Fic: Crackalicious Adventures in the Land of OTP (JA/JP, S/D) R
Title: Crackalicious Adventures in the Land of OTP
Author: keepaofthecheez
Characters: Sam/Dean, Jensen/Jared
Rating: R - language and sexual content
Category: CRACK. (With a side of Wincest and J2)
Word Count: 6, 653
Spoilers/Warnings: RPS, incest, mild sexual content, dirty language, cracky mcCrack
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of them, sadly.
Summary: Jared’s having a problem, and he needs the Winchesters' help to solve it.
Notes: This one goes out to wendy for being a vile and evil enabler. *smooches* Also, shoutout to nymeria - you know where, dahling.
And if anyone can help me figure out where the heck to cross-post this bitch, I’d be forever grateful! FOREVAH!
“A dog?”
Dean glanced over to find Sam staring at him with both brows raised. “A possession, Sam. Right up our alley.” The steering wheel passed through his hands as he made a sharp turn, sending Sam jerking toward him as he bit off a curse and reached up to grab at the coat hook. Dean barely hid a grin in time.
“A possessed dog…we’ve officially hit a new low,” Sam muttered, sounding irritated and pouty, same as he’d been all week. Well, honestly, Sam always sounded irritated and pouty, except for the choice times when he was crying out Dean’s name in that hoarse and pleading voice that-
Dean shifted in his seat, tamping down on that train of thought before it got him into trouble. That was probably exactly what Sam wanted…for him to lose control and break first. It wasn’t gonna happen…was not. Dean had been right in their argument, and if Sam wanted to be a prissy little bitch and deny them both the one thing they needed…well, then Dean could handle two-fisting until his brother grew up and came to his senses.
It wasn’t like he was asking much. He just wanted for Sam to acknowledge that when it came to some things, specifically hunting and kicking ass, Dean maybe - just maybe - knew a little bit more than his scholastically-achieved younger brother. And until they came to an agreement, it meant frustration of the emotional and sexual kind on both sides.
“Hollywood, Sammy,” he pointed out, ignoring the husky tone threading his voice. “We pull this off, which we will, we won’t have to hustle or run frauds for another few months at the very least. So shut the fuck up and start putting those geekboy talents and good looks to good use.”
“Fuck,” Sam muttered, shoving a hand through the mess of hair on his head. Dean shot him a glance from the corner of his eye and sure enough, his baby brother’s bottom lip was poking out as far as the dashboard. Then Sam was saying, “Who is this guy again?”
“Um…Jared Pada…Paddy…Paddycrack?” Dean shrugged. “Who fucking cares, dude. He’s an actor. He takes directions. He’ll do whatever the hell we tell him when it’s all over.”
“Never heard of him. And how did he find us anyway? What, are we in the phonebook now? Jesus.” Sam was definitely pouting. Dean could feel the temptation seeping in, the urge to reach over and turn his brother’s frown upside down. With his hands, his mouth, his…
He could resist it. He would. Because he was right, and Sam was wrong. And it was high time his brother realized just who the hell was running this show. Sam’d gotten way too comfortable calling the shots in bed, and while there was definitely something to be said about letting Sam have that kind of control over him, there was a time and a place for it. And during the hunt, Dean was The Man.
“He’s friends with Andrew,” Dean answered absently, searching for the correct exit number.
“Andrew?”
“Oh, heh. That’s right. It was while you were gone,” Dean tossed out, not noticing the way Sam stiffened as if it were an insult. “This director from San Antonio Dad and I helped a ways back…poltergeist. Nasty one. Kept destroying his footage.” Dean paused a second. “You know, he seemed more upset about that than the fact that, you know, a malevolent spirit was haunting his ass.”
“Hollywood,” Sam sighed, sinking low in his chair and squeezing his eyes shut.
“You did what?”
Jared winced a bit at the expression on Jensen’s face, then straightened his shoulders and stared back at his co-star. “I called some people to help Harley. C’mon, Jensen…you know this shit ain’t normal. And Andrew said this Dean guy’s a real-”
“Con artist?” Jensen growled, pacing from one end of Jared’s bedroom to the other. He stood by the window, staring out over the parking lot with tense frame and features. Then, “Jesus fuck, Jay. You seriously called a bunch of…of…”
“Ghostbusters,” Jared said, a bit proudly, then his face brightened. “Hey, you think they got the little plasma guns like from the movie?”
“You have got to be kidding me, man.”
“What?” And now Jared was getting annoyed. “What the hell’s your problem, Jen? It’s not like it’s a waste of your money. You don’t have to like it; in fact you can get the fuck out if it bothers you that much. I’m doing this for Harley. Something’s wrong, Jensen. I know it.”
Jensen had turned around midway through Jared’s rant. “Jared…” He took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose before moving over to sit beside Jared on the bed. “It’s not that I don’t care about Harley,” he began, a bit hesitantly. The truth was, Jensen could fucking care less if Harley’s head was spinning around and he was projectile vomiting pea-soup. He wasn’t about to let Jared get bamboozled by a bunch of freaks out looking for an easy mark and even easier money.
Jared didn’t look like he believed him. “Yeah, whatever.” And then he got up, turning his back on Jensen and pulling a shirt over his head. “You can go fuck yourself, dude. I can’t believe…” A note of frustration entered his voice and had Jensen feeling like a total jackass when Jared turned around and stared at him through the puppy-eyes he’d perfected both on and offscreen. “I can’t believe that after what we do, you don’t believe even a little.”
“That’s exactly why I don’t believe,” Jensen muttered. Louder, he replied, “That’s entertainment, Jay. None of it’s real! Look, let’s just think this over a bit, okay? Take Harley to a few specialists and see what they say.”
“I’ve already done that!” Jared snapped. He paused, obviously taking a moment to gather himself before he checked his watch. When his gaze met Jensen’s again, Jensen just knew he was gonna be sleeping on the metaphorical couch unless he did something, and quick. Jared’s voice was cool, colder than Jensen had ever heard it directed toward him. “I gotta go…I’m meeting Dean at Starbucks in fifteen minutes. You can let yourself out.”
“Jared!” Jensen moved to grab his wrist, but despite his deceptively lazy attitude and features, Jared was a fast little fucker. Gigantic fucker. Whatever. Jensen nearly fell off the bed as Jared slipped out of the door, then stood up and stomped after him. “Jared, slow down, I’m coming with you.”
“What the hell for?”
Because there’s no fucking way I’m letting you loose with those assholes, Jensen thought forcefully. But all he said was, “Because I care about you, dude.”
Jared blinked, looking slightly startled as a flush crept up Jensen’s features. And yeah, okay, he hadn’t quite meant to sound so…schmoopy. Truth was, he cared about Jared maybe a little more than he ought to. Like, he cared about Jared’s mouth, and his hands…preferably all over Jensen’s body. Yeah, he cared about that happening a great fucking deal.
Not that Jared had a clue.
“Dude. I think I just shed a tear,” Jared deadpanned, and Jensen was equal parts relieved and frustrated at the way his words had gone right over Jared’s head. He growled and punched him in the arm.
“I’m driving,” he stated firmly, grabbing Jared’s keys from his hand and trying to ignore the fact that Jared was grinning like a loon, and just what effect that had on him.
Sam had been ready to dislike Jared what’s-his-name on principle alone. After all, he was being dragged around because of him and his damn dog - which, what the fuck? Sure, Sam had heard of vengeful spirits using and inhabiting innocent creatures…he wasn’t an idiot. But he was more than sure that this wasn’t a case of that. The dog probably just had worms or something. And yeah, that sounded harsh and uncaring, but goddamn it…did the asshole have to look the way he did? And did Dean have to stare at him like he was about to jump up on a silver platter and stick an apple between his teeth?
“Padalecki,” Dean was purring, fucking purring as the Goddamn Asshole corrected his brother’s pronunciation of his last name. Dean laughed, said something else, and Sam…Sam knew that voice. Knew what it meant. He’d seen Dean use it countless times before - on waitresses, bartenders, even the occasional college co-ed whenever they needed some special information on a case. There was no fucking reason for him to use it on…this guy.
His gaze snagged on the figure sitting beside Jared, his expression just about as dark and irritated as Sam’s. Now this guy was fucking ridiculous. Sam wasn’t sure if he wanted to applaud the dude’s gene pool, or put him in makeup and a dress and take him out back and violate him six ways to Sunday. Not that he would. He was too nice - and too fucking obsessed with Dean - to bother with that. But the guy’s lips should come with a hazard warning, was all he was saying.
Sam was slightly surprised that Dean had barely paid this one any attention, then realized that the guy’s looks were exactly why. Jared was hot, but had nothing on Dean. This other guy though…Jensen something-or-another? Was possibly the only person alive who might just be prettier than his brother.
Dean had to love that.
Jensen looked his way, and Sam was nearly bowled over by the force of that gaze directed fully toward him. That’s a nifty trick he couldn’t help but think, inclining his head as the guy pursed his lips like he’d sucked on a sour lemon and then rolled his eyes.
Okay then. Mr. Way-Too-Hot-For-You was obviously as displeased with this scenario as Sam was. Good to know.
“Just, I’m so glad y’all could come out all this way. If it’d happened while we were up in Vancouver, I’d’ve been fucked,” Jared was saying in a slight drawl, voice thick with genuine appreciation that made Sam want to stab a fork between his eyes. Great. So not only were they stuck helping this guy out, but he was gonna be nice about it. Kinda put a crimp in Sam’s plans to hate him.
At least, until Dean grinned. Because Sam knew that fucking grin. Goddamn you, Dean…
“We’re happy to help any way we can,” his brother replied, all but eye-fucking the guy in the middle of freaking Starbucks. Sam’s fingers tightened around the Styrofoam cup in his hands, and he heard Jensen’s knuckles popping across the table. “So, tell me about your dog. How long has he been-”
“Not here,” Sam muttered, bumping Dean’s shoulder with his own. Dean blinked, turning and gifting Sam with a surprised expression. As if he’d completely fucking forgot Sam was even there. Sam’s fingers nearly punctured the cup.
“Right.” Dean nodded, slapping Sam on the back. “Good call, Sammy.”
And Jared was smiling at him; a big, goofy grin that was so fucking white and bright that it almost hurt Sam’s eyes to look at it. “So, you two are brothers or something?”
Oh, this was not good.
“Why do you wanna know?” Sam demanded suspiciously, ignoring Dean’s heel on his instep and taking a slow sip of coffee.
“Heh, we’re uh…business associates,” Dean answered with a quick look at Sam. His expression clearly read shut the fuck up and let me do the talking. Sam was hit with an almost irresistible urge to stick his tongue out. Or stick it in Dean’s mouth, so that Jared Padawhateverthefuck would know just who Dean belonged to.
The gigantic, smiley bastard. Sam had half a mind to look into him, rather than his dog. No one’s teeth were that white. No one’s. There were cases of demons that lived almost completely normal human lives under special glamours. He really shouldn’t take any chances.
“Cool.” Jared was nodding, all earnest and good-natured and damn but Sam wanted to put his fist in his face. “I mean, you guys really don’t look anything like each other. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.”
Jensen cleared his throat, speaking up for the first time since they’d all sat down in the booth. “Do you guys have any credentials? References?”
Sam heard the silent addendum, Anything that should keep me from calling the cops right now and having them drag you off to the loony bin?
The guy kinda had a point.
“Well now,” Dean started, obviously not too pleased by the interruption. “You got our number from Andrew. There’s your reference. As for credentials…that’s not how we do things. We’re experts at what we do, but we don’t need anyone breathing down our neck about it.”
“Jen, leave ‘em alone,” Sam heard Jared mutter beneath his breath, sending his companion a dark look that Sam hadn’t believed the guy capable of. To Dean he added, “That’s fine. This isn’t exactly something I want broadcasted to the media, if ya catch my drift.”
Like there was any other drift to catch? Sam barely refrained from rolling his eyes.
“Discretion’s our middle name,” Dean answered, and damn if he wasn’t flirting again. “Right, Sammy?”
“It’s Sam,” he snapped, but no one was paying attention.
“So do you guys do the whole rock salt rigamarole?” Jared was asking, and Sam closed his eyes and sank back on a quiet groan. “Because that’s what we do on the show, and I was wondering just how realistic it all is.”
He waited for Dean to get tight-lipped as he always did whenever one of their “clients” asked more about the job than they needed to know. Instead, his brother promptly delved into the routine of salt-and-burning, clearly enjoying Jared’s avid interest.
Oh yeah. There was definitely something up with this fucker.
“What’s the name of your character again?” Sam blurted out, just to get back into the conversation.
“Sam.” Dean didn’t even look his way before adding, “Go get me another, will ya?” He pointed to his empty coffee cup and then went right back to talking to Jared.
Sam had been dismissed, clearly.
The immature part of him wanted to stand up and yell at Dean, at Jared, and shove the table over and storm away. Hell, the mature part of him wanted that, too. Instead, he came to his feet in silent fury and frustration and made his way toward the counter. He’d just ordered a regular coffee - no frou-frou drinks for ol’ Dean - when he felt someone standing behind him.
He turned to find Jensen watching him with the same inscrutable expression he’d been wearing the duration of their little get-together. Sam cocked a brow, fingers tapping against the counter impatiently.
“If you or your associate screw Jared over, I will fucking kill you.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Jensen moved past and got in the line next to Sam.
Well, well…maybe there was more to pretty than met the eye.
Jared couldn’t believe his luck.
He had to admit, at least to himself, that he’d been more than slightly alarmed when Andrew had texted him Dean’s number and sworn that the guy could work miracles. Yeah, Jared was pretty open to the possibility of paranormal stuff - especially since working on Supernatural - but still…the idea of there being honest-to-God demon hunters out there in the world made him a little freaked-out.
Couldn’t they just get a job at McDonald’s instead?
But Dean and Sam seemed like the real deal. At least, Dean did. Jared got the distinct impression that Sam would rather stick a stake through his heart than any vampire’s, and that really sucked because Jared couldn’t stand it when someone didn’t like him. He couldn’t think of any reason why Dean’s friend wouldn’t, but then he hadn’t really seemed to like Jensen either, and everyone liked Jensen.
Anyway. Jared was definitely feeling lucky as he followed Dean out into the early-afternoon Los Angeles sun. He nearly ran into Dean’s back when he caught sight of the Impala waiting for them, Sam behind the wheel and still looking like he’d rather suck on a frozen turd than be stuck helping Jared out.
“That your car?” he asked, slightly embarrassed by the awed hint in his voice. For fuck’s sake, he could more than afford five of the damn things himself. It was just that…he’d never really gotten rid of that wide-eyed boy from San Antone. Jensen and everyone else made fun of him for it all the time, but Jared was secretly kind of glad he’d yet to grow cynical and jaded in his views of the world.
And not getting excited over the sweet, cherry ride in front of him was impossible.
“That’s my baby,” Dean confirmed, all but sidling up to the Chevy and licking it. Jared bit back an amused smile when the hunter stroked the hood with tender hands, then shot him a look. “’67 model.”
“Oh yeah.” Jared came up beside him, and they both admired the car for several moments before Jensen came up and poked him in the back.
“Let’s get this over with, I have a date at five.”
Jared turned, catching sight of Jensen - mirrored sunglasses hiding his eyes and arms crossed across his chest. “A date? With who?” He hadn’t realized Jensen was seeing anyone in LA…not that he really kept track of it or anything.
It had always bugged him to think about it, so he just…didn’t.
Instead of answering, Jensen directed his next question at Dean. “Just how long do you think this’ll take?”
“Depends,” Dean said cryptically, hip pressed up against the Impala’s door as he regarded Jensen through cool eyes. “But you don’t really need to stick around for it, do you?”
He was right, but Jared had to bite back a wince when Jensen stiffened. His co-star had never really taken well to being told what to do, but he’d seemed to have appointed himself as Jared’s personal bodyguard.
Jared liked to pretend it was just because it bothered Jensen to be away from him as much as it bothered Jared.
He turned toward Jared, slipping his glasses down a bit so that Jared could look into deep green eyes. “Do I need to cancel?”
“Uh…” And what the fuck was that look about? Jared had always known Jensen was a pretty thing. It was kind of hard to miss. But he’d never really thought about it in…that way. Apparently Harley getting possessed by the devil or a demon or whatever had completely screwed his mind up. “Dude, do whatever you wanna do.”
That seemed a safe enough response.
But Jensen looked faintly disappointed before turning back toward Dean, voice gruff. “I’m sticking around.”
“Well, see, then we got a bit of a problem.” Dean’s teeth flashed, and he gestured to the back of the car where books and duffel bags were piled high. “Back seat’s all filled up. So, I was thinking, you and Sam could follow me and Jared and-”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Sam suddenly piped up, looking like he was ready to strangle someone. “What the fuck?”
“Manners, Sammy,” Dean murmured, reaching back and cuffing his friend on the head. Jared watched the interaction curiously, noting the almost intimate undertones as they whispered and argued amongst themselves.
They might not be brothers, but they sure fucking acted like more than business associates.
“Dean, I am not getting out of this car,” he heard Sam hiss, and then Dean’s low rumbling voice followed. Sam’s lips tightened. “No, fuck you!”
Jared blinked when Dean spoke again, and Sam flushed to the tips of his ears, and then got out of the car in jerky movements. He barely looked at Dean, didn’t look at Jared at all, as he stalked over to stand beside Jensen.
“Climb on in, pal,” Dean drawled, sliding behind the wheel Sam had just abandoned. Jared hesitated, noticing the disapproving look on Jensen’s face as well, and then just sort of shrugged.
“See you at the apartment.” And then he was getting inside and trying not to drool over the pristine interior. “Fuck, you really take care of her, huh?”
“You have no idea.”
Dean couldn’t believe their luck.
He’d half-expected to end up saddled with some brainless moron who’d be demanding breaks for tea and crackers or tequila and cocaine or whatever the hell the young and posh did these days. But Jared…Jared seemed pretty cool. A little naïve maybe, but all in all a good guy.
Not to mention he was fucking hot.
Dean didn’t really think about guys that way, not often. Sam he considered an exception - to everything, really - but for the most part, Dean was satisfied with big boobs and a warm…personality. Although lately, the only thing that seemed to satisfy him came from Sam’s big-ass mouth and even bigger hands.
Nevertheless, Jared Padalecki hit pretty much all of his necessary criteria for a quick, no-frills, never-to-be-thought-of-again affair. The only problem was that Dean just wasn’t interested.
He blamed Sam for that, too.
He could feel Sam watching him now, heated glare firmly planted on the center of Dean’s back as he hunched over the caged animal in Jared’s kitchen. He forced himself to forget about Sam, about Jared, and just concentrate on the job at hand.
The creature looked pathetic…half-wasted away and eyes yellowed and bright. Sick. Dean glanced over to see the genuine anxiety coloring Jared’s features. “And he’s been this way how long?”
“Since we finished filming the finale,” Jared answered immediately. “I took him and Sadie - that’s my other one - home to Texas for a week or two, then we came here to hang with Jensen for awhile. Relax, recuperate. He stopped eating, sleeping, just sits up all night and makes these howling sounds. Scares the shit outta me,” he added with a nervous laugh. “But I mean, that wasn’t even as bad as the…well…”
Dean’s brow quirked when Jared exchanged a significant look with Jensen, who was sitting at the table and looking like he was ready to shoot someone’s head off. Not that Dean gave a fuck. “What happened?”
Jensen’s jaw clenched, and then he sighed. “He attacked me, all right? But it wasn’t that big a deal and-”
“Not that big a deal?” Jared snapped, walking over and taking Jensen’s left arm. He shoved the long sleeve up, revealing several still-healing wounds that, seasoned demon hunter aside, had Dean wincing in sympathy. “They had to stitch you back up, Jen! God, if I hadn’t been there…”
“Oh, please, like I can’t take care of myself?” There was a distinct note of embarrassment in Jensen’s voice when he ripped his arm away and tucked it back against his chest. “Look, I just pissed him off or something. It happens.”
“Has Harley ever attacked anyone before?” Sam questioned, and Dean turned around to stare at his brother. It was the first time Sam had even pretended to participate in the hunt, and now he was looking all sharp-eyed and solemn the way he always got when his over-sized brain was working on a theory.
“What’cha got for me - ” he barely kept from tagging on the usual little brother - “man?”
“I was just thinking…” Sam licked his lips, coming to stand next to him and study Harley. “There’ve been instances where significant changes in diet or environment can trigger primal instincts buried within animals not dissimilar to the effects of a possession.”
“So, you think dragging the dog cross-country made him suddenly waste away and gain a hankerin’ for human flesh?” Dean returned, not even bothering to hide his sarcasm.
Sam’s glare could’ve cut through metal. “Just pointing out a possibility.”
“Yeah well, your possibility sucks, Sam, or do you not smell it?”
“Smell what?” Jared asked, stepping closer and all but wringing his hands together.
“Sulphur,” Sam muttered, rubbing his forehead and looking grim. “Damn it.”
“Is that what that is?” Jensen asked, pushing his chair back with a frown. “I thought I smelled rotten eggs, but I mean, Jared does forget to take out the trash sometimes.”
“Shut up, Jensen.”
“Okay, you two stop arguing like old ladies and tell me when exactly the smell appeared.”
“I don’t really know…I mean, I noticed he smelled funny, but I just figured he was sick, you know?” Jared looked absolutely miserable. “And he’s never attacked anyone but Jensen.”
“Is there any reason why he’d target your co-star?” Sam queried, definitely in hunter-mode. “Did he dislike Jensen before…all this happened?”
Dean didn’t miss how Sam was still refusing to label it as a possession. Stubborn bastard he thought with a bit of annoyed pride.
“What? No.” Jared looked honestly baffled. “Harley fucking loves Jensen. I keep thinking the damn mutt’ll run off for his apartment one day and never come back.”
“Okay, so we have irregular behavior, sulphur, and some strange-”
Harley opened his mouth and howled, the sound seeming to be magnified by a thousand so that it was like ten howling animals instead of just one.
Sam and Dean exchanged looks, and Sam sighed. “Fuck.”
“Okay, that’s fucking disturbing,” Jensen said, appearing green in the face when he turned to face Jared. “Jay, is that what…?”
“I’ve been trying to tell you, yeah.” Jared was watching Dean with narrowed eyes. “What do I have to do to make him better?”
Dean was a bit taken aback by the transformation from happy-go-lucky to do-or-die. “Uh, well, first we have to figure out what kinda demon we’re dealing with. Sam here’s really more the expert on that front.”
Sam was already booting up the laptop, the legs of the chair scraping against the tiled floor as he shifted closer to the table. “Ten minutes,” he promised, flexing his fingers and shoving the bangs back from his forehead with a determined expression. “Time me.”
Dean couldn’t help but smirk. “That’s my boy.”
Jensen felt like he was stuck in a nightmare. Not the kind where you wind up naked and in front of your entire graduating class - those he could handle. This nightmare…watching Jared and some wacko strangers from God only knew where perform an exorcism on a dog in the middle of Jared’s Los Angeles apartment…this was fucking surreal.
“I’m gonna go…get a Coke,” he grumbled, not that anyone was paying him a bit of attention. Jared made a sound that sorta seemed like maybe he’d heard Jensen, or he could’ve just been answering one of Dean’s questions.
Dean fucking Winchester.
Jensen had never wanted to strangle another human being before, but Dean made the concept almost alluring. It wasn’t that the guy was a cocky son-of-a-bitch, although he definitely was. It was that Dean was the anti-thesis of Jensen. He was sexy as fuck, and knew it. But whereas Jensen tended to shy away from that virtue of himself and only put it to use on camera, Dean embraced and embodied his natural magnetism until it was impossible to look away from him.
Jared was totally and completely under the fucker’s thrall, and Jensen wanted to throw something. Preferably something that would fuck up those too-pretty features.
He glanced over to find Sam watching him, a half-smirk on his face, and Jensen’s back stiffened. Sam…Sam he couldn’t quite pin down. He kept slipping in and out of character - at times understanding and compassionate, and then brooding and withdrawn. Jensen mostly got the same vibes between Sam and Dean that he imagined between himself and Jared.
Which just gave him all that much more of a reason to want to fuck Dean Winchester up. Sam was obviously in love with the bastard, and if anyone could understand unrequited love for your partner, co-star, it was Jensen Ackles.
Son of a bitch.
He excused himself again, wandering into the bedroom and flopping back on the bed. He could hear Dean’s slow, lazy voice and Jared’s worried drawl from the next room, and picked up a pillow and smashed it against his face. Repeatedly.
“Dean has that effect on a lot of people.”
Jensen sat straight up, staring at the Sam as he shut the door after him and came fully into the room. “What the hell do you want?”
“You think I wanna sit in there and watch that shit anymore than you do?” Sam sounded grumpy and sad, and dropped into one of the beanbags Jared insisted upon decorating his guest rooms with. “Just looking for a place to hide out.”
Jensen couldn’t argue with that. He fell back against the mattress, staring at the high-beamed ceiling and clenching his fingers into fists. They remained in silent company for several minutes before Jensen finally said, “You don’t wanna be here.”
Sam didn’t answer, which was answer enough.
Jensen decided to take the more direct route. “I don’t trust your friend,” he growled, remembering the distinctly unchivalrous gleam in Dean’s eyes earlier. “Jared…Jared’s a nice guy.”
“Oh, I’m sure.” Sam’s words dripped sarcasm and disdain.
Jensen thought about being offended, then his lips twitched. “You don’t trust him with Dean, do you?”
Sam looked up and met his gaze. “I know my -” he bit his tongue, then corrected, “I know Dean. Okay?”
“I know Jared. He wouldn’t do that.”
Sam’s laugh had an edge to it. “Oh, yeah? Then what are you so fucking worried about?”
Good point.
Dean laughed, and Jensen flinched at the husky sound. “What the fuck could be funny?” he muttered, ready to go back in there and force himself bodily between Jared and the asshole.
“Who knows,” Sam sighed, and leaned back to close his eyes. “Do me a favor. Wake me up when it’s over.”
“I don’t believe this shit,” Jensen mumbled. Here he was - a healthy, vital young man with a helluva lot of shit going for him, and he was sitting in a guest room obsessing over his idiotic younger co-star like it was about to go out of style.
“Sam!”
The call had Sam jerking up, eyes alert and ready as he started for the door, and then Jensen became aware of the snapping cold that seemed to have descended over the apartment. He followed Sam into the living room, finding Jared white-faced and frozen as he stared down at Harley’s slumped form.
Jensen reached up to squeeze his shoulder, offer some kind of support, then looked down and saw what had Jared so upset. His hand fell limply at his side. “Oh, my fucking God.”
“You got what we need?” Dean directed to Sam, no longer the carefree seducer but the hunter through-and-through. Sam nodded, and Dean continued barking orders while Sam spread salt in a circle around the dog and started speaking in a low murmur Jensen couldn’t make out.
“Wait. Dude, I think you just messed that last bit up.”
“I did not. Shut up.”
“I really think-”
“Okay, do you honestly think you know Latin better than me?”
Jensen’s eyes flew back and forth between the two hunters like he was watching a tennis match. It boggled his mind how they could seem so unmoved, so totally in control when they were dealing with-
Harley leaped up, teeth snarling and that same unearthly sound coming out of his mouth as he ran at Dean. Jensen was opening his mouth to call out a warning when Harley suddenly was propelled backward, and Jensen looked down to see the salt circle.
Oh, Jesus Christ.
“Do it now, Sam,” Dean said, almost yawning around the words as he reached over and picked up a small shotgun. Sam continued speaking in Latin, sprinkling something out of a small vial on Harley that made steam rise from the dog’s flesh.
“Whoa!” Jared came to life, eyes wild and unsteady as he gripped Jensen’s shoulder. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“My job,” Dean answered, a bit offended. “Stay over there.”
“You are not shooting my dog!”
“Rock salt,” Dean reminded him. “It’ll sting a bit, but it’ll help dispel the demon. Which is what you’re paying me for, right?”
“But-”
Harley’s jaw split wide-open, and Jensen stumbled back a step, hot fear knifing through his belly as he dragged Jared back with him. Sam and Dean looked at each other, nodded, and then Sam said something that really pissed Harley off, and Dean lifted the shotgun and grinned. Evilly.
“Later, Cujo.”
He shot a blast of rock salt at Harley, whose body shuddered and contorted and seemed to be alive beneath his flesh. Jensen had always thought himself the owner of a strong constitution, but he had to look away when Harley’s skin began to bubble.
“What the fuck did you do?” Jared was yelling, all but launching himself at Dean, who was looking equal parts proud and annoyed.
“Hey, hey, want me to shoot you, too? Move back or else you’re wide open for demon possession.”
Jared shut up and moved back, but not without sending Dean a glare that definitely didn’t look at all like he wanted to have fabulous gay sex with the jackass.
It was almost enough to make Jensen smile.
“Seriously, thanks again,” Jared was saying, eyes almost glistening with happiness as he held onto Harley and petted the recovering animal with gentle hands. “I just…I don’t even know how to repay you guys.”
“A couple of Benjamins would do nicely,” Dean answered smugly, and the statement should have been tacky and Sam would’ve covered his face in disgust, but then Dean flashed his teeth and that somehow made it all okay.
“Oh, yeah, sure.” Jared was nodding like he’d give them both the world if they asked for it. And the guy was big enough to carry it, for damn sure. “Also, you guys feel free to stay here the night. It’s too late to be driving anywhere, right?”
It was a little after midnight. Sam waited for his gypsy brother to say thanks but no thanks and shove Sam on toward the Impala. Instead, Dean nodded and said, “Sounds good. We’d appreciate it.”
Dean slid him a look that Sam hadn’t seen directed toward him since before their stupid argument over - what the hell had it been? He couldn’t even remember anymore. But the point was, he went immediately hard and grabbed Dean by the arm.
“Night.”
Dean was laughing, at him, as Sam dragged him into the guest room down the hall - far away from the living room and Jared’s bedroom - and proceeded to throw his older brother onto the mattress.
“Jeez, someone had their Wheaties this morning.” Dean sat up on both elbows, looking way too fucking sinful when he licked his lips. “It’s about time, Sam.”
“You were fucking with me, Dean.” As soon as he said it, he realized it was true. Part of him was relieved, the other part wanted to wrap his hands around his brother’s neck and squeeze, especially when Dean winked.
“Like I said…took ya long enough.”
“You fuck.” Sam’s voice was hoarse, and then he was on top of Dean, lips searching across his brother’s face and hands working beneath cotton. “I oughta make you sleep on the couch.”
Dean reached between them and found Sam, hot and hard and ready to fuck. “Nice try, Sam. I almost believed you that time.”
Sam let out a quiet groan then, because Dean had unzipped and gotten his hands inside Sam’s pants without Sam even realizing what he was up to. Rough, calloused palms stroked him, and he arched his hips and bit into Dean’s lower lip.
“Mine,” he managed, thrusting into Dean’s hand and pulling back to look his brother pointedly in the eyes, chest rising and falling in rapid succession.
Dean wasn’t breathing all that steadily himself. “Yeah, sure thing, Sammy.” He swallowed, and then wrapped a calf around Sam’s leg. “Dude, you’re gonna fuck me. Right?”
Leave it to Dean to state the obvious.
“Right through this mattress,” Sam murmured, licking a long trail from Dean’s jaw to his ear, relishing the throaty moan that followed, the bucking of Dean’s hips, and then he was on his knees and straddling his brother’s waist.
He finished undressing himself, rising up enough to let Dean hook his fingers in his own waistband and shove his jeans and underwear down his hips. The sight of his brother’s cock thick and rising against his stomach about blew the top of his head off, in more ways than one. “Damn it, Dean…never again, do you understand me?”
“Learn not to argue with me, Sam.” But Dean’s voice was a soft tremble. Then, “Oh, God. Do you have anything?”
Sam froze, genuine terror unlike none he’d ever felt before gripping his heart. “I thought you had something.”
Dean stared at him, face aghast.
“I am going to kill you, dude.”
Jared waited for Jensen to stand up and start making the usual excuses as to why he needed to be getting on back to his own apartment. Jared was pretty sure he’d heard them all by now, and they just got more and more ridiculous the longer he and Jensen knew one another.
Sure enough, Jensen came to his feet around the time a rhythmic banging started down the hall, and Jared swallowed a smirk at the almost desperate look coloring his friend’s face.
“I uh, I guess I’ll just be…” He thumbed somewhere in the vicinity of the door, and wouldn’t meet Jared’s gaze.
“Yeah, okay.” He couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed. He’d thought…well, it didn’t really matter what he’d thought. Obviously, it’d all been in his head anyway. Jensen was reaching for the doorknob when Jared spoke again. “Hey, Jen?”
“Hmm?”
“Thanks. You know, for sticking around and…just being here for me and all.” He scratched behind his ear, feeling awkward and clumsy in a way he hadn’t experienced since puberty when he’d gone from being normal-sized to towering over everyone in creation.
He’d never felt awkward or clumsy with Jensen.
Jensen’s fingers clenched around the doorknob. “No problem, man.” And was Jared just that far gone, or was there really a plea in his friend’s husky tone?
He forced himself to keep talking. Just see what happened. “I just…I don’t think anyone else would have,” he rambled on, looking down at Harley’s sleeping form on the floor. He was already returning to normal, and it felt like a load of stress had been stripped from Jared’s shoulders. “Everyone else would’ve thought I was insane.”
“Dude, you are insane.” But there was a smile in Jensen’s voice, and it gave Jared exactly what he needed.
“Ha, ha, fuck you.”
Jensen stiffened, and for a moment Jared was confused and wary, wondering what he could’ve said to piss his friend off. And then Jensen was turning around, determination and something else Jared couldn’t quite pin down crossing his expression, and then he was kneeling in front of Jared and Jared was trying not to swallow his own tongue when Jensen opened his mouth - his goddamned pretty mouth - and said, “Thanks for the invitation.”
“Uh…” Jared’s words were lost, because Jensen was staring at him like that and suddenly the room was spinning and he felt like he’d missed a step somewhere. “Jensen…”
“You don’t want me to suck your dick, you better speak now, Padalecki.” Jensen’s voice was gruff and confrontational, but his words sent a dark thrill up Jared’s spine.
He promptly pressed his lips together, and Jensen watched him for a long moment before grinning, long and slow.
“So that’s how to shut you up.”
And then he proceeded to show Jared just how fun that could be.
Author: keepaofthecheez
Characters: Sam/Dean, Jensen/Jared
Rating: R - language and sexual content
Category: CRACK. (With a side of Wincest and J2)
Word Count: 6, 653
Spoilers/Warnings: RPS, incest, mild sexual content, dirty language, cracky mcCrack
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of them, sadly.
Summary: Jared’s having a problem, and he needs the Winchesters' help to solve it.
Notes: This one goes out to wendy for being a vile and evil enabler. *smooches* Also, shoutout to nymeria - you know where, dahling.
And if anyone can help me figure out where the heck to cross-post this bitch, I’d be forever grateful! FOREVAH!
“A dog?”
Dean glanced over to find Sam staring at him with both brows raised. “A possession, Sam. Right up our alley.” The steering wheel passed through his hands as he made a sharp turn, sending Sam jerking toward him as he bit off a curse and reached up to grab at the coat hook. Dean barely hid a grin in time.
“A possessed dog…we’ve officially hit a new low,” Sam muttered, sounding irritated and pouty, same as he’d been all week. Well, honestly, Sam always sounded irritated and pouty, except for the choice times when he was crying out Dean’s name in that hoarse and pleading voice that-
Dean shifted in his seat, tamping down on that train of thought before it got him into trouble. That was probably exactly what Sam wanted…for him to lose control and break first. It wasn’t gonna happen…was not. Dean had been right in their argument, and if Sam wanted to be a prissy little bitch and deny them both the one thing they needed…well, then Dean could handle two-fisting until his brother grew up and came to his senses.
It wasn’t like he was asking much. He just wanted for Sam to acknowledge that when it came to some things, specifically hunting and kicking ass, Dean maybe - just maybe - knew a little bit more than his scholastically-achieved younger brother. And until they came to an agreement, it meant frustration of the emotional and sexual kind on both sides.
“Hollywood, Sammy,” he pointed out, ignoring the husky tone threading his voice. “We pull this off, which we will, we won’t have to hustle or run frauds for another few months at the very least. So shut the fuck up and start putting those geekboy talents and good looks to good use.”
“Fuck,” Sam muttered, shoving a hand through the mess of hair on his head. Dean shot him a glance from the corner of his eye and sure enough, his baby brother’s bottom lip was poking out as far as the dashboard. Then Sam was saying, “Who is this guy again?”
“Um…Jared Pada…Paddy…Paddycrack?” Dean shrugged. “Who fucking cares, dude. He’s an actor. He takes directions. He’ll do whatever the hell we tell him when it’s all over.”
“Never heard of him. And how did he find us anyway? What, are we in the phonebook now? Jesus.” Sam was definitely pouting. Dean could feel the temptation seeping in, the urge to reach over and turn his brother’s frown upside down. With his hands, his mouth, his…
He could resist it. He would. Because he was right, and Sam was wrong. And it was high time his brother realized just who the hell was running this show. Sam’d gotten way too comfortable calling the shots in bed, and while there was definitely something to be said about letting Sam have that kind of control over him, there was a time and a place for it. And during the hunt, Dean was The Man.
“He’s friends with Andrew,” Dean answered absently, searching for the correct exit number.
“Andrew?”
“Oh, heh. That’s right. It was while you were gone,” Dean tossed out, not noticing the way Sam stiffened as if it were an insult. “This director from San Antonio Dad and I helped a ways back…poltergeist. Nasty one. Kept destroying his footage.” Dean paused a second. “You know, he seemed more upset about that than the fact that, you know, a malevolent spirit was haunting his ass.”
“Hollywood,” Sam sighed, sinking low in his chair and squeezing his eyes shut.
“You did what?”
Jared winced a bit at the expression on Jensen’s face, then straightened his shoulders and stared back at his co-star. “I called some people to help Harley. C’mon, Jensen…you know this shit ain’t normal. And Andrew said this Dean guy’s a real-”
“Con artist?” Jensen growled, pacing from one end of Jared’s bedroom to the other. He stood by the window, staring out over the parking lot with tense frame and features. Then, “Jesus fuck, Jay. You seriously called a bunch of…of…”
“Ghostbusters,” Jared said, a bit proudly, then his face brightened. “Hey, you think they got the little plasma guns like from the movie?”
“You have got to be kidding me, man.”
“What?” And now Jared was getting annoyed. “What the hell’s your problem, Jen? It’s not like it’s a waste of your money. You don’t have to like it; in fact you can get the fuck out if it bothers you that much. I’m doing this for Harley. Something’s wrong, Jensen. I know it.”
Jensen had turned around midway through Jared’s rant. “Jared…” He took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose before moving over to sit beside Jared on the bed. “It’s not that I don’t care about Harley,” he began, a bit hesitantly. The truth was, Jensen could fucking care less if Harley’s head was spinning around and he was projectile vomiting pea-soup. He wasn’t about to let Jared get bamboozled by a bunch of freaks out looking for an easy mark and even easier money.
Jared didn’t look like he believed him. “Yeah, whatever.” And then he got up, turning his back on Jensen and pulling a shirt over his head. “You can go fuck yourself, dude. I can’t believe…” A note of frustration entered his voice and had Jensen feeling like a total jackass when Jared turned around and stared at him through the puppy-eyes he’d perfected both on and offscreen. “I can’t believe that after what we do, you don’t believe even a little.”
“That’s exactly why I don’t believe,” Jensen muttered. Louder, he replied, “That’s entertainment, Jay. None of it’s real! Look, let’s just think this over a bit, okay? Take Harley to a few specialists and see what they say.”
“I’ve already done that!” Jared snapped. He paused, obviously taking a moment to gather himself before he checked his watch. When his gaze met Jensen’s again, Jensen just knew he was gonna be sleeping on the metaphorical couch unless he did something, and quick. Jared’s voice was cool, colder than Jensen had ever heard it directed toward him. “I gotta go…I’m meeting Dean at Starbucks in fifteen minutes. You can let yourself out.”
“Jared!” Jensen moved to grab his wrist, but despite his deceptively lazy attitude and features, Jared was a fast little fucker. Gigantic fucker. Whatever. Jensen nearly fell off the bed as Jared slipped out of the door, then stood up and stomped after him. “Jared, slow down, I’m coming with you.”
“What the hell for?”
Because there’s no fucking way I’m letting you loose with those assholes, Jensen thought forcefully. But all he said was, “Because I care about you, dude.”
Jared blinked, looking slightly startled as a flush crept up Jensen’s features. And yeah, okay, he hadn’t quite meant to sound so…schmoopy. Truth was, he cared about Jared maybe a little more than he ought to. Like, he cared about Jared’s mouth, and his hands…preferably all over Jensen’s body. Yeah, he cared about that happening a great fucking deal.
Not that Jared had a clue.
“Dude. I think I just shed a tear,” Jared deadpanned, and Jensen was equal parts relieved and frustrated at the way his words had gone right over Jared’s head. He growled and punched him in the arm.
“I’m driving,” he stated firmly, grabbing Jared’s keys from his hand and trying to ignore the fact that Jared was grinning like a loon, and just what effect that had on him.
Sam had been ready to dislike Jared what’s-his-name on principle alone. After all, he was being dragged around because of him and his damn dog - which, what the fuck? Sure, Sam had heard of vengeful spirits using and inhabiting innocent creatures…he wasn’t an idiot. But he was more than sure that this wasn’t a case of that. The dog probably just had worms or something. And yeah, that sounded harsh and uncaring, but goddamn it…did the asshole have to look the way he did? And did Dean have to stare at him like he was about to jump up on a silver platter and stick an apple between his teeth?
“Padalecki,” Dean was purring, fucking purring as the Goddamn Asshole corrected his brother’s pronunciation of his last name. Dean laughed, said something else, and Sam…Sam knew that voice. Knew what it meant. He’d seen Dean use it countless times before - on waitresses, bartenders, even the occasional college co-ed whenever they needed some special information on a case. There was no fucking reason for him to use it on…this guy.
His gaze snagged on the figure sitting beside Jared, his expression just about as dark and irritated as Sam’s. Now this guy was fucking ridiculous. Sam wasn’t sure if he wanted to applaud the dude’s gene pool, or put him in makeup and a dress and take him out back and violate him six ways to Sunday. Not that he would. He was too nice - and too fucking obsessed with Dean - to bother with that. But the guy’s lips should come with a hazard warning, was all he was saying.
Sam was slightly surprised that Dean had barely paid this one any attention, then realized that the guy’s looks were exactly why. Jared was hot, but had nothing on Dean. This other guy though…Jensen something-or-another? Was possibly the only person alive who might just be prettier than his brother.
Dean had to love that.
Jensen looked his way, and Sam was nearly bowled over by the force of that gaze directed fully toward him. That’s a nifty trick he couldn’t help but think, inclining his head as the guy pursed his lips like he’d sucked on a sour lemon and then rolled his eyes.
Okay then. Mr. Way-Too-Hot-For-You was obviously as displeased with this scenario as Sam was. Good to know.
“Just, I’m so glad y’all could come out all this way. If it’d happened while we were up in Vancouver, I’d’ve been fucked,” Jared was saying in a slight drawl, voice thick with genuine appreciation that made Sam want to stab a fork between his eyes. Great. So not only were they stuck helping this guy out, but he was gonna be nice about it. Kinda put a crimp in Sam’s plans to hate him.
At least, until Dean grinned. Because Sam knew that fucking grin. Goddamn you, Dean…
“We’re happy to help any way we can,” his brother replied, all but eye-fucking the guy in the middle of freaking Starbucks. Sam’s fingers tightened around the Styrofoam cup in his hands, and he heard Jensen’s knuckles popping across the table. “So, tell me about your dog. How long has he been-”
“Not here,” Sam muttered, bumping Dean’s shoulder with his own. Dean blinked, turning and gifting Sam with a surprised expression. As if he’d completely fucking forgot Sam was even there. Sam’s fingers nearly punctured the cup.
“Right.” Dean nodded, slapping Sam on the back. “Good call, Sammy.”
And Jared was smiling at him; a big, goofy grin that was so fucking white and bright that it almost hurt Sam’s eyes to look at it. “So, you two are brothers or something?”
Oh, this was not good.
“Why do you wanna know?” Sam demanded suspiciously, ignoring Dean’s heel on his instep and taking a slow sip of coffee.
“Heh, we’re uh…business associates,” Dean answered with a quick look at Sam. His expression clearly read shut the fuck up and let me do the talking. Sam was hit with an almost irresistible urge to stick his tongue out. Or stick it in Dean’s mouth, so that Jared Padawhateverthefuck would know just who Dean belonged to.
The gigantic, smiley bastard. Sam had half a mind to look into him, rather than his dog. No one’s teeth were that white. No one’s. There were cases of demons that lived almost completely normal human lives under special glamours. He really shouldn’t take any chances.
“Cool.” Jared was nodding, all earnest and good-natured and damn but Sam wanted to put his fist in his face. “I mean, you guys really don’t look anything like each other. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.”
Jensen cleared his throat, speaking up for the first time since they’d all sat down in the booth. “Do you guys have any credentials? References?”
Sam heard the silent addendum, Anything that should keep me from calling the cops right now and having them drag you off to the loony bin?
The guy kinda had a point.
“Well now,” Dean started, obviously not too pleased by the interruption. “You got our number from Andrew. There’s your reference. As for credentials…that’s not how we do things. We’re experts at what we do, but we don’t need anyone breathing down our neck about it.”
“Jen, leave ‘em alone,” Sam heard Jared mutter beneath his breath, sending his companion a dark look that Sam hadn’t believed the guy capable of. To Dean he added, “That’s fine. This isn’t exactly something I want broadcasted to the media, if ya catch my drift.”
Like there was any other drift to catch? Sam barely refrained from rolling his eyes.
“Discretion’s our middle name,” Dean answered, and damn if he wasn’t flirting again. “Right, Sammy?”
“It’s Sam,” he snapped, but no one was paying attention.
“So do you guys do the whole rock salt rigamarole?” Jared was asking, and Sam closed his eyes and sank back on a quiet groan. “Because that’s what we do on the show, and I was wondering just how realistic it all is.”
He waited for Dean to get tight-lipped as he always did whenever one of their “clients” asked more about the job than they needed to know. Instead, his brother promptly delved into the routine of salt-and-burning, clearly enjoying Jared’s avid interest.
Oh yeah. There was definitely something up with this fucker.
“What’s the name of your character again?” Sam blurted out, just to get back into the conversation.
“Sam.” Dean didn’t even look his way before adding, “Go get me another, will ya?” He pointed to his empty coffee cup and then went right back to talking to Jared.
Sam had been dismissed, clearly.
The immature part of him wanted to stand up and yell at Dean, at Jared, and shove the table over and storm away. Hell, the mature part of him wanted that, too. Instead, he came to his feet in silent fury and frustration and made his way toward the counter. He’d just ordered a regular coffee - no frou-frou drinks for ol’ Dean - when he felt someone standing behind him.
He turned to find Jensen watching him with the same inscrutable expression he’d been wearing the duration of their little get-together. Sam cocked a brow, fingers tapping against the counter impatiently.
“If you or your associate screw Jared over, I will fucking kill you.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Jensen moved past and got in the line next to Sam.
Well, well…maybe there was more to pretty than met the eye.
Jared couldn’t believe his luck.
He had to admit, at least to himself, that he’d been more than slightly alarmed when Andrew had texted him Dean’s number and sworn that the guy could work miracles. Yeah, Jared was pretty open to the possibility of paranormal stuff - especially since working on Supernatural - but still…the idea of there being honest-to-God demon hunters out there in the world made him a little freaked-out.
Couldn’t they just get a job at McDonald’s instead?
But Dean and Sam seemed like the real deal. At least, Dean did. Jared got the distinct impression that Sam would rather stick a stake through his heart than any vampire’s, and that really sucked because Jared couldn’t stand it when someone didn’t like him. He couldn’t think of any reason why Dean’s friend wouldn’t, but then he hadn’t really seemed to like Jensen either, and everyone liked Jensen.
Anyway. Jared was definitely feeling lucky as he followed Dean out into the early-afternoon Los Angeles sun. He nearly ran into Dean’s back when he caught sight of the Impala waiting for them, Sam behind the wheel and still looking like he’d rather suck on a frozen turd than be stuck helping Jared out.
“That your car?” he asked, slightly embarrassed by the awed hint in his voice. For fuck’s sake, he could more than afford five of the damn things himself. It was just that…he’d never really gotten rid of that wide-eyed boy from San Antone. Jensen and everyone else made fun of him for it all the time, but Jared was secretly kind of glad he’d yet to grow cynical and jaded in his views of the world.
And not getting excited over the sweet, cherry ride in front of him was impossible.
“That’s my baby,” Dean confirmed, all but sidling up to the Chevy and licking it. Jared bit back an amused smile when the hunter stroked the hood with tender hands, then shot him a look. “’67 model.”
“Oh yeah.” Jared came up beside him, and they both admired the car for several moments before Jensen came up and poked him in the back.
“Let’s get this over with, I have a date at five.”
Jared turned, catching sight of Jensen - mirrored sunglasses hiding his eyes and arms crossed across his chest. “A date? With who?” He hadn’t realized Jensen was seeing anyone in LA…not that he really kept track of it or anything.
It had always bugged him to think about it, so he just…didn’t.
Instead of answering, Jensen directed his next question at Dean. “Just how long do you think this’ll take?”
“Depends,” Dean said cryptically, hip pressed up against the Impala’s door as he regarded Jensen through cool eyes. “But you don’t really need to stick around for it, do you?”
He was right, but Jared had to bite back a wince when Jensen stiffened. His co-star had never really taken well to being told what to do, but he’d seemed to have appointed himself as Jared’s personal bodyguard.
Jared liked to pretend it was just because it bothered Jensen to be away from him as much as it bothered Jared.
He turned toward Jared, slipping his glasses down a bit so that Jared could look into deep green eyes. “Do I need to cancel?”
“Uh…” And what the fuck was that look about? Jared had always known Jensen was a pretty thing. It was kind of hard to miss. But he’d never really thought about it in…that way. Apparently Harley getting possessed by the devil or a demon or whatever had completely screwed his mind up. “Dude, do whatever you wanna do.”
That seemed a safe enough response.
But Jensen looked faintly disappointed before turning back toward Dean, voice gruff. “I’m sticking around.”
“Well, see, then we got a bit of a problem.” Dean’s teeth flashed, and he gestured to the back of the car where books and duffel bags were piled high. “Back seat’s all filled up. So, I was thinking, you and Sam could follow me and Jared and-”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Sam suddenly piped up, looking like he was ready to strangle someone. “What the fuck?”
“Manners, Sammy,” Dean murmured, reaching back and cuffing his friend on the head. Jared watched the interaction curiously, noting the almost intimate undertones as they whispered and argued amongst themselves.
They might not be brothers, but they sure fucking acted like more than business associates.
“Dean, I am not getting out of this car,” he heard Sam hiss, and then Dean’s low rumbling voice followed. Sam’s lips tightened. “No, fuck you!”
Jared blinked when Dean spoke again, and Sam flushed to the tips of his ears, and then got out of the car in jerky movements. He barely looked at Dean, didn’t look at Jared at all, as he stalked over to stand beside Jensen.
“Climb on in, pal,” Dean drawled, sliding behind the wheel Sam had just abandoned. Jared hesitated, noticing the disapproving look on Jensen’s face as well, and then just sort of shrugged.
“See you at the apartment.” And then he was getting inside and trying not to drool over the pristine interior. “Fuck, you really take care of her, huh?”
“You have no idea.”
Dean couldn’t believe their luck.
He’d half-expected to end up saddled with some brainless moron who’d be demanding breaks for tea and crackers or tequila and cocaine or whatever the hell the young and posh did these days. But Jared…Jared seemed pretty cool. A little naïve maybe, but all in all a good guy.
Not to mention he was fucking hot.
Dean didn’t really think about guys that way, not often. Sam he considered an exception - to everything, really - but for the most part, Dean was satisfied with big boobs and a warm…personality. Although lately, the only thing that seemed to satisfy him came from Sam’s big-ass mouth and even bigger hands.
Nevertheless, Jared Padalecki hit pretty much all of his necessary criteria for a quick, no-frills, never-to-be-thought-of-again affair. The only problem was that Dean just wasn’t interested.
He blamed Sam for that, too.
He could feel Sam watching him now, heated glare firmly planted on the center of Dean’s back as he hunched over the caged animal in Jared’s kitchen. He forced himself to forget about Sam, about Jared, and just concentrate on the job at hand.
The creature looked pathetic…half-wasted away and eyes yellowed and bright. Sick. Dean glanced over to see the genuine anxiety coloring Jared’s features. “And he’s been this way how long?”
“Since we finished filming the finale,” Jared answered immediately. “I took him and Sadie - that’s my other one - home to Texas for a week or two, then we came here to hang with Jensen for awhile. Relax, recuperate. He stopped eating, sleeping, just sits up all night and makes these howling sounds. Scares the shit outta me,” he added with a nervous laugh. “But I mean, that wasn’t even as bad as the…well…”
Dean’s brow quirked when Jared exchanged a significant look with Jensen, who was sitting at the table and looking like he was ready to shoot someone’s head off. Not that Dean gave a fuck. “What happened?”
Jensen’s jaw clenched, and then he sighed. “He attacked me, all right? But it wasn’t that big a deal and-”
“Not that big a deal?” Jared snapped, walking over and taking Jensen’s left arm. He shoved the long sleeve up, revealing several still-healing wounds that, seasoned demon hunter aside, had Dean wincing in sympathy. “They had to stitch you back up, Jen! God, if I hadn’t been there…”
“Oh, please, like I can’t take care of myself?” There was a distinct note of embarrassment in Jensen’s voice when he ripped his arm away and tucked it back against his chest. “Look, I just pissed him off or something. It happens.”
“Has Harley ever attacked anyone before?” Sam questioned, and Dean turned around to stare at his brother. It was the first time Sam had even pretended to participate in the hunt, and now he was looking all sharp-eyed and solemn the way he always got when his over-sized brain was working on a theory.
“What’cha got for me - ” he barely kept from tagging on the usual little brother - “man?”
“I was just thinking…” Sam licked his lips, coming to stand next to him and study Harley. “There’ve been instances where significant changes in diet or environment can trigger primal instincts buried within animals not dissimilar to the effects of a possession.”
“So, you think dragging the dog cross-country made him suddenly waste away and gain a hankerin’ for human flesh?” Dean returned, not even bothering to hide his sarcasm.
Sam’s glare could’ve cut through metal. “Just pointing out a possibility.”
“Yeah well, your possibility sucks, Sam, or do you not smell it?”
“Smell what?” Jared asked, stepping closer and all but wringing his hands together.
“Sulphur,” Sam muttered, rubbing his forehead and looking grim. “Damn it.”
“Is that what that is?” Jensen asked, pushing his chair back with a frown. “I thought I smelled rotten eggs, but I mean, Jared does forget to take out the trash sometimes.”
“Shut up, Jensen.”
“Okay, you two stop arguing like old ladies and tell me when exactly the smell appeared.”
“I don’t really know…I mean, I noticed he smelled funny, but I just figured he was sick, you know?” Jared looked absolutely miserable. “And he’s never attacked anyone but Jensen.”
“Is there any reason why he’d target your co-star?” Sam queried, definitely in hunter-mode. “Did he dislike Jensen before…all this happened?”
Dean didn’t miss how Sam was still refusing to label it as a possession. Stubborn bastard he thought with a bit of annoyed pride.
“What? No.” Jared looked honestly baffled. “Harley fucking loves Jensen. I keep thinking the damn mutt’ll run off for his apartment one day and never come back.”
“Okay, so we have irregular behavior, sulphur, and some strange-”
Harley opened his mouth and howled, the sound seeming to be magnified by a thousand so that it was like ten howling animals instead of just one.
Sam and Dean exchanged looks, and Sam sighed. “Fuck.”
“Okay, that’s fucking disturbing,” Jensen said, appearing green in the face when he turned to face Jared. “Jay, is that what…?”
“I’ve been trying to tell you, yeah.” Jared was watching Dean with narrowed eyes. “What do I have to do to make him better?”
Dean was a bit taken aback by the transformation from happy-go-lucky to do-or-die. “Uh, well, first we have to figure out what kinda demon we’re dealing with. Sam here’s really more the expert on that front.”
Sam was already booting up the laptop, the legs of the chair scraping against the tiled floor as he shifted closer to the table. “Ten minutes,” he promised, flexing his fingers and shoving the bangs back from his forehead with a determined expression. “Time me.”
Dean couldn’t help but smirk. “That’s my boy.”
Jensen felt like he was stuck in a nightmare. Not the kind where you wind up naked and in front of your entire graduating class - those he could handle. This nightmare…watching Jared and some wacko strangers from God only knew where perform an exorcism on a dog in the middle of Jared’s Los Angeles apartment…this was fucking surreal.
“I’m gonna go…get a Coke,” he grumbled, not that anyone was paying him a bit of attention. Jared made a sound that sorta seemed like maybe he’d heard Jensen, or he could’ve just been answering one of Dean’s questions.
Dean fucking Winchester.
Jensen had never wanted to strangle another human being before, but Dean made the concept almost alluring. It wasn’t that the guy was a cocky son-of-a-bitch, although he definitely was. It was that Dean was the anti-thesis of Jensen. He was sexy as fuck, and knew it. But whereas Jensen tended to shy away from that virtue of himself and only put it to use on camera, Dean embraced and embodied his natural magnetism until it was impossible to look away from him.
Jared was totally and completely under the fucker’s thrall, and Jensen wanted to throw something. Preferably something that would fuck up those too-pretty features.
He glanced over to find Sam watching him, a half-smirk on his face, and Jensen’s back stiffened. Sam…Sam he couldn’t quite pin down. He kept slipping in and out of character - at times understanding and compassionate, and then brooding and withdrawn. Jensen mostly got the same vibes between Sam and Dean that he imagined between himself and Jared.
Which just gave him all that much more of a reason to want to fuck Dean Winchester up. Sam was obviously in love with the bastard, and if anyone could understand unrequited love for your partner, co-star, it was Jensen Ackles.
Son of a bitch.
He excused himself again, wandering into the bedroom and flopping back on the bed. He could hear Dean’s slow, lazy voice and Jared’s worried drawl from the next room, and picked up a pillow and smashed it against his face. Repeatedly.
“Dean has that effect on a lot of people.”
Jensen sat straight up, staring at the Sam as he shut the door after him and came fully into the room. “What the hell do you want?”
“You think I wanna sit in there and watch that shit anymore than you do?” Sam sounded grumpy and sad, and dropped into one of the beanbags Jared insisted upon decorating his guest rooms with. “Just looking for a place to hide out.”
Jensen couldn’t argue with that. He fell back against the mattress, staring at the high-beamed ceiling and clenching his fingers into fists. They remained in silent company for several minutes before Jensen finally said, “You don’t wanna be here.”
Sam didn’t answer, which was answer enough.
Jensen decided to take the more direct route. “I don’t trust your friend,” he growled, remembering the distinctly unchivalrous gleam in Dean’s eyes earlier. “Jared…Jared’s a nice guy.”
“Oh, I’m sure.” Sam’s words dripped sarcasm and disdain.
Jensen thought about being offended, then his lips twitched. “You don’t trust him with Dean, do you?”
Sam looked up and met his gaze. “I know my -” he bit his tongue, then corrected, “I know Dean. Okay?”
“I know Jared. He wouldn’t do that.”
Sam’s laugh had an edge to it. “Oh, yeah? Then what are you so fucking worried about?”
Good point.
Dean laughed, and Jensen flinched at the husky sound. “What the fuck could be funny?” he muttered, ready to go back in there and force himself bodily between Jared and the asshole.
“Who knows,” Sam sighed, and leaned back to close his eyes. “Do me a favor. Wake me up when it’s over.”
“I don’t believe this shit,” Jensen mumbled. Here he was - a healthy, vital young man with a helluva lot of shit going for him, and he was sitting in a guest room obsessing over his idiotic younger co-star like it was about to go out of style.
“Sam!”
The call had Sam jerking up, eyes alert and ready as he started for the door, and then Jensen became aware of the snapping cold that seemed to have descended over the apartment. He followed Sam into the living room, finding Jared white-faced and frozen as he stared down at Harley’s slumped form.
Jensen reached up to squeeze his shoulder, offer some kind of support, then looked down and saw what had Jared so upset. His hand fell limply at his side. “Oh, my fucking God.”
“You got what we need?” Dean directed to Sam, no longer the carefree seducer but the hunter through-and-through. Sam nodded, and Dean continued barking orders while Sam spread salt in a circle around the dog and started speaking in a low murmur Jensen couldn’t make out.
“Wait. Dude, I think you just messed that last bit up.”
“I did not. Shut up.”
“I really think-”
“Okay, do you honestly think you know Latin better than me?”
Jensen’s eyes flew back and forth between the two hunters like he was watching a tennis match. It boggled his mind how they could seem so unmoved, so totally in control when they were dealing with-
Harley leaped up, teeth snarling and that same unearthly sound coming out of his mouth as he ran at Dean. Jensen was opening his mouth to call out a warning when Harley suddenly was propelled backward, and Jensen looked down to see the salt circle.
Oh, Jesus Christ.
“Do it now, Sam,” Dean said, almost yawning around the words as he reached over and picked up a small shotgun. Sam continued speaking in Latin, sprinkling something out of a small vial on Harley that made steam rise from the dog’s flesh.
“Whoa!” Jared came to life, eyes wild and unsteady as he gripped Jensen’s shoulder. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“My job,” Dean answered, a bit offended. “Stay over there.”
“You are not shooting my dog!”
“Rock salt,” Dean reminded him. “It’ll sting a bit, but it’ll help dispel the demon. Which is what you’re paying me for, right?”
“But-”
Harley’s jaw split wide-open, and Jensen stumbled back a step, hot fear knifing through his belly as he dragged Jared back with him. Sam and Dean looked at each other, nodded, and then Sam said something that really pissed Harley off, and Dean lifted the shotgun and grinned. Evilly.
“Later, Cujo.”
He shot a blast of rock salt at Harley, whose body shuddered and contorted and seemed to be alive beneath his flesh. Jensen had always thought himself the owner of a strong constitution, but he had to look away when Harley’s skin began to bubble.
“What the fuck did you do?” Jared was yelling, all but launching himself at Dean, who was looking equal parts proud and annoyed.
“Hey, hey, want me to shoot you, too? Move back or else you’re wide open for demon possession.”
Jared shut up and moved back, but not without sending Dean a glare that definitely didn’t look at all like he wanted to have fabulous gay sex with the jackass.
It was almost enough to make Jensen smile.
“Seriously, thanks again,” Jared was saying, eyes almost glistening with happiness as he held onto Harley and petted the recovering animal with gentle hands. “I just…I don’t even know how to repay you guys.”
“A couple of Benjamins would do nicely,” Dean answered smugly, and the statement should have been tacky and Sam would’ve covered his face in disgust, but then Dean flashed his teeth and that somehow made it all okay.
“Oh, yeah, sure.” Jared was nodding like he’d give them both the world if they asked for it. And the guy was big enough to carry it, for damn sure. “Also, you guys feel free to stay here the night. It’s too late to be driving anywhere, right?”
It was a little after midnight. Sam waited for his gypsy brother to say thanks but no thanks and shove Sam on toward the Impala. Instead, Dean nodded and said, “Sounds good. We’d appreciate it.”
Dean slid him a look that Sam hadn’t seen directed toward him since before their stupid argument over - what the hell had it been? He couldn’t even remember anymore. But the point was, he went immediately hard and grabbed Dean by the arm.
“Night.”
Dean was laughing, at him, as Sam dragged him into the guest room down the hall - far away from the living room and Jared’s bedroom - and proceeded to throw his older brother onto the mattress.
“Jeez, someone had their Wheaties this morning.” Dean sat up on both elbows, looking way too fucking sinful when he licked his lips. “It’s about time, Sam.”
“You were fucking with me, Dean.” As soon as he said it, he realized it was true. Part of him was relieved, the other part wanted to wrap his hands around his brother’s neck and squeeze, especially when Dean winked.
“Like I said…took ya long enough.”
“You fuck.” Sam’s voice was hoarse, and then he was on top of Dean, lips searching across his brother’s face and hands working beneath cotton. “I oughta make you sleep on the couch.”
Dean reached between them and found Sam, hot and hard and ready to fuck. “Nice try, Sam. I almost believed you that time.”
Sam let out a quiet groan then, because Dean had unzipped and gotten his hands inside Sam’s pants without Sam even realizing what he was up to. Rough, calloused palms stroked him, and he arched his hips and bit into Dean’s lower lip.
“Mine,” he managed, thrusting into Dean’s hand and pulling back to look his brother pointedly in the eyes, chest rising and falling in rapid succession.
Dean wasn’t breathing all that steadily himself. “Yeah, sure thing, Sammy.” He swallowed, and then wrapped a calf around Sam’s leg. “Dude, you’re gonna fuck me. Right?”
Leave it to Dean to state the obvious.
“Right through this mattress,” Sam murmured, licking a long trail from Dean’s jaw to his ear, relishing the throaty moan that followed, the bucking of Dean’s hips, and then he was on his knees and straddling his brother’s waist.
He finished undressing himself, rising up enough to let Dean hook his fingers in his own waistband and shove his jeans and underwear down his hips. The sight of his brother’s cock thick and rising against his stomach about blew the top of his head off, in more ways than one. “Damn it, Dean…never again, do you understand me?”
“Learn not to argue with me, Sam.” But Dean’s voice was a soft tremble. Then, “Oh, God. Do you have anything?”
Sam froze, genuine terror unlike none he’d ever felt before gripping his heart. “I thought you had something.”
Dean stared at him, face aghast.
“I am going to kill you, dude.”
Jared waited for Jensen to stand up and start making the usual excuses as to why he needed to be getting on back to his own apartment. Jared was pretty sure he’d heard them all by now, and they just got more and more ridiculous the longer he and Jensen knew one another.
Sure enough, Jensen came to his feet around the time a rhythmic banging started down the hall, and Jared swallowed a smirk at the almost desperate look coloring his friend’s face.
“I uh, I guess I’ll just be…” He thumbed somewhere in the vicinity of the door, and wouldn’t meet Jared’s gaze.
“Yeah, okay.” He couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed. He’d thought…well, it didn’t really matter what he’d thought. Obviously, it’d all been in his head anyway. Jensen was reaching for the doorknob when Jared spoke again. “Hey, Jen?”
“Hmm?”
“Thanks. You know, for sticking around and…just being here for me and all.” He scratched behind his ear, feeling awkward and clumsy in a way he hadn’t experienced since puberty when he’d gone from being normal-sized to towering over everyone in creation.
He’d never felt awkward or clumsy with Jensen.
Jensen’s fingers clenched around the doorknob. “No problem, man.” And was Jared just that far gone, or was there really a plea in his friend’s husky tone?
He forced himself to keep talking. Just see what happened. “I just…I don’t think anyone else would have,” he rambled on, looking down at Harley’s sleeping form on the floor. He was already returning to normal, and it felt like a load of stress had been stripped from Jared’s shoulders. “Everyone else would’ve thought I was insane.”
“Dude, you are insane.” But there was a smile in Jensen’s voice, and it gave Jared exactly what he needed.
“Ha, ha, fuck you.”
Jensen stiffened, and for a moment Jared was confused and wary, wondering what he could’ve said to piss his friend off. And then Jensen was turning around, determination and something else Jared couldn’t quite pin down crossing his expression, and then he was kneeling in front of Jared and Jared was trying not to swallow his own tongue when Jensen opened his mouth - his goddamned pretty mouth - and said, “Thanks for the invitation.”
“Uh…” Jared’s words were lost, because Jensen was staring at him like that and suddenly the room was spinning and he felt like he’d missed a step somewhere. “Jensen…”
“You don’t want me to suck your dick, you better speak now, Padalecki.” Jensen’s voice was gruff and confrontational, but his words sent a dark thrill up Jared’s spine.
He promptly pressed his lips together, and Jensen watched him for a long moment before grinning, long and slow.
“So that’s how to shut you up.”
And then he proceeded to show Jared just how fun that could be.