RPS: He's Not Kinky, He's Your Governor (Jensen/Jared, AU)
I would just like to point out that this is all probably someone else's fault. I am SO not the crazy one.
He's Not Kinky, He's Your Governor
(the 'what if they were just normal guys?' AU)
Featuring: Jensen Ackles as the sluttiest, bitchiest dishwasher ever; Jared Padalecki as an earnest yet emotionally stunted political activist; Michael Rosenbaum as a balloon twister extraordinaire; Tom Welling as an aspiring porn star/fluffer; and Chad Michael Murray as Himself.
Rating: Adult
Pairings: Jensen/Jared, and some randoms, because they are slutty
Disclaimer: No libel is intended, etc.
Comments: So officially, this is for wendy, who got very excited when I mentioned the idea to her and then came up with all this awesome stuff for the fic. Plus, her birthday is next week! WOOO!! But I also want to thank annasuede, moosesal, and mikhale for the hand holding, and notthequiettype for beta-ing this beast of a fic. Y'all are awesome.
Warning: In case you hadn't noticed, this is an AU. It's an AU in which none of the CW boys or their associates are actors, or ever were. They're not even famous. They're not even, say, cowboys or Regency Londoners or, um, boy band members. They're just normal guys, doing normal things, and accidentally having mind-blowing drunken sex. With each other.
Jared loves his job, but if there's one thing it makes him realize, it's that people, even ones who look really good on paper, can be absolute shits. Take the guy he's talking to right now for example. According to the computer, last year Mr. Owens gave two hundred bucks to the HRC, but this year he's decided that the best way to help the gay rights movement is to tell Jared, in excruciating detail, all of the ways in which the HRC has failed and is ruining gay culture. Because, you know, that's really going to help finance new initiatives.
"And what's with all this crap about gay marriage? Gays don't want to get married! We don't need to be like THEM, for fuck's sake! The whole point is that we're not like them, we're like, better, actually, and they can go fuck themselves if they think they can force us to be white picket fence suburbanite schmucks with two point five kids and an Escalade in the driveway, and besides which-"
"Actually, sir, the HRC is working on hate crimes legislation right now, and-"
"Don't interrupt me, damnit! You fucking solicitors think that you can just call me up and get me to give you money for nothing? Where are you right now, India? Fucking outsourcing is ruining this country-"
"I'm in Austin, Texas, actually. So you're saying no, I take it? And would you like me to take you off our membership list?"
"Yes, take me off the fucking list! That's another thing! I'm sick of you people sending me pamphlets and pledge packs all the time. Haven't you ever heard of conservation? Don't you know we have an energy crisis on our hands and every-"
"Okay sir, I'm taking you off the list. Have a great day!"
Jared presses the 'end call' button and tugs off his headset, only just barely restraining himself from throwing it against the wall. Technically, he probably shouldn't have ended the call so abruptly, but no one's going to give him shit for not taking it. People just really suck sometimes, and it's moments like this, when he realizes that even people who share his beliefs and ideals can be total cunts, that make him wish he didn't care quite so much. It'd make the world a hell of a lot easier to take.
At the computer next to him, Sandy is getting the credit card information from someone, smiling smugly and saying shit like, "The HRC really appreciates your support, ma'am. It's only through people like you that we can ever hope to effect change in the world!" Fucking Sandy. People are completely unwilling to be rude to her over the phone because she sounds like a twelve-year-old girl. "I just don't get it," she said to Jared one day after some jerk-off accused him of personally being responsible for the downfall of the Democratic Party. "People are always so nice to me, even when they turn me down. You must be doing it wrong."
Sometimes Jared hates Sandy, but he knows that it's not really her fault people are jerks and she's good at her job. But she doesn't have to be so fucking perky about it all the time, either. At least she's not bitter about their breakup. In fact, judging from the sheer number of guys she's tried to hook Jared up with in the last month alone, she's much more excited to have a fag for an ex-boyfriend than she was to have a boyfriend to begin with.
"It's pretty fucking weird," was Jensen's opinion on the whole situation. "But kind of awesome, too. I wish my ex would hook me up with some hot guys. And damn if Sandy doesn't know a LOT of hot guys."
"Jensen, your ex moved to L.A. to do porn. I don't think you'd actually want to meet any of the guys she knows."
"Yeah, you've got a point there. Still…"
Jared thinks that Jensen's real problem doesn't have anything to do with meeting guys, he just always seems to fall for the ones that treat him like crap and never call him the next day. But it's not like Jensen's some sort of catch or whatever, despite what he says about his oral sex skills. The guy works as a dishwasher at Magnolia, and on the few occasions when someone calls in sick and they're so desperate that they let him wait tables, Jensen inevitably drops at least three trays a night and ends up owing the restaurant more than he actually gets paid. He dropped out of UT before he finished his first year, thinking he was going to move to LA and become some sort of big shot soap actor, but he was back six months later, and he'd been here ever since. Jensen is a loser, but he's a good friend, plus sometimes he gets to bring home the out of date beer from the restaurant, so it's worth it to keep him around.
"Hey," Jeff says, crouching down beside Jared's station and letting his hand rest on Jared's shoulder. Jared swallows and fiddles with his headset, trying to look all casual and silently cursing Sandy, who's smirking knowingly at him with her eyes fixed on Jeff's hand. Jared maybe has a small crush on their supervisor, but like, okay. See, it's Jeff, who is amazing and perfect and could probably get a ninety-year-old Republican fascist homophobe to donate money to the HRC by the power of his voice alone, so it's kind of understandable. Everyone has a crush on Jeff, or at least in Jared's mind, everyone should.
Jeff's fingers tighten on Jared's shoulder and he has to bite his lip to keep from moaning a little, thinking about where else he'd like those fingers. "That was a tough call," Jeff says. "We're on break soon, and then I'm switching you over to the DNC, okay?"
"Yeah," Jared says faintly, nods and stares at his computer screen because if he looks Jeff in the eyes, he will probably melt. And it's not just that Jeff's good looking and has the sexiest voice on the planet. It's more than that. Jeff like, really cares about shit. He's passionate. When Jeff gives the updates at the beginning of the shifts, Jared thinks he might come just from the excitement in Jeff's voice as he details the number of seats they need to win to take back congress. Jared thinks he'd sound the same way in bed. Unfortunately, Jeff is very, very straight.
Sandy is fucking him, so she should know. That bitch.
He gets rolled over to the DNC campaign during the second half of the shift and thankfully, he totally kills it, despite having to explain to half the people he calls (who, by the way, are already members of the DNC and should really know better) what the DNC actually is. It helps that the torture bill went through and then what's his name, the Republican pedophile guy, got caught soliciting teenaged boys employed as pages by the government. Those kinds of things tend to piss people off, and if there's one thing Jared is good at, it's agreeing with angry democrats that the Bush Administration sucks beyond measure. This right here, he thinks as he vehemently agrees with his last call of the day, a man who sounds like he's about a hundred and talks about how much he misses FDR and there just aren't politicians like that around anymore ("The paralyzed kind that manage to cheat on their wives anyway and deny refuge to thousands of Jews during the holocaust?" Jared wants to say, but refrains, because hey, the guy is donating a hundred bucks)-this is why he loves his job. Because sometimes, when he's actually raising money and convincing people of shit, he feels like maybe he's making a difference.
He stops at Magnolia on his way home, chaining his bike up to the outside railing even though Cathy has yelled at him about a thousand times not to and heading straight for the kitchen. No one stops him even though Jared hasn't worked here for over a year. It's the six o'clock dinner rush and they're all too busy running and fetching to care about him being where he's not supposed to. He finds Jensen in the back, staring miserably at a large pile of pots and pans that Cathy insists must be washed by hand, always, or rust will form and the world as they know it will end in a blaze of red metallic flakes.
"Hey," Jared says, hopping up on the counter as Jensen continues to stare morosely, ignoring the dirty looks of the line cooks, who probably want the pans back so they can, you know, cook and things. Jensen ignores them.
"Hey," Jensen says. "Oh, it's you. Hang on, I'll take my break." He sort of waves at one of the cooks and holds up his pack of cigarettes as he leads Jared out the back door to the alley. The cook tries to say something-"But you just took a break, you fucker!"-but Jensen just ignores him, letting the door slam behind them as he digs in his pocket for his lighter.
"So what's going on tonight?" Jensen asks, sucking happily on the end of his cigarette. Jensen once told Jared that smoking was better than sex, and watching Jensen take a drag, Jared thinks that maybe Jensen's on to something, because he looks completely blissed out. That, or Jensen just has never had good sex.
"Mike and Tommy are having a thing. They wanted to know if you could steal some beer or something. I mean, they're getting a keg, but it's gonna be shitty, so you know."
"Yeah, maybe." Jensen exhales, scratches at the scruff on his face. "Sandy coming? Is she bringing any guys for you this time?"
"I'm kind of hoping she's giving up on that. She has some fucked up taste in gay guys."
"She chose you," Jensen points out.
"Shut up. I was an exception."
"Whatever. Is that fucker still at our place?"
"He has a name, you know."
"Yeah, I know, I just choose not to use it. Is he still there?"
"Yeah. He's trying to get a job, I swear. It's just hard, you know, starting out and shit."
"Couldn't you get him a job at your place?"
"Sure, if I wanted to get myself fired. Chad isn't the kind of guy you introduce to anyone you want thinking you're like, responsible and shit."
"He smells," Jensen whines. "And he leaves his crap all over the apartment, and he drinks all my soda. That I need to like, function on a basic human level. He's an ass."
"He's my best friend, dude."
"I thought I was your best friend."
"Nah, you're just my prettiest. Okay man, I gotta get back to the apartment before Chad destroys anything else. See you later?"
Jensen tosses his cigarette to the pavement and grinds it under his heel. "I'm off at ten, so yeah. See you then."
*
Jared and Jensen have never hooked up, and Jensen's not entirely sure why. They're both attractive (and, well, maybe he's a little bit more attractive than Jared, but even so) and as gay as Clay Aiken at a Cher concert. They live together and get drunk together often enough that really, something should've happened by now just from like, the cosmic karmic destiny of it all, but apparently he and Jared defy all laws of god and gay men everywhere, because they haven't even so much as made out.
By the time Jensen leaves the restaurant, it’s full dark and he’s been yelled at three times for taking too many smoke breaks/being generally lazy/having a bad attitude. To which Jensen just stared at Cathy silently, shrugged, and then made catty comments about lesbians who need a good fucking when she walked away.
Jensen’s a bitch. He likes it that way.
His bike is chained up in the back where he left it, not that anyone would bother to steal something he pieced together from parts he found in dumpsters. The ride home is long and he has to cross the highway, which normally he hates, but it gives him time to think, plus all the exercise means he gets to eat an extra cookie, as long as Chad, that fucking no good moocher jerk off, hasn’t already eaten them all. Not that Jensen really has a lot on his mind. He could be doing something more worthwhile with his life. He could be like, finish up his degree (then again, what you're supposed to do with a degree in English literature, he has no fucking clue), or have a real job, or even try dating someone for longer than, um, one night at a time. But the thing about Jensen is, he doesn't want to.
He likes this. Working at the restaurant, meaningless busy work, hanging out with his friends, smoking too much, clubbing when he has the cash and Jared's not being so intolerably whiney that Jensen can't stand to be around him long enough to get there. He likes the fact that he can binge drink massive amounts of whatever's the most alcoholic thing they have in the kitchen and still be able to function on a level high enough to do his job the next day. Okay so, maybe 'like' is too strong of a word, but he's pretty content, anyway, and aside from maybe wishing he had more money to spend clubbing (Jensen really likes 6th Street, especially on Saturdays when the road is blocked off and all the frat boys come out, because really, who cares if they won't fuck him, it's just nice to watch, and sometimes, if he's really lucky, he can convince one of them to let him blow them), he feels pretty good about his life.
So, he's not Jared. He's not trying to like, save the world or even just the dolphins. He doesn't care about gay rights as long as Alysium still has that super secret backroom that everyone knows about, and he couldn't name anyone involved in a political race, much less who the good people to vote for are, not that he'll be voting, because really, he doesn't believe in it. Voting is for chumps who think their opinion matters, and as far as Jensen's concerned, it really really doesn't, especially not in Texas. So yeah, he's about as far from Jared as possible, but also, he likes it that way. He's young and ridiculously good-looking. The last thing he needs is to be all worried about the state of the world and shit when he can't even do anything to change it.
But all this is way too deep to be thinking about when it's ninety billion degrees outside at ten at night and he's trying to get a case of Czech beer home on the back of his bike. He really hopes the cops don't stop him for like, illegal trafficking of stolen contraband or something, because that would probably be bad, and Cathy might be pissed off enough this time to fire him for real. Then he'd have to find another job, and he'd probably have to stop complaining about Chad crashing on their couch, which, really, is one of the few joys Jensen gets for free these days. It almost makes up for the fact that Chad is there, and horrible, and smells.
Jensen makes sure the beer is still secure while he waits for the light at the highway to change, trying really hard not to notice the guy in the gigantic Ford 350 idling next to him. The man is wearing the biggest cowboy hat Jensen has ever seen. Inside his truck. At night. He's also staring at Jensen, and sneering, and in the darkness Jensen can't tell if it's a "hop in my cab and suck me" sneer, or a "you're a disgusting fagot, get out of my state" sneer. Not for the first time, Jensen curses the gays for deciding that the cowboy look is trendy. It makes things so much more confusing, for serious, although he suspects that if he didn't live in Texas, telling the difference between a good ol' boy and a cocksucker wouldn't be quite so difficult. Fucking Brokeback Mountain, ruined his gaydar for life, and how the hell is he supposed to get his dick sucked by randoms passing in their trucks when, you know, they might pull their handgun on him instead?
Jensen tries not to notice the bumper sticker on the back of the man's truck as he floors it through the light the second it changes. Texas is bigger than France. Well, he's not wrong, Jensen thinks, but really, the world would probably be a lot better off if it wasn't.
Jensen walks through the front door of his apartment and immediately wishes he hadn't. No, not just that-he wishes he were somewhere else completely, like maybe the moon, or possibly dead. Because Chad is there, wearing some sort of disgusting, never-been-washed trucker hat and eating his way through Jensen's cookies while drinking Jensen's soda, sitting on Jensen's couch watching Jensen's television. And it's not like Chad even likes diet, but he drinks it because he knows it pisses Jensen off, and besides which, he's just a jerk that way.
"You're still here?" Jensen wishes he didn't sound quite so miserable about it. Chad's like some kind of horrific predator. A tiger. No, something really mean, like those freak show jungle animals that have like, tusks AND gigantic teeth and spikes in their faces and spit poison, but prefer to scavenge off the dead because they're inherently lazy and don't want to go through the actual work of killing. Yeah, that's exactly what Chad's like, and showing signs of weakness only makes him worse. He's pretty terrible already. "Got a job yet?"
"Got a life yet?" Chad says while chewing his (by which he means 'Jensen's') cookie.
"Dude, you know what? You can go fuck yourself."
"Awesome," Chad says, and gets up from the couch. "I'm just gonna go ahead and use your bathroom. I promise I'll try really hard not to get jizz on the toilet seat again."
"I hate you," Jensen says, a little desperately, and Chad laughs. Jensen thinks he sounds exactly like a hyena. A really evil one that can't aim its own dick.
"I know, baby. And I'm all torn up about it, too."
*
"Your best friend is an asshole. I hate him."
This is how Jensen greets Jared when he walks through the front door with what appears to be a lifetime supply of jalapeno-flavored Doritos in individual-sized bags. He tosses the box onto the couch and frowns down at Jensen.
"Your best friend is an asshole too, but I put up with him."
"My best friend doesn't live with us and drink all your beer. And then jerk off in your bathroom."
"Hey, if you don't want me to jerk off, stop telling me to fuck myself," Chad says, emerging from the bathroom. He's still buttoning his jeans. Jared just laughs. He knows Jensen can't stand him, but seriously? This shit is comedy gold. Plus, Chad probably didn't actually jerk off. Probably. On the other hand, it is Chad, and he does like to masturbate more than even the average guy, so it's possible he really did.
"So are we partying tonight, or what?" As much as Jared loves this argument usually, right now he'd so much rather be drunk and playing video games at Mike and Tommy's place, possibly while Sandy brings around a parade of hot gay boys for him to meet.
Sandy is the best ex-girlfriend ever. It's almost enough to make up for her fucking their boss and caring more about the Humane Society than she does about the DCCC. "I love animals," she just says with a shrug when he tries to argue with her about it. "They're just nicer than people."
"I brought beer," Jensen says, still glaring at Chad, arms cross over his chest. "It's Czech, and Chad can't have any, and also, what the fuck are those chips?"
Jared shrugs and picks up a bag to read the packaging. Wow, who knew that it took that many cancer-causing chemicals to produce chips that taste like jalapenos? Jared's not sure why they bothered at all, honestly, but, "They were free. Texadelphia was just gonna throw them out, but I convinced the guy to give them to me instead."
"Okay, you do realize that means you were standing in the alley behind the restaurant, waiting for the trash, right?" Jensen looks both appalled and fascinated. He's never really understood the whole dumpster diving thing unless it has to do with bike parts, which isn't comforting so much as really annoying, because now they have at least three bikes' worth of parts laying around the apartment, which is small enough to begin with. At least when Jared goes diving, he brings back useful shit, like jalapeno Doritos or day old bread or if he's really lucky, the leftover bagels from Central Market. Jensen can be kind of useless, though.
"These are disgusting," Chad says, making a face as he chews up a chip. For a minute, he looks like he might puke, and then he eats another one. "Seriously, they're like, totally gross." He keeps eating them anyway.
"They were free," Jared says. "And Tommy will eat anything, so."
*
Tommy really will eat anything, including the ejaculate of many strangers for very little pay, but he won't go near the jalapeno Doritos.
"Hell to the fucking no, dude," he says when Jared walks into their apartment with an armful of the snack bags. "Those things are disgusting. I'm not putting them in my mouth."
Jared refrains (quite manfully, he thinks) from commenting on the ridiculousness of that statement. He thinks that when your main goal in life is to become a gay porn star, you really shouldn't be that picky about what you put in your mouth, especially when you're already getting part-time work as a fluffer (and dude, some of those guys are totally gross, especially the ones that do straight porn-like, hairy and beer guts and everything) and the rest of your time is spent go-go dancing and attending "private parties." But hey, Jared's open minded about these things. Sex workers have rights too, and really, they should have more rights, like. Like unions. Although actual real porn actors probably do have unions, but somehow Jared doubts the fluffers are included in that. Someday, when he's in Congress, Jared will change that. Fluffers deserve rights too, damnit. He's totally going to get on that.
They start drinking and Chad insists on playing Grand Theft Auto, even though it's a one-person game, which pretty much defeats the purpose of playing video games at a party, but, "Dude, I like to beat the hookers. Just let me find the bat, and then I swear we can play Halo." Tommy winces as Chad's character goes to town on some innocent prostitute's head. Poor Tommy, Jared thinks. He's a big guy, but really, inside? He's small. Tiny, even. He's a small guy. And being a sex worker is hard, probably, and did he mention they should have union?
"Dude," says Jensen, grinning and shifting to press his knee against Jared's. They're sitting close because Mike and Tommy only have the one couch, and it's small, and yeah. "Do you realize you just said all that out loud?"
Jared laughs. He's drunk, he thinks. Maybe. Definitely. Czech beer is strong, apparently. And then Jeff and Sandy and Kristin and the new guy from TeleFund-Jason or Jack or Jim, J-something-show up, and Jeff brings pot, and Sandy brings three really hot gay boys, so they all end up smoking up under the tree in the courtyard. Jared can see his apartment from here, across the way, with Jensen's fucked up mutt of a bike chained up to the stair railing like someone might actually want to take it. Jeff passes him the pipe (Mmmm, Jeff, he thinks) and he takes a hit, letting the smoke fill his throat, hot and dry and he thinks he can maybe feel it soaking into his lungs, which is probably not a good thing, because he likes his lungs, but being high is nice too, with Jeff's voice all rumbly in his ear. He leans back, lets the grass catch him, cool and green against his skin, and he thinks, green, that's not something you feel because it's a color or something, but Jared can, and green feels like cool and slightly damp and the stars get brighter and brighter as he blinks up at the sky.
"Hey," says Jensen, and he's lying next to Jared, the backs of their hands brushing. "Hey," he says again, and rolls over until he's pressing against Jared's side, one leg thrown over Jared's, which is nice, actually, and warm. The grass feels like waves beneath him, like they're rolling, waves and the ocean and Jared can almost hear them crashing along the beach, (the waves, not him and Jensen, because that would be weird and probably hurt a lot) but it's just Jeff and Sandy and the three hot boys talking and laughing and smoking. Jared wraps his arms around Jensen, pulls him close. Anchor, he thinks, and warm. Comfort. Jensen's his friend.
"You're my friend," he tells Jensen.
"I know," Jensen agrees, and then they're kissing.
*
Jensen doesn't know where everyone else went or when they left, but what he does know is that Jared is kissing him, outside in the courtyard and it should be stupid and cliché except that it's Jared, and he can get away with that shit because he's too big to get really pissed at and he used to be straight, so he can pull off that romantic shit.
Plus, he's a really good kisser.
Jared kisses lazy, like he has all the time in the world, all slow thrusts with his tongue and long sighs, and he covers Jensen like a blanket, which really, not many people could do and for once, Jensen is really happy that Jared is a freaking giant.
"Come on," Jensen says, pushing up against Jared. "We got. Let's go home. Come on."
In the end it's Jared who gets them up the stairs and into their apartment, because whoa, Jensen is really, really high. Like, the ground spinning and swirling and the air all fuzzy high. So not just a little high, more like all the way high. But then Jared has him pressed against the door, their hips pressed together and his lips hot against Jensen's throat, and really, Jensen thinks that Jared's dick pressing hard into Jensen's thigh is possibly the best thing ever in the history of ever. Until Jared drops to his knees and yanks open Jensen's pants, and then Jensen can't think anything at all because Jared. Jared is sucking him. His dick is in Jared's mouth, and it's not something Jensen ever thought was possible or going to happen in a million zillion years, but it totally is, and it's. It's awesome, is all he can think, the feel of Jared's hair (too long, needs a trim, but so good for pulling) slipping between his fingers, Jared's lips sliding down, all stretched and red and wet. Jared's throat fluttering around his dick when he thrusts, sort of rudely, but it's not his fault because Jared.
Jared. Jared sucks dick like. Like a really awesome sucking thing. Something that sucks really good. Like that vacuum cleaner, the one that never loses suction even though the guy's accent in the commercial makes you thing that maybe-oh. Maybe Jared should do that again, with his tongue. Jared's tongue is awesome too, with the licking and then the sucking, and he's moaning, or maybe that's Jensen, but he wants. He wants.
Jared pulls off, jacks him slow, looking up at Jensen through his eyelashes like he's shy or something, and his mouth. So red and Jensen wants to be kissing him again, or else fucking it, but his hand is good too, tight and slow and hot.
"You gonna come?" Jared says, and really, the sound of Jared saying that-Jared, who only ever talks about protest marches and consciousness raising and genocide and human rights violations-it's too much.
"Fuck," is all Jensen can get out, and then Jared's mouth is back on him and he's coming just like that, fast and hard down Jared's throat, hips straining against the pressure of Jared's palms, and he's going to have bruises tomorrow for sure. For sure. He likes it.
Jensen's not sure how they end up in his bed, probably Jared carried him there after pretty much sucking the life out of him, but there they are. Definitely in his bed, and damn, but Jared fingerfucking him is possibly the best thing he's ever felt, ever. He seems to think that a lot about Jared, and really. Really, they should've done this so long ago, because Jared has really long fingers and he says things like, "Yeah, just like. Fuck yourself. Yeah, like that," which is really really hot. And okay, maybe Jensen's being sort of slutty, but his hips sort of have a mind of their own and he's not sure his dick ever got soft, because this feels like. Like he's going to maybe die if Jared doesn't get his dick in him now, which is what he says, breathless, when Jared pulls his fingers out and rolls Jensen onto his back.
And wow, Jensen's a lot bendier than he normally is, which is just another reason that pot is totally the awesomest thing that ever did awesome, and Jared. God, he feels like. Perfect. Hot and slick and hard as he pushes in, slow like his kisses, eyes glazed over and biting his bottom lip like he's trying real hard not to just fuck into Jensen fast and rough.
"Come on," Jensen says. "You can-yeah," when Jared's hips push forward hard, all at once, and he's in, in. Jensen never gets tired of this, the stretch and hot spark of pleasure, so hot it almost hurts, and then they're kissing again, Jared's licking into his mouth and moaning, and yes. All the way yes.
"You're so. So," Jared says, and Jensen doesn't know what that means, but it sounds. It sounds good.
*
Except that when Jensen wakes up, Jared is gone, and then proceeds to spend the next week avoiding Jensen as much as possible and pretending like the whole drunken high sex of awesomeness never happened. And Chad, that little shit, seems to know exactly what's going on, because he spends all of his time smirking knowingly at Jensen and being more annoying than usual.
Finally, after a week of the dancing-around-shit game, Jensen bikes down the street to the TeleFund call center, because really, the best way to press the issue is to go where Jared can't avoid him or run away. Jensen already tried the staying up waiting game, but he ended up falling asleep in Jared's bed instead. Jared never came in. Jensen's been trying not to think about what that means.
Because the truth is, he likes Jared. Maybe more than likes Jared. They're friends, and they get along great, and the sex was fucking fantastic, and Jensen wants more. He maybe wants a boyfriend, which is a big first for him, but if he's going to make himself stick to fucking just one guy, Jared's the only one he can think of that would be worth it. Aside from Brad Pitt, obviously, or maybe Justin Timberlake, but only when he's dancing. So yeah. Here it is, all on the line, and Jensen thinks this is it, probably, except that Jared's being a total dick about the whole thing, and Jensen, who's like the master of the awkward morning after, is even starting to feel a little weirded out by the whole thing.
"Hey," Jensen says, lounging in the doorway to the office Jeff shares with his assistant director, an extremely perky lesbian with a mohawk who never fails to make Jensen want to stab things. Thank god she's not there.
Jeff looks up from his paperwork and smiles wide when he sees Jensen. "Hey. What're you doing here? Finally decided to do something worthwhile with your life? I got openings."
"Thanks, but no. I'm perfectly happy being a useless drone. Just looking for Jared."
Jeff frowns. "He's making calls, I think he's at station eleven. But uh, he's not even scheduled now."
Jensen frowns. "Okay. That's weird. So he's just fundraising for free or something?"
Jeff shrugs. "Yeah, he just. He's been here a lot lately. And we need it, so. Did you. Did something happen? Because Jared's dedicated, but man, this is way above and beyond the necessary."
Jensen sighs and resists the urge to run his fingers through his hair, because that'll just mess it up and he spent a good twenty minutes getting it gelled just right this morning. "I-station eleven? I'm just gonna go find him."
Jared's on a call, so Jensen just sits down at the empty station next to him and waits. Jared doesn't even notice him, or he pretends not to, anyway, but Jensen thinks it's probably the first, because when Jensen's talking politics, he gets really excited and intense.
"Well, sure. I mean, yeah, the democrats aren't stepping up as much as any of us would like, I think. But it's hard to get things done when you don't have the majority, and guys like John McCain are stabbing you in the back." He pauses for a while, frowning, leaning back in his chair and typing idly. He's reading Andrew Sullivan's website, whoever the hell that is.
"I understand, sir," Jared says finally. "We're all a little disillusioned. But in the end, it's all politics, right? And at least with democrats in charge, we know that some of the things we care about will be protected. Like, the FMA would never have gotten to the floor on the Democrats' watch. Abortion, stem cell research, the war in Iraq. I mean, think about North Korea, and how that's being handled and-" He listens for a minute, grins. That smile makes Jensen wants to kiss him. Like, a lot. Jensen waits impatiently. He hates waiting, but it looks like Jared's about to raise some money, so. Waiting sucks, he thinks as Jared closes the deal, haggles over sending a pledge packet versus taking a credit card payment. Really really sucks.
"Thank you, sir," Jared says finally. "The election's only two months away, and every little bit helps." He hangs up. Jensen clears his throat pointedly.
"Hey," Jared says, taking off his headset and looking like he really wants to run away and be anywhere that is not near Jensen.
"We need to talk," Jensen says. "Why are you avoiding me? I mean, seriously. The sex was good, right? I'm not just like, imagining that. So what's the deal?"
"Can we not do this here?"
"Let's go outside."
"I'm working, Jensen. I can't just leave."
"Jeff says you're not on the clock, so I think you can."
"Dude, this is important, okay?" He rubs the bridge of his nose and doesn't look at Jensen. "Look, Jen. I'm sorry. I think. I know what you thought, but it's not going to happen. We were just wasted, man."
"We should try again sober." Jensen tries to smile, but he feels like maybe he's doing a really bad job. He's fucking up somehow, and he just doesn't get it. He feels like Jared's breaking up with him before they've even gone out, and like, okay. It's not everyday he decides that having a boyfriend would be pretty all right. So this? Is just so not cool. He tells Jared so.
Jared laughs. "Seriously? Jensen. It was just a hook up, okay? It didn't mean anything. We're friends, and that's it. We're just not, you know, right for each other. We're too different."
Jensen stands up. He's not going to sit here at the home of crazy political activists and argue about how having great sex can be the best opener to a relationship. Plus, he's feeling pretty embarrassed about the whole thing, and pretty stupid, too. Tommy level of stupid. Well, he's not going to scrub some lonely businessman's toilet naked while the guy jerks off for fifty bucks, but he's pretty stupid. This whole thing is stupid.
"Okay. Yeah, okay. I gotta go to work. I'll see you at home. And stop avoiding me, you asshole." Jensen leaves, and he doesn't look back, and he doesn't think about Jared all day. Not even once.
*
Continued in part two, because this bitch is LONG: He's Not Kinky, He's Your Governor, part two.
He's Not Kinky, He's Your Governor
(the 'what if they were just normal guys?' AU)
Featuring: Jensen Ackles as the sluttiest, bitchiest dishwasher ever; Jared Padalecki as an earnest yet emotionally stunted political activist; Michael Rosenbaum as a balloon twister extraordinaire; Tom Welling as an aspiring porn star/fluffer; and Chad Michael Murray as Himself.
Rating: Adult
Pairings: Jensen/Jared, and some randoms, because they are slutty
Disclaimer: No libel is intended, etc.
Comments: So officially, this is for wendy, who got very excited when I mentioned the idea to her and then came up with all this awesome stuff for the fic. Plus, her birthday is next week! WOOO!! But I also want to thank annasuede, moosesal, and mikhale for the hand holding, and notthequiettype for beta-ing this beast of a fic. Y'all are awesome.
Warning: In case you hadn't noticed, this is an AU. It's an AU in which none of the CW boys or their associates are actors, or ever were. They're not even famous. They're not even, say, cowboys or Regency Londoners or, um, boy band members. They're just normal guys, doing normal things, and accidentally having mind-blowing drunken sex. With each other.
Jared loves his job, but if there's one thing it makes him realize, it's that people, even ones who look really good on paper, can be absolute shits. Take the guy he's talking to right now for example. According to the computer, last year Mr. Owens gave two hundred bucks to the HRC, but this year he's decided that the best way to help the gay rights movement is to tell Jared, in excruciating detail, all of the ways in which the HRC has failed and is ruining gay culture. Because, you know, that's really going to help finance new initiatives.
"And what's with all this crap about gay marriage? Gays don't want to get married! We don't need to be like THEM, for fuck's sake! The whole point is that we're not like them, we're like, better, actually, and they can go fuck themselves if they think they can force us to be white picket fence suburbanite schmucks with two point five kids and an Escalade in the driveway, and besides which-"
"Actually, sir, the HRC is working on hate crimes legislation right now, and-"
"Don't interrupt me, damnit! You fucking solicitors think that you can just call me up and get me to give you money for nothing? Where are you right now, India? Fucking outsourcing is ruining this country-"
"I'm in Austin, Texas, actually. So you're saying no, I take it? And would you like me to take you off our membership list?"
"Yes, take me off the fucking list! That's another thing! I'm sick of you people sending me pamphlets and pledge packs all the time. Haven't you ever heard of conservation? Don't you know we have an energy crisis on our hands and every-"
"Okay sir, I'm taking you off the list. Have a great day!"
Jared presses the 'end call' button and tugs off his headset, only just barely restraining himself from throwing it against the wall. Technically, he probably shouldn't have ended the call so abruptly, but no one's going to give him shit for not taking it. People just really suck sometimes, and it's moments like this, when he realizes that even people who share his beliefs and ideals can be total cunts, that make him wish he didn't care quite so much. It'd make the world a hell of a lot easier to take.
At the computer next to him, Sandy is getting the credit card information from someone, smiling smugly and saying shit like, "The HRC really appreciates your support, ma'am. It's only through people like you that we can ever hope to effect change in the world!" Fucking Sandy. People are completely unwilling to be rude to her over the phone because she sounds like a twelve-year-old girl. "I just don't get it," she said to Jared one day after some jerk-off accused him of personally being responsible for the downfall of the Democratic Party. "People are always so nice to me, even when they turn me down. You must be doing it wrong."
Sometimes Jared hates Sandy, but he knows that it's not really her fault people are jerks and she's good at her job. But she doesn't have to be so fucking perky about it all the time, either. At least she's not bitter about their breakup. In fact, judging from the sheer number of guys she's tried to hook Jared up with in the last month alone, she's much more excited to have a fag for an ex-boyfriend than she was to have a boyfriend to begin with.
"It's pretty fucking weird," was Jensen's opinion on the whole situation. "But kind of awesome, too. I wish my ex would hook me up with some hot guys. And damn if Sandy doesn't know a LOT of hot guys."
"Jensen, your ex moved to L.A. to do porn. I don't think you'd actually want to meet any of the guys she knows."
"Yeah, you've got a point there. Still…"
Jared thinks that Jensen's real problem doesn't have anything to do with meeting guys, he just always seems to fall for the ones that treat him like crap and never call him the next day. But it's not like Jensen's some sort of catch or whatever, despite what he says about his oral sex skills. The guy works as a dishwasher at Magnolia, and on the few occasions when someone calls in sick and they're so desperate that they let him wait tables, Jensen inevitably drops at least three trays a night and ends up owing the restaurant more than he actually gets paid. He dropped out of UT before he finished his first year, thinking he was going to move to LA and become some sort of big shot soap actor, but he was back six months later, and he'd been here ever since. Jensen is a loser, but he's a good friend, plus sometimes he gets to bring home the out of date beer from the restaurant, so it's worth it to keep him around.
"Hey," Jeff says, crouching down beside Jared's station and letting his hand rest on Jared's shoulder. Jared swallows and fiddles with his headset, trying to look all casual and silently cursing Sandy, who's smirking knowingly at him with her eyes fixed on Jeff's hand. Jared maybe has a small crush on their supervisor, but like, okay. See, it's Jeff, who is amazing and perfect and could probably get a ninety-year-old Republican fascist homophobe to donate money to the HRC by the power of his voice alone, so it's kind of understandable. Everyone has a crush on Jeff, or at least in Jared's mind, everyone should.
Jeff's fingers tighten on Jared's shoulder and he has to bite his lip to keep from moaning a little, thinking about where else he'd like those fingers. "That was a tough call," Jeff says. "We're on break soon, and then I'm switching you over to the DNC, okay?"
"Yeah," Jared says faintly, nods and stares at his computer screen because if he looks Jeff in the eyes, he will probably melt. And it's not just that Jeff's good looking and has the sexiest voice on the planet. It's more than that. Jeff like, really cares about shit. He's passionate. When Jeff gives the updates at the beginning of the shifts, Jared thinks he might come just from the excitement in Jeff's voice as he details the number of seats they need to win to take back congress. Jared thinks he'd sound the same way in bed. Unfortunately, Jeff is very, very straight.
Sandy is fucking him, so she should know. That bitch.
He gets rolled over to the DNC campaign during the second half of the shift and thankfully, he totally kills it, despite having to explain to half the people he calls (who, by the way, are already members of the DNC and should really know better) what the DNC actually is. It helps that the torture bill went through and then what's his name, the Republican pedophile guy, got caught soliciting teenaged boys employed as pages by the government. Those kinds of things tend to piss people off, and if there's one thing Jared is good at, it's agreeing with angry democrats that the Bush Administration sucks beyond measure. This right here, he thinks as he vehemently agrees with his last call of the day, a man who sounds like he's about a hundred and talks about how much he misses FDR and there just aren't politicians like that around anymore ("The paralyzed kind that manage to cheat on their wives anyway and deny refuge to thousands of Jews during the holocaust?" Jared wants to say, but refrains, because hey, the guy is donating a hundred bucks)-this is why he loves his job. Because sometimes, when he's actually raising money and convincing people of shit, he feels like maybe he's making a difference.
He stops at Magnolia on his way home, chaining his bike up to the outside railing even though Cathy has yelled at him about a thousand times not to and heading straight for the kitchen. No one stops him even though Jared hasn't worked here for over a year. It's the six o'clock dinner rush and they're all too busy running and fetching to care about him being where he's not supposed to. He finds Jensen in the back, staring miserably at a large pile of pots and pans that Cathy insists must be washed by hand, always, or rust will form and the world as they know it will end in a blaze of red metallic flakes.
"Hey," Jared says, hopping up on the counter as Jensen continues to stare morosely, ignoring the dirty looks of the line cooks, who probably want the pans back so they can, you know, cook and things. Jensen ignores them.
"Hey," Jensen says. "Oh, it's you. Hang on, I'll take my break." He sort of waves at one of the cooks and holds up his pack of cigarettes as he leads Jared out the back door to the alley. The cook tries to say something-"But you just took a break, you fucker!"-but Jensen just ignores him, letting the door slam behind them as he digs in his pocket for his lighter.
"So what's going on tonight?" Jensen asks, sucking happily on the end of his cigarette. Jensen once told Jared that smoking was better than sex, and watching Jensen take a drag, Jared thinks that maybe Jensen's on to something, because he looks completely blissed out. That, or Jensen just has never had good sex.
"Mike and Tommy are having a thing. They wanted to know if you could steal some beer or something. I mean, they're getting a keg, but it's gonna be shitty, so you know."
"Yeah, maybe." Jensen exhales, scratches at the scruff on his face. "Sandy coming? Is she bringing any guys for you this time?"
"I'm kind of hoping she's giving up on that. She has some fucked up taste in gay guys."
"She chose you," Jensen points out.
"Shut up. I was an exception."
"Whatever. Is that fucker still at our place?"
"He has a name, you know."
"Yeah, I know, I just choose not to use it. Is he still there?"
"Yeah. He's trying to get a job, I swear. It's just hard, you know, starting out and shit."
"Couldn't you get him a job at your place?"
"Sure, if I wanted to get myself fired. Chad isn't the kind of guy you introduce to anyone you want thinking you're like, responsible and shit."
"He smells," Jensen whines. "And he leaves his crap all over the apartment, and he drinks all my soda. That I need to like, function on a basic human level. He's an ass."
"He's my best friend, dude."
"I thought I was your best friend."
"Nah, you're just my prettiest. Okay man, I gotta get back to the apartment before Chad destroys anything else. See you later?"
Jensen tosses his cigarette to the pavement and grinds it under his heel. "I'm off at ten, so yeah. See you then."
*
Jared and Jensen have never hooked up, and Jensen's not entirely sure why. They're both attractive (and, well, maybe he's a little bit more attractive than Jared, but even so) and as gay as Clay Aiken at a Cher concert. They live together and get drunk together often enough that really, something should've happened by now just from like, the cosmic karmic destiny of it all, but apparently he and Jared defy all laws of god and gay men everywhere, because they haven't even so much as made out.
By the time Jensen leaves the restaurant, it’s full dark and he’s been yelled at three times for taking too many smoke breaks/being generally lazy/having a bad attitude. To which Jensen just stared at Cathy silently, shrugged, and then made catty comments about lesbians who need a good fucking when she walked away.
Jensen’s a bitch. He likes it that way.
His bike is chained up in the back where he left it, not that anyone would bother to steal something he pieced together from parts he found in dumpsters. The ride home is long and he has to cross the highway, which normally he hates, but it gives him time to think, plus all the exercise means he gets to eat an extra cookie, as long as Chad, that fucking no good moocher jerk off, hasn’t already eaten them all. Not that Jensen really has a lot on his mind. He could be doing something more worthwhile with his life. He could be like, finish up his degree (then again, what you're supposed to do with a degree in English literature, he has no fucking clue), or have a real job, or even try dating someone for longer than, um, one night at a time. But the thing about Jensen is, he doesn't want to.
He likes this. Working at the restaurant, meaningless busy work, hanging out with his friends, smoking too much, clubbing when he has the cash and Jared's not being so intolerably whiney that Jensen can't stand to be around him long enough to get there. He likes the fact that he can binge drink massive amounts of whatever's the most alcoholic thing they have in the kitchen and still be able to function on a level high enough to do his job the next day. Okay so, maybe 'like' is too strong of a word, but he's pretty content, anyway, and aside from maybe wishing he had more money to spend clubbing (Jensen really likes 6th Street, especially on Saturdays when the road is blocked off and all the frat boys come out, because really, who cares if they won't fuck him, it's just nice to watch, and sometimes, if he's really lucky, he can convince one of them to let him blow them), he feels pretty good about his life.
So, he's not Jared. He's not trying to like, save the world or even just the dolphins. He doesn't care about gay rights as long as Alysium still has that super secret backroom that everyone knows about, and he couldn't name anyone involved in a political race, much less who the good people to vote for are, not that he'll be voting, because really, he doesn't believe in it. Voting is for chumps who think their opinion matters, and as far as Jensen's concerned, it really really doesn't, especially not in Texas. So yeah, he's about as far from Jared as possible, but also, he likes it that way. He's young and ridiculously good-looking. The last thing he needs is to be all worried about the state of the world and shit when he can't even do anything to change it.
But all this is way too deep to be thinking about when it's ninety billion degrees outside at ten at night and he's trying to get a case of Czech beer home on the back of his bike. He really hopes the cops don't stop him for like, illegal trafficking of stolen contraband or something, because that would probably be bad, and Cathy might be pissed off enough this time to fire him for real. Then he'd have to find another job, and he'd probably have to stop complaining about Chad crashing on their couch, which, really, is one of the few joys Jensen gets for free these days. It almost makes up for the fact that Chad is there, and horrible, and smells.
Jensen makes sure the beer is still secure while he waits for the light at the highway to change, trying really hard not to notice the guy in the gigantic Ford 350 idling next to him. The man is wearing the biggest cowboy hat Jensen has ever seen. Inside his truck. At night. He's also staring at Jensen, and sneering, and in the darkness Jensen can't tell if it's a "hop in my cab and suck me" sneer, or a "you're a disgusting fagot, get out of my state" sneer. Not for the first time, Jensen curses the gays for deciding that the cowboy look is trendy. It makes things so much more confusing, for serious, although he suspects that if he didn't live in Texas, telling the difference between a good ol' boy and a cocksucker wouldn't be quite so difficult. Fucking Brokeback Mountain, ruined his gaydar for life, and how the hell is he supposed to get his dick sucked by randoms passing in their trucks when, you know, they might pull their handgun on him instead?
Jensen tries not to notice the bumper sticker on the back of the man's truck as he floors it through the light the second it changes. Texas is bigger than France. Well, he's not wrong, Jensen thinks, but really, the world would probably be a lot better off if it wasn't.
Jensen walks through the front door of his apartment and immediately wishes he hadn't. No, not just that-he wishes he were somewhere else completely, like maybe the moon, or possibly dead. Because Chad is there, wearing some sort of disgusting, never-been-washed trucker hat and eating his way through Jensen's cookies while drinking Jensen's soda, sitting on Jensen's couch watching Jensen's television. And it's not like Chad even likes diet, but he drinks it because he knows it pisses Jensen off, and besides which, he's just a jerk that way.
"You're still here?" Jensen wishes he didn't sound quite so miserable about it. Chad's like some kind of horrific predator. A tiger. No, something really mean, like those freak show jungle animals that have like, tusks AND gigantic teeth and spikes in their faces and spit poison, but prefer to scavenge off the dead because they're inherently lazy and don't want to go through the actual work of killing. Yeah, that's exactly what Chad's like, and showing signs of weakness only makes him worse. He's pretty terrible already. "Got a job yet?"
"Got a life yet?" Chad says while chewing his (by which he means 'Jensen's') cookie.
"Dude, you know what? You can go fuck yourself."
"Awesome," Chad says, and gets up from the couch. "I'm just gonna go ahead and use your bathroom. I promise I'll try really hard not to get jizz on the toilet seat again."
"I hate you," Jensen says, a little desperately, and Chad laughs. Jensen thinks he sounds exactly like a hyena. A really evil one that can't aim its own dick.
"I know, baby. And I'm all torn up about it, too."
*
"Your best friend is an asshole. I hate him."
This is how Jensen greets Jared when he walks through the front door with what appears to be a lifetime supply of jalapeno-flavored Doritos in individual-sized bags. He tosses the box onto the couch and frowns down at Jensen.
"Your best friend is an asshole too, but I put up with him."
"My best friend doesn't live with us and drink all your beer. And then jerk off in your bathroom."
"Hey, if you don't want me to jerk off, stop telling me to fuck myself," Chad says, emerging from the bathroom. He's still buttoning his jeans. Jared just laughs. He knows Jensen can't stand him, but seriously? This shit is comedy gold. Plus, Chad probably didn't actually jerk off. Probably. On the other hand, it is Chad, and he does like to masturbate more than even the average guy, so it's possible he really did.
"So are we partying tonight, or what?" As much as Jared loves this argument usually, right now he'd so much rather be drunk and playing video games at Mike and Tommy's place, possibly while Sandy brings around a parade of hot gay boys for him to meet.
Sandy is the best ex-girlfriend ever. It's almost enough to make up for her fucking their boss and caring more about the Humane Society than she does about the DCCC. "I love animals," she just says with a shrug when he tries to argue with her about it. "They're just nicer than people."
"I brought beer," Jensen says, still glaring at Chad, arms cross over his chest. "It's Czech, and Chad can't have any, and also, what the fuck are those chips?"
Jared shrugs and picks up a bag to read the packaging. Wow, who knew that it took that many cancer-causing chemicals to produce chips that taste like jalapenos? Jared's not sure why they bothered at all, honestly, but, "They were free. Texadelphia was just gonna throw them out, but I convinced the guy to give them to me instead."
"Okay, you do realize that means you were standing in the alley behind the restaurant, waiting for the trash, right?" Jensen looks both appalled and fascinated. He's never really understood the whole dumpster diving thing unless it has to do with bike parts, which isn't comforting so much as really annoying, because now they have at least three bikes' worth of parts laying around the apartment, which is small enough to begin with. At least when Jared goes diving, he brings back useful shit, like jalapeno Doritos or day old bread or if he's really lucky, the leftover bagels from Central Market. Jensen can be kind of useless, though.
"These are disgusting," Chad says, making a face as he chews up a chip. For a minute, he looks like he might puke, and then he eats another one. "Seriously, they're like, totally gross." He keeps eating them anyway.
"They were free," Jared says. "And Tommy will eat anything, so."
*
Tommy really will eat anything, including the ejaculate of many strangers for very little pay, but he won't go near the jalapeno Doritos.
"Hell to the fucking no, dude," he says when Jared walks into their apartment with an armful of the snack bags. "Those things are disgusting. I'm not putting them in my mouth."
Jared refrains (quite manfully, he thinks) from commenting on the ridiculousness of that statement. He thinks that when your main goal in life is to become a gay porn star, you really shouldn't be that picky about what you put in your mouth, especially when you're already getting part-time work as a fluffer (and dude, some of those guys are totally gross, especially the ones that do straight porn-like, hairy and beer guts and everything) and the rest of your time is spent go-go dancing and attending "private parties." But hey, Jared's open minded about these things. Sex workers have rights too, and really, they should have more rights, like. Like unions. Although actual real porn actors probably do have unions, but somehow Jared doubts the fluffers are included in that. Someday, when he's in Congress, Jared will change that. Fluffers deserve rights too, damnit. He's totally going to get on that.
They start drinking and Chad insists on playing Grand Theft Auto, even though it's a one-person game, which pretty much defeats the purpose of playing video games at a party, but, "Dude, I like to beat the hookers. Just let me find the bat, and then I swear we can play Halo." Tommy winces as Chad's character goes to town on some innocent prostitute's head. Poor Tommy, Jared thinks. He's a big guy, but really, inside? He's small. Tiny, even. He's a small guy. And being a sex worker is hard, probably, and did he mention they should have union?
"Dude," says Jensen, grinning and shifting to press his knee against Jared's. They're sitting close because Mike and Tommy only have the one couch, and it's small, and yeah. "Do you realize you just said all that out loud?"
Jared laughs. He's drunk, he thinks. Maybe. Definitely. Czech beer is strong, apparently. And then Jeff and Sandy and Kristin and the new guy from TeleFund-Jason or Jack or Jim, J-something-show up, and Jeff brings pot, and Sandy brings three really hot gay boys, so they all end up smoking up under the tree in the courtyard. Jared can see his apartment from here, across the way, with Jensen's fucked up mutt of a bike chained up to the stair railing like someone might actually want to take it. Jeff passes him the pipe (Mmmm, Jeff, he thinks) and he takes a hit, letting the smoke fill his throat, hot and dry and he thinks he can maybe feel it soaking into his lungs, which is probably not a good thing, because he likes his lungs, but being high is nice too, with Jeff's voice all rumbly in his ear. He leans back, lets the grass catch him, cool and green against his skin, and he thinks, green, that's not something you feel because it's a color or something, but Jared can, and green feels like cool and slightly damp and the stars get brighter and brighter as he blinks up at the sky.
"Hey," says Jensen, and he's lying next to Jared, the backs of their hands brushing. "Hey," he says again, and rolls over until he's pressing against Jared's side, one leg thrown over Jared's, which is nice, actually, and warm. The grass feels like waves beneath him, like they're rolling, waves and the ocean and Jared can almost hear them crashing along the beach, (the waves, not him and Jensen, because that would be weird and probably hurt a lot) but it's just Jeff and Sandy and the three hot boys talking and laughing and smoking. Jared wraps his arms around Jensen, pulls him close. Anchor, he thinks, and warm. Comfort. Jensen's his friend.
"You're my friend," he tells Jensen.
"I know," Jensen agrees, and then they're kissing.
*
Jensen doesn't know where everyone else went or when they left, but what he does know is that Jared is kissing him, outside in the courtyard and it should be stupid and cliché except that it's Jared, and he can get away with that shit because he's too big to get really pissed at and he used to be straight, so he can pull off that romantic shit.
Plus, he's a really good kisser.
Jared kisses lazy, like he has all the time in the world, all slow thrusts with his tongue and long sighs, and he covers Jensen like a blanket, which really, not many people could do and for once, Jensen is really happy that Jared is a freaking giant.
"Come on," Jensen says, pushing up against Jared. "We got. Let's go home. Come on."
In the end it's Jared who gets them up the stairs and into their apartment, because whoa, Jensen is really, really high. Like, the ground spinning and swirling and the air all fuzzy high. So not just a little high, more like all the way high. But then Jared has him pressed against the door, their hips pressed together and his lips hot against Jensen's throat, and really, Jensen thinks that Jared's dick pressing hard into Jensen's thigh is possibly the best thing ever in the history of ever. Until Jared drops to his knees and yanks open Jensen's pants, and then Jensen can't think anything at all because Jared. Jared is sucking him. His dick is in Jared's mouth, and it's not something Jensen ever thought was possible or going to happen in a million zillion years, but it totally is, and it's. It's awesome, is all he can think, the feel of Jared's hair (too long, needs a trim, but so good for pulling) slipping between his fingers, Jared's lips sliding down, all stretched and red and wet. Jared's throat fluttering around his dick when he thrusts, sort of rudely, but it's not his fault because Jared.
Jared. Jared sucks dick like. Like a really awesome sucking thing. Something that sucks really good. Like that vacuum cleaner, the one that never loses suction even though the guy's accent in the commercial makes you thing that maybe-oh. Maybe Jared should do that again, with his tongue. Jared's tongue is awesome too, with the licking and then the sucking, and he's moaning, or maybe that's Jensen, but he wants. He wants.
Jared pulls off, jacks him slow, looking up at Jensen through his eyelashes like he's shy or something, and his mouth. So red and Jensen wants to be kissing him again, or else fucking it, but his hand is good too, tight and slow and hot.
"You gonna come?" Jared says, and really, the sound of Jared saying that-Jared, who only ever talks about protest marches and consciousness raising and genocide and human rights violations-it's too much.
"Fuck," is all Jensen can get out, and then Jared's mouth is back on him and he's coming just like that, fast and hard down Jared's throat, hips straining against the pressure of Jared's palms, and he's going to have bruises tomorrow for sure. For sure. He likes it.
Jensen's not sure how they end up in his bed, probably Jared carried him there after pretty much sucking the life out of him, but there they are. Definitely in his bed, and damn, but Jared fingerfucking him is possibly the best thing he's ever felt, ever. He seems to think that a lot about Jared, and really. Really, they should've done this so long ago, because Jared has really long fingers and he says things like, "Yeah, just like. Fuck yourself. Yeah, like that," which is really really hot. And okay, maybe Jensen's being sort of slutty, but his hips sort of have a mind of their own and he's not sure his dick ever got soft, because this feels like. Like he's going to maybe die if Jared doesn't get his dick in him now, which is what he says, breathless, when Jared pulls his fingers out and rolls Jensen onto his back.
And wow, Jensen's a lot bendier than he normally is, which is just another reason that pot is totally the awesomest thing that ever did awesome, and Jared. God, he feels like. Perfect. Hot and slick and hard as he pushes in, slow like his kisses, eyes glazed over and biting his bottom lip like he's trying real hard not to just fuck into Jensen fast and rough.
"Come on," Jensen says. "You can-yeah," when Jared's hips push forward hard, all at once, and he's in, in. Jensen never gets tired of this, the stretch and hot spark of pleasure, so hot it almost hurts, and then they're kissing again, Jared's licking into his mouth and moaning, and yes. All the way yes.
"You're so. So," Jared says, and Jensen doesn't know what that means, but it sounds. It sounds good.
*
Except that when Jensen wakes up, Jared is gone, and then proceeds to spend the next week avoiding Jensen as much as possible and pretending like the whole drunken high sex of awesomeness never happened. And Chad, that little shit, seems to know exactly what's going on, because he spends all of his time smirking knowingly at Jensen and being more annoying than usual.
Finally, after a week of the dancing-around-shit game, Jensen bikes down the street to the TeleFund call center, because really, the best way to press the issue is to go where Jared can't avoid him or run away. Jensen already tried the staying up waiting game, but he ended up falling asleep in Jared's bed instead. Jared never came in. Jensen's been trying not to think about what that means.
Because the truth is, he likes Jared. Maybe more than likes Jared. They're friends, and they get along great, and the sex was fucking fantastic, and Jensen wants more. He maybe wants a boyfriend, which is a big first for him, but if he's going to make himself stick to fucking just one guy, Jared's the only one he can think of that would be worth it. Aside from Brad Pitt, obviously, or maybe Justin Timberlake, but only when he's dancing. So yeah. Here it is, all on the line, and Jensen thinks this is it, probably, except that Jared's being a total dick about the whole thing, and Jensen, who's like the master of the awkward morning after, is even starting to feel a little weirded out by the whole thing.
"Hey," Jensen says, lounging in the doorway to the office Jeff shares with his assistant director, an extremely perky lesbian with a mohawk who never fails to make Jensen want to stab things. Thank god she's not there.
Jeff looks up from his paperwork and smiles wide when he sees Jensen. "Hey. What're you doing here? Finally decided to do something worthwhile with your life? I got openings."
"Thanks, but no. I'm perfectly happy being a useless drone. Just looking for Jared."
Jeff frowns. "He's making calls, I think he's at station eleven. But uh, he's not even scheduled now."
Jensen frowns. "Okay. That's weird. So he's just fundraising for free or something?"
Jeff shrugs. "Yeah, he just. He's been here a lot lately. And we need it, so. Did you. Did something happen? Because Jared's dedicated, but man, this is way above and beyond the necessary."
Jensen sighs and resists the urge to run his fingers through his hair, because that'll just mess it up and he spent a good twenty minutes getting it gelled just right this morning. "I-station eleven? I'm just gonna go find him."
Jared's on a call, so Jensen just sits down at the empty station next to him and waits. Jared doesn't even notice him, or he pretends not to, anyway, but Jensen thinks it's probably the first, because when Jensen's talking politics, he gets really excited and intense.
"Well, sure. I mean, yeah, the democrats aren't stepping up as much as any of us would like, I think. But it's hard to get things done when you don't have the majority, and guys like John McCain are stabbing you in the back." He pauses for a while, frowning, leaning back in his chair and typing idly. He's reading Andrew Sullivan's website, whoever the hell that is.
"I understand, sir," Jared says finally. "We're all a little disillusioned. But in the end, it's all politics, right? And at least with democrats in charge, we know that some of the things we care about will be protected. Like, the FMA would never have gotten to the floor on the Democrats' watch. Abortion, stem cell research, the war in Iraq. I mean, think about North Korea, and how that's being handled and-" He listens for a minute, grins. That smile makes Jensen wants to kiss him. Like, a lot. Jensen waits impatiently. He hates waiting, but it looks like Jared's about to raise some money, so. Waiting sucks, he thinks as Jared closes the deal, haggles over sending a pledge packet versus taking a credit card payment. Really really sucks.
"Thank you, sir," Jared says finally. "The election's only two months away, and every little bit helps." He hangs up. Jensen clears his throat pointedly.
"Hey," Jared says, taking off his headset and looking like he really wants to run away and be anywhere that is not near Jensen.
"We need to talk," Jensen says. "Why are you avoiding me? I mean, seriously. The sex was good, right? I'm not just like, imagining that. So what's the deal?"
"Can we not do this here?"
"Let's go outside."
"I'm working, Jensen. I can't just leave."
"Jeff says you're not on the clock, so I think you can."
"Dude, this is important, okay?" He rubs the bridge of his nose and doesn't look at Jensen. "Look, Jen. I'm sorry. I think. I know what you thought, but it's not going to happen. We were just wasted, man."
"We should try again sober." Jensen tries to smile, but he feels like maybe he's doing a really bad job. He's fucking up somehow, and he just doesn't get it. He feels like Jared's breaking up with him before they've even gone out, and like, okay. It's not everyday he decides that having a boyfriend would be pretty all right. So this? Is just so not cool. He tells Jared so.
Jared laughs. "Seriously? Jensen. It was just a hook up, okay? It didn't mean anything. We're friends, and that's it. We're just not, you know, right for each other. We're too different."
Jensen stands up. He's not going to sit here at the home of crazy political activists and argue about how having great sex can be the best opener to a relationship. Plus, he's feeling pretty embarrassed about the whole thing, and pretty stupid, too. Tommy level of stupid. Well, he's not going to scrub some lonely businessman's toilet naked while the guy jerks off for fifty bucks, but he's pretty stupid. This whole thing is stupid.
"Okay. Yeah, okay. I gotta go to work. I'll see you at home. And stop avoiding me, you asshole." Jensen leaves, and he doesn't look back, and he doesn't think about Jared all day. Not even once.
*
Continued in part two, because this bitch is LONG: He's Not Kinky, He's Your Governor, part two.