RPS: Dirty Pop: The Worst Case Scenario Guide to Surviving A Boy Band
Dirty Pop: The Worst Case Scenario Guide to Surviving A Boy Band
by phaballa
Fandom: CWRPS AU / popslash, um, sort of
Pairings: Jensen/Jared, Jensen/Chris, Jared/Chad
Rating: Adult
Warnings: This fic is on total crack. Like not just a little. Boy band AU. Gender swap. Sex, drugs, and really bad pop music.
Liner Notes: Written for the Cliché/Kink challenge. Thanks to mel_b_angel for looking this over, to danxsunday for encouraging me despite his hatred of pop music, and to everyone who uploaded pictures and recs for me, but especially to madame_d for being the best enabler the world has ever seen. Thanks to God for the existence of existence, and to all the fabulously cracked out popslashers out there, without whom this wouldn't have been possible.
Introduction:
In the beginning, there was light. And after light, God created all the other shit, like the oceans and the animals and darkness and the moon and even Jupiter, but it wasn't until He sparked Maurice Starr with the idea for New Edition in 1980 that the world truly became complete. And thus, the first boy band of the modern age was born, eventually spawning white-washed versions like New Kids on the Block, which then inspired mega-groups like the Backstreet Boys and NSYNC. The story of the boy band itself is much more complicated, but it all sort of boils down to one thing: boys who are pretty and willing to dance around in tight pants and mesh (or sometimes no) shirts sell lots of records, not to mention t-shirts, action figures, lip glosses, and bobble heads. Amen.
Cast:
Project Mayhem: Jensen, Jared, Chad, Tommy, and Mike as an up-and-coming (but mostly just coming) boy band with two hit singles, 'God Must've Sent You (To Be My Girlfriend)' and 'I Want An Unspecified Something in a Very Specific Manner.'
Jeff: their skeezy manager.
Sandy: their hardass publicist.
KANE: Rival alternative rock band that slams the Project in interviews and several songs about how Chad is a pedophile. Consisting of Christian Kane and Steve Carlson, they have several hit songs including 'America High (Chronic Remix)' and 'One More Cap in Yo' Ass.'
The Boring Bits:
None of this is true. Like, by any stretch of the imagination. I made it all up. Written for estrella30's All CW Cliché/Kink Challenge, with the prompts: woke up a woman and truth or dare. But also, in case you hadn't already caught on because you're like, retarded or completely skipping all this intro stuff, this is an AU, in which the boys of the CW are in a boy band. A really pretty boy band. But mostly they're still them, or my version of them anyway. So. Enjoy!
Dirty Pop: The Worst Case Scenario Guide to Surviving A Boy Band
The first rule of being in a boy band is: you do not talk about being in a boy band.
No really. It's not a Fight Club thing, although sometimes Jensen thinks that beating the crap out of each other once in a while would probably work a hell of a lot better, especially when Chad gets into one of his moods where all he'll talk about is how much better he is than the rest of them. That or try to tell them all the disgusting things he does with his girlfriend, and really, no one wants to know about the time he fingered her behind the lockers after cheerleading practice. Jensen could probably actually have gone his entire life without ever hearing the words 'fingered' and 'Chad' in the same sentence, but Jared, that assface, just kept egging him on, all, "KANE keeps talking trash man, I dunno, from the way they tell it she's giving it to everyone BUT you," until Chad let loose with the foulest descriptions of pussy Jensen had ever heard. And Jensen, he likes pussy in general, but that right there might've ruined girls for him for fucking life.
So yeah, talking? Only makes things worse, or really, makes things totally suck when they were fine before, because you always end up hearing something you never wanted to know, especially if it involves Chad even peripherally, because seriously, he will try to make everything in the fucking world about him. The fact is, Chad is a total princess. If they were NSYNC (and thank god they're not, because for serious, Jensen is totally prettier than all five of those posers combined), Chad would be the Britney.
Which is exactly what Jensen tells him. "Chad," he says, "if we were NSYNC, you would totally be the Britney. You're such a fucking princess, man. Do you ever just shut the fuck up?"
"No fucking way am I the Britney. I'm totally the Justin, first off. And second off, fuck you! Why the hell should I be quiet? I carry this band, man. I'm the only one who can actually sing."
"A, I am the Justin, but without the freaky incest tattoo. I'm prettiest, and I'm the best dancer. B, you can't sing either. And C, well okay, so there's no C, but you still need to shut the fuck up. No one cares about your high school confidential, okay?"
"I thought I was the Justin," says Jared, eyes flitting from Jensen to Jared and back again like he's afraid the whole bus might explode if they get too close.
"You're the nice one," Mike says. "You know, the shy one all the girls want to cuddle and take home and feed cookies and shit. I'm the dirty one. Which makes me way cooler, 'cause I'm the one everyone wants to fuck."
"Dude, no one wants to fuck you," says Chad. For once, they all agree, even Mike, who is probably too high to even really follow the conversation. "But also, I'm the dirty one."
"You can't be the dirty one and the Justin," says Tommy. "It's like a rule or something. So wait. If Jensen's the Justin-"
"Jensen isn't the fucking Justin-"
"-and Jared is the nice one, and Mike's the bad boy, and Chad's the Britney-"
"I am not the fucking Britney, oh my god!"
"-then what does that make me? I mean. There's nothing left. Right?"
"Well, Tommy. The thing is…" Jared trails off, trying to find the right words. He really is the nice one. Jensen smirks. Jared can be such a little pussy sometimes, and he gets this look on his face when he's about to say something someone doesn't want to hear, no matter how true it is-all pinched up like he's sucking on a lemon, like his face is trying to decide between telling the truth and being nice, and it's killing him not to be able to do both. Boy's momma must've played a serious number on him, and Jensen thanks the fucking Lord for his parents, who never tried to make him have things like morals and values and shit. Only gets in the way, especially when you're already a boybander.
"You're the filler, dude," Chad says, glaring. Jensen knows that look. It's the 'Chad's about pitch a fit' look, and there's only one thing that can make it go away-booze. Lots and lots.
"The filler?" Tommy looks confused. It's not his fault, Jensen tells himself. Some people are just born extra dumb.
"Yeah. You know, the Jonathan Knight. The guy that's in the band because you need a fifth guy to make dance formations look even and shit. The guy whose name no one can ever remember, like the ugly dude from 98 Degrees." Chad is looking more and more self-satisfied by the minute, which makes Jensen wish that he was either drunk or allowed to beat the crap out of him because seriously? Mocking Tommy is not cool. His parents probably dropped him on the head when he was a kid, or maybe fed him lead or something, but whatever happened, it's not Tommy's fault, you know? He's already the filler. He doesn't need to be harassed by Chad, too, that little fucker, and especially not when it seems to bring Chad so much joy because seriously, anytime Chad is happy, it only spells mayhem for the rest of them.
"Which ugly dude?"
"See? You can't even remember who he is because he's filler."
"Wait," says Jared, "if Jensen's the Justin, and Chad's the Britney, does that mean…"
"NO," Jensen and Chad yell.
"For fucking serious," Jensen says, "let's get drunk. I can't take this shit anymore."
*
The second rule of being in a boy band is: you DO NOT talk about being in a boy band.
Nah, just kidding, that one really is a joke. The second rule of being in a boy band is: always be drinking. Sort of like Glen Gary Glen Ross, only much prettier and less threatening with no gold watches on the line, with like, the bonus of dancing and singing and occasionally dressing up as astronauts-or once, they got to be soldiers and shoot each other with Super Soakers. Personally Jensen thought the whole video was a little gay, but whatever, it stayed in the top ten on TRL for like, thirteen weeks or something, so really that says a lot more about their fans than it does about them, enjoying something that gay for that long. It also explains some of the signs Jensen sees in the audience sometimes with acronyms Jensen pretends not to understand because the resulting weirdness would be too much to handle, and really, he likes to pretend their fans are nice girls who never ever think about them having sex. With each other.
So yeah, always be drinking, and really, maybe that should be the number one rule to surviving a boy band because being drunk (or at least half way there at all times) is as necessary as breathing. It's right up there with sleeping and eating and jacking off and wearing black mesh, because otherwise you'd have to be sober for the shit these guys pull, and Jensen is so not willing to take that chance.
It's not that he hates these guys. The opposite, really. They're like his brothers, only really good-looking, and okay, so sometimes he and Jared are a little less brotherly than maybe normal brothers are, but what's a blowjob between brothers, right? It's not like they're actual brothers, and Jared's not going to get pregnant and pop out some freaky incest baby, because well. First off, he's a man, and second off, it's just blowjobs. Mostly. There was that one time in the silo oats hotel in Akron, when Jared got so excited that everything was round, including the bed, that he ate a bunch of X and practically begged Jensen to fuck him, but seriously, he can't let a brother down, can he? But that's rule number three, we'll get to it. For now, always be drinking.
Which is how they all end up in Mike and Tommy's room one night, plastered out of their fucking minds playing truth or dare like they're a bunch of middle school girls or some shit. Chad's idea, of course, pretty typically, seeing as he is a fucking middle school girl, and Jensen totally takes the part back about not hating. He hates Chad, that's for damn sure, especially when he pulls crap like this, which is basically just a big excuse for him to tell them in even more grisly detail about the many pussies he has loved, all the while being all the fuck over Jared like… like white on something that is already white whose name Jensen can't remember because, damn, he really did just drink that whole bottle of Jack on his lonesome.
"Truth or dare there, Jenny?" Chad smirks and lays his head on Jared's shoulder. Jensen represses the urge to hit him.
"Dude. Do not fucking call me that or I will kick your skinny ass."
"Whatever man. This skinny ass is your meal ticket. Truth or fucking DARE, already?"
"Truth." Because knowing Chad, he'd probably try to force Jensen to do something truly disgusting that would almost certainly involve bodily fluids and end in Jensen vomiting. On the other bed, Mike and Tommy are almost passed out, giggling together like actual twelve-year-olds as Mike pours the last of the mini-rum straight into Tommy's mouth. Jared just smiles at him slow from his spot at the head of the bed, and really, he can't be comfortable with Chad all pressed up against him like that, plus-ew, because Chad? Is disgusting. Jensen is pretty sure the boy doesn't shower. Like, ever, considering the way he smells.
"Of course you choose truth, you little bitch. What are you-scared?"
"Fine. Dare. Fucking punk. What're you gonna make me do? We can't leave the hotel. Booze is fucking gone."
Chad just grins and shifts around on the bed until he's lying with his head in Jared's lap, and really, if anyone deserved to be fucking killed just for existing in the first place, it's Chad. He's not even pretty. He used to be okay, Jensen thinks. There was a time back in the day, when they first got started, before Project Mayhem got really big, when Chad was kind of sort of good-looking, but now, it's like sometime between then and now he got hit by a giant ugly stick. Jensen wonders if it hurt, being turned that ugly that fast.
"You like, know Christian Kane, right? That little fucker who's been talking shit about my girl?"
"Used to. It's been… a long time."
"I dare you to call him and tell him to shut the fuck up about my girl."
"That's the stupidest fucking dare I have ever heard."
"If you want I can go piss in the toilet and dare you to drink it," Chad offers, looking smug and snuggling down even closer to Jared, who stares at both of them unblinking with glassy eyes, looking like he might start drooling at any moment, which would be fine with Jensen as long as Jared managed to aim for Chad's head, because seriously? Something has to be done about Chad's hair. It is decreasing the prettiness of the band by a factor of at least seven. And so okay, maybe those last three shots weren't such a good idea, but Jared needs to learn how to hold his liquor and how will he ever if Jensen doesn't teach him?
"So-what? Just call Chris and be all, 'Hey man, yeah, I haven't talked to you in three years but whatever, Chad Michael Murray wants me to tell you to stop singing songs about his jailbait fiancé, even though everything you're saying is pretty much true'?"
"Fuck off," Chad says, no heat, and that's bad, because it means something if he's not even getting riled up. Chad's shifts around like he's trying to get comfortable or something, and his hand just happens to land on Jared's thigh in the process. Like. High on his thigh, molestation fucking high, and Jared, that drunk little idiot, just lets it happen because Jared's the nice one, would never say no to Chad, who he's known forever. This is what Jared tells Jensen during Chad's many, inevitable tantrums-Me and C go way back, man. He's my BFF, dude, like, forever, and I just can't get in the middle, okay? You understand-only Jensen doesn't, not really, because it's Chad, for fuck's sake, and he's a total cunt all the freaking time.
If Jared weren't such a sweet kid, maybe he'd get that. But then also, maybe he would stop sucking Jensen's dick, too, and that would be less than good. In fact, Jensen's pretty sure it would be a fucking tragedy. Especially for his dick, which really is a thing of beauty and deserves to be sucked at all times. But-first thing's first.
"Fine," Jensen says, fumbling with his cell. "Fine. You want me to call Chris? You fucking asked for it, man. This is all on you."
"What d'you mean?" Chad asks, and now he's all out groping Jared, who's practically passed out, mumbling into his pillow, but Jensen ignores it and flashes Chad a smile, because seriously, boy has no concept of Christian Kane, like, at all. This? Is going to fucking rule the school.
The line rings and rings, and for a minute Jensen almost feels disappointed because of course Chris isn't going to have the same number he did three years ago. Hell, Jensen wouldn't be surprised if he got it changed right after the Battle Royale of 2003, considering the sheer amount of hurled accusations, not to mention figurines and other things that shatter nicely against walls and fireplaces. But then the line clicks open and-
"Well if it isn't Jensen fucking Ackles. Jenny-bean, what the hell are you calling me for, boy?"
He doesn't sound angry. Which is weird, because the last words he and Chris exchanged (and by 'exchanged' Jensen really means 'screamed at each other in near-incomprehensible hysterics', but you know, saying all that is just so many words) were something along the lines of, "Fuck you, you fucking faggot! Go join your little boy band and be a fucking sellout! See if I care when you end up some soulless, plastic has-been on Behind the Music!" Yeah, it hadn't really gone well. Like, at all.
"I'm drunk," Jensen blurts out. Ha. Great. So after three years, his first words to the best friend he ever had in the world are, 'I'm drunk.' Like he'd never call Chris if he were sober. Which, okay, so he wouldn't, but that's not really the point, is it? The point is-well, he can't actually remember the point, but he does remember the bottle of Jack, and he sort of wishes he had some more right now. Maybe with lime, and Jensen wonders briefly if they make Jack with lime, like that coke with lime stuff, and then he’s singing under his breath, You put the lime in the coconut and drink it all down, almost managing to forget that he’s on the phone with Chris of all people, on what has to be the stupidest dare that ever did dare.
"That's pretty fucking obvious, man." Chris’s voice sobers him up a little.
"Uh well. See. Chad. Michael Murray?"
"Yeah, I know who he is, dipshit." Chris still sounds amused. It's fucking weird. Or maybe Jensen is so drunk that he can't tell the difference anymore, except that Chris kinda sounds like he's laughing a little too, so.
"We were playing truth or dare-"
"Hold up a second there, son. You were doing what now?"
"Playing truth or dare. You know, the game where-"
"I know what it is, Jenny. I just didn't realize y'all had actually turned into women overnight, that's all. You know when I wrote that song, I didn't mean for it to really happen, right? But whatever. Continue."
"We didn't-look. It's. We can't leave, right? The hotel. So there's just. The second rule of being in a boy band is: always be drinking."
"That's a good plan, man. Only way to survive that shit. So what's next, after truth or dare? Y'all gonna do light as a feather, stiff as a board? Braid each other's hair and have a pillow fight in your underwear?"
"Fuck you," Jensen mumbles. "Look, I'm supposed to say, Chad wants you to shut up about his girl."
"And tell him to stop writing fucking songs about all the guys she's fucked that aren't me," Chad says, grinning.
"Did'ya get that?"
Chris just laughs. "That was your dare? Fuck, son. Murray has got to be the sorriest-ass darer in existence."
"He. You. You don't. You’re not like, still mad at me?"
Chris sighs. "You're drunk, man. And besides, I figure-being in a boy band is punishment enough. The sheer amount of black mesh and leather alone…" Jensen is silent for a long moment while he processes this. Then:
"You're not wrong."
*
The third rule of being in a boy band is: always back your brother's play.
See the thing is, they have this fucking kick ass awesome bus. It used to be a touring bus or something, one of those super long fuckers that they pile little old ladies into for the trips to Vegas so they can lose their retirements at the slot machines or whatever, but they converted it, ripped out all the seats and put in these leather couches, televisions, captain chairs that spin (the site of many an unfortunate incident involving too much tequila and Jared's inability to hold his liquor while being twirled at a ridiculous rate, and Jensen told Chad it was a bad idea, but did Chad listen? Of course not, that little snot, always thinks he's right and that's what he gets-Jared's vomit all over his shoes). There's a bar in the front, bunks in the middle, and a whole nother section of extremely loungeable couches in the back, along with a bathroom that's fucking luxurious for a bus. It has its own shower. With like, marble counters. For fucking serious.
So really, it's the bus's fault for being so damn amazing, at least this is what Jensen tells himself when Jared gives him that look from underneath his bangs, the one that's all, I'm gonna suck you so hard you won't sit right for a week, and jerks his head toward the back. Because the thing is, doing it on the bus is just a bad idea all around, and Jared, that fucking tease, he knows it. He knows it, he just doesn't care, because he may be the nice one but he's also the one who can get whatever the hell he wants just by making his eyes real big and flashing that 'but don't you love me' smile, that little shit, because Jensen does, he totally does, and Jared does not play fair.
Except that right now what that little shit wants just happens to coincide with what Jensen wants because honestly? He doesn't care how risky it is, if it involves getting his dick sucked (and damn, Jared is a fucking talented guy), there's not really a question of saying no. Rule number three man, gotta back your brother's play, even if said play involves acts of a sexual nature still illegal in thirty-seven states and an approximate fuckton of countries. Or maybe especially in that case, so when Jared makes his way to the back of the bus with that look, licks his lips like he's being subtle or something (and seriously, Jared is about as subtle as a semi t-boning your Miata), Jensen knows there's only one thing he can do.
It's the code, man. Always back your brother's play, and hey, if that means a little blowjob between bandmates, so be it. Jensen is magnanimous. He'll take one for the team, he's a good guy like that.
But what happens next, well, really? That is all the bus's fault. Because the bathroom door is fucked up, in that during Chad's forty-seventh tantrum of the tour, the one where he threatened to leave the band and start a solo career as a rap artist (as opposed to the thirty-third, when he threatened to leave the band to become an actor, and for fuck's sake, if Jensen had to see that face on his television every week, he thinks he'd probably kill himself), Chad stormed into the bathroom and locked himself in. And then Mike thought it would be a good idea to unscrew the hinges (Remember when that hooker locked Tommy in the closet? I swear this'll work, Mike said, and for some reason Jensen listened, possibly because Mike fed him half a bottle of Smirnoff vanilla before the band meeting to keep him calm, but whatever, because rule number three should really be: always back a brother's play, unless it's Mike, and then run for the hills because the fucker is batshit crazy), which just ended up breaking the door jamb completely because-deadbolt.
So actually, when it comes right down to it, it's all Chad's fault, what happens next, and if he weren't such a prissy little bitch, he could've spared himself the traumatic sight of Jensen standing in the shower (because luxurious as the bathroom is, it’s still fucking tiny by normal standards) with his dick as far down Jared's throat as it can possibly go, not that Jared seems to mind really, and Christ, but the boy can suck dick like nobody's business.
To give Chad his due, he doesn't scream the bus down, just stares at them eyes narrowed, and okay, so maybe Jensen smirks just a little bit and tightens his fingers in Jared's hair, and possibly that could be construed as provocation, but whatever, because Chad? Is a total bitchface princess and he deserves this shit, hell yes.
"Are you fucking serious?" is all Chad says before reaching into the shower and spinning the faucet knob. And really, getting soaking wet (and the shower is really fucking cold, damnit) isn't what Jensen wanted out of this whole thing, but Jared doesn't stop, just keeps right on sucking, and licking, and doing that amazing thing he does with his tongue, so in the end, Jensen is still getting his dick sucked and the look on Chad's face is more than worth it.
And then Jared pulls off with an obscene popping sound, which only makes Chad turn even more purple, and says, "We better get you out of those wet clothes," with this dirty fucking grin before going back down, and Chad-he looks like he wants to die or kill something, maybe both, which makes this possibly the best blowjob Jensen has ever had.
Always back a brother's play, man. Especially when it comes to blowjobs.
*
The fourth rule of being in a boy band is: if this is your first time being in a boy band, you must have a controlling, dickwad of a manager who also tries to fuck you every chance he gets.
And like, it's not that Jeff is a bad guy. Jensen thinks that once upon a time he was probably pretty cool, and he's not bad looking, but when you're a failed country singer from Oregon (and seriously, who in Oregon has ever even heard of country, which isn't real music anyway, just lonely old fucks singing about their brokeass bitches and dead trucks) stuck managing a band of guys prettier and more talented than you could ever have dreamed of being even when you were singing 'Friends in Low Places' to your chickens on the farm or whatever, you tend to end up kind of bitter. And perverted, apparently, because Jeff spends most of his time making grabby hands at Jensen when he's not lecturing them. At least, this is Jensen's theory about Jeff, but then again he can't really blame Jeff for wanting a piece of his ass.
It's a very nice ass.
"Okay boys," Jeff says, grinning all smarmy and giving Tommy bedroom eyes even though it's asscrack o'clock in the morning, but hell-Jeff's probably still drunk from the night before. Tommy smiles blankly back and blinks. "It's Seventeen today, the big one, so seriously, no fucking up. I mean it."
"Dude, we're not gonna fuck up, we've done this a zillion times and-"
"Did I say you could talk, Murray? Now shut the fuck up and listen. First of all, you will wear the clothes wardrobe provides for the shoot, and no bitching. That means you, Murray. If I see you in anything involving fur or feathers or fucking purple stripes, you'll be singing back up for Ashley Angel before you can say 'fashion victim.'"
"The fur was pimp, dude. Totally fucking fly."
"Never use those words again. I am totally fucking serious here. And Jared? Your favorite color is blue. Stop saying pink, people will think you're a fag."
"They wouldn't be wrong," Mike points out.
"Tommy, you're saving yourself for marriage."
"Wait-what? I don't want to be the virgin. Why can't Mike be the virgin?"
"No one would ever believe that, don't be fucking stupid. Mike's the dirty one. ("Ha! Told you so!" Mike makes a jack-off gesture at Chad, who just glares.) Chad, you're on an anti-drug kick. Your cousin was a crackwhore or something, traumatic experience, blah blah. And also, you love Jesus. Finding Kenzie made you realize that, I dunno-fuck. Make it up. Souls meeting and shit, you know what to say."
"Um, not really," Chad tries, but Jeff is already moving on.
"Mike, hint at maybe being heartbroken. And you're thinking of maybe raising terriers or buying a motorcycle to get over it."
Mike just takes a really long drink from his mug, and now Jensen knows that isn't coffee, for which he totally commends Mike because this shit? Is totally retarded.
Jeff smiles around at them, blindingly, and turns for the door.
"Uh, what about me?" Jensen asks.
"Yeah, what about Jensen?" Chad wants to know. "Can he suddenly realize that deep inside he's actually been a woman all this time, and he just wants his outside to reflect his inner beauty?"
"Fuck you!"
"You wish," Chad smirks. "Is it a lonely life, being not a girl, not yet a woman?"
"I'm gonna fucking kill you, you fucker!" Jensen yells, and lunges across the aisle at Chad, but Jared wraps an arm around his chest and holds him back while Jeff just rolls his eyes.
"Jensen, look pretty and smile. No one is going to care what you say as long as you're doing it with that mouth."
"What does that even mean?" Jensen yells at Jeff's retreating back.
"Fuck if I know," Chad grins, lounging back on the couch like Jensen hasn't been trying to rip his throat out for the past three minutes. "I can't see why girls would even care, man. Always seemed like you had a cocksucking mouth to me."
*
The fifth rule of being in a boy band is: anything that can happen pretty much will.
Okay, so technically that's Heisenberg's uncertainty principle, not in those exact words obviously, it had something to do with math at one point, but Jensen figures it's pretty much a universal deal. Plus, he has seen Jurassic Park, only about a hundred times, and he remembers the whole chaos theory thing that's really just Michael Crichton trying to pull one over on the masses because really, if Jensen can spot Heisenberg-right. And okay, so maybe Jensen mainly remembers Jeff Goldblum, but the man is fucking hot as hell, so that's not his fault, right? Plus, he turned into a fly in that one movie, so really all things considered, Chad should count himself lucky.
After all, it could be much worse. He could've turned into a fly, or some other nasty insect type, or worse-switched bodies with a member of O-Town. So when you think about it, really, waking up a woman is one of the better things that could've happened in the grand scheme of fucked up shit.
But really, there is no rule that can in any way prepare you for the times when one of your bandmates turns into a woman. And not in that, "I was always a woman inside and now everyone can see it" kind of way, involving like, Hedwig-style surgery and sexy army officers with bags and bags of gummi bears luring you away from some terribly bleak eastern block country. No, we're talking full-on, growing a vagina overnight kind of turning into a girl, and if anyone deserves this shit, it is Chad for sure. Jensen likes to think of it as karma. Karma with a fucking awesome sense of humor.
Chad as a girl looks a lot like Chad as a boy, with longer hair and tits. They're not even good tits, actually, and he mainly just resembles a really ugly, unsuccessful drag queen. Like, the kind that end up in the warehouse district on street corners trying to pick up tourists who don't know where to go to get the high class trade. Only, you know, the bits are real. Or at least, Jensen assumes they are, from the hysterical fit Chad is throwing.
"You know," says Jensen, lounging back on the couch in their suite with a look of complete innocence, "when I called you a dickless wonder, I didn't actually like, mean for you to take it seriously."
Mike laughs and Chad bursts into tears. Again. Jared puts an arm around Chad's shoulders and squeezes, sending Jensen a reproving look all, Give the guy a break, he just grew a vagina, but dude, there's no fucking way Jensen is not going to use this to its maximum mocking extent. Chad is a woman, for fuck's sake. There's not a single thing about this that isn't hilarious.
"Hey," Jared says, "it's gonna be okay. We'll. We'll call Jeff and Sandy, figure out what's going on."
But when Jeff and Sandy arrive at their suite, they just shake their heads and stare at Chad like the freak show he is, and finally Jensen feels vindicated that the rest of the world seems to have noticed what he's known all along.
"This isn't going to work," Sandy says, clicking her tongue and circling around Chad, examining his parts much more closely than Jensen even wants to think about.
Jeff just stares at Chad's tits and says, "It's not even a nice rack. For fuck's sake, Murray. You finally grow a pair and they totally suck? What the hell are we supposed to do with you now?"
"Couldn't he be like, a cousin or something? Like. Um, Chad's identical girl cousin from um, England?"
"Jared, that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Sandy says. Jensen has never loved their publicist more. "Who the fuck would ever believe that?"
"Our fans are thirteen-year-old girls," Mike points out.
"Who would hate any girl who came anywhere near you boys," Jeff says.
"He could be a lesbian," Tommy says. "Maybe we'd like, attract the angry lesbian teenie crowd. Liz Phair is getting kinda old and Ani Difranco is on a break or something."
"But how would we explain Chad just suddenly disappearing?" Jensen asks. "We could always say he's being launched into space. It worked for NSYNC."
"Shut the fuck up and let me think," Sandy says, doing that thing where she waves her hands around in the air like that'll somehow implant solutions into her head via osmosis. "No. Just-no. Chad? Just fucking. Grow some balls, go see the wizard, ask him for your dick back, I don't even care, just fix this. Now."
Chad is pretty upset about the whole turning into a chick thing, not to mention the rather unenthusiastic response from Management, and not even Jared bringing him a whole tub of Chunky Monkey all for him helps. They're supposed to be rehearsing for the show the next day, but it seems pretty pointless with Chad all girl-ified, so instead they all sit around the suite staring at Chad and trying to come up with girl names to call him, for the inevitable time when he'll have to go out in public.
"Chaderella," Tommy suggests, looking completely serious.
"Gross. Not even I would make Chad go by that," says Jensen. "I still vote for Candi. With an 'I'. He looks like a Candi. Or maybe a Chantrelle."
"I met a girl named Chlamydia once," Mike says. "Best blowjob I have ever had."
"Mike, even I think that's disgusting, and I had sex with a Backstreet Boy," Jensen says. "Not Chlamydia. Chandelier? We could call him 'Chand' for short, that's close to 'Chad,' and that way Tommy won't get mixed up."
"Wait-you fucked a Backstreet Boy?" Jared, that cuntface, has the nerve to look offended and slightly disgusted, like he hasn't done worse. "Which one?"
"A lady never tells," Jensen says, smirking. "Oh, sorry Chad."
"I hate you," Chad declares, crossing his arms over his chest and then freaking out all over again because-boobs in the way, and oh right, he has those now.
"Was it AJ?" Jared wants to know. "Please tell me it wasn't Nick Carter."
"Why do you always do that, Jared?"
"Do what?"
"Call him 'Nick Carter,' first and last name, like we know so many other Nicks?"
"Well um. It's a popular name. I know lots of Nicks."
"Name three Nicks that you know."
"Nick, um. Nick. You know. The one married to Jessica. And um-look, I can't think with Chad looking like that, it's distracting," Jared says finally.
Chad himself takes the opportunity to alternate between crying and looking miserable until Jared tries to comfort him again. And then Chad does that thing, that snuggling thing that girls do, where they look up at you all helpless and afraid with big big eyes and they lick their lips? You know, that look, and for a second Jensen thinks Chad might really be serious about being upset, but then he looks over at Jensen and smirks-fucking smirks, like this is the best thing ever and he'll have Jared eating out of his hand (or his something, which-ew) in no time.
"So," Jensen says, eyes narrowed. "So I guess this means you really are the Britney, huh Chad?"
"Oh my god, he totally is!" Mike says with a grin. "Not as hot as Britney, but you know. He's got all the parts now."
"Was it Brian?" Jared wants to know, and he's really just talking to himself now. He really needs to let this go. "Nah, he's like, a Christian or whatever. Howie? It's gotta be Howie. He's tiny, but flaming."
"Oh my Christ, I fucking hate you!" Chad jumps up from the couch, fists clenched like he really wants to hit Jensen except he can't because-teeny little girl. His face turns bright red instead and his boobs sort of jiggle around because he's shaking, he's so pissed, and it's the best thing Jensen has possibly ever seen in his entire life. "Just… fuck you, Ackles!"
"I'm sorry, princess," Jensen says, eyes wide, "but I only do chicks who are at least half as pretty as me."
Mike starts laughing outright, and Tommy, he tries to hide it but as soon as Mike busts up, he's falling out of his chair, and even Jared is snickering behind his hand because really, Chad as a girl shrieking with his weirdly-shaped tits bouncing all over the place-there's no way you can not laugh at that. No fucking way.
Chad's eyes narrow and he takes a deep, stuttering breath. "Fine. Fine, you know what? Fuck all y'all. I'm gonna go finger myself. I hope you die!"
*
The sixth rule of being in a boy band is: fiddle dee dee. Jensen likes to think of it as the Scarlett O'Hara rule of boybandery-because after all, tomorrow is another day. Things might totally suck one day, like Chad getting the solo on Jensen's favorite song even though Jensen would totally do it better, or Jared deciding to swear off dick for a month to see what sex with girls is like (not as good as sex with him, Jensen pointed out, but that argument didn't seem to sway him), or the time Tommy got his head stuck in the railing of the hotel fire escape and they had to call the fire department to get him out. So yeah, there are some seriously sucktastic days, but there's always tomorrow, which is another day, and maybe the sun will come out, and other musical references that Jensen, of course, disclaims all knowledge of because he is a pop star, damnit, not some Broadway pussy.
Which is why it's not really surprising to any of them when Chad is back to normal the next day, dick firmly in place, only now he won't shut up about what it's like for a girl, how hard it is, and if Jensen hears the words "patriarchal industrial complex" one more time, he's going to kill someone. Probably Chad. No, definitely Chad.
"Shut up, man, you were a girl for like, two minutes," Jensen says. "Besides, what the fuck do you know? You spent the entire time alone in your room masturbating."
"And let me tell you, I have a whole new appreciation for the female body. Growing a vagina really teaches you shit. Like, did you know that fingering a girl is almost entirely useless? There's like, zero feeling in the vagina."
"Just a minute, I have to go throw up now," Jensen says, and he really thinks he might for a second, because if there's one image he doesn't need in his head aside from Chad fingering Kenzie behind the lockers, it's Chad fingering himself anywhere, ever.
Chad just gives him this exasperated look, like he's trying to be serious or something but dude, really? The man is discussing all the time he spent as a woman masturbating, and Jensen is supposed to take this seriously?
"Wait-really?" Jared looks mystified. "I mean, okay. There's that clitoris thing, but I thought that was just like, a joke or whatever. It's pretty obvious where the dick goes."
"Jared, Jared, Jared. I feel sorry for any chick you bring home. The vagina is like, dead inside. It's all about the clitoris. And let me tell you, God is totally a woman, because seriously, dude? Like, three-minute orgasms. Over and over again."
"Okay, now I really am going to throw up." Jensen aims for Chad's shoes.
*
The seventh rule of being in a boy band is: never engage the enemy. It's probably the best rule they could ever have thought up, except that it's the one that most often gets broken, mainly because Chad doesn't know when to keep his stupid mouth shut. Or really, Chad doesn't even try, and then he ends up becoming the most universally hated-by-alternarockers-popstar in the history of popstardom, including Michael Jackson, and he's an accused child molester. So like, when other people in the industry hate you more than known pedophiles, you're probably in some serious shit. But Chad fucking loves it, mainly because he's a freak who thrives on discord, and anyway, it's not like he's that far from a pedophile all things considered, and Michael Jackson has always been his idol.
At least Chad doesn't have a tattoo of his mother on his back. Jensen thanks god for small favors.
So Chad, he loves breaking the seventh rule, which is why when Jeff and Sandy announce at their next band meeting that MTV wants them to perform live at the Video Music Awards with KANE, Chad is all over that shit.
"What are we singing? I want to do 'Robot Love Monkeys in Space.' Can we make them dance? And wear like, sparkles and glitter make-up and maybe rhinestone doo-rags?"
"Yeah," says Jensen, "and then maybe Chris will realize that mesh is the new flannel and also, how has he gone his whole life without the obsessive love, tears, and screams of twelve-year-old girls. Then KANE will start merchandising, and before you know it-bobble heads. Lip gloss with Steve's face on it. Action fig-"
"Actually," Sandy says, glaring and pacing in front of the couch. "Chad's sort of right, for once. Not about the glitter, don't be a retard-"
"He's not retarded," Mike says, "Just really, really slow. And deluded."
"And kinda gay," Jared adds.
"Fuck you, I'm totally straight!"
"Okay then," Jared agrees, "stop climbing into my bunk at night and trying to freak me in my sleep."
"Fucking Christ, shut up!" Sandy glares some more, and sometimes Jensen wonders if her face isn't permanently stuck that way. That's what happens when you're an orphan who can only get work in music videos as the cheap-looking girl willing to be greased up and rubbed on. So glaring, it's what she's best at. That, and setting them up on dates with actresses from the WB so people stop saying they're gay. Sometimes it even works. "They do a version of 'God Must've Sent You (To Be My Girlfriend).'"
This, Jensen thinks, is possibly the worst idea they've ever had, including the ill-advised overhauls-and-baseball-caps phase, or the time Tommy thought he'd look better as a blond. Jensen takes a long swig from his nalgene and thanks god for the second rule.
They only do one rehearsal with KANE, the day of the show, because they've all been on tour and anyway, it's not like there's going to be a whole lot of interaction. Project Mayhem will start the song and halfway through, there'll be one of those lameass big surprise reveals ("Anything can happen!" the host will say, and give away a watch or gillion dollars or something, because he's just that cool), and then they'll go into 'America High (Chronic Remix),' during which Project Mayhem will run around the stage like freaks and try to pretend they know what's going on while distancing themselves as much as possible from the drug connotations of the song, of course.
At least, that's what happens in rehearsal. It's really weird seeing Chris like, in person and not yelling or sneering or calling him names. Steve is Steve-cool, calm, totally laid back. He grins at them and seems totally amused by the whole thing, but Chris, it's like he's just not even there. He doesn't look at Jensen once, and like okay. So Jensen thought he was over it. It's been years since the fight, years since he walked out on KANE to join Project Mayhem, and the other night with the phone call and the dare, Chris seemed like. Like maybe he was over it too, and everything would be okay now.
Except clearly Chris isn't over it, because he doesn't look at Jensen the whole frigging rehearsal. And it's not like he's angry or pissed off or whatever, because when Chad joins in on their song and starts like, doing trills and shit, Chris just rolls his eyes and doesn't say a fucking word, which is like, the opposite of Chris.
Fifteen minutes before show time, and Jensen really hates whoever decided that boybanders should always have to dress like drag queens on crack. The wardrobe people all got together and apparently decided that today was the day to make Jensen look like a complete ass, which is how he ends up wearing what appears to be a coat made out of skinned poodle and the most atrocious leather pants he's ever seen, and that's saying something. Acid green is really not his color. This is what Jensen is thinking to himself, standing backstage stretching and trying not to throw up, when someone grabs his hips from behind and slides against him.
Jared, he thinks, and thank god, because this whole 'trying out girls' phase is getting really, really old. Jensen hasn't had a decent blowjob in weeks, and really, someone needs to teach the young teenies of America how to suck proper dick. It's shameful how terrible some of them are at it, like, a national travesty or something, and seriously, if anyone tries to tell you that there's no such thing as a bad blowjob, don't believe them. Braces are killer.
"Nice pants, wanna fuck?" A voice in his ear, low and gritty and laughing and so not Jared. In fact, he's probably the farthest thing possible from Jared because he's Chris, and he's pulling Jensen through a side door and into the emergency exit stairwell, turning him around and shoving his back against the wall.
"What?" Jensen says, because clearly he is a slow idiot who doesn't understand a come on when it's licking its lips in his face.
"Shut up," Chris says, and shoves his hand down the front of Jensen's pants. "I can't do this if you talk."
Jensen grunts instead, because he really doesn't want Chris to stop like, at all, because seriously? Hand. In his pants. Touching his dick, and Jensen can feel the calluses on Chris's fingers because, yeah, right, boys who play guitar are fucking sexy and they have rough hands, which is something Jensen hasn't really understood the attraction of before. Jared plays the accordion but that's so fucking for from the same thing it's like, like some place that's really far away that Jensen can't think of right now because Chris takes the opportunity to shove Jensen's pants down on his hips so he can jerk him off for real, and it's possibly the best thing Jensen's ever felt. Even better than Jared sucking him off, because it's Chris, because-yes.
"Yeah," Jensen gasps, and Chris makes a low sound in his throat and then they're kissing, and damn, Chris is a good kisser. He kisses hard and fast and rough, and even if Jensen thinks he's probably only doing it to keep Jensen quiet, it's still pretty fucking awesome, especially when his fingers tighten around Jensen's dick and his thumb swipes across the head just so, which makes Jensen bite at Chris's lips and thrust hard into Chris's hand. When he comes it's like a fucking train wreck, fast and shuddering and he makes this high-pitched whine in his throat that Chris laughs at before shoving Jensen down to his knees.
It doesn't even occur to Jensen to think that maybe, blowing his former best friend who calls him a cocksucking poser faggot on national television might be a little strange (and sort of true) until Chad walks through the door and catches him at it. Not that Jensen stops (like he could, with Chris's fingers in his hair, and he's pretty much just fucking Jensen's mouth at this point, which is actually sort of awesome, like the lazy man's blowjob, and all Jensen has to do is watch his teeth and try not to get come on his face), because-right, that's not going to happen, but he does realize how this must look. Well, it probably looks like he's sucking Chris's dick, and actually, Chad doesn't seem all that surprised, just rolls his eyes and says, "Are you fucking kidding me? How you gonna sing with a throat full of semen?"
That's actually a good point, possibly the first Chad has ever made, but then Chris's fingers tighten in his hair and he thrusts hard, right down Jensen's throat, which sets off a chain reaction of gagging and drooling and all the other really non-pretty or sexy things involved in sucking dick, but Chris doesn't seem to notice Jensen's flailing because he's coming with a long, low, "Fuuuuuck" that might possibly be the sexiest thing Jensen has ever heard in the history of people having eardrums.
"Dude," says Chad, crossing his arms over his chest and raising one eyebrow, "you know this is totally against the rules, right?"
Jensen wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and grins. He's feeling strangely euphoric, possibly because he just did sex things with his best friend ever and maybe, just maybe, Chris doesn't hate him if he's willing to let Jensen blow him, but also because the hair people apparently hate Chad as much as the wardrobe people hate Jensen. Chad's hair (or stubble, whatever) is pink and orange striped. He looks like a skunk on acid. It's pretty much the awesomest thing in existence.
"Well," says Jensen, getting to his feet and lacing up his pants (which he's pretty sure were forged in the depths of hell), "you know what they say. Rules are made to be broken."
*
The End. Until the Inevitable Comeback/Reunion Tour.
by phaballa
Fandom: CWRPS AU / popslash, um, sort of
Pairings: Jensen/Jared, Jensen/Chris, Jared/Chad
Rating: Adult
Warnings: This fic is on total crack. Like not just a little. Boy band AU. Gender swap. Sex, drugs, and really bad pop music.
Liner Notes: Written for the Cliché/Kink challenge. Thanks to mel_b_angel for looking this over, to danxsunday for encouraging me despite his hatred of pop music, and to everyone who uploaded pictures and recs for me, but especially to madame_d for being the best enabler the world has ever seen. Thanks to God for the existence of existence, and to all the fabulously cracked out popslashers out there, without whom this wouldn't have been possible.
Introduction:
In the beginning, there was light. And after light, God created all the other shit, like the oceans and the animals and darkness and the moon and even Jupiter, but it wasn't until He sparked Maurice Starr with the idea for New Edition in 1980 that the world truly became complete. And thus, the first boy band of the modern age was born, eventually spawning white-washed versions like New Kids on the Block, which then inspired mega-groups like the Backstreet Boys and NSYNC. The story of the boy band itself is much more complicated, but it all sort of boils down to one thing: boys who are pretty and willing to dance around in tight pants and mesh (or sometimes no) shirts sell lots of records, not to mention t-shirts, action figures, lip glosses, and bobble heads. Amen.
Cast:
Project Mayhem: Jensen, Jared, Chad, Tommy, and Mike as an up-and-coming (but mostly just coming) boy band with two hit singles, 'God Must've Sent You (To Be My Girlfriend)' and 'I Want An Unspecified Something in a Very Specific Manner.'
Jeff: their skeezy manager.
Sandy: their hardass publicist.
KANE: Rival alternative rock band that slams the Project in interviews and several songs about how Chad is a pedophile. Consisting of Christian Kane and Steve Carlson, they have several hit songs including 'America High (Chronic Remix)' and 'One More Cap in Yo' Ass.'
The Boring Bits:
None of this is true. Like, by any stretch of the imagination. I made it all up. Written for estrella30's All CW Cliché/Kink Challenge, with the prompts: woke up a woman and truth or dare. But also, in case you hadn't already caught on because you're like, retarded or completely skipping all this intro stuff, this is an AU, in which the boys of the CW are in a boy band. A really pretty boy band. But mostly they're still them, or my version of them anyway. So. Enjoy!
Dirty Pop: The Worst Case Scenario Guide to Surviving A Boy Band
The first rule of being in a boy band is: you do not talk about being in a boy band.
No really. It's not a Fight Club thing, although sometimes Jensen thinks that beating the crap out of each other once in a while would probably work a hell of a lot better, especially when Chad gets into one of his moods where all he'll talk about is how much better he is than the rest of them. That or try to tell them all the disgusting things he does with his girlfriend, and really, no one wants to know about the time he fingered her behind the lockers after cheerleading practice. Jensen could probably actually have gone his entire life without ever hearing the words 'fingered' and 'Chad' in the same sentence, but Jared, that assface, just kept egging him on, all, "KANE keeps talking trash man, I dunno, from the way they tell it she's giving it to everyone BUT you," until Chad let loose with the foulest descriptions of pussy Jensen had ever heard. And Jensen, he likes pussy in general, but that right there might've ruined girls for him for fucking life.
So yeah, talking? Only makes things worse, or really, makes things totally suck when they were fine before, because you always end up hearing something you never wanted to know, especially if it involves Chad even peripherally, because seriously, he will try to make everything in the fucking world about him. The fact is, Chad is a total princess. If they were NSYNC (and thank god they're not, because for serious, Jensen is totally prettier than all five of those posers combined), Chad would be the Britney.
Which is exactly what Jensen tells him. "Chad," he says, "if we were NSYNC, you would totally be the Britney. You're such a fucking princess, man. Do you ever just shut the fuck up?"
"No fucking way am I the Britney. I'm totally the Justin, first off. And second off, fuck you! Why the hell should I be quiet? I carry this band, man. I'm the only one who can actually sing."
"A, I am the Justin, but without the freaky incest tattoo. I'm prettiest, and I'm the best dancer. B, you can't sing either. And C, well okay, so there's no C, but you still need to shut the fuck up. No one cares about your high school confidential, okay?"
"I thought I was the Justin," says Jared, eyes flitting from Jensen to Jared and back again like he's afraid the whole bus might explode if they get too close.
"You're the nice one," Mike says. "You know, the shy one all the girls want to cuddle and take home and feed cookies and shit. I'm the dirty one. Which makes me way cooler, 'cause I'm the one everyone wants to fuck."
"Dude, no one wants to fuck you," says Chad. For once, they all agree, even Mike, who is probably too high to even really follow the conversation. "But also, I'm the dirty one."
"You can't be the dirty one and the Justin," says Tommy. "It's like a rule or something. So wait. If Jensen's the Justin-"
"Jensen isn't the fucking Justin-"
"-and Jared is the nice one, and Mike's the bad boy, and Chad's the Britney-"
"I am not the fucking Britney, oh my god!"
"-then what does that make me? I mean. There's nothing left. Right?"
"Well, Tommy. The thing is…" Jared trails off, trying to find the right words. He really is the nice one. Jensen smirks. Jared can be such a little pussy sometimes, and he gets this look on his face when he's about to say something someone doesn't want to hear, no matter how true it is-all pinched up like he's sucking on a lemon, like his face is trying to decide between telling the truth and being nice, and it's killing him not to be able to do both. Boy's momma must've played a serious number on him, and Jensen thanks the fucking Lord for his parents, who never tried to make him have things like morals and values and shit. Only gets in the way, especially when you're already a boybander.
"You're the filler, dude," Chad says, glaring. Jensen knows that look. It's the 'Chad's about pitch a fit' look, and there's only one thing that can make it go away-booze. Lots and lots.
"The filler?" Tommy looks confused. It's not his fault, Jensen tells himself. Some people are just born extra dumb.
"Yeah. You know, the Jonathan Knight. The guy that's in the band because you need a fifth guy to make dance formations look even and shit. The guy whose name no one can ever remember, like the ugly dude from 98 Degrees." Chad is looking more and more self-satisfied by the minute, which makes Jensen wish that he was either drunk or allowed to beat the crap out of him because seriously? Mocking Tommy is not cool. His parents probably dropped him on the head when he was a kid, or maybe fed him lead or something, but whatever happened, it's not Tommy's fault, you know? He's already the filler. He doesn't need to be harassed by Chad, too, that little fucker, and especially not when it seems to bring Chad so much joy because seriously, anytime Chad is happy, it only spells mayhem for the rest of them.
"Which ugly dude?"
"See? You can't even remember who he is because he's filler."
"Wait," says Jared, "if Jensen's the Justin, and Chad's the Britney, does that mean…"
"NO," Jensen and Chad yell.
"For fucking serious," Jensen says, "let's get drunk. I can't take this shit anymore."
*
The second rule of being in a boy band is: you DO NOT talk about being in a boy band.
Nah, just kidding, that one really is a joke. The second rule of being in a boy band is: always be drinking. Sort of like Glen Gary Glen Ross, only much prettier and less threatening with no gold watches on the line, with like, the bonus of dancing and singing and occasionally dressing up as astronauts-or once, they got to be soldiers and shoot each other with Super Soakers. Personally Jensen thought the whole video was a little gay, but whatever, it stayed in the top ten on TRL for like, thirteen weeks or something, so really that says a lot more about their fans than it does about them, enjoying something that gay for that long. It also explains some of the signs Jensen sees in the audience sometimes with acronyms Jensen pretends not to understand because the resulting weirdness would be too much to handle, and really, he likes to pretend their fans are nice girls who never ever think about them having sex. With each other.
So yeah, always be drinking, and really, maybe that should be the number one rule to surviving a boy band because being drunk (or at least half way there at all times) is as necessary as breathing. It's right up there with sleeping and eating and jacking off and wearing black mesh, because otherwise you'd have to be sober for the shit these guys pull, and Jensen is so not willing to take that chance.
It's not that he hates these guys. The opposite, really. They're like his brothers, only really good-looking, and okay, so sometimes he and Jared are a little less brotherly than maybe normal brothers are, but what's a blowjob between brothers, right? It's not like they're actual brothers, and Jared's not going to get pregnant and pop out some freaky incest baby, because well. First off, he's a man, and second off, it's just blowjobs. Mostly. There was that one time in the silo oats hotel in Akron, when Jared got so excited that everything was round, including the bed, that he ate a bunch of X and practically begged Jensen to fuck him, but seriously, he can't let a brother down, can he? But that's rule number three, we'll get to it. For now, always be drinking.
Which is how they all end up in Mike and Tommy's room one night, plastered out of their fucking minds playing truth or dare like they're a bunch of middle school girls or some shit. Chad's idea, of course, pretty typically, seeing as he is a fucking middle school girl, and Jensen totally takes the part back about not hating. He hates Chad, that's for damn sure, especially when he pulls crap like this, which is basically just a big excuse for him to tell them in even more grisly detail about the many pussies he has loved, all the while being all the fuck over Jared like… like white on something that is already white whose name Jensen can't remember because, damn, he really did just drink that whole bottle of Jack on his lonesome.
"Truth or dare there, Jenny?" Chad smirks and lays his head on Jared's shoulder. Jensen represses the urge to hit him.
"Dude. Do not fucking call me that or I will kick your skinny ass."
"Whatever man. This skinny ass is your meal ticket. Truth or fucking DARE, already?"
"Truth." Because knowing Chad, he'd probably try to force Jensen to do something truly disgusting that would almost certainly involve bodily fluids and end in Jensen vomiting. On the other bed, Mike and Tommy are almost passed out, giggling together like actual twelve-year-olds as Mike pours the last of the mini-rum straight into Tommy's mouth. Jared just smiles at him slow from his spot at the head of the bed, and really, he can't be comfortable with Chad all pressed up against him like that, plus-ew, because Chad? Is disgusting. Jensen is pretty sure the boy doesn't shower. Like, ever, considering the way he smells.
"Of course you choose truth, you little bitch. What are you-scared?"
"Fine. Dare. Fucking punk. What're you gonna make me do? We can't leave the hotel. Booze is fucking gone."
Chad just grins and shifts around on the bed until he's lying with his head in Jared's lap, and really, if anyone deserved to be fucking killed just for existing in the first place, it's Chad. He's not even pretty. He used to be okay, Jensen thinks. There was a time back in the day, when they first got started, before Project Mayhem got really big, when Chad was kind of sort of good-looking, but now, it's like sometime between then and now he got hit by a giant ugly stick. Jensen wonders if it hurt, being turned that ugly that fast.
"You like, know Christian Kane, right? That little fucker who's been talking shit about my girl?"
"Used to. It's been… a long time."
"I dare you to call him and tell him to shut the fuck up about my girl."
"That's the stupidest fucking dare I have ever heard."
"If you want I can go piss in the toilet and dare you to drink it," Chad offers, looking smug and snuggling down even closer to Jared, who stares at both of them unblinking with glassy eyes, looking like he might start drooling at any moment, which would be fine with Jensen as long as Jared managed to aim for Chad's head, because seriously? Something has to be done about Chad's hair. It is decreasing the prettiness of the band by a factor of at least seven. And so okay, maybe those last three shots weren't such a good idea, but Jared needs to learn how to hold his liquor and how will he ever if Jensen doesn't teach him?
"So-what? Just call Chris and be all, 'Hey man, yeah, I haven't talked to you in three years but whatever, Chad Michael Murray wants me to tell you to stop singing songs about his jailbait fiancé, even though everything you're saying is pretty much true'?"
"Fuck off," Chad says, no heat, and that's bad, because it means something if he's not even getting riled up. Chad's shifts around like he's trying to get comfortable or something, and his hand just happens to land on Jared's thigh in the process. Like. High on his thigh, molestation fucking high, and Jared, that drunk little idiot, just lets it happen because Jared's the nice one, would never say no to Chad, who he's known forever. This is what Jared tells Jensen during Chad's many, inevitable tantrums-Me and C go way back, man. He's my BFF, dude, like, forever, and I just can't get in the middle, okay? You understand-only Jensen doesn't, not really, because it's Chad, for fuck's sake, and he's a total cunt all the freaking time.
If Jared weren't such a sweet kid, maybe he'd get that. But then also, maybe he would stop sucking Jensen's dick, too, and that would be less than good. In fact, Jensen's pretty sure it would be a fucking tragedy. Especially for his dick, which really is a thing of beauty and deserves to be sucked at all times. But-first thing's first.
"Fine," Jensen says, fumbling with his cell. "Fine. You want me to call Chris? You fucking asked for it, man. This is all on you."
"What d'you mean?" Chad asks, and now he's all out groping Jared, who's practically passed out, mumbling into his pillow, but Jensen ignores it and flashes Chad a smile, because seriously, boy has no concept of Christian Kane, like, at all. This? Is going to fucking rule the school.
The line rings and rings, and for a minute Jensen almost feels disappointed because of course Chris isn't going to have the same number he did three years ago. Hell, Jensen wouldn't be surprised if he got it changed right after the Battle Royale of 2003, considering the sheer amount of hurled accusations, not to mention figurines and other things that shatter nicely against walls and fireplaces. But then the line clicks open and-
"Well if it isn't Jensen fucking Ackles. Jenny-bean, what the hell are you calling me for, boy?"
He doesn't sound angry. Which is weird, because the last words he and Chris exchanged (and by 'exchanged' Jensen really means 'screamed at each other in near-incomprehensible hysterics', but you know, saying all that is just so many words) were something along the lines of, "Fuck you, you fucking faggot! Go join your little boy band and be a fucking sellout! See if I care when you end up some soulless, plastic has-been on Behind the Music!" Yeah, it hadn't really gone well. Like, at all.
"I'm drunk," Jensen blurts out. Ha. Great. So after three years, his first words to the best friend he ever had in the world are, 'I'm drunk.' Like he'd never call Chris if he were sober. Which, okay, so he wouldn't, but that's not really the point, is it? The point is-well, he can't actually remember the point, but he does remember the bottle of Jack, and he sort of wishes he had some more right now. Maybe with lime, and Jensen wonders briefly if they make Jack with lime, like that coke with lime stuff, and then he’s singing under his breath, You put the lime in the coconut and drink it all down, almost managing to forget that he’s on the phone with Chris of all people, on what has to be the stupidest dare that ever did dare.
"That's pretty fucking obvious, man." Chris’s voice sobers him up a little.
"Uh well. See. Chad. Michael Murray?"
"Yeah, I know who he is, dipshit." Chris still sounds amused. It's fucking weird. Or maybe Jensen is so drunk that he can't tell the difference anymore, except that Chris kinda sounds like he's laughing a little too, so.
"We were playing truth or dare-"
"Hold up a second there, son. You were doing what now?"
"Playing truth or dare. You know, the game where-"
"I know what it is, Jenny. I just didn't realize y'all had actually turned into women overnight, that's all. You know when I wrote that song, I didn't mean for it to really happen, right? But whatever. Continue."
"We didn't-look. It's. We can't leave, right? The hotel. So there's just. The second rule of being in a boy band is: always be drinking."
"That's a good plan, man. Only way to survive that shit. So what's next, after truth or dare? Y'all gonna do light as a feather, stiff as a board? Braid each other's hair and have a pillow fight in your underwear?"
"Fuck you," Jensen mumbles. "Look, I'm supposed to say, Chad wants you to shut up about his girl."
"And tell him to stop writing fucking songs about all the guys she's fucked that aren't me," Chad says, grinning.
"Did'ya get that?"
Chris just laughs. "That was your dare? Fuck, son. Murray has got to be the sorriest-ass darer in existence."
"He. You. You don't. You’re not like, still mad at me?"
Chris sighs. "You're drunk, man. And besides, I figure-being in a boy band is punishment enough. The sheer amount of black mesh and leather alone…" Jensen is silent for a long moment while he processes this. Then:
"You're not wrong."
*
The third rule of being in a boy band is: always back your brother's play.
See the thing is, they have this fucking kick ass awesome bus. It used to be a touring bus or something, one of those super long fuckers that they pile little old ladies into for the trips to Vegas so they can lose their retirements at the slot machines or whatever, but they converted it, ripped out all the seats and put in these leather couches, televisions, captain chairs that spin (the site of many an unfortunate incident involving too much tequila and Jared's inability to hold his liquor while being twirled at a ridiculous rate, and Jensen told Chad it was a bad idea, but did Chad listen? Of course not, that little snot, always thinks he's right and that's what he gets-Jared's vomit all over his shoes). There's a bar in the front, bunks in the middle, and a whole nother section of extremely loungeable couches in the back, along with a bathroom that's fucking luxurious for a bus. It has its own shower. With like, marble counters. For fucking serious.
So really, it's the bus's fault for being so damn amazing, at least this is what Jensen tells himself when Jared gives him that look from underneath his bangs, the one that's all, I'm gonna suck you so hard you won't sit right for a week, and jerks his head toward the back. Because the thing is, doing it on the bus is just a bad idea all around, and Jared, that fucking tease, he knows it. He knows it, he just doesn't care, because he may be the nice one but he's also the one who can get whatever the hell he wants just by making his eyes real big and flashing that 'but don't you love me' smile, that little shit, because Jensen does, he totally does, and Jared does not play fair.
Except that right now what that little shit wants just happens to coincide with what Jensen wants because honestly? He doesn't care how risky it is, if it involves getting his dick sucked (and damn, Jared is a fucking talented guy), there's not really a question of saying no. Rule number three man, gotta back your brother's play, even if said play involves acts of a sexual nature still illegal in thirty-seven states and an approximate fuckton of countries. Or maybe especially in that case, so when Jared makes his way to the back of the bus with that look, licks his lips like he's being subtle or something (and seriously, Jared is about as subtle as a semi t-boning your Miata), Jensen knows there's only one thing he can do.
It's the code, man. Always back your brother's play, and hey, if that means a little blowjob between bandmates, so be it. Jensen is magnanimous. He'll take one for the team, he's a good guy like that.
But what happens next, well, really? That is all the bus's fault. Because the bathroom door is fucked up, in that during Chad's forty-seventh tantrum of the tour, the one where he threatened to leave the band and start a solo career as a rap artist (as opposed to the thirty-third, when he threatened to leave the band to become an actor, and for fuck's sake, if Jensen had to see that face on his television every week, he thinks he'd probably kill himself), Chad stormed into the bathroom and locked himself in. And then Mike thought it would be a good idea to unscrew the hinges (Remember when that hooker locked Tommy in the closet? I swear this'll work, Mike said, and for some reason Jensen listened, possibly because Mike fed him half a bottle of Smirnoff vanilla before the band meeting to keep him calm, but whatever, because rule number three should really be: always back a brother's play, unless it's Mike, and then run for the hills because the fucker is batshit crazy), which just ended up breaking the door jamb completely because-deadbolt.
So actually, when it comes right down to it, it's all Chad's fault, what happens next, and if he weren't such a prissy little bitch, he could've spared himself the traumatic sight of Jensen standing in the shower (because luxurious as the bathroom is, it’s still fucking tiny by normal standards) with his dick as far down Jared's throat as it can possibly go, not that Jared seems to mind really, and Christ, but the boy can suck dick like nobody's business.
To give Chad his due, he doesn't scream the bus down, just stares at them eyes narrowed, and okay, so maybe Jensen smirks just a little bit and tightens his fingers in Jared's hair, and possibly that could be construed as provocation, but whatever, because Chad? Is a total bitchface princess and he deserves this shit, hell yes.
"Are you fucking serious?" is all Chad says before reaching into the shower and spinning the faucet knob. And really, getting soaking wet (and the shower is really fucking cold, damnit) isn't what Jensen wanted out of this whole thing, but Jared doesn't stop, just keeps right on sucking, and licking, and doing that amazing thing he does with his tongue, so in the end, Jensen is still getting his dick sucked and the look on Chad's face is more than worth it.
And then Jared pulls off with an obscene popping sound, which only makes Chad turn even more purple, and says, "We better get you out of those wet clothes," with this dirty fucking grin before going back down, and Chad-he looks like he wants to die or kill something, maybe both, which makes this possibly the best blowjob Jensen has ever had.
Always back a brother's play, man. Especially when it comes to blowjobs.
*
The fourth rule of being in a boy band is: if this is your first time being in a boy band, you must have a controlling, dickwad of a manager who also tries to fuck you every chance he gets.
And like, it's not that Jeff is a bad guy. Jensen thinks that once upon a time he was probably pretty cool, and he's not bad looking, but when you're a failed country singer from Oregon (and seriously, who in Oregon has ever even heard of country, which isn't real music anyway, just lonely old fucks singing about their brokeass bitches and dead trucks) stuck managing a band of guys prettier and more talented than you could ever have dreamed of being even when you were singing 'Friends in Low Places' to your chickens on the farm or whatever, you tend to end up kind of bitter. And perverted, apparently, because Jeff spends most of his time making grabby hands at Jensen when he's not lecturing them. At least, this is Jensen's theory about Jeff, but then again he can't really blame Jeff for wanting a piece of his ass.
It's a very nice ass.
"Okay boys," Jeff says, grinning all smarmy and giving Tommy bedroom eyes even though it's asscrack o'clock in the morning, but hell-Jeff's probably still drunk from the night before. Tommy smiles blankly back and blinks. "It's Seventeen today, the big one, so seriously, no fucking up. I mean it."
"Dude, we're not gonna fuck up, we've done this a zillion times and-"
"Did I say you could talk, Murray? Now shut the fuck up and listen. First of all, you will wear the clothes wardrobe provides for the shoot, and no bitching. That means you, Murray. If I see you in anything involving fur or feathers or fucking purple stripes, you'll be singing back up for Ashley Angel before you can say 'fashion victim.'"
"The fur was pimp, dude. Totally fucking fly."
"Never use those words again. I am totally fucking serious here. And Jared? Your favorite color is blue. Stop saying pink, people will think you're a fag."
"They wouldn't be wrong," Mike points out.
"Tommy, you're saving yourself for marriage."
"Wait-what? I don't want to be the virgin. Why can't Mike be the virgin?"
"No one would ever believe that, don't be fucking stupid. Mike's the dirty one. ("Ha! Told you so!" Mike makes a jack-off gesture at Chad, who just glares.) Chad, you're on an anti-drug kick. Your cousin was a crackwhore or something, traumatic experience, blah blah. And also, you love Jesus. Finding Kenzie made you realize that, I dunno-fuck. Make it up. Souls meeting and shit, you know what to say."
"Um, not really," Chad tries, but Jeff is already moving on.
"Mike, hint at maybe being heartbroken. And you're thinking of maybe raising terriers or buying a motorcycle to get over it."
Mike just takes a really long drink from his mug, and now Jensen knows that isn't coffee, for which he totally commends Mike because this shit? Is totally retarded.
Jeff smiles around at them, blindingly, and turns for the door.
"Uh, what about me?" Jensen asks.
"Yeah, what about Jensen?" Chad wants to know. "Can he suddenly realize that deep inside he's actually been a woman all this time, and he just wants his outside to reflect his inner beauty?"
"Fuck you!"
"You wish," Chad smirks. "Is it a lonely life, being not a girl, not yet a woman?"
"I'm gonna fucking kill you, you fucker!" Jensen yells, and lunges across the aisle at Chad, but Jared wraps an arm around his chest and holds him back while Jeff just rolls his eyes.
"Jensen, look pretty and smile. No one is going to care what you say as long as you're doing it with that mouth."
"What does that even mean?" Jensen yells at Jeff's retreating back.
"Fuck if I know," Chad grins, lounging back on the couch like Jensen hasn't been trying to rip his throat out for the past three minutes. "I can't see why girls would even care, man. Always seemed like you had a cocksucking mouth to me."
*
The fifth rule of being in a boy band is: anything that can happen pretty much will.
Okay, so technically that's Heisenberg's uncertainty principle, not in those exact words obviously, it had something to do with math at one point, but Jensen figures it's pretty much a universal deal. Plus, he has seen Jurassic Park, only about a hundred times, and he remembers the whole chaos theory thing that's really just Michael Crichton trying to pull one over on the masses because really, if Jensen can spot Heisenberg-right. And okay, so maybe Jensen mainly remembers Jeff Goldblum, but the man is fucking hot as hell, so that's not his fault, right? Plus, he turned into a fly in that one movie, so really all things considered, Chad should count himself lucky.
After all, it could be much worse. He could've turned into a fly, or some other nasty insect type, or worse-switched bodies with a member of O-Town. So when you think about it, really, waking up a woman is one of the better things that could've happened in the grand scheme of fucked up shit.
But really, there is no rule that can in any way prepare you for the times when one of your bandmates turns into a woman. And not in that, "I was always a woman inside and now everyone can see it" kind of way, involving like, Hedwig-style surgery and sexy army officers with bags and bags of gummi bears luring you away from some terribly bleak eastern block country. No, we're talking full-on, growing a vagina overnight kind of turning into a girl, and if anyone deserves this shit, it is Chad for sure. Jensen likes to think of it as karma. Karma with a fucking awesome sense of humor.
Chad as a girl looks a lot like Chad as a boy, with longer hair and tits. They're not even good tits, actually, and he mainly just resembles a really ugly, unsuccessful drag queen. Like, the kind that end up in the warehouse district on street corners trying to pick up tourists who don't know where to go to get the high class trade. Only, you know, the bits are real. Or at least, Jensen assumes they are, from the hysterical fit Chad is throwing.
"You know," says Jensen, lounging back on the couch in their suite with a look of complete innocence, "when I called you a dickless wonder, I didn't actually like, mean for you to take it seriously."
Mike laughs and Chad bursts into tears. Again. Jared puts an arm around Chad's shoulders and squeezes, sending Jensen a reproving look all, Give the guy a break, he just grew a vagina, but dude, there's no fucking way Jensen is not going to use this to its maximum mocking extent. Chad is a woman, for fuck's sake. There's not a single thing about this that isn't hilarious.
"Hey," Jared says, "it's gonna be okay. We'll. We'll call Jeff and Sandy, figure out what's going on."
But when Jeff and Sandy arrive at their suite, they just shake their heads and stare at Chad like the freak show he is, and finally Jensen feels vindicated that the rest of the world seems to have noticed what he's known all along.
"This isn't going to work," Sandy says, clicking her tongue and circling around Chad, examining his parts much more closely than Jensen even wants to think about.
Jeff just stares at Chad's tits and says, "It's not even a nice rack. For fuck's sake, Murray. You finally grow a pair and they totally suck? What the hell are we supposed to do with you now?"
"Couldn't he be like, a cousin or something? Like. Um, Chad's identical girl cousin from um, England?"
"Jared, that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Sandy says. Jensen has never loved their publicist more. "Who the fuck would ever believe that?"
"Our fans are thirteen-year-old girls," Mike points out.
"Who would hate any girl who came anywhere near you boys," Jeff says.
"He could be a lesbian," Tommy says. "Maybe we'd like, attract the angry lesbian teenie crowd. Liz Phair is getting kinda old and Ani Difranco is on a break or something."
"But how would we explain Chad just suddenly disappearing?" Jensen asks. "We could always say he's being launched into space. It worked for NSYNC."
"Shut the fuck up and let me think," Sandy says, doing that thing where she waves her hands around in the air like that'll somehow implant solutions into her head via osmosis. "No. Just-no. Chad? Just fucking. Grow some balls, go see the wizard, ask him for your dick back, I don't even care, just fix this. Now."
Chad is pretty upset about the whole turning into a chick thing, not to mention the rather unenthusiastic response from Management, and not even Jared bringing him a whole tub of Chunky Monkey all for him helps. They're supposed to be rehearsing for the show the next day, but it seems pretty pointless with Chad all girl-ified, so instead they all sit around the suite staring at Chad and trying to come up with girl names to call him, for the inevitable time when he'll have to go out in public.
"Chaderella," Tommy suggests, looking completely serious.
"Gross. Not even I would make Chad go by that," says Jensen. "I still vote for Candi. With an 'I'. He looks like a Candi. Or maybe a Chantrelle."
"I met a girl named Chlamydia once," Mike says. "Best blowjob I have ever had."
"Mike, even I think that's disgusting, and I had sex with a Backstreet Boy," Jensen says. "Not Chlamydia. Chandelier? We could call him 'Chand' for short, that's close to 'Chad,' and that way Tommy won't get mixed up."
"Wait-you fucked a Backstreet Boy?" Jared, that cuntface, has the nerve to look offended and slightly disgusted, like he hasn't done worse. "Which one?"
"A lady never tells," Jensen says, smirking. "Oh, sorry Chad."
"I hate you," Chad declares, crossing his arms over his chest and then freaking out all over again because-boobs in the way, and oh right, he has those now.
"Was it AJ?" Jared wants to know. "Please tell me it wasn't Nick Carter."
"Why do you always do that, Jared?"
"Do what?"
"Call him 'Nick Carter,' first and last name, like we know so many other Nicks?"
"Well um. It's a popular name. I know lots of Nicks."
"Name three Nicks that you know."
"Nick, um. Nick. You know. The one married to Jessica. And um-look, I can't think with Chad looking like that, it's distracting," Jared says finally.
Chad himself takes the opportunity to alternate between crying and looking miserable until Jared tries to comfort him again. And then Chad does that thing, that snuggling thing that girls do, where they look up at you all helpless and afraid with big big eyes and they lick their lips? You know, that look, and for a second Jensen thinks Chad might really be serious about being upset, but then he looks over at Jensen and smirks-fucking smirks, like this is the best thing ever and he'll have Jared eating out of his hand (or his something, which-ew) in no time.
"So," Jensen says, eyes narrowed. "So I guess this means you really are the Britney, huh Chad?"
"Oh my god, he totally is!" Mike says with a grin. "Not as hot as Britney, but you know. He's got all the parts now."
"Was it Brian?" Jared wants to know, and he's really just talking to himself now. He really needs to let this go. "Nah, he's like, a Christian or whatever. Howie? It's gotta be Howie. He's tiny, but flaming."
"Oh my Christ, I fucking hate you!" Chad jumps up from the couch, fists clenched like he really wants to hit Jensen except he can't because-teeny little girl. His face turns bright red instead and his boobs sort of jiggle around because he's shaking, he's so pissed, and it's the best thing Jensen has possibly ever seen in his entire life. "Just… fuck you, Ackles!"
"I'm sorry, princess," Jensen says, eyes wide, "but I only do chicks who are at least half as pretty as me."
Mike starts laughing outright, and Tommy, he tries to hide it but as soon as Mike busts up, he's falling out of his chair, and even Jared is snickering behind his hand because really, Chad as a girl shrieking with his weirdly-shaped tits bouncing all over the place-there's no way you can not laugh at that. No fucking way.
Chad's eyes narrow and he takes a deep, stuttering breath. "Fine. Fine, you know what? Fuck all y'all. I'm gonna go finger myself. I hope you die!"
*
The sixth rule of being in a boy band is: fiddle dee dee. Jensen likes to think of it as the Scarlett O'Hara rule of boybandery-because after all, tomorrow is another day. Things might totally suck one day, like Chad getting the solo on Jensen's favorite song even though Jensen would totally do it better, or Jared deciding to swear off dick for a month to see what sex with girls is like (not as good as sex with him, Jensen pointed out, but that argument didn't seem to sway him), or the time Tommy got his head stuck in the railing of the hotel fire escape and they had to call the fire department to get him out. So yeah, there are some seriously sucktastic days, but there's always tomorrow, which is another day, and maybe the sun will come out, and other musical references that Jensen, of course, disclaims all knowledge of because he is a pop star, damnit, not some Broadway pussy.
Which is why it's not really surprising to any of them when Chad is back to normal the next day, dick firmly in place, only now he won't shut up about what it's like for a girl, how hard it is, and if Jensen hears the words "patriarchal industrial complex" one more time, he's going to kill someone. Probably Chad. No, definitely Chad.
"Shut up, man, you were a girl for like, two minutes," Jensen says. "Besides, what the fuck do you know? You spent the entire time alone in your room masturbating."
"And let me tell you, I have a whole new appreciation for the female body. Growing a vagina really teaches you shit. Like, did you know that fingering a girl is almost entirely useless? There's like, zero feeling in the vagina."
"Just a minute, I have to go throw up now," Jensen says, and he really thinks he might for a second, because if there's one image he doesn't need in his head aside from Chad fingering Kenzie behind the lockers, it's Chad fingering himself anywhere, ever.
Chad just gives him this exasperated look, like he's trying to be serious or something but dude, really? The man is discussing all the time he spent as a woman masturbating, and Jensen is supposed to take this seriously?
"Wait-really?" Jared looks mystified. "I mean, okay. There's that clitoris thing, but I thought that was just like, a joke or whatever. It's pretty obvious where the dick goes."
"Jared, Jared, Jared. I feel sorry for any chick you bring home. The vagina is like, dead inside. It's all about the clitoris. And let me tell you, God is totally a woman, because seriously, dude? Like, three-minute orgasms. Over and over again."
"Okay, now I really am going to throw up." Jensen aims for Chad's shoes.
*
The seventh rule of being in a boy band is: never engage the enemy. It's probably the best rule they could ever have thought up, except that it's the one that most often gets broken, mainly because Chad doesn't know when to keep his stupid mouth shut. Or really, Chad doesn't even try, and then he ends up becoming the most universally hated-by-alternarockers-popstar in the history of popstardom, including Michael Jackson, and he's an accused child molester. So like, when other people in the industry hate you more than known pedophiles, you're probably in some serious shit. But Chad fucking loves it, mainly because he's a freak who thrives on discord, and anyway, it's not like he's that far from a pedophile all things considered, and Michael Jackson has always been his idol.
At least Chad doesn't have a tattoo of his mother on his back. Jensen thanks god for small favors.
So Chad, he loves breaking the seventh rule, which is why when Jeff and Sandy announce at their next band meeting that MTV wants them to perform live at the Video Music Awards with KANE, Chad is all over that shit.
"What are we singing? I want to do 'Robot Love Monkeys in Space.' Can we make them dance? And wear like, sparkles and glitter make-up and maybe rhinestone doo-rags?"
"Yeah," says Jensen, "and then maybe Chris will realize that mesh is the new flannel and also, how has he gone his whole life without the obsessive love, tears, and screams of twelve-year-old girls. Then KANE will start merchandising, and before you know it-bobble heads. Lip gloss with Steve's face on it. Action fig-"
"Actually," Sandy says, glaring and pacing in front of the couch. "Chad's sort of right, for once. Not about the glitter, don't be a retard-"
"He's not retarded," Mike says, "Just really, really slow. And deluded."
"And kinda gay," Jared adds.
"Fuck you, I'm totally straight!"
"Okay then," Jared agrees, "stop climbing into my bunk at night and trying to freak me in my sleep."
"Fucking Christ, shut up!" Sandy glares some more, and sometimes Jensen wonders if her face isn't permanently stuck that way. That's what happens when you're an orphan who can only get work in music videos as the cheap-looking girl willing to be greased up and rubbed on. So glaring, it's what she's best at. That, and setting them up on dates with actresses from the WB so people stop saying they're gay. Sometimes it even works. "They do a version of 'God Must've Sent You (To Be My Girlfriend).'"
This, Jensen thinks, is possibly the worst idea they've ever had, including the ill-advised overhauls-and-baseball-caps phase, or the time Tommy thought he'd look better as a blond. Jensen takes a long swig from his nalgene and thanks god for the second rule.
They only do one rehearsal with KANE, the day of the show, because they've all been on tour and anyway, it's not like there's going to be a whole lot of interaction. Project Mayhem will start the song and halfway through, there'll be one of those lameass big surprise reveals ("Anything can happen!" the host will say, and give away a watch or gillion dollars or something, because he's just that cool), and then they'll go into 'America High (Chronic Remix),' during which Project Mayhem will run around the stage like freaks and try to pretend they know what's going on while distancing themselves as much as possible from the drug connotations of the song, of course.
At least, that's what happens in rehearsal. It's really weird seeing Chris like, in person and not yelling or sneering or calling him names. Steve is Steve-cool, calm, totally laid back. He grins at them and seems totally amused by the whole thing, but Chris, it's like he's just not even there. He doesn't look at Jensen once, and like okay. So Jensen thought he was over it. It's been years since the fight, years since he walked out on KANE to join Project Mayhem, and the other night with the phone call and the dare, Chris seemed like. Like maybe he was over it too, and everything would be okay now.
Except clearly Chris isn't over it, because he doesn't look at Jensen the whole frigging rehearsal. And it's not like he's angry or pissed off or whatever, because when Chad joins in on their song and starts like, doing trills and shit, Chris just rolls his eyes and doesn't say a fucking word, which is like, the opposite of Chris.
Fifteen minutes before show time, and Jensen really hates whoever decided that boybanders should always have to dress like drag queens on crack. The wardrobe people all got together and apparently decided that today was the day to make Jensen look like a complete ass, which is how he ends up wearing what appears to be a coat made out of skinned poodle and the most atrocious leather pants he's ever seen, and that's saying something. Acid green is really not his color. This is what Jensen is thinking to himself, standing backstage stretching and trying not to throw up, when someone grabs his hips from behind and slides against him.
Jared, he thinks, and thank god, because this whole 'trying out girls' phase is getting really, really old. Jensen hasn't had a decent blowjob in weeks, and really, someone needs to teach the young teenies of America how to suck proper dick. It's shameful how terrible some of them are at it, like, a national travesty or something, and seriously, if anyone tries to tell you that there's no such thing as a bad blowjob, don't believe them. Braces are killer.
"Nice pants, wanna fuck?" A voice in his ear, low and gritty and laughing and so not Jared. In fact, he's probably the farthest thing possible from Jared because he's Chris, and he's pulling Jensen through a side door and into the emergency exit stairwell, turning him around and shoving his back against the wall.
"What?" Jensen says, because clearly he is a slow idiot who doesn't understand a come on when it's licking its lips in his face.
"Shut up," Chris says, and shoves his hand down the front of Jensen's pants. "I can't do this if you talk."
Jensen grunts instead, because he really doesn't want Chris to stop like, at all, because seriously? Hand. In his pants. Touching his dick, and Jensen can feel the calluses on Chris's fingers because, yeah, right, boys who play guitar are fucking sexy and they have rough hands, which is something Jensen hasn't really understood the attraction of before. Jared plays the accordion but that's so fucking for from the same thing it's like, like some place that's really far away that Jensen can't think of right now because Chris takes the opportunity to shove Jensen's pants down on his hips so he can jerk him off for real, and it's possibly the best thing Jensen's ever felt. Even better than Jared sucking him off, because it's Chris, because-yes.
"Yeah," Jensen gasps, and Chris makes a low sound in his throat and then they're kissing, and damn, Chris is a good kisser. He kisses hard and fast and rough, and even if Jensen thinks he's probably only doing it to keep Jensen quiet, it's still pretty fucking awesome, especially when his fingers tighten around Jensen's dick and his thumb swipes across the head just so, which makes Jensen bite at Chris's lips and thrust hard into Chris's hand. When he comes it's like a fucking train wreck, fast and shuddering and he makes this high-pitched whine in his throat that Chris laughs at before shoving Jensen down to his knees.
It doesn't even occur to Jensen to think that maybe, blowing his former best friend who calls him a cocksucking poser faggot on national television might be a little strange (and sort of true) until Chad walks through the door and catches him at it. Not that Jensen stops (like he could, with Chris's fingers in his hair, and he's pretty much just fucking Jensen's mouth at this point, which is actually sort of awesome, like the lazy man's blowjob, and all Jensen has to do is watch his teeth and try not to get come on his face), because-right, that's not going to happen, but he does realize how this must look. Well, it probably looks like he's sucking Chris's dick, and actually, Chad doesn't seem all that surprised, just rolls his eyes and says, "Are you fucking kidding me? How you gonna sing with a throat full of semen?"
That's actually a good point, possibly the first Chad has ever made, but then Chris's fingers tighten in his hair and he thrusts hard, right down Jensen's throat, which sets off a chain reaction of gagging and drooling and all the other really non-pretty or sexy things involved in sucking dick, but Chris doesn't seem to notice Jensen's flailing because he's coming with a long, low, "Fuuuuuck" that might possibly be the sexiest thing Jensen has ever heard in the history of people having eardrums.
"Dude," says Chad, crossing his arms over his chest and raising one eyebrow, "you know this is totally against the rules, right?"
Jensen wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and grins. He's feeling strangely euphoric, possibly because he just did sex things with his best friend ever and maybe, just maybe, Chris doesn't hate him if he's willing to let Jensen blow him, but also because the hair people apparently hate Chad as much as the wardrobe people hate Jensen. Chad's hair (or stubble, whatever) is pink and orange striped. He looks like a skunk on acid. It's pretty much the awesomest thing in existence.
"Well," says Jensen, getting to his feet and lacing up his pants (which he's pretty sure were forged in the depths of hell), "you know what they say. Rules are made to be broken."
*
The End. Until the Inevitable Comeback/Reunion Tour.