, the feeling that coursed through him was wholly unfamiliar. He stretched out, wondering why he felt so much more awake, more alive, than he usually did at seven in the morning, before his mind drifted onto the sandpaper-like texture of his sheets and how he really must invest in some linen that was at least 1000 count before these rubbed him raw. And while he was at it, he thought as he peered around his bedroom through sleep-crusted eyes, new curtains, maybe a hand woven rug and some raw silk throw cushions wouldn't go astray either.
Jensen found himself idly stroking his morning-hard dick, as he considered redecorating possibilities and color palettes, and wondered why he hadn't thought of it before. Maybe he and Jared could paint the living room too, and as he thought about Jared, stripped to the waist, sheen of sweat across the vast expanse of his chest and spatters of butter yellow paint freckling his nose, he came with a spurt that was positively effervescent.
Huh - he hadn't thought he was that turned on by interior design.
As he rose and headed for the bathroom with a definite bounce in his step, Jensen wasn't really sure what he was feeling, but it was definitely slightly more fabulous than usual.
%%%
The feeling persisted following his shower, and an extended session of cleansing and moisturizing. As the contents of another clogged pore - he refused to call it a pimple - landed with a satisfying splat on the mirror, he decided it was well past time to pay much more attention to his skin care regime. His pores were a disgrace, and with high definition Blu-ray, every spot and blemish was on display. Seriously, the network should be paying for an on-set beautician. Sure Sam and Dean were meant to be two working class dudes living the hard life, but he was pretty sure even hillbillies exfoliated these days.
Still toweling his hair dry, Jensen wandered into the kitchen, planning on discussing his idea with Jared.
Jared.
Something had obviously happened to Jared overnight. The tableau in the kitchen - Jared in sweats standing at the sink, with the dogs pooled at his feet, gulping down the remains of whatever noxious protein shake combo was the drink du jour - was familiar. Jensen's reaction to it was not.
He didn't think he'd ever before found the sight of Jared wiping a smear of pink liquid from around his mouth so engaging. His own tongue moved across his lips, as Jensen imagined how that protein shake would taste. How Jared would taste.
Jensen swayed for a moment, leaning against the door frame for support as a wave of sensation washed over him - and as a major portion of his blood flow took the nearest arterial exit, and headed for his dick.
Something was definitely up.
%%%
At work, Jensen managed to avoid Jared until their first scene, hanging out chatting in the production office while Jared was in make-up. As he rearranged the flowers on Mandy's desk while they discussed hair products, Jensen started to dismiss his response to Jared earlier as a brief aberration. He got his make-up done in record time, although he did insist on some extra mascara to bring out his eyes. Then, glowing with the compliments on the tightness of his pores, he hurried to the set while running his lines from the dog-eared script in his hand.
By the time Jensen arrived at the motel room set - this week featuring enough shades of green on the walls, floor and beds that he nearly broke into a chorus of "Defying Gravity" - he felt almost normal. Well, maybe a bit more sparkly than usual, the way he did after he'd done couple of lines of coke off Danneel's tits. But it wasn't the thought of Danneel that had his balls aching, but Jared - as Sam launched into some long expository monologue about the lore on whatever the monster of the week was.
Jensen was having more than a bit of trouble concentrating, his gaze travelling from the red flannel shirt stretched tight across broad pecs, across the sweat pooling in the hollow at the base of Jared's throat to his mouth as his lips wrapped sensually round "exsanguination" and "coulrophobia". He nearly missed his cue when Jared snapped the laptop shut, but Jensen thought he'd recovered well until he heard:
"Cut!"
All eyes turned to the director.
"Jensen," said Phil quietly - never a good sign. "I believe the stage direction reads - Sam closes the laptop decisively. Dean places a hand reassuringly on Sam's shoulder. I do not recall the part where it says 'Dean strokes Sam's arm like he's a damn Siamese cat.'"
Jared flicked a glance to Jensen with a smirk, waiting for a trademark Ackles quip, but Jensen just ducked his head and moved back to his mark.
"Sorry, I just... I... Let's go again."
Jared looked at him with bemusement but flipped open the computer.
"Blah blah ancient myth... yadda yadda... corpses disemboweled..."
Jensen stood at Jared's shoulder - Dean was meant to be looking at the computer screen with rapt attention but the smell of Jared's hair was distractingly heady.
"Cut!"
Phil was pinching the bridge of his nose.
"What emotion you were going for there Ackles - repressed anger? Impatience? Indigestion? Hell, it looked like you were sniffing Jared's hair!"
Jensen felt a flush of heat in his face and he was careful not to meet Jared's eyes as he mumbled another apology.
This time Jensen stared fixedly at a point on the table avoiding even a glance at Jared's long, dexterous fingers as they tapped on the keyboard, and he stood far enough back that he couldn't smell any of Jared's body parts. He drove the thought of soft flannel over hard muscle from his mind by trying to remember the names of all the Spice Girls. When Jared closed the laptop, Jensen was all Dean as he laid a hand firmly on Sam's shoulder and growled "I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want - to kill this son of a bitch, Sam."
Phil liked the take, despite Jensen's minor deviation from the script, and a P.A. told them they had at least an hour before the next scene was set up.
As they walked to the coffee cart, Jared was happily babbling about some sports game, but Jensen just couldn't stop thinking about how tall and broad Jared was. He kept wondering how it would feel to have Jared's bulk against him, his weight pinning him to the wall - and Jared's cock hard against his thigh.
That was sort of a gay thing to imagine, Jensen thought, at the same time stepping forward till he was pressed against Jared's side.
"...scored in the last minute. Umm, Jensen? What are you doing?" Jensen was in Jared's personal space like mirrors on a disco ball.
"You're really big. I mean really tall and kinda huge you know?" Jensen couldn't help himself as he rubbed the flat of his hand across Jared's back.
Jared smiled, a little uncertainly, under Jensen's intense, almost hungry gaze. "So, you're a size queen all of a sudden?"
"You know," said Jensen huskily, "I really think I might be."
%%%
On entering Misha's trailer after a cursory knock, Jensen found him sitting in some complex cross-legged position that made it look like someone had macramed his legs, a haze of sweet smoke enveloping him. Jensen shuffled awkwardly from one foot to the other, both because Misha usually made him feel like some corn bred hick, but also because he was still sporting some wood after his last scene with Jared.
"Hey, Misha."
Misha sucked in his cheeks as he took another hit from a bong, which Jensen at first thought was made from some sort of skull. On closer inspection it appeared to be a jacked-up Chia Obama head.
"'sup Ackles," said Misha, without exhaling.
What had seemed a good idea five minutes ago, now just seemed stupid. Sure Misha was so heteroflexible he could be a yogi master, but he was also insufferably pretentious and Jensen didn't entirely trust that the whole conversation wouldn't end up on Twitter. He just really didn't know who else to ask. Chris would either suggest a weekend of whoring in Las Vega, or be inexplicably hurt that he wasn't the object of Jensen's affections. So Misha it was.
"I just wondered, umm... I mean if maybe someone has always liked, um, raspberry muffins, and never even tried any other sort of muffins, although maybe occasionally thought the ones with chocolate chips in them might be nice because well, other people liked them. And then one day I, mean they, just wake up craving chocolate chip muffins, even though they don't even know what they taste like. And whether the muffins want you to, um, well... eat them..."
"Woah." Misha's red rimmed eyes were wide. "That's intense. Do muffins get to choose who eats them?" He nodded slowly as he appeared to consider this rather Zen prospect.
"No... It’s not actually about muffins. The muffins just... sort of represent something."
Jensen wasn't even sure he was making sense to himself at this point; he thought he probably had a contact high. Which was not helpful as weed always made him horny. Great.
"So they're conceptual muffins. Mmmm." Misha picked up his phone and started tapping at the screen. "Maybe I should ask my minions?"
"Oh God. Don't! Please! Look, forget it..."
"Don't get sand in your vagina, Ackles. I'm just messing with you. Look, you know what they say: you can't teach a gay dog straight tricks."
"But I'm not like that! I mean, I wasn't before today."
"Oh, please. My gaydar is never wrong."
"Come on! That's crap. Isn't it a bit like saying you're psychic? I mean, what? Your chi tingles or something when you're near a gay?"
"It's an adjective, not a noun, Jensen. And my gaydar is actually an app on my iPhone. See?"
Misha turned the screen of the phone towards Jensen, who could see rainbow colored swirls covering the screen.
Jensen sighed, and turned to leave, his hand on the door handle when Misha said, his voice softer, "Look - why don't you at least try the muffin? It's the only way you'll know if you like... chocolate chips."
"Yeah. Maybe. It's just this particular muffin..."
"Jared. Oh, don't look so surprised. When I first met you two, I figured you'd been at it for years. Take it from a connoisseur - Jared wants you to nibble his muffin top, chocolate chips and all."
%%%
Jensen left Misha's trailer whistling some song that had popped into his head - something about good girls going bad. He wasn't quite picking out china patterns just yet (although he was thinking something white and classic, with maybe just a touch of gold), but damn if he wasn't just going to go for it. However there was just one little, tiny... okay huge enormous thing he needed to do first.
"Danneel. Listen, I have to just come out and say this - I think I might be gay!"
"We prefer the term lesbian, Jensen."
"What?
"Lesbian. Dyke if you must. I've known for a while now..."
"That you're a lesbian lady?"
"It's a noun, not an adjective. And no, well yes, I know I am, but that you are too."
"What?" Jensen leaned his head against the wall of his trailer. He probably shouldn't have had that congratulatory bowl with Misha. He felt like Ben Edlund was scripting this conversation.
"You've got short fingernails, you like country music, you love golf and you're dating me. Ipso facto…"
"I have a cock."
"Oh sweetie, that's hardly a barrier to being a lesbian these days."
"I think I like cock." There was silence from the other end of the phone for a moment, and then he heard a heavy sigh.
"Fuck you, Jen. I was really hoping we could be an A-list dyke couple. Ellen and Portia have already asked us over for a pot-luck, and I was going to sign us up for Dinah Shore Week."
"Umm. I'm sorry, Dan. Really. It's just, I have to face the fact that I have this burning desire..."
"For Jared Padalecki. I can't say it's a huge surprise. The guy basically farts rainbows when you're around."
"Thanks Dani. I do love you. And I'll make it up to you."
"Yes you will. I want my Indigo Girls cds back. And you and Jared can help me get the "CWeer" float up for the next Pride March. I've already got most of the peeps from "Gossip Girl" and "Vampire Diaries" signed up, and Tyra has promised to be our token drag queen. See if you can get Superman and his bald boyfriend on board too. Now, go be a happy homosexual."
%%%
Jensen decided talking to Jared was best done at their place, where privacy and supplies of lube were ensured. The ride home was quiet and uncomfortable - primarily due to the Jensen's persistent priapism, and the fact that Jared refused to look at him. Clif kept up his usual light-hearted banter about the advantages of a nationalized health system, and post-structuralist tropes in reality TV shows, but the tension between Jared and himself was stretched as tight as saran wrap over week-old coleslaw.
When they got inside, Jared paced the length of the living room before finally turning and exclaiming:
"What the fuck is up with you? Did Misha slip some peyote into your latte..."
"God, you're hot when you're perplexed." Jensen stepped forward, and ran the tips of his fingers down Jared's cheek.
"...or did you just wake up a faggot this morning?"
"Actually, yes. My orientation is now somewhere between gay and raging queen. The needle on my sexual compass seems to have swung around and is pointing firmly at due Padalecki "
Jared's eyes were anime-wide - either from the revelation, or the fact that Jensen's hand was firm on his chest, thumb flicking across his hardening nipple.
"But... I mean... I'm not gay!"
Jensen reached somewhere just below Jared's Texas belt buckle.
"Your cock seems to disagree with that assessment. Or is this a lesbian thing?"
"A what?" Jared's large forehead was creased with a parabola of frown lines, but Jensen noted that he didn't move away.
"Sorry, just something Danneel said. Look," Jensen sucked on his bottom lip for a moment, "Don't tell me you've never thought about it. In fact, I am pretty sure you started it. I mean all the sexual innuendo in interviews, the extravagant presents, the joint holidays... Dude, you can't go five minutes without touching me! Even Kripke's picked up on it. Have you paid any attention to our dialogue recently? I mean, recast Sam and Dean with Katherine Heigel and Bradley Cooper and you've got next summer's rom-com hit."
"Mmmm," they both uttered in unison. "Bradley Cooper."
"See," Jensen said triumphantly. "You are so a homo!"
"Look. I can't be gay - we can't be gay. We're from Texas!"
"True, but think of all the things we've done here in Vancouver we wouldn't do back home," Jensen said and he proceeded to count them off on his fingers. "Watched hockey, became addicted to Timbits, worn those funny hats lined with baby fur seals… Am I right, eh?"
Jared didn't reply, just stood there as Jensen's continued tracing the shape of his cock where it pressed a hard curve against his jeans. He stared at Jensen, searching his face so intently that Jensen was doubly glad he'd taken the extra effort to moisturize after he'd scrubbed the day's makeup off.
After a moment, Jared stepped closer until and cupped a hand gently along the side of Jensen's face.
"Okay, maybe once or twice I've had thoughts about what it would be like to fuck that pretty mouth." Jared dragged his thumb over Jensen's bottom lip. Jensen caught the pad of his thumb between his lips and teeth, and ran his tongue around it. He thought it tasted faintly of chocolate chips.
Jared drew in a deep breath and took a small step back.
"If we do this," Jared waved his hand in an oh so very camp way, although his voice was all end-of-the-world serious, "I have a few stipulations: I am not listening to Cher, I will not go antiquing with you and I am not wearing lyrca or leather shorts."
"Spoil sport. Anyway, we already know you like dancing with your hands in the air like you just don't care. And I am sure fucking me will be worth it, baby!"
"Hey, if we do this," Jared wrapped his arms around Jensen, grinding his cock hard into him, "I want the full immersion 3-D gay experience. You better be putting your dick in my ass at some point, too."
"Dude," said Jensen as he pressed his mouth against Jared's, "You're so gassy I'd probably pop out like a cork from a bottle of Cristal!"
%%%
One Thursday morning in October, Jensen Ackles woke up gay. And the next morning, so did Jared Padalecki.
And they lived happily ever after, having much very gay, penetrative anal intercourse between 1000 count Egyptian cotton designer sheets.
Pairing: J2
Rating: Flaming
Words: 3,200
Betas: Thanks to linda3m and dramaqueen469
Summary: One day, Jensen wakes up gay. Very gay.
A/N: A remix of the delicious I Wake Up In the Morning (With a Smile Upon My Face) by estrella30. Title is from the song of the same name by that other impossible princess - Kylie. .
One Thursday morning in October, Jensen Ackles woke up gay. He wasn't sure what the feeling was at first, never having actually been of the homosexual persuasion before.
But, I hear you splutter, what about those years in day time soaps - they're a hot bed of sodomy, aren't they? And the topless cowboy, and brick pants photoshoots that looked like a selection from the 1997 Mr Twink Castro? And his lush long lashes and lips obviously meant for pursing around a penis? For fuck's sake, you proclaim, he wears jewelry and is often fashionably dressed - both widely accepted signs of homosexuality.
All fair and reasonable assertions, ones that had occasionally raised rainbow-colored questions over Jensen's possible lifestyle choice in the minds of everyone from his mother to hipster baristas, but the simple fact was that Jensen Ross Ackles was, until that morning, straight.
We are not talking "Hollywood heterosexual" either, where the occasional blow job from someone of the same chromosomal make-up was considered as much a part of being an actor as doing a line of blow to seal a deal. Life in LA-LA land had a way of erasing one's boundaries and replacing them with a "Gone Fishin'" sign. No, Jensen was unambiguously heterosexual - a big fat zero on the Kinsey scale. He watched sports, fucked girls, scratched his balls in public and had never had the slightest interest in cake decorating or musical theatre.
So when Jensen woke up that day, the feeling that coursed through him was wholly unfamiliar. He stretched out, wondering why he felt so much more awake, more alive, than he usually did at seven in the morning, before his mind drifted onto the sandpaper-like texture of his sheets and how he really must invest in some linen that was at least 1000 count before these rubbed him raw. And while he was at it, he thought as he peered around his bedroom through sleep-crusted eyes, new curtains, maybe a hand woven rug and some raw silk throw cushions wouldn't go astray either.
Jensen found himself idly stroking his morning-hard dick, as he considered redecorating possibilities and color palettes, and wondered why he hadn't thought of it before. Maybe he and Jared could paint the living room too, and as he thought about Jared, stripped to the waist, sheen of sweat across the vast expanse of his chest and spatters of butter yellow paint freckling his nose, he came with a spurt that was positively effervescent.
Huh - he hadn't thought he was that turned on by interior design.
As he rose and headed for the bathroom with a definite bounce in his step, Jensen wasn't really sure what he was feeling, but it was definitely slightly more fabulous than usual.
%%%
The feeling persisted following his shower, and an extended session of cleansing and moisturizing. As the contents of another clogged pore - he refused to call it a pimple - landed with a satisfying splat on the mirror, he decided it was well past time to pay much more attention to his skin care regime. His pores were a disgrace, and with high definition Blu-ray, every spot and blemish was on display. Seriously, the network should be paying for an on-set beautician. Sure Sam and Dean were meant to be two working class dudes living the hard life, but he was pretty sure even hillbillies exfoliated these days.
Still toweling his hair dry, Jensen wandered into the kitchen, planning on discussing his idea with Jared.
Jared.
Something had obviously happened to Jared overnight. The tableau in the kitchen - Jared in sweats standing at the sink, with the dogs pooled at his feet, gulping down the remains of whatever noxious protein shake combo was the drink du jour - was familiar. Jensen's reaction to it was not.
He didn't think he'd ever before found the sight of Jared wiping a smear of pink liquid from around his mouth so engaging. His own tongue moved across his lips, as Jensen imagined how that protein shake would taste. How Jared would taste.
Jensen swayed for a moment, leaning against the door frame for support as a wave of sensation washed over him - and as a major portion of his blood flow took the nearest arterial exit, and headed for his dick.
Something was definitely up.
%%%
At work, Jensen managed to avoid Jared until their first scene, hanging out chatting in the production office while Jared was in make-up. As he rearranged the flowers on Mandy's desk while they discussed hair products, Jensen started to dismiss his response to Jared earlier as a brief aberration. He got his make-up done in record time, although he did insist on some extra mascara to bring out his eyes. Then, glowing with the compliments on the tightness of his pores, he hurried to the set while running his lines from the dog-eared script in his hand.
By the time Jensen arrived at the motel room set - this week featuring enough shades of green on the walls, floor and beds that he nearly broke into a chorus of "Defying Gravity" - he felt almost normal. Well, maybe a bit more sparkly than usual, the way he did after he'd done couple of lines of coke off Danneel's tits. But it wasn't the thought of Danneel that had his balls aching, but Jared - as Sam launched into some long expository monologue about the lore on whatever the monster of the week was.
Jensen was having more than a bit of trouble concentrating, his gaze travelling from the red flannel shirt stretched tight across broad pecs, across the sweat pooling in the hollow at the base of Jared's throat to his mouth as his lips wrapped sensually round "exsanguination" and "coulrophobia". He nearly missed his cue when Jared snapped the laptop shut, but Jensen thought he'd recovered well until he heard:
"Cut!"
All eyes turned to the director.
"Jensen," said Phil quietly - never a good sign. "I believe the stage direction reads - Sam closes the laptop decisively. Dean places a hand reassuringly on Sam's shoulder. I do not recall the part where it says 'Dean strokes Sam's arm like he's a damn Siamese cat.'"
Jared flicked a glance to Jensen with a smirk, waiting for a trademark Ackles quip, but Jensen just ducked his head and moved back to his mark.
"Sorry, I just... I... Let's go again."
Jared looked at him with bemusement but flipped open the computer.
"Blah blah ancient myth... yadda yadda... corpses disemboweled..."
Jensen stood at Jared's shoulder - Dean was meant to be looking at the computer screen with rapt attention but the smell of Jared's hair was distractingly heady.
"Cut!"
Phil was pinching the bridge of his nose.
"What emotion you were going for there Ackles - repressed anger? Impatience? Indigestion? Hell, it looked like you were sniffing Jared's hair!"
Jensen felt a flush of heat in his face and he was careful not to meet Jared's eyes as he mumbled another apology.
This time Jensen stared fixedly at a point on the table avoiding even a glance at Jared's long, dexterous fingers as they tapped on the keyboard, and he stood far enough back that he couldn't smell any of Jared's body parts. He drove the thought of soft flannel over hard muscle from his mind by trying to remember the names of all the Spice Girls. When Jared closed the laptop, Jensen was all Dean as he laid a hand firmly on Sam's shoulder and growled "I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want - to kill this son of a bitch, Sam."
Phil liked the take, despite Jensen's minor deviation from the script, and a P.A. told them they had at least an hour before the next scene was set up.
As they walked to the coffee cart, Jared was happily babbling about some sports game, but Jensen just couldn't stop thinking about how tall and broad Jared was. He kept wondering how it would feel to have Jared's bulk against him, his weight pinning him to the wall - and Jared's cock hard against his thigh.
That was sort of a gay thing to imagine, Jensen thought, at the same time stepping forward till he was pressed against Jared's side.
"...scored in the last minute. Umm, Jensen? What are you doing?" Jensen was in Jared's personal space like mirrors on a disco ball.
"You're really big. I mean really tall and kinda huge you know?" Jensen couldn't help himself as he rubbed the flat of his hand across Jared's back.
Jared smiled, a little uncertainly, under Jensen's intense, almost hungry gaze. "So, you're a size queen all of a sudden?"
"You know," said Jensen huskily, "I really think I might be."
%%%
On entering Misha's trailer after a cursory knock, Jensen found him sitting in some complex cross-legged position that made it look like someone had macramed his legs, a haze of sweet smoke enveloping him. Jensen shuffled awkwardly from one foot to the other, both because Misha usually made him feel like some corn bred hick, but also because he was still sporting some wood after his last scene with Jared.
"Hey, Misha."
Misha sucked in his cheeks as he took another hit from a bong, which Jensen at first thought was made from some sort of skull. On closer inspection it appeared to be a jacked-up Chia Obama head.
"'sup Ackles," said Misha, without exhaling.
What had seemed a good idea five minutes ago, now just seemed stupid. Sure Misha was so heteroflexible he could be a yogi master, but he was also insufferably pretentious and Jensen didn't entirely trust that the whole conversation wouldn't end up on Twitter. He just really didn't know who else to ask. Chris would either suggest a weekend of whoring in Las Vega, or be inexplicably hurt that he wasn't the object of Jensen's affections. So Misha it was.
"I just wondered, umm... I mean if maybe someone has always liked, um, raspberry muffins, and never even tried any other sort of muffins, although maybe occasionally thought the ones with chocolate chips in them might be nice because well, other people liked them. And then one day I, mean they, just wake up craving chocolate chip muffins, even though they don't even know what they taste like. And whether the muffins want you to, um, well... eat them..."
"Woah." Misha's red rimmed eyes were wide. "That's intense. Do muffins get to choose who eats them?" He nodded slowly as he appeared to consider this rather Zen prospect.
"No... It’s not actually about muffins. The muffins just... sort of represent something."
Jensen wasn't even sure he was making sense to himself at this point; he thought he probably had a contact high. Which was not helpful as weed always made him horny. Great.
"So they're conceptual muffins. Mmmm." Misha picked up his phone and started tapping at the screen. "Maybe I should ask my minions?"
"Oh God. Don't! Please! Look, forget it..."
"Don't get sand in your vagina, Ackles. I'm just messing with you. Look, you know what they say: you can't teach a gay dog straight tricks."
"But I'm not like that! I mean, I wasn't before today."
"Oh, please. My gaydar is never wrong."
"Come on! That's crap. Isn't it a bit like saying you're psychic? I mean, what? Your chi tingles or something when you're near a gay?"
"It's an adjective, not a noun, Jensen. And my gaydar is actually an app on my iPhone. See?"
Misha turned the screen of the phone towards Jensen, who could see rainbow colored swirls covering the screen.
Jensen sighed, and turned to leave, his hand on the door handle when Misha said, his voice softer, "Look - why don't you at least try the muffin? It's the only way you'll know if you like... chocolate chips."
"Yeah. Maybe. It's just this particular muffin..."
"Jared. Oh, don't look so surprised. When I first met you two, I figured you'd been at it for years. Take it from a connoisseur - Jared wants you to nibble his muffin top, chocolate chips and all."
%%%
Jensen left Misha's trailer whistling some song that had popped into his head - something about good girls going bad. He wasn't quite picking out china patterns just yet (although he was thinking something white and classic, with maybe just a touch of gold), but damn if he wasn't just going to go for it. However there was just one little, tiny... okay huge enormous thing he needed to do first.
"Danneel. Listen, I have to just come out and say this - I think I might be gay!"
"We prefer the term lesbian, Jensen."
"What?
"Lesbian. Dyke if you must. I've known for a while now..."
"That you're a lesbian lady?"
"It's a noun, not an adjective. And no, well yes, I know I am, but that you are too."
"What?" Jensen leaned his head against the wall of his trailer. He probably shouldn't have had that congratulatory bowl with Misha. He felt like Ben Edlund was scripting this conversation.
"You've got short fingernails, you like country music, you love golf and you're dating me. Ipso facto…"
"I have a cock."
"Oh sweetie, that's hardly a barrier to being a lesbian these days."
"I think I like cock." There was silence from the other end of the phone for a moment, and then he heard a heavy sigh.
"Fuck you, Jen. I was really hoping we could be an A-list dyke couple. Ellen and Portia have already asked us over for a pot-luck, and I was going to sign us up for Dinah Shore Week."
"Umm. I'm sorry, Dan. Really. It's just, I have to face the fact that I have this burning desire..."
"For Jared Padalecki. I can't say it's a huge surprise. The guy basically farts rainbows when you're around."
"Thanks Dani. I do love you. And I'll make it up to you."
"Yes you will. I want my Indigo Girls cds back. And you and Jared can help me get the "CWeer" float up for the next Pride March. I've already got most of the peeps from "Gossip Girl" and "Vampire Diaries" signed up, and Tyra has promised to be our token drag queen. See if you can get Superman and his bald boyfriend on board too. Now, go be a happy homosexual."
%%%
Jensen decided talking to Jared was best done at their place, where privacy and supplies of lube were ensured. The ride home was quiet and uncomfortable - primarily due to the Jensen's persistent priapism, and the fact that Jared refused to look at him. Clif kept up his usual light-hearted banter about the advantages of a nationalized health system, and post-structuralist tropes in reality TV shows, but the tension between Jared and himself was stretched as tight as saran wrap over week-old coleslaw.
When they got inside, Jared paced the length of the living room before finally turning and exclaiming:
"What the fuck is up with you? Did Misha slip some peyote into your latte..."
"God, you're hot when you're perplexed." Jensen stepped forward, and ran the tips of his fingers down Jared's cheek.
"...or did you just wake up a faggot this morning?"
"Actually, yes. My orientation is now somewhere between gay and raging queen. The needle on my sexual compass seems to have swung around and is pointing firmly at due Padalecki "
Jared's eyes were anime-wide - either from the revelation, or the fact that Jensen's hand was firm on his chest, thumb flicking across his hardening nipple.
"But... I mean... I'm not gay!"
Jensen reached somewhere just below Jared's Texas belt buckle.
"Your cock seems to disagree with that assessment. Or is this a lesbian thing?"
"A what?" Jared's large forehead was creased with a parabola of frown lines, but Jensen noted that he didn't move away.
"Sorry, just something Danneel said. Look," Jensen sucked on his bottom lip for a moment, "Don't tell me you've never thought about it. In fact, I am pretty sure you started it. I mean all the sexual innuendo in interviews, the extravagant presents, the joint holidays... Dude, you can't go five minutes without touching me! Even Kripke's picked up on it. Have you paid any attention to our dialogue recently? I mean, recast Sam and Dean with Katherine Heigel and Bradley Cooper and you've got next summer's rom-com hit."
"Mmmm," they both uttered in unison. "Bradley Cooper."
"See," Jensen said triumphantly. "You are so a homo!"
"Look. I can't be gay - we can't be gay. We're from Texas!"
"True, but think of all the things we've done here in Vancouver we wouldn't do back home," Jensen said and he proceeded to count them off on his fingers. "Watched hockey, became addicted to Timbits, worn those funny hats lined with baby fur seals… Am I right, eh?"
Jared didn't reply, just stood there as Jensen's continued tracing the shape of his cock where it pressed a hard curve against his jeans. He stared at Jensen, searching his face so intently that Jensen was doubly glad he'd taken the extra effort to moisturize after he'd scrubbed the day's makeup off.
After a moment, Jared stepped closer until and cupped a hand gently along the side of Jensen's face.
"Okay, maybe once or twice I've had thoughts about what it would be like to fuck that pretty mouth." Jared dragged his thumb over Jensen's bottom lip. Jensen caught the pad of his thumb between his lips and teeth, and ran his tongue around it. He thought it tasted faintly of chocolate chips.
Jared drew in a deep breath and took a small step back.
"If we do this," Jared waved his hand in an oh so very camp way, although his voice was all end-of-the-world serious, "I have a few stipulations: I am not listening to Cher, I will not go antiquing with you and I am not wearing lyrca or leather shorts."
"Spoil sport. Anyway, we already know you like dancing with your hands in the air like you just don't care. And I am sure fucking me will be worth it, baby!"
"Hey, if we do this," Jared wrapped his arms around Jensen, grinding his cock hard into him, "I want the full immersion 3-D gay experience. You better be putting your dick in my ass at some point, too."
"Dude," said Jensen as he pressed his mouth against Jared's, "You're so gassy I'd probably pop out like a cork from a bottle of Cristal!"
%%%
One Thursday morning in October, Jensen Ackles woke up gay. And the next morning, so did Jared Padalecki.
And they lived happily ever after, having much very gay, penetrative anal intercourse between 1000 count Egyptian cotton designer sheets.